| Name: | Gareth |
| Class: | Fighter |
| Race: | Human |
| Gender: | Male |
| Height: | 5'8 |
| Weight: | 185 lbs |
| Hair Colour: | Dark |
| Eye Colour: | Blue |
"Get out!" the angry instructor shouted as Gareth was tossed out onto the street. "The wall is here for a reason. You want lessons, you pay the money."
"But, I don't..." the youth said desperately.
"Exactly," the guard said. "You don't. You climb the wall and watch the classes without paying. Next time we catch you, we take you to the magistrate!"
The instructor snarled and turned to stride back into the gates, the other members of the school closing the gates behind him. The youth stood up, dusting himself off and looking forlornly at the gates before walking off down the street.
He wandered without purpose for he didn't know how long. He'd already spent the money he'd had, and it was never enough for the dues of that school anyway, not for more than a month or so, at least.
The idea of becoming a warrior struck him, but he needed to know how to fight for that. And, more than that, he needed to have a weapon. If he'd been able to fight rather than hide, then maybe his family would still be alive. Or else he'd even have been able to avenge them himself instead of watching the city guard kill the bandits.
He sighed bitterly and looked to the weaponshop and the sword there on display. Just sitting there.
He looked side to side and slipped into the shop, if he just had that sword, he could start trying to learn himself. Or at least, that was what he thought.
His fingers reached out to touch and...
"What be you thinking boy!!" the loud roar declared in his ears as the weaponsmith grabbed his hand twirled him around. He found himself looking at the burly face of an angry man and swallowed.
"Uh, nothing, Master Denhelm," he said quietly.
"Do I know ye, boy?" the smith asked. He started to open his mouth, but Denhelm continued on. "A stick of boy like you even thinking of trying to take that sword. Why don't you go to snatching coins or food, it'll do you better boy."
"I don't want to be a thief," he said strongly. "I want to be a fighter!"
"Really now," Denhelm said. "I know ye now, your the one that's giving them mercs up the way a sore neck, ain't you. So why you want to be a fighter, boy?"
"So, I'm not helpless," he said bitterly.
"Aw, I see," the smith said. "Well, boy, there are several ways to learn to be a fighter. Ye can pay a school if yer pockets are deep enough. Ye can join the right monastery or temple, if ye want to be a monk or priest. Ye can join the army."
"I'm too young," the youth said.
"Ye've tried then," the smith said. "Well, the other ways are to find yerself a master and apprentice to him or her or else teach yerself. Don't think you'll get fair on the last, more likely to end up a thief for want of a full belly I think. So how about ye and I coming to a deal rather than me sending for the magistrate for a would be thief?"
"So, if I apprentice to you," the youth said. "You won't have me sent to prison."
"That's right, boy," the smith said. "So, what's yer word?"
"Yes, sir..." the boy started.
"I ain't no knight, boy," the smith said darkly.
"Yes, Master Denhelm," he said.
"Good," the smith said. "So what's yer name then, boy?"
"Gareth."
It turned out the smith was a retired adventurer and had an idea about showing up a local fighting school that had rejected Gareth for having no money by training the boy up as a fighter. The fact that he'd get some help around the forge being a good part of that as well.
Gareth has turned out to be a fine example of a generalist fighter and a creditable smith. Master Denhelm declared his apprenticeship over when he won a fighting tournament that had strong participation from the school of fighters that had rejected Gareth.
Appearance: Gareth is about 5'8" and 185 lbs. He doesn't appear overly large at first glance, seeming, perhaps, healthier than the average peasant but not overtly powerful in appearance. He has dark hair and blue eyes and has a smith's tan.