Character Name: Kuirros
Character Age: 21
Weathered handed down picture of Kuirros
Character Gender: Male
Class/Subclass: Melee/Swordsman
Archetype: Diplomat
Race: Norse
Traits: Self-righteous, Intelligent, Friendly, Patient, Somewhat Vengeful.
Epilogue: Born into the cold and harsh Norse lands, Kuirros was the birth of a nobleman. The nobleman was charismatic, skilled with words, and very understanding, the model of a good leader. His mother however, was a simple woman, who died shortly after giving birth to him. Perhaps because of his charisma, Kuiross’s father was a trusted man, who was given the task of managing the trade of his village. Through dignified example, the nobleman unwittingly taught his son, teaching him of trades and travels, and imparting the charisma he had always carried himself.
Though as pale as the village’s snow, Kuiross showed no signs of sickness, becoming as adept with words, as his father was, at the tender age of eight. It was then that his father noticed the traits he had picked up, and with his guidance, Kuiross did well in school, excelling far higher than his fellow students did, yet cautious enough to know when to ask for help. By twelve, the young prodigy was seen to be as brilliant as his father was, and committed himself to this idea, to make his father proud. In his mind, he couldn’t afford to fail. He saw himself as the cause of his mother’s death; he was the person who took the one his father loved away, and believing that, he didn’t want her death to be in vain. In that year, his twelfth year, his school’s short term would come to an end, and his father insisted he joined him in business as his protégé; to stand by his side, till he left the business, or his life came to an end.
His last year of school would not be the last of tutelage however, as like other children in his village; he was to learn a certain art. Be it skill with a sword, proficiency with magic, or accuracy with a bow or gun, the lessons he was to take were meant to be those he’d never forget, and it left the usually astute Norse boy, with much to think about. The introductory classes to the field would be beginning soon, and though the decision was hard to make, he settled for learning how to use a sword. Magic had interested him at first, and he could see himself excelling as well with it as he had in school, but despite what he foresaw, fate had other plans as he had no magic potential. The thought of being a gunman had fancied him as well. He had remembered an occasion where drawing quickly had prevented his father from being robbed, but ultimately his interest faded quickly. The sword was last, but it wasn’t least, as Kuiross realized what wielding it would mean. Perhaps for the thrill, he decided to partake in lessons of the blade, as the difference between living and dying, would depend on how skilled his swings were. Unlike all the lesson he had learnt before, these had given the youth a challenge, instilling patience as his instructor told him, these were lessons that wouldn’t be lost to him, lessons that wouldn’t lose their potency. The firmness of the grip, the weight of the blade; once the sword was in his hands, he would have to become unstoppable force, and although it would take time, Kuiross was ready. It was when he was eighteen that his skills had reached their peak, and were tested in battle against his instructor. Fighting with a wooden sword, Kuiross delivered precise blows to his instructor, but six years of training did little to best the seasoned warrior, who emerged victorious but applauded his young student. The instructor’s cunning and agility had made way for victory, but Kuiross vigorous fighting, and careful timing had impressed the instructor, and gave him a tale to tell to future generations.
It was a day of celebration, but one of bemusement as well, as Kuiross was left with one thought in mind as the proceeding for his graduation went on. That day, he was officially a man. He had learned the skill of trade from his father, learned to wield a blade from his mentor, and the gravity of the event was so much, that he wondered why his father wasn’t there. It was when he returned home that he figured out why. The smell of blood had hit him first, made him cautious as he searched a wrecked house for his father, and when he found him, Kuiross had nothing to say. Someone had made an example of him; someone whom he’d later learn was a vengeful marauder who thought Kuiross’s father did him wrong in trade and that someone had staked his father’s head against the wall. In a fit of crying, and deep burning rage, Kuiross pulled the sword that pinned his father’s head free, and placed head by body, before covering the both up. For Kuiross, the blade, a sword of iron wasn’t the first mistake the bandits made, but the second to killing his father. He had learned many things in trade, and one shone through. He recognized the sword, its quality, its make, and that was all he needed, to know where the bandits were. In the night, he found them out cold, in a drunken sleep, and with the sword that took his father’s life, still stained with his blood, Kuiross enacted his revenge, taking each life before the next knew what had happened.
With his father dead, Kuiross found himself in an abyssal state. He had gotten his revenge, had calmed the rage in his heart, but with his father gone, he found no reason to stay in the village. He had taken the gold the bandits had gather, a golden blade the leader had kept at his side, and a map left in a chest and decided that from that day he’d set off. The blade that had both killed his father, and avenged him was taken with him as a keepsake, the last thing he had of the man who made him as smart as he was. One thing was said to his instructor, and anyone who cared as he left the village the following day. He would be a soldier of Thalor, and make sure things were righteous in the world, becoming a diplomat much like his father. In his travels, he heard Hjalhelm, a Nordic City in need of a leader and decided to make it his goal. With his collected gold, he applied to be the city’s leader, and till then he waits, set up in one of the city’s taverns.
Why You Should Be Accepted: I've previously been on servers that Mynameisisak has been apart of most recently the Translyvania one. I personally hate those who take it upon themselves to act in every thing without representing the people or even asking them about the decision. I can be mature and I can take criticism which signifies the reason I'll apply for this server until I get in.
Leadership: I believe I should be a leader because of the tragedies and misconceptions of Justice that happen in the world. I want the world to be a peaceful and better place and I want to represent the people under their ideals. I want to simply be a voice and be that who they look to for guidance, answers, and peace. I believe the world shouldn't have so many strict boundaries but we should have a mutual agreement as a populace and a whole.