Knight of the Peaks
Born in Ala'mhigo. His father slain in the war; a young Garthorik turned his gaze to the crags and valleys of Gyr Abania, living rough. Anger welled in him with each fresh indignity and injustice visited upon his people by his overlords, he longed for just the chance to fight back.
A patrol, Garleans. A rock the size of his fist; a clear shot at a centurion. A blow that bounced from a helm, and saw the Centurion and his men upon the boy. Doom was certain, a gunblade to his face.
A defender, from the hills, armoured in black. A sword larger than the Ala'mhigan boy, a warrior clad in seething silence, who cut down the patrol to its last.
A critical blow bled the saviour dry, and as Garthorik tried to drag him to a village, he asked instead for a clean death, and an heir. So it was Garthorik took up his sword, and his creed; protect those who cannot fight for themselves. Face down evil in its own halls, with its own hand. Show no mercy unto tyrants.
Alongside the sword, was a small black crystal; to Garthorik an unknown trinket; one that would aid him in his new life, for better or worse.
The Dark Knight Garthorik has patrolled Eorzea in the years since escaping the border; ever quick to strike out in retribution; a fiery temper, that only knew cold, when finally Eorzea marched to free his beloved home.
Yet even still, he wanders, unable to ever truly settle, hounded by his oath.
No mods, no Discord, just Roleplay. I like being a mystery entity.
