Greetings.

[Willard Thomson]

Name: Willard John Thomson
Gender: Male.
Age: 25.
Pre-Militia: Smith.
Family: None.

Description:
Your gaze falls upon the strongly build man of roughly 25 summers, exuding physical prowess and strong-willed confidence. This fair-skinned man stands just less than 6 feet, his massive muscular body chiselled like granite. His coal-black hair hangs freely on his scalp, swinging where the wind takes it.
The angular features of his face reflect his inner confidence and fiery expression. His face is framed with a wiry goat beard cropped close to his skin. His eyes, the most attention grabbing of all, are of the colour of a mystical sapphire. His powerful jaw, set solid on his face, is well-shaped.

Personality:
Willard is friendly but rarely socializes, except with close friends. He is a very industrious worker and equally disciplined and devoted to the teachings of Auros's martial priesthood.

History:
This night has been growing unseasonably chilly. The rising breeze carries the scent of the damp forests. The wind in the leaves fills the forest with a dull murmur, like a thousand hushed voices whispering in the darkness. Scudding clouds overhead allow only feeble moonlight to peep through, while the faint glow serves only to enhance the menace in your mind. “We’re under attack!”, shouts a guard nearby. This has been the 3rd time Willard heard this warning before, but it seemed so far away. This time, however he awakens. “Warn the militia!”, shouts a guard from within the courtyard, as the sound of metal against metal resonates through the air. Realizing the threat is nearby, Willard jumps out of bed, awaking his beloved Isolde. “This couldn’t be a drill”, Willard thought - This seemed so real.

Willard found his old and rusty mail nearby and slipped into it with ease, since it hasn’t really been made to his size yet. He straps his belt and sheath around his waist as the screams of battle continue to ring through the air. ‘Isolde!’, he bellows back to his wife “Get Áinin and head to the city!” A ringing sound can be heard as he takes the sword out of his sheath, the sword which has been given to him by his father. Quickly he runs out of his new found cottage, and opens the oaken door, only to reveal that the orcs already breached the outer defence and are fighting with superior strength.

Sounds of metal blended with screams of pain as minutes pass, until his beloved wife and son were ready to depart. “Isolde, listen to me.. Listen!”, she was shaking with fear, but understood the necessity of control in order to survive. “Do you see the group there?”, Willard said, while points to a small group of women and children with two guards. “Go there and stay with them. They will head to the safety of the City. Now go!”, he said as a quick farewell to his wife and son.

It was only minutes later since the first shouts, and already the town was burning. Cursing himself for not training with his sword he ran towards the town in a desperate attempt to safe those dear to him by creating time… if only he knew how poor his judgement was. After a sudden burst of sharp pain, darkness overtook him..

------------------

“He’ll mend fine.. all he needs is time”, he heard as if the source was yards away. “Ah, I think he heard us..”, the same man said with a kind, warm voice. Willard slowly opened his eyes, trying not to blind himself by the lazy candle light nearby. He found himself lying in a strange bed with two priests at the side of the bed, eager to ask some questions. “Welcome back, friend.. aren’t you a lucky one. Tell me, what is your name, young man? Perhaps we can locate some of your family”. A thousand thoughts ran through Willard’s head with only one name clear “Isolde..”, he said softly. Both priests raised their eyebrows in surprise. “.. Find Isolde.. And, a young ladd, Áinin.”, Willard managed to say afterwards. Speaking words was painful, but not nearly as painful as the thoughts that troubled Willard as of now. Both men left the room, leaving Willard to recover.

------------------

Days later Willard was broken to hear of his losses. The group never really made it to the safety of the walls. Unable to function in society so soon the priests took him in, enlightening him on the hope and strength found in the Light. During these long days the priests noticed a divine source within Willard – explaining to him his heritage as a paladin and his duty as such – giving him meaning for a life.

Right now, Willard is determined to serve and protect his beloved land and liege. Preventing those who might be unfortunate enough like himself to the suffer the same fate which has been inflicted upon him.

((Yes, yes.. Cliché-like. Still, it gives a good impression over whom Willard is. As for me, I'm Tom Suddaby, 17 winters.. English/Dutch, live in Holland. Questions will be anwsered.

[Nathero Aristo]

Greetings fellow !
Great to have another country member joining us
Good luck .

[Caliborn dEluvar]

Welcome to the Duchy, friend!

I'm certain that I speak for a significant portion of the members here when I say thanks for taking the time to write out all the details about your character. It really adds to the atmosphere, and I appreciate you attempting to develop and roleplay an actual character!

I hope to see you in-game soon! (assuming, of course, I can actually buy this darn game and then get in past the massive queue...)

[Willard Thomson]

Willard inhales deeply, the memory still burning in his head as he slowly walks towards the City Long March’. He looks over his shoulder, spotting the men he has been with since his teens and nods briefly. All of them suffered the same as he had, for their village was destroyed. With burning determination they advanced to the gate. The sun shines broadly, greeting Willard with a warm glow on his hardened skin, as he is greeted by the guards.
The guard eyes all men, being ‘armed’ with mere pitchforks and someone with a bow. His eyebrow raises slightly, and he turns his attention to Willard, who seems to be the only one with a decent axe as well as a powerful shaped body. His arm lowers slowly to his sword belt, and spotting Willard who want to begin to start a conversation, the guard interrupts him. "Name the state of your business, Villein."

Willard smiles faintly. "Our village was raided, our wifes murdered, our daughters taken, and our sons burned. The village has become a ghost town, for it was a quick raid for orcs, not meant to raise it to the ground. We, we men, are the ones who drove the orcs off, but.. Those who took the safety of.. Of your guards perished."

He inhales deeply, trying to contain his emotion to finish his story. After a shot break he continues. "We do not wish to share our fate with others, nor anything like this. We, the men and I, come to strengthen the ranks of the Militia, for that is definitely needed."

The other guard steps closer towards his fellow guard, snorting. "And, a peasant such as yourself will strengthen it, as well as to create an army to bleed out the orcs? Hah! Don’t make me laugh, you don’t know how to use weapons, and.. You can’t even unify your men!"

Willard ponders what he meant with that, as the guard who spoke nods over his shoulder, that direction. Willard looks and sees the men with his bow walk away. As Willard turns stands in front of a grinning guard, whose face looks victories in the taunt. Willard simply ignores the remark. "Yes, I will. For it is my sole purpose, I wi-…"

Suddenly the men in the open field with the bow shouts. "Show me a target!"

The guards chuckle softly to each other, and point to a nearby tree. The bowmen nods slowly, more to himself then to the guards. He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind. He reopens them, thinking over nothing but the tree. A big void, with a tree. All his attention lies there, and he raises his bow to eye level. With a slow motion, he pulls the cord and the arrow to his eye, and lets it lose. The arrow flies in the air, and lands just two feet in front of the tree. With a grim face the men returns to the group, as the guards nod slowly. "A good shot, though you need something better then that stick-‘nd-rope to fire distances."

Willard nods slowly. "That is the reason we came here.. Now, where do we sign up?"

[Devan Omega]

Welcome to duchy!

[Quinton Emeka]

Greetings and welcome!