KarlvonRundstedt

Features as sharply cut as if with a chisel from granite. Muscles honed and as capable of a deadly blow as the war ax and broad sword he wields. He has aged two score years. But with age, comes the experience to cut down the enemy - to outwit, outlast those who misjudge his years to their disadvantage.

Home is naught but a roof over one's head

(or so he once believed)

Death provides enough opportunity to rest. He should know. He had tasted Death's bitter nectar once before. He has no further desire to rest ... just yet

"Allow me to tell you a story ..."

A story of a man. A man born of privilege and title, who had it all...who lost it all...and now has found that in the course of it all...gained more than he could ever have dreamed.

This man knew his place in the scheme of things and was comfortable there. He had a woman he loved...a woman he trusted with his heart...and had asked her to be his wife. This man also, had a brother. A brother he loved - one that always seemed to back his decisions. This brother he trusted as well...his right hand. His blood. There could be no stronger bond than that.

However, that bond was frayed beneath the golden overlay that the younger brother portrayed. The jealousy ran so deep, the elder brother could not even begin to imagine. The foolish man was blinded by his devotion for his younger brother...and this woman.

Upon the suggestion of his fiancé, and the encouragement of his beloved brother, the man agreed to a tournament upon his lands. How better to celebrate his engagement? It was during the night while he changed for a dinner honoring the winners of the events that this woman came to him, to help him dress...to pass the time between social engagements. How pleased he was to see her. She came gowned in royal blue satin. The material played along her curves, those contours shimmering in the candle light. While she distracted him, the brother slipped from the concealment of curtain behind...

The man was left for dead upon the stones of the floor, the warmth of his blood seeping in sharp contrast against the chill of the tiles. The knowledge that those he cherished most, betrayed him, wished him dead, was enough for him to welcome death. His men, four in number, who came to see why he had not yet joined the celebration below, found him there. Even they thought him dead. But knowing those who had done this may return, they removed him from his own home, taking him some ways away to properly tend him.

The brother and woman married. They live...as Lord and Lady of that man's home, thinking the missing brother dead. Rumor had it his men had seen secretly to his burial.

The man though, (as you no doubt guessed) survived...with the aid of his men and the assistance of a gentleman named Garath. Garath also taught this angry and vengeful Lord that revenge is but a transparent veil over the face of life. If it can be swept aside, how much clearer the beauty behind. One reminder was all that was allowed the man; a brand of signet ring against his chest...of the life which was once his but would be no longer. That ring was then tossed to perish within the same flames which heated it to sear his flesh.

Instead of seeking out retribution, the man took to the tourney field...making his fortune through the same means it had been taken from him. The same way that the tourney has given him back even more than he could ever wish. He and his men rode under the banner of black and gold - The Black Griffon.

They will now ride under the purple and gold banner of Heathfield.

The woman he vowed to serve and protect, he now vowed to love and honor.

Married to Honeee Barrett, son Carlton, daughter Lydia. A stranger at best from a land unknown. "Le destin trouve une voie" To live by the blade was to die by the blade. This is a well known fact. But another day passes and the man still remains."So it will come to pass...let it begin."

His heart as well as his sword belonged to Honeee. In her arms lies the strength he now bears. His wife. His life.