Post by korishnakov on May 24, 2012 4:51:21 GMT -5
Name: Lariet Korishnakov
Age: 32
Race: Human
Physical Description: He is the kind of man who blends with a crowd, few distinguishable features other than a series of scars, winding along the back of his left hand and up the forearm. The kind of face many would find difficult to remember. A strong physique with the stature of an ex-soldier and the build of a battle hardened man.
His appearance as well as his clothing are that of a common man, yet he carries a fine short sword with a hilt of iron, coated in nickel with colored glass fitted into the pommel end.
Personality: The mentality of a disturbed young man grown into the kind of individual who has little vested in society. Korishnakov is a man jaded by battle and hardened by a life exposed to the elements of both man and nature. Though his demeanor strangely gentle, as if he were unsure how to properly interact with others through common or peaceful means. Yet behind that a misshapen mind peers out into the world, secluded in the interior of a man who wishes now for nothing more than to wander of his own will.
History: It was in his early childhood Korishnakov knew the cold and sudden grasp of tragedy. His mother who succumbed to sickness was soon followed by his brothers murder by the hand of his father who hung himself in the well on the family estate. All he had known was bickering and anger until his family came to pass. Though he did not view it was a tragedy, but as a release or maybe a pass to go into the world. It was but the changing of the season when he first took the life of another man in exchange for coin. All the bitterness and seclusion from the world seemed to melt away as he searched for his place in the world.
A decade passed and Korishnakov found himself traveling with a band of private taught soldiers, loyal to a family of nobility who ruled considerable tracks of land many months travel from the place he once knew as home. He had been taught by his brethren to wield a blade and to defend with nothing but flesh and bone. This training was yet another piece added to the madness of his life.
It was during this time Korishnakov found himself in a struggle between feuding dukedoms and what was known as "The Moving of the Forests". Theocracy and serfdom had begun a rapid decline those who claimed nobility attempted to go above and beyond only to cause scattered wars which eventually resulted in the last battle Korishnakov would know.
He found himself afterward, those who he once knew as brethren lay still beside him and those he knew not at all. Many nameless lay either dead or ready to accept their own passing. Korishnakov had little use of his good arm, his left hand and arm deeply wounded after losing his weapon on the field of battle literally defending against the sword with his own body. His life spared in one way yet destroyed in another.
It is here his story may begin.
Age: 32
Race: Human
Physical Description: He is the kind of man who blends with a crowd, few distinguishable features other than a series of scars, winding along the back of his left hand and up the forearm. The kind of face many would find difficult to remember. A strong physique with the stature of an ex-soldier and the build of a battle hardened man.
His appearance as well as his clothing are that of a common man, yet he carries a fine short sword with a hilt of iron, coated in nickel with colored glass fitted into the pommel end.
Personality: The mentality of a disturbed young man grown into the kind of individual who has little vested in society. Korishnakov is a man jaded by battle and hardened by a life exposed to the elements of both man and nature. Though his demeanor strangely gentle, as if he were unsure how to properly interact with others through common or peaceful means. Yet behind that a misshapen mind peers out into the world, secluded in the interior of a man who wishes now for nothing more than to wander of his own will.
History: It was in his early childhood Korishnakov knew the cold and sudden grasp of tragedy. His mother who succumbed to sickness was soon followed by his brothers murder by the hand of his father who hung himself in the well on the family estate. All he had known was bickering and anger until his family came to pass. Though he did not view it was a tragedy, but as a release or maybe a pass to go into the world. It was but the changing of the season when he first took the life of another man in exchange for coin. All the bitterness and seclusion from the world seemed to melt away as he searched for his place in the world.
A decade passed and Korishnakov found himself traveling with a band of private taught soldiers, loyal to a family of nobility who ruled considerable tracks of land many months travel from the place he once knew as home. He had been taught by his brethren to wield a blade and to defend with nothing but flesh and bone. This training was yet another piece added to the madness of his life.
It was during this time Korishnakov found himself in a struggle between feuding dukedoms and what was known as "The Moving of the Forests". Theocracy and serfdom had begun a rapid decline those who claimed nobility attempted to go above and beyond only to cause scattered wars which eventually resulted in the last battle Korishnakov would know.
He found himself afterward, those who he once knew as brethren lay still beside him and those he knew not at all. Many nameless lay either dead or ready to accept their own passing. Korishnakov had little use of his good arm, his left hand and arm deeply wounded after losing his weapon on the field of battle literally defending against the sword with his own body. His life spared in one way yet destroyed in another.
It is here his story may begin.
' Bloody heck, two jobs and a BUNCH of kerfuffle later, and I'm back AGAIN.