Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-24487330-20151127182015

Time had not been kind to Marcus Halbrecht. His early life was full of childish adventures, which kept him active and fit. He made quite a few friends and was even somewhat popular among his peers. At his coming of age, he declared his intentions to become a Knight of the Holy Order and enlisted for training. Unlike so many of the heroes who rose from modest beginnings to achieve the status of "hero", however, Marcus had fallen behind the standards set by his peers. After two years of struggling to meet those expectations, one final test would decide his fate. He matched blades with one of his fellow trainees in a live sparring match...but he failed to overcome his opponent, and he was left with a small scar on his shoulder as a reminder of his shortcoming.

Things only went downhill for Marcus from there. After quitting the Order's knighthood, he struggled to find work elsewhere, prospective employers claiming that he "lacked the discipline to hold a steady job". He withrew from his friends and, after some time, from his family as well. Eventually, he was unable to support himself and lost his home as well. Wandering from place to place, he did odd jobs for meager pay and meager food. It was a pitiable lifestyle, and he knew it...So it was only natural that he finally got fed up with it and decided to do something about it. He decided that he would venture out into the western reaches of the continent, journeying to find his strength and determination again. He used what little clout he had left to purchase a bedroll, a hunting knife, and various other provisions and supplies. With these articles packed on his back, he set out for unfamiliar territory...

...One week later, Marcus was already far from home, but he had managed to sustain himself with what he was learning through his experiences. He had struggled at first, but patience and willpower had served him well. Now, on a particular night, he was resting from a hard day's hike, taking shelter beneath an overhanging ledge; his bedroll was unfurled on a relatively even patch of ground, and he had cleared a space to build a fire to warm himself. Kindling was placed atop the firewood, and two small pieces of flint struck together multiple times, trying to produce a spark...


 * Clack*...*clack*...*clack*...

...Eventually, a spark did catch on the kindling, and Marcus encouraged it with a gentle breath. Sure enough, the spark started eating away at the twigs, causing a small fire to grow. He sighed with relief and allowed himself a smile when the flames eventually danced onto the firewood and built into a comforting little campfire. As he held his hands up to the small flame to keep warm, though, something else began to stir nearby, alerted to his presence... 