Character Name: Asrid Ostindel
Height: 6'1" when standing straight always seems to be slouching.
Weight: 170 lbs
Eyes: Blue with black specks
Hair: Dark, just above shoulder length, and is tangled more often than not.
Skin: white, with much tan
Place of Birth/Raising: Borderlands, Manala
Disability: has fits (seizures), mild paranoia, and almost split personality.
Other characteristics: Has a large burn scar that covers most of his left side, from just under his jawline down around to his lower back, is very "sensitive" about this and always wears heavy hooded cloaks,
Weapons: seven knives that he keeps on his person at all times.
On his 12th name day Asrid found himself to be a man, his father started to teach him to defend himself but thought better it be knives first before moving onto the sword, "You must be able to move as fast as your body will allow in order to be able to beat any foe," Asrid put all his effort in his teachings to please his father, for he never seemed to be good enough, Two weeks after His name day His world was flipped around.
Thunder rolled in the sky as Asrid walked in through the front door, slamming it closed so it would catch on the uneven frame, he turned and walked through the cold room, he pulled off his cloak and went into the den where his father usually sat, smoking his pipe and watching the fire in his favorite high backed chair. Rounding the corner he realized that the mantle was cold, and it looked as if it hadn't been lit all day.
"Maybe he's off seeing his lady friend again," as he would do every so often. Walking through the den and into the back room he dropped his cloak on his stool by his bed and sat back against the wall on the floor, where, slowly he dozed off. What seemed minutes later he was foot was kicked, his father was standing over him with a familiar look in his eye, the smell of bad ale radiated off of him. Quickly standing Asrid expected his father to hit him as he always did. But his father just stood there, looking as if he couldn't see his son standing in front of him. Not knowing what he should do Asrid stood mute waiting, as his father's eyes seemed to look through him, off to other places.
Suddenly his eyes focused on his son, surprising him as if he jumped from the shadows, and with a loud bellow his father swung his hand and hit Asrid hard along his head. Asrids' vision turning white and ringing in his ears, he fell to the floor smashing his head on his stool. He crawled along the floor into the den, trying desperately to get to his feet to run. His father stumbled out of the room yelling at Asrid to stop, pleading that how sorry he was. Unable to move any longer Asrid fell to the floor, his breath forming clouds in the cold room before him. His father knelt down beside him and pulled his son to his side, putting his hand over Asrids ear. Only then did he realize that he was bleeding, the room started to spin, lights started dancing in front of him. Colors swirled and flickered as if they were alive. Pain started too swell in his chest, each breath felt as if it weren't there, immense pain seared through his body like molten lead and his vision went white once more only the ringing in his ears grew to a loud roar that consumed every thought in his mind.
His father could only watch as his son, screaming and twisting into impossible angles. Asrids knees pulled tight to his chest and his body went rigid as stone. Screaming as if his soul was being ripped from his body, his father backed away from his son in shock, as his son seemed to be dieing a horrifying death. Fire sprang to life on the floor underneath Asrids left side and around him, swirling around his body as if caressing it, the smell of burnt flesh made his father gag. Running to the door his father began screaming for some one to help, the fire died around Asrid and his body began going limp. A woman known around town to heal just happened to be walking by and heard the screaming and ran by his father without asking a question. She recoiled as the smell hit her, hiding her face in her hands. She ran out and quickly returned with another woman. Asrid was taken to the back room and everything else faded.
Shortly after Asrid got back on his feet, rumor started to fly throughout the town as fast as the wind, from every thing from him going insane too the Dark one possessing his body. Either way Asrid knew he couldn't stay, so he ran. Though he had a little bit of encouragement from the town, as the people started chasing him. Now, he traveled the streets never staying in the same town for more than a couple of days at a time. The only way he could stay alive was to become a pickpocket, snatching purses and stealing food as well as he could. Once on the street late at night, he was caught red handed, literally, his hands were red with his blood and the large man brought him into a back ally and slammed him against a wall. The hood of his cloak falling to his back in the scuffle, a knife to his neck, the man studied his face as if something were familiar to him.
