A man of many talents... but master of none.

Childhood was hard for Lars - but isn't it for everyone. Never having known his parents he was raised by aunts and uncles, being handed from one to another as they grew tired of him. He worked the fields, mended fences and slopped pigs until he could take it no more. He's not even sure if any of them missed him when he left.

Years went by, traveling from town to town, always looking for greener pastures which he never found. What he did find was trouble, in just about every flavor possible. He eventually found himself on the run from some lord who's name he didn't even know for something he hadn't done, or at least he didn't remember doing. (Some of his nights were a bit of a blur.) He finally managed to lose himself in a nearby city, but as with most things in his life, Lars' timing was less than perfect.

Shortly after his arrival, the city was under assault. He never did learn by whom or for what reason. It didn't matter to him, the details rarely mattered. It was usually the big picture that overshadowed him and his plans and this time was no different. In short order he was conscripted, given a shoddy sword and battered shield and put to work. Things were going from bad to worse - but his luck was about to change.

Lars wasn't the only one unhappy with the situation. He found a small group of warriors that had been caught by the same bad timing. They had plans to escape the city before things got bad, and evidently they also had the skills to make it happen. With a few rounds of ale and a couple good stories he managed to talk his way into their plans. And by the next dawn they were gone. That was almost a year ago, and while he isn't nearly as experienced or capable as the others, they have realized his usefulness and accepted him. With sword in hand, he follows their lead, grateful to still be alive.

Time in Dagorhir: <1 year
Favorite Fighting Style: Sword and Punch Shield
Quote: "That which kills me makes me stronger."
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