Liam Verall

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• Vital Stats

  • Name: Liam Verall
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: ScarecrowAlone
  • Nicknames: Lee/The Wolf/Sir Verall
  • Race: Human
  • Class: Knight
  • Alignment: Honor
  • Age: 29
  • Size: Average
  • Body Type: Broad/Muscular
  • Height: 6'0''
  • Weight: 210 lb
  • Complexion: Fair
  • Hair: Red/Blonde
  • Eyes: Blue
  • Handedness: Right
  • Scars: Multiple, some scattered on his face. Four large, vicious scar run parallel across his chest, the claw mark of a true monster.
  • Relationship Status: Single
  • Personality: Reserved, Honorable
  • Mannerisms: He's been told he has a staring problem.
  • Likes: Integrity, warm rain, wolves, and apples.
  • Dislikes: Liars, spiders, pointless fights, and spiders.

• Description

  A knight who is, by his own description, unremarkable. Standing proud at around six feet tall, his solid build is broadened by the steel armor he wears. Under a helmet (crafted with a plain faceplate, the visor t-shaped) seldom worn, lies a weary, life-hardened, fair-skinned face that rarely smiles without effort. A few scars tell of fights fought, ending in both victory and defeat. His reddish-blonde hair is cropped short, unstyled and kept out of his way. On his waist, in a well-kept leather scabbard, is a longsword made with an elegant but simple upward sweep of the crosshilt. When he isn't using it, a heater-style shield is strapped to his back, displaying his family arms, that of a running wolf. He is quiet, methodical, and devastating with a blade.

• Biography

  His life began very simply, in a small hold of forests and farmland, nestled in the corner of nowhere. His father, Lord Aldus Verall, was a minor noble, little sought after in the politics of the realm. His mother Saynsa was not of noble blood, which in any other place would be harmful to his family's name, but went largely unnoticed in the backwoods land.
  
  His youth was spent largely in the company of a master-at-arms learning swordsmanship, and in the forests surrounding his home hunting game for his family's table. His father was well-liked by the communities he looked after, rarely asking more than the basic tax from the people, as the hold largely supported itself through hunting and forestry.
  
  It was shortly before Liam became seventeen that the peaceful life he enjoyed was crushed by the sudden appearance of a monster in the forests, a creature that would steal unseen into homes and slaughter whole families, feed on the corpses, and leave what remained to be cared for by the survivors, or whomever had the misfortune of finding them. Attempts to find the beast were unsuccessful, and as the death toll mounted ever higher, the fearful left entire villages deserted while they migrated to safer lands. The Veralls and their soldiers stood fast, constantly sending hunting parties from the castle (the last place where anyone in the hold lived) into the now dark, oppressive wood, hoping to find the monster and end its terror.
  
  One terrible night, Liam woke to screams. After finding a blade and rushing out into the night, he found that the creature had found its way into the castle, and killing everyone it found in a violent rampage. He followed the trail of dead to the great hall of the castle, where he found his father dead with a sword darkened by black ichor in his hand, his throat torn open. As his side was Saynsa Verall, several violent lacerations across her body, bleeding terribly but still fighting for her last moments. Liam held his mother as she whispered of a creature resembling a wolf, but ten times as large and powerful, seemingly undead in that it was hardly more than bone and rotted flesh. It had come in absolute silence, ripping, tearing, and destroying without so much as a snarl.
  
  With her last few breaths Saynsa made Liam swear to find and destroy the monstrosity, so that it could do to no one else what it had to his family, even if it meant he had to die. The young man took the oath without hesitation, hard, grim determination seizing him as he left his now-dead mother and armed himself from the bodies of his household guard. Finding a horse that had escaped the carnage, he set off into the forest with the dawn. Before he got far, he noticed, miraculously, a trail of black liquid leading deep into the darkest sections of the wood. Following it, Liam recalled his father's blade, how it had been coated by the same foul substance. Concluding it to be the beast's blood, the boy found a small bit of courage in the knowledge that the thing was wounded.
  
  Liam had expected to find a cave, perhaps littered with bones and stolen bodies. Instead, he found a barrow of some ancient dead inhabitant of his homeland, long since forgotten. With only a little hesitation, Liam tracked the "blood" into the tomb, finding the halls strangely lit by a red mist. As he drove deeper, a chant could be heard echoing off the walls. Confused, the young man came upon an old, emaciated hag. She stood before a great infernal circle painted in blood, glowing runes scrawled over every inch within.
  
  Liam called a challenge to the witch, who screamed in rage at his intrusion. She waved her hand at the shadows, and out lumbered the most terrifying thing Liam had ever seen. As his mother had said, it was a wolf, mutated and deformed to grotesque size, flesh peeled back in places to show bone and rotted innards. Silent as death it advanced on Liam, who knew immediately facing it head-on was suicide. It attacked swiftly, without reservation and seemingly tirelessly, it drove Liam to a wicked dance of survival, throwing himself out of the way of the massive claws, and whirling in to make a glancing blow to the monster as it pressed on without pause.
  
  Before long the boy tired, his dodges getting slow and sloppy. With a violent upward slash, the creature's claws bit through steel straight to Liam's chest, stunning him and bringing him to his knees. In a haze of pain and despair, Liam hoped that someone would find this place and kill the nightmare and its master before it could kill any more innocents. Thought of the ghastly witch brought Liam's head up, and he saw that she had long since left her pet to deal with him, ignoring him while she continued her ritual. As the monster reared up to finish him, Liam found his blade and flung it with all his might at the hag, spearing her from behind. As she stood fixed by the blade, her infernal chanting gurgling away into silence, the undead beast fell to the ground, no longer animated by the necromancy.
  
  The woman fell onto the circle, and when her blood spilled on it, black lightning began casting out from the runes, splintering stone where it struck. Liam found the strength to drag himself away as the woman and her evil magics were buried by the damage the ruined ritual was causing.
  
  Liam awoke later in the forest next to a fire, vague memories of finding the open air again, and falling to the ground. He had welcomed death with the thought that he'd avenged his home, and fulfilled the promise to his mother. As he fell away from the waking world, the dying boy had seen a pack of wolves coming out of the woods, no doubt drawn by the smell of his blood.
  
  As he sat up, gingerly picking at the blanket of bandages across his chest, he noticed a man in furs next to the fire. A huntsman, who no doubt lived in the forest. The man explained to him that he'd been hired by Lord Verall to track the monster weeks before, had chased trails and signs all across the forests, and had that morning found the same trail of blood that had led Liam to the lair. When he'd come to the barrow clearing, he'd seen a pack of wolves gathered around Liam, doing nothing but standing there. Being a supersitious man, the hunter made the assumption that the wolves were standing guard as thanks for the destruction of the nightmare creature.
  
  He would later lead Liam back to what was left of the hold, a band of villagers and servants from the castle that were going to other lands, as there was nothing left of the Verall holdings. Liam went with them, a lordling that had owned nothing but the armor and arms he had taken from the castle. Later he squired to a knight, and eventually took his own title, earning a reputation as a monster-hunter. Wherever he heard whispers of monsters or demons, he would follow, helping the people fight, or fighting for them where they couldn't. His grim demeanor and relentless pursuit of the monstrosities he hunted earned them the title of the Wolf.