PLAYED BY: Jacob Bollig
CHARACTER NAME: Garth
HAIR: Dark brown
OCCUPATION: Member of the Broken Blade, trying to learn how to be a blacksmith.
KNOWN SKILLS: Magic and skilled swordsmanship with larger weapons.
BIRTHPLACE: Not sure, too many blows to the head…
APPEARANCE: Fancy outfit
RELATIONSHIPS: Broken Blade
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: It’s hard to describe. I had a life before I woke up in a bed surrounded by the wounded. I was in the final battle of the Ulven Civil War. Flashes of memory are all that I can bring back now. A small house in the woods; a girl in a red dress; me using magic. Sadly, nothing solid in fact. As it turns out, none of the people here know anything about me. Some say they saw me fighting in the battle, but I do not know why. I stayed in that bed for more than a week resting and healing. My leg had been cut so badly I could barely get out the bed, let alone walk. Eventually, after waiting in pain for the only cleric to get around to healing everyone who had been waiting before me, he finally healed me so now… Only a small scar remains in its place. A camp fire is where I found myself, the stories of the war never stopped being told. Who did this or that. Who killed what or who and how. How gory or gruesome the kills. Great friends dying or great enemies. So many little stories of tragedies and of victory. The best tale I can remember is of the command outpost and the brave who fell there. They killed many and lost some, but the glory is all that remains. Glory and Great Legends. Bolder and bolder the tales became. First the stories were that of a scuffle that led to them winning; then on to a complete raid that they won; then it turned into them fighting off wave after wave of brutal warriors, eventually ending with every warrior dead and all the men of The Broken Blades tired, but intact, after their grand victory. These are the tales I loved and they were the first stories that I heard of The Broken Blade. After the command outpost fell, the Broken Blades went and took it back fiercely. Often, I wish I had stood with those men, but at that time I had not yet found my place in the world. So much still lost to me. Even after weeks passed, nothing new had come to me. After staring into the fire for so long it seemed, I got thrown out of my thoughtful trance by a small paper falling gracefully into the fire. Meeting it’s imminent end inside the heat of the fire. Watching the paper closely, I noticed that it said something. Before it curled up and turned into ash completely, I reached forward, snatching it out of the blaze, the fire grazing my palm. I patted the fire out on the half-burnt piece of paper and read “Join The Broken Blades… They laughed at our hats, We laughed at their funerals.” As I put the fire out on the paper, a new fire lit inside me. I could join… I could be a part of something bigger than me. So that’s what I set out to find. I would find the people I would fight along-side to the end. I would become A Broken Blade. But first… I need to find a hat.