Alexander Verallas
Appearance
In his first days, Alexander is the likeness of a boy struggling on the path. His wares are of simple leathers and he carries no arms as of yet. His hair and face are dirties from endless days in the outdoors and he is gradually loosing weight and muscle mass due to the hardships of vagrancy.
But I digress...
This is a young man of no distinguishing features. He is Human and born of the Reach, raised by Allirian folk and dressed in the appropriate style and tender. His apparel is not of high born standard, he a commoner and peasant, and a poor one at that.
So far he has yet to lose any limbs or fingers, and most importantly still carries a head on top of his shoulders (though at times it may seem as though he has forgotten to use what lays therein).
On a good day he may seem approachable, if not a little uncertain in himself. That is to be expected mind you, of a young lad who's family has been butchered.
But I digress...
This is a young man of no distinguishing features. He is Human and born of the Reach, raised by Allirian folk and dressed in the appropriate style and tender. His apparel is not of high born standard, he a commoner and peasant, and a poor one at that.
So far he has yet to lose any limbs or fingers, and most importantly still carries a head on top of his shoulders (though at times it may seem as though he has forgotten to use what lays therein).
On a good day he may seem approachable, if not a little uncertain in himself. That is to be expected mind you, of a young lad who's family has been butchered.
Skills and Abilities
- Tenderfoot: Alexander is young and inexperienced. He is thusfar surviving by the skin of his teeth and not without great strife in achieving the simple pleasures of every day life. For a young Lad with naught but the clothes on his back and no coin to his name, his path in life could go in any fated direction.
- Greenhorn: Receiving no training in martial combat, Alexander's only defense is a boys stubborn pride and the weight of his fists. He has courage when it counts, yet against men baring steel and plate, cannot hope to survive without the aid of another.
- Idealist: Alex is a believer in the best of people, despite how he has suffered. He clings to the teachings of his parents and does his utmost to live the life of a goodman, treating others with kindness and respect lest they hope to tread upon him.
Personality
- Respectful: Alex seeks to please those in company of him, wanting not to do harm upon others and wishing for folk to see him as a welcome and positive presence. For a vagabond and a loner, friends are in high demand. Companionship is something he desires, not to mention his upbringing was built upon virtues of honor and integrity.
- Considerate: Likely to intervene if someone is seen to be struggling or caught up in conflict, Alexander has felt the burden of suffrage and therefore would not hesitate to keep others free of strife.
- Self-conscious: Due to the tragic turn in his life, Alex has suffered a mighty blow in his personal confidence and overall view of himself. He is now of no social status, no possessions of claims to trade, has nothing to offer and none to call upon. His spirits are low and while he deigns not to show it, he is not affeared to blame himself.
- Wary: Trust in his fellow man has been shattered, and so his ability to see good in the same gender does not come as easily as his trust in women and children. His worldview has been spoiled, or perhaps he has awoken to the true world beyond the hearth; Regardless, Alexander is not quick to trust many.
Biography & Lore
This is the life of Alexander (Alex), born of Meille and Jurand Verallas of the Allir Reach, fated to farm the land of his namesake and dream of distant stories, myths and legends of adventure, magical woes and wondrous tales. In a time of honored Knights, Mighty Orcs and Powerful Sorcerers, this young lad was born into peasantry; Thrust then into Tragedy and begun his journey into being.
It all first started however within the quaint farmland owned by his house, the Hearth of Verallas. Life as a boy was a simpler time, tending to chores and helping his Father in carpentry while his Mother cared for the home, educated Alex and his Sisters and tended to their small livestock of but a few cattle, chook's and sheep. Their farmstead lay upon the green, a lively and peaceful place near the edge of the province, and host to few that deigned to travel their way. None were fearsome, nor talented in arcane arts, but the family were born of good stock and taught the merits of respect, honor and integrity.
