Member Bio

The caw of a crow woke him from his sleep. He was groggy, his mind clouded. He felt something was wrong and reached up to touch his head. It was caked with blood. He sat up and looked around only to realize that he was in the middle of what was a battlefield. It wasn’t strange, probably. He just couldn’t remember some things.

‘Who am I?’ He had lost some of his memories. He didn’t remember a lot of things, such as how he ended up on the battlefield, why he was fighting, and where he was from. The pain from the wounds and the headache that accompanied them only made it harder to think. He had to calm down and remember, starting from the beginning. He remembered his childhood, the son of merchants who were well off. He learned the trade but wished only to be a knight: a man of honor and strength. He proposed his plan to his parents and set off to… somewhere. He thought he was headed to some kind of officer training. After that, there was nothing. No hint of memories after he left home. He tried to recall anything about whom he was even fighting for but couldn’t remember. There were still scavengers picking over the dead bodies along with the crows that were eating them. His shirt was gone and he sighed because it was the one thing that might tell him where to start looking.

He needed a name though, so he looked around. I’ll be like them, feeding off of the dead bodies and living however he can. ‘I’ll be a crow and survive’. He knew he could still fight so he started to wander off in a random direction. He would find a group of soldiers or some fighting force and join them. Maybe he’d find his way back home or eventually remember. Maybe another hit to the head would jog his memory. Well, whatever happened, he was in the right place as long as he had a sword in hand.