Born in Talamandras, Ventus was raised as all Thyrmian men: to be a soldier. He showed promise in school, rising above his peers in sheer strength and stamina. He didn't have the cunning to be a commander, but he never wanted to position of command. As well, he lacked the conviction of his comrades. He enjoyed the thrill of battle, but he also enjoyed his freedoms. He always drank more than his commanders were comfortable with, laughed too loud at too little, was prone to fantasy and exaggeration. After many years of service, he found himself discharged from the military, leaving him without occupation and without station. Twas nothing for Ventus though, he simply packed his axes and armor and left with a passing mercenary company, known as Drover's Dreadnoughts. One fight was as good as another, was it not?
