Post by The Wanderer on Dec 4, 2015 2:32:52 GMT
Note: Some details in this character's bio/description have been purposely left out. I'd prefer some things be found out in role play rather than here. Also, I'll be updating the bio every so often as more information is discovered about the character, therefore making it more or less public knowledge (assuming these things get around in general conversation).
Name: Unknown or forgotten.
Alias: Traveler.
Age: Late 40s to mid 50s.
Height: 5'9.
Weight: 135lbs.
Eye Color: Faded light blue.
Hair Color: Gray.
Skin Color: Light, fawn colored skin.
Profession: Unknown (assumed to have been a military archer, scout, or ranger).
Place of Origin: Unknown (first recorded sighting in Kalaram; likely docked prior to the outbreak).
Status: Alive.
What is known of the Traveler? Who is he? What is he like? More importantly, which side is he on? The man has demonstrated some selfish tendencies thus far, noted the day he knowingly acquired a reward from the Harper Organization - an unearned trinket for a job in which he hadn't participated in nor even knew of until its conclusion. The laid back attitude of the survivors and their fear or avoidance of internal conflict has led him to take advantage of many a situation, lining his pockets with treasures on the side or flinging undeserved slander in the direction of whomever displeases his sight for the day. Yet still, he has shown some sort of reluctant loyalty to those that fight alongside him regardless of their flaws and general stupidity (both of which usually outweigh any redeeming qualities they may have).
Outside of any scenario that encourages teamwork in the interest of survival, the man seems detached and somewhat anti-social until approached, rarely conversing with other survivors except to curse at or berate them for their errors. Those that are not par for the course in terms of their heritage (meaning standard fare such as elves, halflings, gnomes, etc). often find themselves on the brunt of his racism, an unfortunate defect born of ignorance and a crude upbringing. Coupled with his paranoia and tactless demeanor, the Traveler is a hassle to deal with at times, displaying his holier-than-thou attitude brought on by his elder years and the experience that followed. As an irritable, grumpy, and wholly unpleasant man, Traveler tends to add little or nothing of substance to any civil encounter or group discussion; apart from his martial prowess, it appears the man lacks the interest or will to pick up any form of social grace, drowning the merest thought of his incompetence in liquor and hostility instead.
Moving cautiously throughout the world and rarely exerting himself unless necessary, the Traveler takes careful steps in even the most mundane of scenarios, a limp in his gait deliberately masked by intentionally ponderous movements. Physicals aside, the man clearly favors light, formfitting armor such as leather, only switching to something heavier where his stealth would otherwise prove useless. The quality of said gear was most definitely up for debate, as much of it was old, used, and patched together from a varied number of different sources. Strewn across his belt and bandoleer are several vials, pouches, and trinkets - the sign of a man who prefers to march into the unknown prepared and at an advantage.
Update (12-21-2015): Since the debacle in the labyrinth, Traveler now possesses some terrible second degree burns along his hands, arms, and upper chest area. He makes no effort to hide or conceal them if revealed, but isn't too keen to speak on the subject given how the event transpired to begin with. Make no mistake that whatever happened in that death trap only further skewed his already less-than-friendly view toward a certain species.
As it was for so many before the end of all things, the wanderer aptly coined 'Traveler' had not always been a reserved and shadowy figure. Before being stranded in a place far from his origin, the man enjoyed a smile every so often or a good laugh, occasionally basking in the company of friends and family when off duty. Indeed, there was a time where his life and circumstances were far less dire, even given his past career choice. Before the dawn of the infection, Traveler had lived through a risky and extraordinarily dangerous career, although manageable when compared to the looming threat of the reviled undead. For six years he served in the archer battalion of a minor mercenary company, a group of highly trained and skilled professionals called to arms by any who could afford them. Dedicating his life to the battlefield and lending his talents where needed for a reasonable fee, the man was rarely short on coin or any means with which to provide for himself. One of his many ailments had prevented him from settling down and having children during campaign breaks, thus giving him further purpose in combat when other options were left restricted. Despite that intense longing and want for something more mundane in his life, the aging man had never really craved much beyond that, often grateful to simply be alive yet another day where so many others had fallen. Bread, cheap ale, and wenches of questionable quality were his life. Unfortunately, many of those simple pleasures came to an abrupt end the day he and his comrades arrived in Siranda. The leader of his band had prematurely agreed to take up an unusual contract on the isle, his head swollen with arrogance given their many successes on the field of battle.
As you can no doubt guess, the entire company and those that had come in tow as support were decimated within weeks, at least those that survived the trip to Siranda by boat (several were lost along the way due to haphazard weather conditions). With less than a handful of survivors including Traveler himself, their leader had suggested they form several small groups and seek help across the isle with each party going in a separate direction. This was recognized almost immediately by Traveler as a grave error, yet who was he to question the orders of his superior? Following Sirandan tradition, the few men sent along with Traveler perished over the course of a few days, overwhelmed when caught in compromising situations by their foes or decimated by unique and terrifying abominations. Their mission had been a complete failure, and now with no way back to his home, a stranded wanderer remained, desperately scavenging these dead lands for anything that would yield edible scraps or useful materials. Whatever this derelict hellhole was, it was now his home, unforgiving and relentless though it was in the pursuit of his life.
