Post by deuce600 on Jul 11, 2010 21:54:56 GMT -5
Race- Human
Name- Deuce
Growing up was hard. I remember little of my childhood, what I do remember is not very good. My mother died after I turned five. I never knew me father and my mother always refused to tell me. Even as she passed on into the void she would not disclose the biggest secret of my life.
I was always bigger and stronger then the children in the village where I lived. I was a good 4 feet tall when I was just 7 years old. After my mother died I was sent to live with the old hermit in the town who everyone assumed was crazy, turns out he was an old warrior who kept everything a secret to protect the village from his enemys.
Being bigger and stronger then most people my age or even older then me the hermit decided to teach me everything he knew about sword fighting. I picked the art up like I was born to wield a blade. I flew through the styles and techniques I was taught, learning them as if it was as simple as breathing. My thirst for knowledge was never quenched. I read books about sword fighting and tryed to find others who knew more.
By the time I was 15 I learned everything my master had to offer me, and might I add stood at an impressive 6 feet tall. My master and friend told me I should travel to try and learn new forms and fight for a good cause. To make my mark on the world. Before I left I went to the market to collect food for my journey.
As I arrived back home I saw warriors running away from my now burning home. As I ran inside I saw my master dieing, telling me his final wish. To not seek revenge but travel the land looking for warriors I could pledge my blade to.
After finally agreeing, I set off to search the land for the group I would belong to. There were few and far inbetween. After fighting with the Welcrie for a time and learning all I could I traveled south. Landing into a group known as the Mittelmarch. Hoping to learn more and make some friends I stayed.
Name- Deuce
Growing up was hard. I remember little of my childhood, what I do remember is not very good. My mother died after I turned five. I never knew me father and my mother always refused to tell me. Even as she passed on into the void she would not disclose the biggest secret of my life.
I was always bigger and stronger then the children in the village where I lived. I was a good 4 feet tall when I was just 7 years old. After my mother died I was sent to live with the old hermit in the town who everyone assumed was crazy, turns out he was an old warrior who kept everything a secret to protect the village from his enemys.
Being bigger and stronger then most people my age or even older then me the hermit decided to teach me everything he knew about sword fighting. I picked the art up like I was born to wield a blade. I flew through the styles and techniques I was taught, learning them as if it was as simple as breathing. My thirst for knowledge was never quenched. I read books about sword fighting and tryed to find others who knew more.
By the time I was 15 I learned everything my master had to offer me, and might I add stood at an impressive 6 feet tall. My master and friend told me I should travel to try and learn new forms and fight for a good cause. To make my mark on the world. Before I left I went to the market to collect food for my journey.
As I arrived back home I saw warriors running away from my now burning home. As I ran inside I saw my master dieing, telling me his final wish. To not seek revenge but travel the land looking for warriors I could pledge my blade to.
After finally agreeing, I set off to search the land for the group I would belong to. There were few and far inbetween. After fighting with the Welcrie for a time and learning all I could I traveled south. Landing into a group known as the Mittelmarch. Hoping to learn more and make some friends I stayed.