Handle: Sato
Description[]
Division/Rank: Infantry Sergeant
Age: 23
Place of origin: A small farming community in Shienar
Physical description: Standing at 5 feet 11 inches Daruun is a sturdily built young man. He is heavily muscled with arms and legs like tree trunks. He has black hair and blue eyes, his hair is cut into the traditional Shienaran topknot and will always stay that way, he is a stickler when it comes to his customs.
Weapon of choice: Tulwar (a reversed blade Scimitar)
Secondary weapon: Scimitar
History[]
Born in a small farming community in Sheinar his father began training him in the ways of the Shienaran warriors as soon as he could hold a sword. Despite his father's attempts to get him to become a good horseman, Daruun always preferred ground combat, "The ground is never going spring up below me, or die and fall over, leaving me trapped beneath it."
As he grew Daruun kept to his training with the sword, and at the age of thirteen began an apprenticeship at the blacksmith in town. While working in the smithy Daruun began to develop quite a knack for catching on fire, despite the leather apron he always wore he would somehow catch his pants ablaze.
Now twenty-three it had been almost seven years since his last pair of burned pants when he finally got himself hurt. He had been working the hammer and anvil all day without a single flame and he was beginning to think that the day turn out great, and then it happened. As he turned around to place the sword he had been working on into some water to cool he felt a extreme heat on his hindparts. Oh no, he thought, not again. He swiftly turned around only to realize that there was no flame on his buttocks, it was just the warmth of the flame in the forge. When he turned back around to place the sword in the water he saw flames licking up his pant leg. "MOTHER'S MILK IN A CUP!" he yelled as he dropped the glowing orange sword and moved to beat down the flame crawling up the leg of his pants. But before he could even get down to the flame the sword he had dropped caught some wood set aside to feed the forge on fire. Swiftly tearing the leg from his pants before it could burn anymore Daruun went to grab a bucket of sand set aside for this very purpose. but when he grabbed the bucket and yanked up the handle tore off, sending Daruun wheeling and the last thing he saw was the sword he had been making, lying on the ground.
When he opened his eyes he immediately bolted upright, only to realize he was lying in a bed, surrounded by his family. "What happened?" he asked, only to get a sorrowful look, "What happened!?" he repeated. "Daruun," his mother began, "the smithy is burned to the ground, you were dragged out right before it collapsed. You've been hurt Daruun." Before they could say another word he was up and moving to a mirror. "Its not that bad," his father stated,"I've seen worse." As Daruun stepped up to the mirror to inspect himself. When he looked in the mirror he was relieved to see his face unscarred, but when he looked at his chest he laughed. Across his chest was a burn, a pretty bad burn, but one that wouldn't hinder his swordsmanship. As Daruun stood there, laughing up a storm his mother asked what he was laughing about. "I mean no disrespect to you mother, but this is not that bad, I too have seen worse. I had expected, from the look on your face, to be horribly maimed." He continued with a laugh, only to get a stern look from his mother.
Soon after he had healed from the burn he began working with the blacksmith to rebuild his smithy, but before they got very far word of a fighting force reached the town. Apparently they were calling themselves The Band of the Red Hand. Daruun immediatley knew this was where his future lay. He had been looking for a place to go, merely because without sufficient horsemanship skill he wasn't very useful to the Shienaran heavy cavalry, and he was apparently kind of unlucky when it came to blacksmithing. He decided he would go in search of this group, as soon as he said his goodbyes. When Daruun told his mother of his descision she was not overjoyed, but she was happy that her son had found something that he wanted to dedicate himself througholy to. Upon hearing his son's decision Daruun's father was overjoyed, "I would rather you fight with them than not at all." He said, with a large grin on his face. After saying goodbye to all his friends and apologizing to his mentor for not staying to complete the smithy Daruun went in search of the Band.
After traveling across the entire continent, following every last shread of evidence that pertained to the Band's whereabouts he finally came upon a small town in Andor, where when he mentioned that he was searching for the Band a man stepped up to him and asked why. "Peace favor your sword my friend, I only wish to join them, why else would I be searching for them?" After hearing a number of reasons from the clearly drunken man another fellow walked up. " If your lookin ta join the Band just venture south, one of their sentry's should pick ya up." So he did, and after less than a day of journeying south a small group of men walked up to him out a small stand of trees. "Hallo, friends and peace favor your swords, I was wondering if you could show me the way the the encampment of the Band of the Red Hand?" After a brief discourse they agreed to allow him to follow until they returned to camp, and so he did.
Upon arriving in the sprawling camp Daruun was immediately pointed to a specific tent and told to go register, Daruun couldn't help but run to the tent and tap on the covering, upon recieving an okay to enter he stepped inside and shook the hand of the only man in the tent. "Peace favor your sword, I am Daruun Daedron of Shienar and I have come to join The Band of the Red Hand."