Name: Mathil Blackweed
Race: Man.
Occupation: It varies from whom you might ask, to some he is considered a Sellsword, to others a bountyhunter, and even to some he is considered an honest Man.
Age: He is not old, yet. Around the late twenties or perhaps early thirties.
Residence: It varies aswell. Where ever work is for him.
Outward Appearence: Looks quite plain, yet rough in his facial appearence. And his body quite atlethic. His short messy dark hair, and untamed goatee would make many think quickly that this Man does not belong in the upper-class. His eyes are brown, and his skin often abit worn and rough. Yet faintly blackened in his long life under the sun. His clothes often looks as if it's homemade or bought at a very low price. Though when speaking about his Armor it's a whole other thing, his armor seems to be made out of fine leather and cloth. Well made for quick movements and swift fighting. One thing that might take your attention, would be the leather necklace around his neck. With a tot of hair at its end, what could that be?
Background:
Mathil Blackweed, born in a small farmhold in the northern Breelands. Nothing was quite odd about Mathil, he appeared both full of energy and joy. He were neutral among the other Children of the area, he were always there when they were playing as kids do. Though it was too change...
Because, as Mathil reached the age of 5 years his sister was born. Her name was Belindil, born disfigured... Mathil loved her as were she the sun despite her appearence, though the surrounding Farms and towns feared her. It was a curse they said, she were damned by something foul. Something as foul, as the tales of the Barrow downs. Mathil remembered people knocking on their door from time to time, people who -had- been friends of the Family. They suggested to his father that they should leave Belindin to the wild Animals, perhaps it would bring light times for them all! Yet Mathil's father would everytime slam the door close, they would not listen to their words. Though no one would buy his Father's crops now, they were abadoned. And it were no better when Mathil's father died of disease and left the farmwork to his only ten year old son and Wife.
Mathil himself used most of his childhood taking care of his sister, at night sitting in the field crying alone for himself. He cried for his sister, and how his family and himself were mocked wherever they went. Mathil would aswell often get into fist-fights with the other boys, when they mocked him or his Family.
Soon after alot of fighting with ignorant children, Mathil was both marked as a bully, and an evil child. None of this true.
He grew up quickly in mind, fighting with work and to keep his sister safe from the people who wanted to end her life. Or save her as they so gently said it.
One day, Mathil brought Belindin outside to walk the fields with him. He was working when it happened, his sister had walked astray. She were curious of the outside world, though wandering away from her brother was a fatal mistake. She stumbled into a couple of older boy's on her way down the road, and ignorant and evil as children can be. They started mocking her, litteraly beating her to the ground. She screamed as they stood around kicking what they did not think as a Human being, but a foul mistake.
Mathil was quickly to hear her cries for help, and he did not hesitate with grabbing a heavy looking branch as his weapon. Swinging it against the older boy's accidently hitting one of the lads head with too much strength behind it. He got vitally wounded, and the other boy's got scared and ran. Leaving the wounded behind, Mathil now stood between the two. Still with his primitive weapon within a tight grip, he were shocked by his own strength and fury. They had put harm upon his sister, which he loved above all else.
As he heard her sobbering, he threw the branch aside. Stroking her hair behind her ear, she had gotten herself quite the beating. Perhaps even too much, Mathil took her within his arms. Carrying her back to the Farmhold, where she eventually died. by the beating her weak bones and(Due to the fact that she had been kept inside and therefore she were not that strong.)
His mother was overwhelmed with grief, and sended Mathil away. To his foreign relatives of Dale. In Dale, he were greeted by his Mother's sister. Greeting him with open arms, here he was for once a welcomed person. He were being taked care off, and he got everything he needed. "The lad has had a hard lif' ye know" Was what his uncle would say when people asked him about Mathil. Though he were far from a happy lad, around his neck he carried a leather necklace at its end there was a tot of his sisters blonde hair. He always wore this, never leaving it behind. It was a lucky token for him.
As he grew abit older, his uncle began teaching him the ways to fight. A way for him to focus his rage and fury, as his uncle said. His uncle were an old Warrior himself, and taught him everything he knew. With every weapon he could handle, from sword to spear. From shield to Javelin. And Mathil, was a good lad at learning it.
After a couple of years more, he was turning into to quite the Warrior, that was for sure. His ideals were clear, Glory and a challenge was a good reason for a fight. That was what Mathil's uncle had taught him, and he was following these ideals into detail.
Soon, he left Dale. To return to Breeland, to see how his Mother were doing.. Though what he returned to was a miserable sign, a ravaged and ruined farm. And no one were there, he was told his Mother had passed on only weeks after he left for Dale. He was all alone now, but he had not lost his determination or his wish to now make a name for himself. And he would regain his family's honor, they were a name that was laughed over by most of the people who still remembered them. He was going to chance that, now.
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