Arthus Darian - Revision history

BDAdmin at 22:16, 13 July 2014

2014-07-13T22:16:00Z

BDAdmin at 23:32, 1 February 2014

2014-02-01T23:32:18Z

BDAdmin at 21:09, 1 February 2014

2014-02-01T21:09:06Z

Majic13 at 13:45, 28 October 2007

2007-10-28T13:45:00Z

Arty at 21:53, 25 October 2007

2007-10-25T21:53:24Z

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Some people in this world are born into wealth. They have everything provided for them, and want for absolutely nothing save, perhaps, friends who aren't insipid sycophants. Arthus Darian is not one of those people. Born the son of two peasants, his youth was spent working in fields, trying to coax a few stalks of wheat to grow in amongst the thorns and rocks. The lord of this particular serfdom was, as most lords are, not much of a 'people person', so when he was dissatisfied with his serfs' performance, he used the whip instead of words; Arthus's back still bear the scars of those lashings.

When he hit fifteen, though, things changed, and not necessarily for better... or for worse, truth be told. His parents fell prey to Scarlet Fever, and within a few weeks Arthus was an orphan. Unfortunately, he was still an orphan belonging to the lord, so when the lord's overseers returned to the hut, they expected HIM to carry on the work that his parents had started... Namely, toiling all day for little to no reward in an unwilling field.

He tried. Several weeks passed, but he simple was unable to perform sufficiently in the overseer's eyes. Arthus was unwilling, however, to accept any more beatings for his apparent failure; so when the overseer came to administer punishment, the youth was waiting for him. A heavy, thrown rock knocked the man off his horse, and as he struggled to get up, the dull blade of a kitchen knife found his throat, encouraged on it's way by the hard muscle of the now former-serf's arm.

From there, it was five years on the run for Arthus... Though admittedly, his run was not as fast as it might have been. He fell into company with a small mercenary band and learned the ways of the sword-for-hire... Did pretty good at it, too, until the band was destroyed by a numerically superior force during one of it's missions. From then, he just wandered, living by his blade and his wits, a very different young man than had toiled in a dirt field years ago. And finally, after some time, his wanderings brought him here, through Myrkenwood and into the common room of the Broken Blade Inn. Whether or not he will stay here... Well, that's a story that must still be written, isn't it?

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-Some people in this world are born into wealth. They have everything provided for them, and want for absolutely nothing save, perhaps, friends who aren't insipid sycophants. Arthus Darian is not one of those people. Born the son of two peasants, his youth was spent working in fields, trying to coax a few stalks of wheat to grow in amongst the thorns and rocks. The lord of this particular serfdom was, as most lords are, not much of a 'people person', so when he was dissatisfied with his serfs' performance, he used the whip instead of words; Arthus's back still bear the scars of those lashings.
+{{archive}}
 When he hit fifteen, though, things changed, and not necessarily for better... or for worse, truth be told. His parents fell prey to Scarlet Fever, and within a few weeks Arthus was an orphan. Unfortunately, he was still an orphan belonging to the lord, so when the lord's overseers returned to the hut, they expected HIM to carry on the work that his parents had started... Namely, toiling all day for little to no reward in an unwilling field.
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 From there, it was five years on the run for Arthus... Though admittedly, his run was not as fast as it might have been. He fell into company with a small mercenary band and learned the ways of the sword-for-hire... Did pretty good at it, too, until the band was destroyed by a numerically superior force during one of it's missions. From then, he just wandered, living by his blade and his wits, a very different young man than had toiled in a dirt field years ago. And finally, after some time, his wanderings brought him here, through [[Myrken Wood]] and into the common room of the [[Broken_Dagger_(Inn)|Broken Dagger]]. Whether or not he will stay here... Well, that's a story that must still be written, isn't it?
 http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/7452/novicemalewarriorbyshonwc1.jpg
 [[Category:Characters]]
 [[Category:Inactive Characters]]

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 From there, it was five years on the run for Arthus... Though admittedly, his run was not as fast as it might have been. He fell into company with a small mercenary band and learned the ways of the sword-for-hire... Did pretty good at it, too, until the band was destroyed by a numerically superior force during one of it's missions. From then, he just wandered, living by his blade and his wits, a very different young man than had toiled in a dirt field years ago. And finally, after some time, his wanderings brought him here, through [[Myrken Wood]] and into the common room of the [[Broken_Dagger_(Inn)|Broken Dagger]]. Whether or not he will stay here... Well, that's a story that must still be written, isn't it?
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 [[Category:Characters]]

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:09, 1 February 2014
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 He tried. Several weeks passed, but he simple was unable to perform sufficiently in the overseer's eyes. Arthus was unwilling, however, to accept any more beatings for his apparent failure; so when the overseer came to administer punishment, the youth was waiting for him. A heavy, thrown rock knocked the man off his horse, and as he struggled to get up, the dull blade of a kitchen knife found his throat, encouraged on it's way by the hard muscle of the now former-serf's arm.
-From there, it was five years on the run for Arthus... Though admittedly, his run was not as fast as it might have been. He fell into company with a small mercenary band and learned the ways of the sword-for-hire... Did pretty good at it, too, until the band was destroyed by a numerically superior force during one of it's missions. From then, he just wandered, living by his blade and his wits, a very different young man than had toiled in a dirt field years ago. And finally, after some time, his wanderings brought him here, through Myrkenwood and into the common room of the Broken Blade Inn. Whether or not he will stay here... Well, that's a story that must still be written, isn't it?
+From there, it was five years on the run for Arthus... Though admittedly, his run was not as fast as it might have been. He fell into company with a small mercenary band and learned the ways of the sword-for-hire... Did pretty good at it, too, until the band was destroyed by a numerically superior force during one of it's missions. From then, he just wandered, living by his blade and his wits, a very different young man than had toiled in a dirt field years ago. And finally, after some time, his wanderings brought him here, through [[Myrken Wood]] and into the common room of the [[Broken_Dagger_(Inn)|Broken Dagger]]. Whether or not he will stay here... Well, that's a story that must still be written, isn't it?
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 http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/7452/novicemalewarriorbyshonwc1.jpg
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