Name: Anthony
Age: mid to late 20s
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Fighter/Thief
Weapon: sword with latent enchantment
Personality: low key, skilled, careful, anonymous
History: He doesn't know anything of his origins. He is not a king, he is not a pauper, he simply exists, with no connection to the world. He was raised in an anonymous town, more like a large school, of fighters, although they never thought of themselves as such. "Fighting" as a mentality did not exist, nor did "thieving," only the honing of skill, repetition, hard work. It was subconscious continuance of existence. Competition was neither praised nor scorned. There was only the journey of the individual, the struggle and surpassing of the limitations of the self, in wielding the simplest and most dynamic of weapons, a blade, sword. But amidst the cold nature of his past existence, was intermingled the unmentioned, yet constant flow of honed, enchanted power. It was never discussed, taught, or even mentioned in passing, but it's extension was used subconsciously, in a swing of the blade, in an arduous test-task of dexterity, in the blunt training sessions in infiltration and all forms of roguery, never referred to as such, the dark, undarked. Nothing was hidden, yet nothing known, no greed or envy, nothing evil nor good. It was a numb existence. Yet leaving this place, he learned the value of his skills, being neither intrigued nor dismayed by them, but indifferent, pondering only that they were natural steps through which his existence was facilitated.
Age: mid to late 20s
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Fighter/Thief
Weapon: sword with latent enchantment
Personality: low key, skilled, careful, anonymous
History: He doesn't know anything of his origins. He is not a king, he is not a pauper, he simply exists, with no connection to the world. He was raised in an anonymous town, more like a large school, of fighters, although they never thought of themselves as such. "Fighting" as a mentality did not exist, nor did "thieving," only the honing of skill, repetition, hard work. It was subconscious continuance of existence. Competition was neither praised nor scorned. There was only the journey of the individual, the struggle and surpassing of the limitations of the self, in wielding the simplest and most dynamic of weapons, a blade, sword. But amidst the cold nature of his past existence, was intermingled the unmentioned, yet constant flow of honed, enchanted power. It was never discussed, taught, or even mentioned in passing, but it's extension was used subconsciously, in a swing of the blade, in an arduous test-task of dexterity, in the blunt training sessions in infiltration and all forms of roguery, never referred to as such, the dark, undarked. Nothing was hidden, yet nothing known, no greed or envy, nothing evil nor good. It was a numb existence. Yet leaving this place, he learned the value of his skills, being neither intrigued nor dismayed by them, but indifferent, pondering only that they were natural steps through which his existence was facilitated.
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