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Harman the Wanderer

Who, you ask, is this tall, ruddy specimen with the wavy black locks and extravagant attire flecked with mud?

I am Harman. So named as even in mine mother's womb I was a most ardent and spirited harrier. Far and wide they know as 'The Wanderer' for even as a young man of sixteen I possess a lifetime of experience. While my contemporaries contented themselves at their mothers' bosoms in their nursery-like sleepy towns, I was already treading out it in the wide world. Many have seen my face, though few know it too well. That is about to change.

It's true, I may have sacrificed a few home comforts by living this way. Yet, that is a small price to pay to keep myself free of the mundane vagaries of local intrigues. It is the prerogative of Kings to hold his will above that of others. In other words, to have the right of choice, to decide, to be free.

My wanderlust is unbound. My ambition, unleashed. I intend to chase glory wherever it hides. Never staying long enough to grow stagnant roots into the earth. Never keeping ties that can bind my hands. After all, the Lord in his castle has his gilded cage, yet the the Prince who sleeps under the stars enjoys the vast grandeur of the heavens themselves.

Wanderer Harman

Advisor Description

As a man of gut urges it would be prosaic but correct to say that Harman didn't take long to find the local tavern. It was still morning. A few elder patrons had already found seats to enjoy an early lunch but the establishment was mostly empty.

Behind the bar stood Gleda the wench. Her Auburn hair tied back to display a face at once stern and homely. As Harman ordered his first ale of the morning, her complection hardened towards the former. Yet, as time went by and Harman eased between the poles of sobriety and inebriation Gleda softened, even smiled. Despite herself, he had pierced her menacing defenses with some bawdy tale and Gleda was humoured. Soon she was charmed by this young man and overflowing, probably quite dangerous confidence. Someone had to look out for the little lamb and if not her…

Harman the Wanderer Post Play & MMORPG RPG Text

The Beauty of Lady Fluke

She hath twin lakes o' the clearest azure,
Seeing depths, fathomless pools of beauty.

Her radiance, bright as the sun and as pure
As snow or the page primed for poetry.

To the North, fields rich with golden allure,
East and West, dusk and dawn spills fire mighty

From her cheeks, mounds rising up from the moor.
Her sole peaks I can remark honourably.

South's petals bloom alone, blood red, demure.
Yet mind thy berth, her wits' knives fly sharply.

Wanderer Harman

While a Bully may be difficult for some a Bully is no match for me.