The grin that slowly crept across his face gave Asrid the chills; slowly the man dropped him and took a step back, as if seeing him for the first time. "You're a scrawny lad aren't ya," Asrid held his tongue, deciding now was not the time to be flippant. "How would you like a job? Nothing you couldn't handle I think." Waiting the man just starred at Asrid waiting for his reply. Something just didn't sound right… first the man wanted to kill him, then he was offered a job. His mind raced trying to think of something that would allow him to escape; he didn't think that job was going to be taking bread to his grandmother. This man seemed to know what Asrid was thinking, "Theirs only one right answer to this question boy. Think quick for my patients is already thin."
Desperately he thought of ways he could get away, 'maybe if I just say I will take the job and run as soon as I'm out of his sight.' Some how that didn't seem to make him feel better, this man was going to either kill him or use him. Asrid looked up and nodded, his only chance to live was to do as he said and he had no choice. "Good, you thought right lad, for if you said no, you'd be dead," the grin still made his insides freeze.
The man asked, "How are you at gambling, no that's not important. Here," he handed Asrid a hand full of gold. "I want you to go to the inn across the street, there, a man sits at a table. He's a large man, but those knives you have will do the job." Asrid recoiled at the way the man grinned. How did he know he had knives at all, well, it probably was common sense, or a lucky guess. Then another thought hit him, do the job?
"You want me to kill him, why, what has he done to you?" "Nothing, but you will do as I say or I will use all your knives and not only do the job myself, ill kill you. No, I've a better idea. Ill slice you open, and leave you to rot, right in this very alley." Again the grin was on this mans face, chilling Asrid to the marrow of his bones.
He found himself inside the inn faster than he would have liked, it was full of smoke and reeked of sweat. The man was across the room just as he was told. Big was an understatement. Asrid thought himself tall, usually taller than most people, but this man was huge, his arms were like tree trunks. And his legs were wider than Asrids body. Walking across the common area, he kept his distance from the people in the crowd. The man in question bellowed a great laugh that over powered that of every noise in the room. A waitress quickly walked away with a limp that said everything. He sat across a group of rough looking men, all cheering for the one in the middle. He put his arm on the table and grasped Mr. Big by the hand. It was an arm wrestling match, and both men were large, and very drunk.
Another man off to the side slammed his hand on the table to start the match. Very quickly Mr. Big took control, holding the others down almost touching the table, just toying with him to prove how weak he actually was. Finally his opponents' arm gave out with a loud pop. The cheering grew to a defining roar, money was swapping hands and a fight broke out. He took his chance and sliced the mans tendons in his legs causing him to let go of someone else's head, unnoticed by the crowd Asrid sliced the mans throat, and left him to drown in his own blood. Quickly he moved for the door, and just as quickly became swept up in a group all bashing each other's faces. Someone hit Asrid in the shoulder spinning him around. Using the momentum Asrid shoved the knife in his attackers gut and wrenched around to make it a killing cut. Another man grabbed Asrid by his left arm causing his scars to sear with pain. Stabbing the man in his arm, causing him to let go with a scream, Asrid went after him in a furry of his own. The attacker went down with a heavy thud, dead before he hit the ground. Asrid turned and went after the next, without thought he sliced another neck, and kicked him out of the way making his way to the door he killed any one that got in his way.
Before he knew it he was out in the streets covered in blood, how much of it was his, he didn't know, stumbling across the dark street he entered the alley where he was told to go afterwards. Near exhaustion he dropped to the ground and laid his head on the wall behind him. The air stirred and the man seemed to appear right out of the darkness.
"Very good, you did well, though I only needed you to kill one, you made a little mess in there. But impressive anyways." Asrid soon found himself traveling away with the madman to the blight.