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Description: A tall, muscular young man stands before you with the presence of someone a
bit older than his apparent age. Black hair cut to keep it mostly out of his
face, falls around the nape of his neck and around his ears. His brown eyes
have an almost piercing quality unless he smiles, or so some might say.
Dressed in a tunic of black with silver accents and gold buttons covered with
two leather straps across his chest. Over this is a white hip cloak with a
steel shoulder plate, which is attached to the leather harness. His leather
pants are are black with the same silver accents. A brown leather belt
encircles his waist, from which hangs a longsword from behind his waist. His
boots are grey black leather and come up to his knees, steel plates at the
toes and heels.

Background:Born Morch Andriss Ylisse a brown eyed baby of difficult birth. Morch was the oldest of six and naturally was given much of the work on the family farm to do when he was finally old enough. The birth of his siblings, four of which were sisters, expanded his responsibilities.. Morch often found himself balancing taking care of his younger siblings with working on the farm. As he got older and grew into his frame, spending some small amount of time helping his father in amatuer blacksmithing, he became more muscular.By the time thirteen summers passed Morch was working independent of his father most days.

His younger sisters often dragged him along when there were boys involved in their lives. His mother, provided he was not otherwise busy on the farm, often sent him as a chaperone with the boys and his sisters. Over time with guidance from his mother, father and watching the young boys that courted his sisters, he learned how to talk to women and properly and improperly court them. He filed all of this knowledge away in his head as none of the young women seemed to grab his interest.

This, however, was not to be a major issue with the advent of war between the noble who was over the lands that his father owned. Marching off to batttle with his father with hand me down armor and weapons Morch was scared stiff. The night before their first battle Morch threw up several times while his father sat there with a whet stone and his sword before a fire. The next morning gray in the face, shaking like a leaf ,Morch lined up with his father and the other men and was sick again. When the horn for battle was blown, Morch charged beside his father and the other men. Flailing about against men who didn't look much different than his father and the rest, Morch survived that battle without much in the way of unjuries. The next battle, almost the next day, he was less gray in the face and a bit more focused, having had some minor training from some of the other men in their ?army.? The battles over land, titles, and honor lasted through the winter and into spring, their lord being young and recently come into his titles.

When the liege lord of both nobles found out that his lesser nobles had been holding farmers as a standing ?army? during the spring over a petty argument over land, he disbanded both ?armies? and the titles, and lands of both nobles were revoked. Having spent months as a ?soldier? Morch had become accustomed partially to the trail rations and harder life of a soldier. When he and his father were released from the service in the ?army? they went home and prepapred for the growing season. Once they were settled back into life as they knew it and had a good crop planted, the young men came calling upon his sisters again. The local blacksmith's son, Liam, came calling upon the second oldest child and first daughter, Marissia. Some time later Liam began spending his time at the Ylisse family farm as his father had too many sons to learn the trade and another strong back was never remiss on a farm. Over time the courtship, under the watchful eyes of Morch and his parents, gained approval and soon another son was added to their family.

The summer was an easy one as they go and with another set of hands to help in the fields, harvest went even smoother. Their liege lord called for an army and called for one man from each home this time. Morch took his father's place this time, taking his father'ss word, dagger and armor.These itemswere all gifts from some previous liege lord to his grandfather for valiant service. Some several months go by and several battles put young Morch into situations where he comes close to dying. Letting it temper his impetuousness, Morch learns to survive by being patient and learning to read his foes.

Over time, even as their need for men passes and they are released back home, Morch volunteers to stay with the liege lord's core forces. This puts him into contact with people who actually trained with tactics and weapons and how to ride horses. Seeing that Morch isn't the absolute best that he has, but that he can be trained up, his liege lord, has him trained by some of his core staff of soldiers. His hopes are to make a promising soldier out of the boy.

Some few years later, some battles and lots of time working on skills and tactics that were taught to him and Morch is now a man, albeit still a young man, but he is a man more so than most his age. Approaching his liege lord one day while he was dining, Morch secured his release from his lord's service upon the agreement that Morch would continue his training somewhere else after a short rest at his family's home. Morch left his lord's service looking to be every inch a soldier in bearing, but dressing much like a younger version of his grandfather in his armor and adding to the style in clothing.

His mother was more than happy to see him and his sibling, although grown enough to help around the farm, were glad to have an extra set of hands around. Falling back into the routine of a farmer again, Morch woke every day to look at the sword in it's scabbard knowing he couldn't allow himself to go soft in his self training. Every morning, before everyone else was awake, Morch could be found with a dagger in one hand and the family longsword in the other, moving through the forms he was taught and polished through use over the years. Every night he cleaned and looked after the weapons before sleep took him. His last morning, the day he was to leave, he awoke to find his father and mother awake already and food ready to break their fasts. Their were tears from his mother, but his father only gave him silence. Smiling, he carries in the sword, dagger and armor his grandfather was given and places them on the table, fulfilling the promise he made to his father to return them in good condition. His father finally spoke up and told him to continue to use them and if he ever came to the time where he had no further need of them to return them in good condition. Morch simply nodded and sat down to break his fast with his parents for the last time for a long while.

Some few months later, Morch shows at the White Tower and applies for admittance into the warder trainee program. Once admitted to the program, Morch found some of the hardest lessons of his life being learned there, but he never once gave up, even when some of the lessons almost seemed to break him. One evening he almost faltered and quit after a particularly grueling lesson with Zakery Gai'din, but he took the older man's words to heart and came back stronger for them. It was also shortly after that he found out Zakery was not too much older than himself. Graduation day came and unlike some of the other trainees, there was no family to be there for him, simply a letter from his lord and one from his family, compliments of his liege lord's kindness. With these two letters tucked into his belt pouch, Morch stood proudly as Desan Gai'din gave him a seal and the fancloth cloak of the warder corp. This was the day that he made good on his agreement with his liege lord. Now, his adventures would truly begin as he was officially a gai'din.