Name: Honsus

Surname: Armstrong

Title/Nickname: N/A

Race: Human

Class: Rogue

Age: 26

Appearance: Honsus is the polar opposite of the standard Scarlet. He is lean and wiry, his features are thin and have a certain predatory calm about them. His eyes constantly dart from point to point as surveys his surroundings for threats. He walks with a cool sureness of his skill. His clothing is dirty and torn at the edges, he wears a small assortment of weapons. A pair of daggers, a long blade of some sort and a hammer, and always his bow and quiver. He wears his hair long and unkempt tying it back into a tight ponytail with the scarlet band on his forehead on church days. All in all, Honsus looks little more than your average Scarlet survivalist. A commando of sorts.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Psychology:Honsus despises nobility, though he respects chain of command he will often go out of his way to cause harm or otherwise disrupt the desires of "those blue blooded bastards"

Birthplace: Stratholme

Actual residence: Eastern Plaguelands

Background: Born the son of a courtesan and guardsman, Honsus was afforded little luxury in his childhood. His mother, murdered at the hands of a depraved client. His father drowned in a pool of whiskey and self-pity. Honsus was forced to live by his own hand, for years he roamed the streets of Stratholme an urchin, a pathetic wretch worth little more than a passing kick. During his childhood he was forced to look upon the excess and decadence of Lordamere nobility. At 8, a young Honsus would meet one of two men who would change his life.

"Honsus, Honsus you little bastard I'm going to find you and gut you like your whore of a mother" The cry echoed down the alley. A thin boy sits in a pile of rubbish, his chest heaves as he breathes. His legs burn from nearly an hour of running. With a crash the man enters the alley, kicking piles of refuse in search of the boy. He's found me, all this time and he's found me. The boy claps his hand over his mouth, stifling a yell. "Come out come out, I promise I'll make it quick" the man spoke in a singsong voice. The boy erupts from the pile of refuse, his legs pumping as fast as possible. He reaches the end of the alley only to slam in to the armor clad figure of Joseph Haltman. The boy stares up in awe at the Guard, and he returns with a look of mild annoyance. The man who had been following the boy stumbles out of the alley, the boy clings to the Guard. "Oh, you found my boy. He's run away from home. Thanks for finding him" The man steps to the boy who clings tighter to the guard with red hair. "Sir, please don't let him take me. Please!" The boy sobs as he speaks. "Come here you little bastard come to your father" The guard pushes the boy back and steps in front of the man. "Sorry sir, but I'll take your boy to the chapel. He looks sick, I'll return him to you when the healers have had a look at him"

The man snarls and draws a long dagger. He lunges at the guard but in his drunken rage misses terribly. The guard with red hair draws his broadsword and steps in front of the boy. The man returns with another swipe, the guard blocks deftly and switches his grip on the hilt of his blade. He drives the sword deep in the man's stomach. Blood dribbles from the man's grip and the dagger clatters against the cobblestones. The guard withdraws his blade and wipes the blood on the man's clothes. He turns to the boy as he sheathes his blade. "What's your name son?" The boy stares blankly as the dying man. "Honsus sir, Honsus Armstrong" The guard places a hand on his shoulder and nods at the boy, placing his own body so that he blocks the dying man. "Now listen to me Honsus, go to the guard post and tell them what happened here. Tell them Guardsman Haltman has resolved the situation." The boy nods and runs with all his might down the street.