Dark brooding human fighter
Wil is a brooding distant figure of a man with a ready scowl and a stare that goes through people. He is prone to long dark brooding and is known to drink himself into oblivion at times.
He is cold to everyone and does not encourage companionship from those he is briefly acquainted with. Sometimes, when people look into his eyes they can see the smouldering anger burning deep down in his soul and the pain that lies beyond.
Born in the lands around the city state of Balic to an ex legionnaire and a local woman. He grew up on the farm that his father had received for services during his legionary’s career, as he had been a great fighter.
Reluctantly Will was conscripted into the legions for the standard three years service, though his father was eager for him to make him proud and they argued on and off. Unfortunately he had no aptitude to being a soldier and it was all he could do not to hack himself to death with his own sword at first. He made it through basic training but was given easy duties were he would not cause any harm.
On one of his visits to the homestead he arrived to find the place destroyed by desert raiders and the charred remains of his family. A horrific memory that he still broods over in his darker moments.
Out of respect for his father Wil was allowed to accompany the legion, made up of his fathers old comrades, sent to track and kill the desert raider dogs. Wil changed from a cheerful, if slightly clumsy, lad to a dark brooding man and with the help of the veterans he focused his anger into improving his fighting abilities. By the time they found the sand raiders Wil had become competent enough that the veterans decided he was at least capable enough of not getting himself killed in the upcoming fight and allowed him to join, as long as he stayed at the edges of the battle out of harm’s way. They were sure his father would have liked to be avenged by his only son.
As the battle commenced a cold calm anger overcame Wil as he started swinging his sword. His mind and soul became one with the blade as he waded into the thickest part of the battle and everything seemed to slow down. Lashing out with his sword and his rage Wil cleaved and hacked his way mercilessly against anything that stood in his way.
After the battle was over the veterans looked at him with trepidation as Wil stared back blankly. They had seen this before, a man’s wild rage making him as dangerous to his allies as well as his enemies. He was someone whose skill is subject to pure instinct in battle and not to drilled lessons in the training yard.
Wil barely remembered the battle, though the occasional image flashed into his head at inappropriate moments when the anger inside threatened to bubble over. He withdrew into himself even further on the trip home and started drinking heavily so that he could pass out into oblivion. His companions were now weary of him and he came across many a muttered conversation that suddenly ceased at his approach.
Eventually one of Will’s father’s closet friends, Bert, took him to one side and asked him what he intended to do now. Still overcome with rage and confused about the new things he was finding out about himself he mentioned going out onto the legions front lines; the battle gave him a release for the anger and the pain…and a hopeful end to his suffering. Bert broke the news that Wil would be considered too dangerous to be part of a disciplined legion, but he was sure the legion would look after him out of respect for his father.
That night Wil left his companions and just walked. He has been walking and fighting ever since letting fates fickle wind blow him wherever he is needed.