Rayard Nollin, When he was younger he trained in becoming a warrior. But his path to being where he is now is one filled with hurdles and he never managed to get over all of them, but life doesn't stop moving just because you're not ready for it.
As most Hanseti were, being a tall beefy proud warrior was in his blood and he never skipped a day of training. Always wishing to be that little bit stronger, always pushing himself a little bit faster. You could say Rayard was a perfectionist or just overly dedicated but he lived by a simple mindset, "If someone else can do it, I can too". Living an honest life he was very well liked by the people around him. Unfortunately, this wasn't to last as it wasn't those around him he had to worry about, it was the cold-hearted undead that he truly had to worry about. Everyone he knew and loved died and in a last-ditch effort to save his own life, a selfish calling, an instinct everyone has deep inside. Survive.
He never told the specifics of what happened to him but he is a shadow of his former self. No longer wanting conflict against the living, no longer seeing such things as valuable. How could humans fight one another when the greatest threat was on their doorstep? He left to become a wanderer just looking for a place to call home. But everywhere he went never saw him for the proud warrior he grew up wanting to be, they just saw the diseased man for the monster he looked like. With a face only slightly more attractive then what an Olog can pick from its nose he was shunned. Every time he looked in the mirror even he himself grew to hate what he had become.
Raynard had survived through a lot but nobody could call what Raynard went through truly "living" anymore.
Like most hanseti he still likes to greet travellers along the road and would love to be social. But even so, he would much rather find a place to settle down and live the simple life. Never forgetting his way of the blade, never forgiving the undead for the sin of existing. And even though his muscles have eroded somewhat, he is still a very large man and he still has the instincts of a warrior, enough to finally kill every undead in his way? Only time will tell.
He wears a colourful orange top and dark black pants that have worn down a bit with time yet still just as comfortable to wear as the day he bought them. His clothing is rugged but they have seen him well through travels and has grown attached to them. His other clothing includes simple footwear and a piece of cloth wrapped around his mouth, doesn't do much to hide his ill features but it keeps his lips moisturised when dipped in water.
Likes: To socialise with still friendly travellers, a good nights rest, a nice relaxing swim
Dislikes: Mirrors and reflective surfaces, chickens, undead
Goal: Set up a tavern somewhere quite and live out the rest of his days in peace
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