Born to poor parents Paerovicht knew nothing of the large cities that lie
just beyond the mountains he gazed up at as a child. He had always been
daring, a precocious young child young Paerovicht would run through the
village chasing the hens in and out of their enclosures. His mother left to
try and reign him in alone since his father's life had been devoted to his
work in the mines. She was constantly at her wits end with him and his
rambunctious nature. As he grew a bit older he began to leave the chickens
be and turned his attention to sparring matches with the other children.
This came somewhat naturally for him and he found that he excelled at
combat. One by one he would take down the other boys, claiming victory over
them and taking any new challenger to come forth. His arrogance would soon
teach him a lesson he would never forget. At the age of 14 Paerovicht was
standing in the center of a large circle of young boys taking down
challenger after challenger when he saw an unfamiliar face watching him. He
had not seen this boy before, and especially didn't like the smirk on his
face as he watched the fights. He approached the strangerand began to
interrogate him as to where he was from and what he was smirking at. The
boy replied "Just watching you children pretend to fight." This infuriated
Paerovicht and he snapped back "If you think this is pretend, why don't you
come join in?" The boy chuckled and accepted the challenge. "What are the
rules to your game?" He asked, the smirk still upon his face. Paerovicht
stated there were no rules and to use whatever weapon he wished. Paerovicht
was especially good with his sword, he drew it quickly and adopted his
fighting stance. The boy pulled a pair of whips from his satchel and began
to swing them above his head, snapping them at Paerovicht's feet with a
mastery he had never seen before. The fight began and Paerovicht was
clearly out matched. He was quickly disarmed with a snap of the boy's whip,
before he could even react his feet were taken out from under him with a
second snap of the whip. Paerovicht attempted to recover his sword, but was
lashed and beaten at every attempt he made. The boy chuckled and told
Paerovicht "I will let you get back to playing with your friends." And he
started to walk away. Paerovicht was stricken with humiliation in front of
the village youth, he chased after the boy and asked him where he learned to
use a whip like that. He told Paerovicht of a city beyond the mountain, his
father was a blacksmith there reknown for his fine craftmanship. The boy
was traveling with a small caravan through the villages trading his fathers
armors and weapons for gems and ore from the mines. He explained that there
were teachers there who could teach him more than he could ever learn in his
village. Over the next few years Paerovicht had grown immensely, much
thicker and stronger than he was before, he still
retained the quickness of his youth. He felt that he was meant for more
than than a life spend in the mines, he had devoted the last two years to
training his form in combat. He felt he had outgrown the village and the
time to move on had come. He packed up what few belongings he had and set
out over the mountain. He found the city the boy years ago had spoke of, he
took up at the guild of warriors within the great city of Seringale. He
immersed himself in the art of combat, not heeding until he had the
reputation he had felt for so long he deserved.
Description:
Long dark brown hair falls down past the shoulders of this stocky fellow. The clumps of hair cover most of his face, seeming to tie into his gnarled beard. Two dark blue eyes can be seen in between the strands of hair, above what appears to be the mangled remains of a nose. His body is short and thick, from his shoulders down to his legs. His stomach spills slightly over his waistband. His hands hang just above his waist, busted and swollen knuckles can be seen beneath the thick packing of blood and dirt covering them.
[reply to ewils03]