Cailt, freelance warrior

Ever since he'd come of age, Cailt, native to the Southern Highlands known as Dannalth, had been struck with the Wanderlust bug. Growing up among the hills and forests surrounding his village, Cailt had been the son of Rayne, the village tanner. He'd never known his mother, her life tragically ending as his began. Since his village occasionally was used by mercenaries passing through for supplies and temporary shelter, Cailt had heard stories from them about the various lands. Perhaps it was these stories that caused his interest of travel; perhaps it was something else.

Tragically, Cailt hadn't had a great deal of friends growing up. At the age of six, his father had unintentionally killed another clansman in a drunken brawl. Though all of the witnesses agreed that the victim had deserved his for the comments he'd made about Rayne's wife, many of the children who'd heard about the event had believed Cailt's father had killed in cold blood. As a way of passively-aggressively getting vengeance, many of the children had treated Cailt like a plague victim.

Because of this shunning, Cailt spent a great deal of his childhood among the surrounding trees and hills of his village, when not working with his father. By the age of eleven, he was capable of outrunning and outclimbing virtually every adult male in Finnan's Glen. Like all members of his community, Cailt was trained in the ways of combat, learning how to wield a sword and spear. He'd also spent extensive time practicing with bows and slings, enjoying the use of these weapons much more than a sword.

The day he'd come of age, Cailt and Muiriel, one of his few friends in the village, had given each other a gift: their virginities. It had been a bit awkward and painful for both of them, though they admitted later on that they had enjoyed it. However, Muiriel and Cailt had a mutual understanding: This event didn't automatically mean they'd be married or end up together; it was merely two friends sharing their love for one another.

At the age of nineteen, Cailt signed up to work on a merchant ship, and a hope to see other lands. Unlike some of the other sailors, Cailt didn't gamble, and he limited his intake, so he wasn't in debt to the captain. When they'd arrived at a port in Messantia, several crew members decided to attend the local brothels, and convinced Cailt to join them. Several of the sailors knew what sort of girls they were looking for; Cailt, due to his limited experience, essentially asked for someone who could act as a mentor of sorts. The woman that was selected, Jachinta, was several years older than him. During the evening they spent together, she taught him how to properly pleasure a woman, and avoid awkwardness in the bedroom. Though other countries tended to think of the Dannalth clans as barbaric brutes, Cailt had always been rather conservative when it came to sex. Certainly, he'd had his share of women from time to time, but always gave his good performance in the bedroom, treating them properly.

Once the ship's tour had concluded upon arrival in Khemi, Cailt had odd-jobbed his way across various lands, working as a blade for hire, sailor, and the like, picking up various talents, though he still took time to practice with his longbow at least an hour a day.

At the age of twenty-four, Cailt had recently arrived in Tharros, after spending the last three months as an escort/bodyguard for a family traveling to the Eastern countries. Now that his contract was up, he'd decided to take a break for a while in one of the world's biggest cities.

Cailt was an attractive individual, in a rugged way, with the traditional dark skin most of his people sported. His dark brown hair fell to his shoulder blades, and his upper body sported the muscle that came from using a longbow in combat. His eyes, which he'd been complimented on quite often, were a brilliant shade of green. Just under six feet in height, a few scars from various events in his life decorated his body. Running a hand over his stubble, Cailt made a mental note to shave when he got the chance.

Currently, Cailt was clad in the traditional attire of a Dannalthian: shirtless, with a knee-length wraparound kilt (dark blue with a black triangle pattern near the hem), heavy belt and pouch, and sandals. A wool cloak was hung about his shoulders, with his longbow and a quiver containing a few arrows and his sling on his back. His hunting knife, which he'd had since he was 12, was strapped to his leg.

Arriving in Tharros in the early afternoon, Cailt learned from a nearby butcher shop where to find a place to stay for the evening. The inn (or rather, inn and brothel) was in a semi-decent part of town, and it was early enough so that most of the drunks and whores hadn't arrived yet. A few customers were scattered in the bar, but it was mainly quiet at the moment. The owner, a tall, attractive dark-skinned lady quoted a price, and it was reasonable, so Cailt decided not to haggle with her.

"Would you like me to send up one of my girls? You must've been travelling a long time, young man." Andreola, the owner, spoke with a thick Khoralan accent, which added to her sexiness.

"Perhaps a bit later, m'lady. As you said, it's been a long journey. Let me get a few hours' sleep - say about three hours - and then you could send someone up."

"Do you have any preferences, Cailt?"

"A brain. I prefer girls who know what they're doing, not like those giggly girls from the villages on the Western Coast."

"I understand completely. You're in Room 8. Sleep well."

Heading upstairs, Cailt saw his room was fairly simple: A bed, a small table, a window with an excellent view of the city. Sitting on the bed, Cailt tested the pull on his bowstring a few times, checking for any wear and tear in the string, before setting his gear aside. Stripping down, Cailt fell on the bed, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. Cailt had slept in the nude ever since he was a child; it was almost impossible for him to sleep otherwise.

(contains notes)