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[Saronsen]

{W.I.P}

Saronsen lay on his face, staring groggily out his bedrooms window. The sun had just risen, and he just didn't feel like getting up. Then, at that moment, he rolled out of the bed, landing flat on his face on the floor. He looked around for his equipment- An old blade and shield, and some leather clothing he had made for himself. This was they day he was waiting for.

For most of his life, he lived quietly in a home out in the wilderness. His parents had died in his early teens, but he survived. He's now seventeen years old, skilled with a blade and shield, and he was very bright, always looking to learn new things.

He ran out of his old childhood home, a grin on his face. He's finally leaving that run-down shack, and one day, is going to make a name for himself.