Like his Father Jurand, Alex bore the hard labours while his Sisters Elis and Lera, tended to the Gardens and the smaller animals. As a family they were close and caring, protective of one another and despite the usual sibling squabbles, there was no bad blood between them. Jurand Verallas had come to the Alliria from Liadain before their conception and met Meille in his travels. As a pair they were captivated by one another and so ended his adventures. The Children however were told little of their Father's life before coming to the Allir Reach, and when questioned, were oft met with stern discouraging. "Some things are best not spoken, not all tales should be told" were their Pa's words, and that was that.
Alas, that was the height of intrigue in their lives; Until one fated and horrific autumns eve...
With Winter on the horizon, shelter, warmth and food were of great value to those of the peasantry and common place. The Nights grew colder and the farmlands harder to ply. Subsequent was the roaming of banditry and the gall of Brigands who this mid-evening came upon the Verallas land and sought to take what they did not possess.
Shouting, screams and cries for mercy rang true that night, yet too far from Alliria or the Guard, they were naught but forced to fend for themselves against such savagery.
Young, naive and inexperienced, the affair rushed Alexander by with a great and violent pace. These were the last memories he would carry of his family. His Father's courage before rabid, yearning and heartless eyes. His Mother's screams as Alex's Sisters were torn from her arms. Their Parents final moments of life, and his Mothers final plea to Alexander.
Run, Alex!
He did so, and yet the guilt and nightmares would forever chase him more. Life since that evening would not be the same. Every day lived would be a feat, every night a desperate search for shelter, food and warmth. Forced to live like the same ilk that took from his world, yet taught against the wrongdoing of good folk; This is how Alexander came to be a Vagabond, with dreams of one day being able to stand tall against the vile of lesser men.
It all first started however within the quaint farmland owned by his house, the Hearth of Verallas. Life as a boy was a simpler time, tending to chores and helping his Father in carpentry while his Mother cared for the home, educated Alex and his Sisters and tended to their small livestock of but a few cattle, chook's and sheep. Their farmstead lay upon the green, a lively and peaceful place near the edge of the province, and host to few that deigned to travel their way. None were fearsome, nor talented in arcane arts, but the family were born of good stock and taught the merits of respect, honor and integrity.
Like his Father Jurand, Alex bore the hard labours while his Sisters Elis and Lera, tended to the Gardens and the smaller animals. As a family they were close and caring, protective of one another and despite the usual sibling squabbles, there was no bad blood between them. Jurand Verallas had come to the Alliria from Liadain before their conception and met Meille in his travels. As a pair they were captivated by one another and so ended his adventures. The Children however were told little of their Father's life before coming to the Allir Reach, and when questioned, were oft met with stern discouraging. "Some things are best not spoken, not all tales should be told" were their Pa's words, and that was that.
Alas, that was the height of intrigue in their lives; Until one fated and horrific autumns eve...
With Winter on the horizon, shelter, warmth and food were of great value to those of the peasantry and common place. The Nights grew colder and the farmlands harder to ply. Subsequent was the roaming of banditry and the gall of Brigands who this mid-evening came upon the Verallas land and sought to take what they did not possess.
Shouting, screams and cries for mercy rang true that night, yet too far from Alliria or the Guard, they were naught but forced to fend for themselves against such savagery.
Young, naive and inexperienced, the affair rushed Alexander by with a great and violent pace. These were the last memories he would carry of his family. His Father's courage before rabid, yearning and heartless eyes. His Mother's screams as Alex's Sisters were torn from her arms. Their Parents final moments of life, and his Mothers final plea to Alexander.
Run, Alex!
He did so, and yet the guilt and nightmares would forever chase him more. Life since that evening would not be the same. Every day lived would be a feat, every night a desperate search for shelter, food and warmth. Forced to live like the same ilk that took from his world, yet taught against the wrongdoing of good folk; This is how Alexander came to be a Vagabond, with dreams of one day being able to stand tall against the vile of lesser men.
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