William was born to a well respected albeit small clan of warriors. He grew learning how to wield a blade, and the responsibility that came with such a skill was not ill held. William would follow his father, uncle and grandfathers teachings to the letter his days consisting of morning training, play, and evening training.
Morning to hone the body and teach readiness. Play to teach that battle is a means to an end. Then finally evening to hone the mind to make it sharp as his blade. It was these teachings that would craft the champion of his house from a mere warriors son, into a stalwart defender of those endeared to him.
Alas, the young warrior lusted for a higher place in the minds of people. In a bought of narcissism he set off, away from his familial land of Irrisen into the former of the whispered one.
Ustalav was a very odd place, William had visited towns with his father before sometimes for a month or two at a time but this was different. There was a dreary oppressive feeling, almost like fear gripped at every heart at all times. The country having sucked some of the life sucked out of him decided to look for a way out.
Meeting Winnie drove the embers in his heart back up to a raging inferno. He had decided to head to Brevory, with a trading caravan on their way back home. They where (of course) beset by bandits! Hefting his blade he fought with only it and his Piece mail armor. The bandits, being smarter than most of their ilk, quickly focused the woefully unprepared William.
Standing over three dead bodies, with 4 more bandits in front of him he charged. At this moment all the gods must have taken pity, as a bottle flew past his head his vision became a blur and in an instant. The explosion was more than enough to give the advantage back to William and the caravan.
The woman who saved him is now the light of his life. Not simply due to the life debt he surely owes her, but because he found upon arriving in Brevory... he was a father... of Two to be exact.
Six and a half year later and William has an itch for adventure. One that he must now scratch responsibly. Learning to be more reserved in his hunt for glory, or perhaps giving it up all together, will be a tough hill to climb.
And so we find ourselves at the beginning of a (hopefully) responsible outing.