Desmond Winters's page

Desmond
He is tall and lean with an athletic build. He is classically handsome. He wheres a black tunic over his chain shirt. The tunic is fairly new hand made by his mother.

He is a bit of a loaner. Not that he doesn't like people he just isn't great at communication and gets along better by himself. He doesn't make friends easy and with recent tragedy needs to build trust with anybody he works with. He is cool and calm under pressure and a bit cocky when doing things he's good at.

Desmond grew up in the plains of Numeria. Their clan was small and lived by the river. It benefited by being at a crossing between Numeria and Brevoy. His father was chief and as such Desmond had certain privileges. Though because of this he was a bit spoiled and not good at relating or getting along with people. He was brash and had a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth.

He didn’t have to man the fields as others and devoted a lot of his time to the art of archery. His family had two prized possessions. Orc raids were predictable and had been for years. Desmond’s great grandfather let an attack and raid on an Orc encampment many years ago. In doing such he killed their chief and drove what was left of them away. He claimed the orc’s sword as a trophy and it had been passed down for two generations, soon it would be Desmond’s. The other was a mighty Hornbow. Another weapon of the Orcs. This one was claimed by Desmond’s father when he was just a small boy. He took it from an Orc he had slain right before it could let a shot loose at Desmond’s mother. The bow was kept as a reminder since no one could wield it properly. Once big enough though Desmond soon started practicing with the bow, and after a few years of daily practice had become well trained in it. He practiced daily and preferred to be alone. Because of this he took up hunting. It gave him a chance to train and shoot at live targets while getting to keep to himself.

One day while out hunting Desmond returned to the sound of horns and smoke arising from his village. Knowing it was under attack he rushed back. It seems the orcs had struck in the early morning right before sunrise. Desmond returned to a gruesome scene. Many of his people lie dead. It seemed the most of the raiders were gone now but a few remained picking over things. He moved through from cover to cover taking out stragglers when he could. When he came upon his families hut he let out a cry as he saw his mother and father both dead laying out front. Bending over picking up his father’s sword was a yellowish orc. He was big but it looked as if his father had wounded him. The orc turned and charged when it heard Desmond call out. With steady hand he drew an arrow and let it fly. Striking true it pierced the beast neck causing it to gurgle and cry out as it fell at Desmond’s feet. With nothing left he grabbed up his father’s blade, saddled the horse and make way to Restov.

It had been a few months now since the massacre. Most of Desmond’s money had been used so he had taken to more seedy work to get by. He used his hunting skills to prey on people and small caravan leaving the city. He didn’t like it but he didn’t know what else to do. He was worried though as he is not a killer and his description is starting to make it around the city. So when he caught wind of a charter looking for people to go out into the wilderness, he thought what better way to get away from the city. Now he finds himself sitting at an inn waiting to go volunteer for the expedition into the Stolen Lands.