Name: Lute Vint
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance: While not exactly the opposite of an impoverished fellow, Lute is fairly clean, his body coated with a pale chunk of flesh that is his skin. He is lean, and his once elegant face has been reduced to that of a mercenary's, though some traces of grace can be seen left over. Standing at 5'7, he has green eyes that are either the color of grass at one time, or the color of wine another. He is dressed in mainly dark colors, tight yet loose enough for mobility. Though handsome, he has multiple scars on his arms, small like a cut from glass, scattered about randomly.
Personality: Genteel. He has good intentions, and follows them through, but the method in which he carries them out...chaotic. Lute has, one could say, very refined tastes, and treats those who he does not know with a certain scorn that those he
does know would find completely uncharacteristic. He is suave in both looks and persona, preferring to be more delicate in his bearing when a lady is present. (Ohoho!
)He has a quick, sharp tongue, and could be described as more down-to-earth than some of the other mercenaries about. Being a laid-back individual, he is leaning on the sides of condescending, and just down-right arrogant.
Background: While not an advocate of atheism, Lute oft times tried to convert his parents from their own religion. They would talk about 'God' incessantly, and simply put, would not shut the hell up. They were obsessed-- extremists, of sorts. After your typical 'Get out of my house, you ungrateful piece of crap' anger-induced shout, Lute left, though not the village entirely. He stayed at the nearby church, which he thought was a rather ironic twist.
He hid out for a while, before he decided to steal from the priest late one night, hoping to leave the next day. Once in his room, he stole countless items-- vials of liquids, money, pens, ink, silver, alcohol, etc. Nevertheless, after half-an-hour of getting greedy and looting everything in sight, the priest woke.
Long story short; Lute had to kill him.
It was the first time he had killed a man, and he was guilt-ridden. He fell asleep in the room, full of regret.
The next day, he awoke in a basement with a bowl of water and food and in front of him. He was being held here, against his will. It was not a cell, however, and he was lucky he wasn't reported to the authorities. After a month or so of living this way, he was released on the condition that he travel around, helping as many as lives as they deemed equivalent to their priest's;
'Countless', they said was the number.
Countless?
So nine? Or countless as in infinite? He didn't know.
He just cared that he was free.
Other: Erm, nothing in particular. He's a warrior, and uses an obsidian blade (which is sheathed on his back).