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Handle: Que Que

Description

Division/Rank: Infantry Private
Age: 25
Place of Origin: Cairhien
Physical description: A tall young man with a muscular body pruduced from the roughness of war. Short cut pitch black hair, with dark brown eyes, fairly good looking, with many scars from the years of street fighting and drunken brawls.
Weapon of choice: 2 Handed Heavy Mace
Secondary weapon: Dagger

History

Born and raised in the Foregate, a low life who did other peoples dirty work. He had always done thing his own way and the forgate hade enought rules to please him, almost none, atleast when nightfall came. Andeamon had fast learn they ways of the forgate, he took what he needed. His father was a drunk that found more pleasure whiping him with his belt then taking care of his family. Sadly enought he had to feed the family, no out of petty for his mother just so that the father would pick up something more heavy then the belt. Robbery became second nature to him, cuting purses, knocking someone over the head, it was easier then working all day. But one day he knock the wrong person over the head, a wealthy man and the purse he recived would feed them for weeks. But a bounty was set on him head. It seems someone had seen him rob the man and he had start to get careless with where he hunted for coins.

Not more the two days later the guards of the city came to his home, but luckily he was ill. The guards to a quick lock at him and his dear mother lied that he had been sick for allmost a week now. The guard seem to believe her and left them. He decided that he had to flee to city, the guard would be back when found out he was on that fit the discretion of the acuesed the best. So by the help of an old friend, who worked in one of the gate he fleed the city. Stumbling lost in the world with enough coin to make him live for a while. Walking his own way trought the world, cuting purses when he needed it, he started to get... bored. The fleeing was tiring. And then something happen, a man told him of an army, it was said they accepted anybody, low life or not. He later found out they where on they way toward where he was. He saw a chance for a little glory and ofcourse most towns and cities he had been trough was looking for a cut purse and it was always easy to blame it on a wanderer. He had heard stories of that the merchant follow him and that the bounty still was on his head.

This army was his last chance, a chance to stop running. No one would beleive he would join. He smiled and waiting in the troops, even if he was sent to clean pots and sharpen swords he would be safe. And from the stories he had heard the rest of the men in this army was as bad as himself, he would fit in nicely. He just had to take it easy in the begining before he made him move torward the top of this army.

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