Milothgar grew up in a well to do family of Valour. When he turned
thirteen he was sent to a camp for potential squires. There he learned the
arts of surviving in the wilderness. The moral tenants that all squires,
knights and nobles should hold. His masters taught him reading, writing,
how to dance at a diplomatic ball. Everything his life would expect.
Then came the final test. Called "The divinity." An artifact was placed
upon a mountain top by scouts who cleared the area of orcs. His job, along
with another potential squire, was to pray to the gods daily and hope they
spoke to him on it's location.
It was during this quest that, in the middle of the night, a small band of
orcs came upon their camp. Apparently the scouts ahead failed in their duty
of ridding every nook and cranny of the moutains of the hideous creatures.
Milothgar drew his short sword even though his body shook with fear. In
front of him the other student did not have time to fully awake before his
arm was sliced off, followed by his head.
Milothgar screamed, dropped his weapon and ran into the night. The orcs
gave chase, causing noises of their own from atop their wargs. The sounds
caught the attention of the scouts in the distance and they immediately rode
in and slaughtered the orcs.
They found little Milo resting against a tree. His breath heavy and his
body was covered in dirt. They took him back to their camp and fed him. He
never forgave himself for running away in fear. The art of reading and
writing may have been in him, but courage was not. Now he travels the
realms seeking to redeem himself and avenge his fallen friend.
Milothgar rested in the ranger's guild of Seringale. It's trees reminded
him of the forests out west. In particular the forest of illusion and his
adventure there. Another scouting mission placed on him by Storm Hill. And
by mission it was little more than a job for a pest exterminator.
Missions... He realized his mentors used that jargon to get him into the
mindset of a holy warrior. Did little tricks like that actually work?
Milothgar shook his head and tried to push the idea aside. His mentors were
not mind washing him, but trying to better and prepare him for his future.
His future as a Knight. He grunted.
The details and extremes his teachers put into his lessons were something to
be respected. They lived long lives and if he wanted to do the same, he
should do as told. Kill pests, read books, clean churches, learn dance and
fashion, how to speak properly and carry himself. Then came the pain of his
sparring matches. He had been hit so many times in the head and chest with
a wooden sword, he could feel the air leaving his lungs by just thinking
He smirked to himself. No way he could be burned out now. He wasn't even a
squire! Hard work paid off and he had to remember that. Maybe it will get
easier as the years pass by. If he lived long enough, maybe he could get
his own students to do the dirty work. That is the way of things, right?
What a strange world.
This man has a very flattened nose. Above it are two large, emerald
green eyes that seem to glitter. Thick brown, curly hair covers his head
and rests on his shoulders. His skin looks weather worn and yellowed. Two
large pearly-white canines can be seen protuding from his mouth. Noticeable
muscles push against the sleeves of his tattered shirt. Over all he looks
fit, stocky and at ease in his surroundings.