sinfulrook
Supernova
- Joined
- Feb 2, 2011
"Sir, we have company..."
"Hm? Who would want to fight a random mercenary?"
"The banner seems to be one of the Sarranid Sultanate, Emir Dhiyul."
"What would that old man want with me? No matter, this battle shall end quickly..."
Leonardo was just a simple mercenary, born and raised in the plains and frozen tundras of the Kingdom of Nords. When he was very young, he became an orphan, due to one of the lords killing his father and taking away his mother into slavery, who was later killed due to the harshness of the lord. He didn't know his surname, so people simply called him Leo, the lion of the tundras. As he slowly grew up, he was taught how to fight, and not just with his bare hands, with weapons as well. He was an excellent swordsman and archer, but lacked in skill with throwing javelins or axes, or even knives. As he turned to be old enough to leave his pack, he ventured out for adventure, seeking jobs from one place to the next, letting the work take him wherever. He eventually was joined by a few people, and so he finally had his own band of mercenaries, small at first, but it slowly grew larger and larger with each passing month.
Now being at the age of 26, Leo was travelling with his large group of mercenaries, fighting battles wherever they came. He has seen men dying left and right, arrows whizzing right by his face, he has even held a defenseless woman in his arms and watched her die from an arrow in the back. He has seen a lot of action, and was considered a veteran fighter already, despite his young age.
Today, he was just relaxing with his crew, chatting, eating, laughing, dancing, and just sharing tales and jokes with each other. He knew his men well, and they were a fine pair of recruits that have learned to eventually fight as well as he has. The celebrating was interrupted by one of the scouts who has reported the approach of Emir Dhiyul. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, his muscles barely straining since he was so used to the chainmail armor that he has worn for the longest time. His long brown hair reached just past his shoulders, his beard almost non-existent since he shaved just a few days ago. As the wind blew, his hair waved, and his sky blue eyes fixed on the horizon that the scout pointed towards.
"Men, gear up! We shall not let this old man take us by surprise." He spoke in a proud voice, reaching for his sword and shield. His men all smiled and cheered for him, slowly getting up as well. "I shall see to it, that this man is taken down by my hand! We shall be victorious!" He shouted and raised his sword up high above his head, the blade hovering horizontally over his head. "To arms!" He said one last time and watched as all his men began to gear up, and he did as well. After grabbing his bow, quiver, shield, sword, and helmet, he got on his horse and began riding towards the enemy, but slowly enough so that his troops can march with him.
"Hm? Who would want to fight a random mercenary?"
"The banner seems to be one of the Sarranid Sultanate, Emir Dhiyul."
"What would that old man want with me? No matter, this battle shall end quickly..."
Leonardo was just a simple mercenary, born and raised in the plains and frozen tundras of the Kingdom of Nords. When he was very young, he became an orphan, due to one of the lords killing his father and taking away his mother into slavery, who was later killed due to the harshness of the lord. He didn't know his surname, so people simply called him Leo, the lion of the tundras. As he slowly grew up, he was taught how to fight, and not just with his bare hands, with weapons as well. He was an excellent swordsman and archer, but lacked in skill with throwing javelins or axes, or even knives. As he turned to be old enough to leave his pack, he ventured out for adventure, seeking jobs from one place to the next, letting the work take him wherever. He eventually was joined by a few people, and so he finally had his own band of mercenaries, small at first, but it slowly grew larger and larger with each passing month.
Now being at the age of 26, Leo was travelling with his large group of mercenaries, fighting battles wherever they came. He has seen men dying left and right, arrows whizzing right by his face, he has even held a defenseless woman in his arms and watched her die from an arrow in the back. He has seen a lot of action, and was considered a veteran fighter already, despite his young age.
Today, he was just relaxing with his crew, chatting, eating, laughing, dancing, and just sharing tales and jokes with each other. He knew his men well, and they were a fine pair of recruits that have learned to eventually fight as well as he has. The celebrating was interrupted by one of the scouts who has reported the approach of Emir Dhiyul. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet, his muscles barely straining since he was so used to the chainmail armor that he has worn for the longest time. His long brown hair reached just past his shoulders, his beard almost non-existent since he shaved just a few days ago. As the wind blew, his hair waved, and his sky blue eyes fixed on the horizon that the scout pointed towards.
"Men, gear up! We shall not let this old man take us by surprise." He spoke in a proud voice, reaching for his sword and shield. His men all smiled and cheered for him, slowly getting up as well. "I shall see to it, that this man is taken down by my hand! We shall be victorious!" He shouted and raised his sword up high above his head, the blade hovering horizontally over his head. "To arms!" He said one last time and watched as all his men began to gear up, and he did as well. After grabbing his bow, quiver, shield, sword, and helmet, he got on his horse and began riding towards the enemy, but slowly enough so that his troops can march with him.