During a considerably miserable night in the monastery in Seringale.
Repeatedly forks of lightning would flicker through the night illuminating
everything, thunderclaps echoing loudly in the skies shaking Serin moments
later. During a lull there came three sudden loud knocks upon the front
door. Barely woken from slumber the guildmaster stumbled gracefully down
the halls grasping a torch as he went. Swinging open the wooden doors and
immediately seeing nothing at eyelevel. A muffled cry draws his attention
downward. Though the monastery was barely holding things together
financially he couldn't turn his back on a baby. This was the beginning for
Sejga. The next seventeen years, he was taught the martial arts and combat
of hand to hand. He excelled in it. Revelled in it. There seemed to be
something that was a bit off though, more aggression than normal or was
there? One day though, he just disappeared.
Description:
Standing before you, at roughly five hands, eight fingers, Sejga is here
poised and ready. His head is shaved bald, save for a single thick braid
coming off of the back of his head. His clothing are drab and non-descript,
loose, but secured firmly, so as to allow freedom of movement. When he
strides, it is done with grace, and balance. His eyes, a deep sea blue and
shining with intensity.
[reply to Sejga]