Name: Samson Bergfalk
Class: Crusader: Someone driven to fulfill a cause, of any kind, at any cost. They are skilled with a variety of weapons, such as whips, spears, small axes, or shortswords, and wear armor from light to medium. Crusaders tend to forgo shields.
Equipment: A seemingly regular whip, well maintained and cleaned. Shiny, lavender-tinted axes small enough to carry as well as fling through the air. Armour made out of hide, including a furry tunic, and wool boots. His muscular legs are, strangely, uncovered. Three Anti-Hollow Talismans, used to strip them of their ability to heal.
Description: This man's height reaches just above average, musculature seemingly built out of tan-colored stone as opposed to flesh. His face is strangely pretty, though intimidating, with eyes the same leather brown as his whip slanted inwards as if pushed down by a lifetime glaring. Streaks of hair flow down his head, reaching just below his shoulders, of such a color difficult to classify as either brown or red. One of his hands is covered by a wool glove - this is where the Darksign is branded on his skin.
Personality: Samson could be described as cold without straying from the truth, yet he is certainly not one to encourage arguments between allies. In fact, he would be, though perhaps not the first, second or third to step in and attempt to resolve any internal conflict. He is cold even in battle, though against a particularly annoying foe, he has been known to engage in banter. At the very least, a good drink has been known to thaw that ice a little.
Backstory: For as long as he knew, Samson had known of the stories of the Darksign, and the creatures that emerged from it, hostile, a blight on the earth. The evil mark had yet to make it's way to his home, yet the young Samson was touched with compassion. He was a naive child, from a noble family, and stories and thoughts of the poor people, not just the poor people, but all people - afflicted with such horrors, had made sympathy grip his heart and did not let go. He wished to be a hero - a slayer of darkness, a hunter of evil.
Such was the fire that burned within him that at once he threw himself into training. He read all he could of the Darksign and its creations, and once he reached manhood he longed to go out to strike at once at the monstrosities. His parents forebade it, yet such ambition could not contain itself within his country. He rode out southwards, to begin at once his own personal crusade.
Samson had left his home for a long time, becoming tempered with wisdom and hardened with endurance from his constant hardship, when at last he was felled by a lucky blow. Yet, he awoke - not as a human, but as one of the Undead he had so sorely loathed! At once, a depression clung to him like a cloud, the shame and despair nearly forcing him into suicide, or, at least, to cut the hand which held his hated Darksign. Yet, resolve pierced through after a month of solitude, and though he was fated to become Hollow, he reasoned that he must first destroy as many accursed abominations as possible before he may finally allow himself to die.
Personal Themesong