Nicknames: The Rev, Rev, or "teacher"
Title/Rank: Master of the Barracks, teacher of the younglings.
Age: Old enough to be your grandfather (probably)
Personality: Here lies Reven. Beneath his dashing smile, and open arms, he is but a bitter, withered husk. There are days where he feels like he has nothing left to give. There are days where can barely get out of bed- but he must. Because if he doesn't then one of his rogue younglings will probably dump a bucket of icey water on him - they've done it before.
Reven exists now only as a teacher, a vessel of knowledge, skills and experience. He has all the time in the world now that his beloved is no longer with him. And his horse is an asshole, so he's not super fun to hang out with. He prides himself on his patience, and kind words of praise. He should have been a Dad, not a knight.
Alas, he has no heart to give anymore. Only cautionary tales.
Skills: Horse riding, Smithing, short swords. Can fit at least 2 balls in his mouth.
Face claim: Brandon Lee
Father: As far as he is concerned, he was no father.
Mother: He only remembers her hands. They were warm.
Siblings: His faithful stallion is his only sibling, and he's a fucking horse.
Spouse: He won't admit to himself that he still cries silently at night to be held in comfort.
Extended family: Neigh.
Those who know him only know him as "the Rev". He showed up in the town of Kallast one day as the darkness consumed his beloved home, his lover, his lifeline. Everything gone.
He was not the only sojourner, wandering the wastes of (insert one of those provinces here. The cool one.). Many of the sleepy town of Kallast were familiar with refugees. But he was different. He had a military background, he had a magnificent, brutal beast that carried him to war (and from it too, damn horse keeps saving his life for some reason).
So they urged him to take up residence in the long forgotten barracks. And so he did. He swept the stalls, cut the grass, cleaned out the gross kitchen filled with vermin. Place started to feel damn homely. Even his shitty friend agreed with him, although the stalls were a little too small for his liking. He preferred the ones back home.
The one day the kids show up. They want to learn how to fight, like many of their strapping men of the town, all lost to the darkness.
And so he became the teacher. It's a one-Purein, one-Pureii run shit show of clown fuckery, but at least the kids enjoy learning some real useful skills. Afterall, who the hell else is going to show them? Their Daddies?
Don't bother asking him what came beforehand, he won't tell no-one. The kids will often whisper stories of the odd Purein, staring into the flame of a candle in the dead of the night, eyes glazed - lost in memories of his old life.
Species: Purein Horse
Personality: This fine specimen is a real goddamn asshole, you know? He bites, kicks, and damn near savages ears off. His teeth are instruments of pure torture. He once scalped a guy. Or so his Purein brother says.
Appearance: Jet black with a blue sheen
History: This bad boy was never meant to be bonded with his current Purein. His first connection was a good Purein blacksmith that taught Rev the tools of the trade. But there was an unpleasant event and his life was snuffed out. And now he hangs about with Rev. Their friendship is real, yes. But Apocalypse looks to Rev as though the younger, foolish brother that wants to get his ears pierced because "all the cool kids are doing it waaaaah."