Ech... le vin est célèbre. Peut-être un autre jour. Il a ouvert son porte-monnaie avec ses dents. Ce damné sorcier ne lui a donné que des pièces d'or et d'argent.
"Dites-vous quoi. Un or pour la bière, et racontez-moi une histoire pendant que vous y êtes. Vous êtes un voyageur, donc vous devriez être en mesure de raconter au moins une bonne histoire, bard ou n-" il s'est arrêté lui-même quand il a pris la tasse. Le marchand venait de descendre une pinte entière d'un seul coup.
"Tu as la gorge sur toi, ma fille. Vous êtes peut-être encore un artiste."
Name: Sergei
Age: 48
Race: Human
Looks: From a distance, the man seems almost normal, his black hair long and tattered, shorting a short beard and mustache. Upon closer view, however, it is quickly apparent he has only one steely eye- the right has been gouged out, leaving a scar. The cheek on the same side was also ripped open, the half-glasgow exposing a row of teeth and gums. His left arm has been severed right below the elbow, leaving only a ragged stump. His stomach has a messily healed wound from a puncture, among a small battery of smaller battlescars across his body.
The muscles in his right arm and back are overdeveloped, to the point of near deformity.
Typically, he prefers to wear a sleeveless hauberk and frayed red surcoat, with an iron bracer strapped onto his good arm. His left shoulder is covered with a white shoulder cape, partly concealing his missing arm. On his hip he likes to wear a heavy, well-worn war sword and a long dagger.
Bio: Sergei was, in his younger years, the lord presiding over a particularly ferocious band of knights, famed for their ruthless talent on the battlefield. Under his leadership, Sergei led them from battle to battle, wherever their lords desire, with only the mission to burn everything in their path. Violence, however, is begot with violence, and their numbers dwindled steadily.
At the site of his final battle at the ruins of some forgotten castle, Sergei alone hacked dozens into pieces as the dust and sand and blood clouded the sight of every last one of his knights, including his own son. It was also here that Sergei lost his arm, eye, and cheek. Miraculously, he survived, cauterizing his stump on a piece of burning lumber.
Sergei was now crippled, alone, and stripped of his lands and servants. It was only natural for him to return to the one thing he excelled at. After retraining himself to use a sword one-handed, he became a particularly violent mercenary, selling himself to whichever lord needed the usage of a heavy iron blade. His life since then has been a constant cycle of fighting and hedonistic spending on whatever caught his eye, sans the perks of nobility.
Most recently, he has found himself locked in a dungeon for the charges of public intoxication, and striking a town guard.
Other: Despite having one arm, its muscles and his back's are trained to freakish levels, giving Sergei great upper body strength, and allowing him to compensate. In this way, he can even wield a heavy war sword with deadly effectiveness.
On the other hand, it and the facial scars are a dead giveaway of who he is- anyone familiar with matters of war are sure to have heard of a one-armed swordsman, let alone one with an impressive record.