Tweet
Friendly - and slightly vapid - blue eyes seem out of place in this huge, homely brute of a man. Corded muscles might stem from wielding the Axe he carries, or from farm labor - it's hard to tell.
A shock of blonde hair tops an angular face with a rather strong chin. He's hardly a beauty, and despite his rather gentle eyes, there is an air about him of a coiled spring.
He has no memory of his life or name earlier than about six years ago (except for one inconsequential one involving his mother cleaning him up as a toddler), when he woke up one day by the side of the road in his smallclothes, not a scratch on him, but confused and disoriented until a passing stranger took pity and brought him to the next town. There he was lucky enough to get taken on by a local farmer, working for a living and honing his considerable strength. He was kind and gentle, and a little shy (especially around the girls), his mind seeming much younger and more innocent than his apparent years. He was liked by all, especially the children, who he adored in turn. He was known to fiercly protect anyone who seemed to need it, and he had no love for bullies.
They gave him a name, so they could have something to call him by - Mirko. He liked it.
Eventually, though, he grew restless. Dreams started haunting him sometimes at night, of a life past, to be gone the moment he woke, beyond retrieval. So, one day he told his master he needed to leave. When asked why and where, he shrugged. "I'll go where the Gods will take me, and the Gods willing, I will find my place."
And he left, never to return.
A shock of blonde hair tops an angular face with a rather strong chin. He's hardly a beauty, and despite his rather gentle eyes, there is an air about him of a coiled spring.
He has no memory of his life or name earlier than about six years ago (except for one inconsequential one involving his mother cleaning him up as a toddler), when he woke up one day by the side of the road in his smallclothes, not a scratch on him, but confused and disoriented until a passing stranger took pity and brought him to the next town. There he was lucky enough to get taken on by a local farmer, working for a living and honing his considerable strength. He was kind and gentle, and a little shy (especially around the girls), his mind seeming much younger and more innocent than his apparent years. He was liked by all, especially the children, who he adored in turn. He was known to fiercly protect anyone who seemed to need it, and he had no love for bullies.
They gave him a name, so they could have something to call him by - Mirko. He liked it.
Eventually, though, he grew restless. Dreams started haunting him sometimes at night, of a life past, to be gone the moment he woke, beyond retrieval. So, one day he told his master he needed to leave. When asked why and where, he shrugged. "I'll go where the Gods will take me, and the Gods willing, I will find my place."
And he left, never to return.
))
Comment