Kentwood

Information

Player: Rensin

Character Full Name: Kentwood Barlyback

Character In-Game Name: Kentwood

Nickname(s): Kenny

Association(s): Alliance, Himself

Race: Human

Class: Monk (Rogue OOCly)

Skills and Abilities: He is exceptional at hand to hand combat, drawing from many different martial arts to be able to keep up with others who'd otherwise use weapons. He's able to disarm others rather quickly, however he cannot claim that he's able to "Grab their steel" or anything ridiculous such as punching through armor. His only benefit is that he's quick, and able to spot weak points in his enemies defense within a reasonable amount of time.

Age: 45

Sex: Male

Hair: Grey, balding

Eyes: Green

Weight: 130 lbs (Very underweight, I'm aware)

Height: 5'6

Appearence

Usual Garments/Armor: He wears scraggly leather armor that's barely kept together. It used to be nice and regal at one point, however, it's now nothing more than rags.

Other: Did I mention he's bald?

Personality

Alignment: True Neutral

Kentwood is a man of what he considers "Knowledge". This is in quotations, because while he does wish to learn what he can about his art, he does so as a drunkard who lives on the streets, something others may not consider to be an intelligent choice. As mentioned, he has a weakness for the drink, and this often stops him from realizing his full potential as a hand to hand combat expert, and he certainly has lost his grasp on any sort of spiritual side that being a "Monk" offers.

Never really being the one to start a fight other than a friendly spar, often Kentwood is laid back and often friendly. Despite his appearance and drunken demeanor, he tries his best to fit in to society, despite society denying him at multiple turns.

Kentwood is often a very sad sort of man. Although he's often wearing a light smile, his eyes belay the truth underneath it all, he's had a hard life. Looking into his eyes, you can see... he's somewhat empty.

History

A native of Lordaeron, Kentwood grew up as a follower of the light. He took it upon himself as a young man to learn two things, how to effectively worship the light, and how to defend those that were weaker than himself if the time came. He learned both of these things, becoming a student of holy teachings of the church of the light, in mind, body, and soul.

Eventually, a young woman caught his youthful eye, Gertrude. She was a fine woman, with black hair, and a sarcastic wit that drove him crazy---in a good way. It didn't take long for him to try his best to woo the beauty, which took many years and denial after denial. However, eventually she fell in love with his full head of hair, his devotion to his studies, and his spindly muscular frame.

They married, and had a daughter, who they named after her mother, and called "Little Gerty". Kentwood made his family his life, and through his devotion to his craft felt he'd reached his own personal goals, and nothing made him happier.

Then, people started to become sick, and plague hit. The war came along, and took everything Kentwood loved, his home, his wife and daughter, and it even made him question his belief in the light. He eventually fled to Stormwind, where he "made" a "new" life for himself, basically becoming a drunken vagrant.

He'd lost himself into liquor, making the years proceeding the fall of his homeland a drunken blur of fighting for money and the entertainment of others, depression, and an extreme hatred for the church and it's teachings. He turned his back on his beliefs, finding that the truth of a closed fist to be the one and only truth; if you hit someone hard enough, they'll stop screwing with you.

For years he went about life this way, barely living from one drink to the next, drifting from area to area avoiding any real responsibility. Then, he had a dream. In this dream, he was with his wife, and daughter. He was doing his best to fight for them, and failing. Slowly, he came upon a realization, it wasn't at the fault of his religion that he lost his loved ones... it was through his own physical ineptitude. His fists that he'd trained to protect others, let those that were the most important slip from between his fingers.

At this point, however, he found that the drink had become part of his life. Unable to flee from his sadness, he consumes himself in it, while traveling to better his martial skill. He hopes that some day, he can break the chain of events he laid in front of himself, kick the alcoholism, and become a great fighter capable of protecting those he loves.