Obidah 'Lynch' Williamson

[Obidah Lynch]

Profile:

Obidah is an average built man; he's not overly tall, nor is he gluttoness. He is, however, rather muscular - this can be proven when in a scrap or when swinging his beloved mace.
His hair is rough, like his beard, which both share the same colour: A Black that's quickly turning Grey. Under his beard hides a scar; under his robe hides many more.

Clad in a Robe, complete with armour underneath, a hat covering his eye's and a mempo to mask his face. That is his 'bandit' suit. Otherwise he will wear normal peasent-like clothes.

He always wears his straw hat.



Obidah ‘Lynch’ Williamson’s history:

Age Eight:


Strong  gales blustered relentlessly from the North; the rain soon followed suite. The arrow like droplets of water smashed against the market stalls of Britain, and onto the people themselves.

“Bloody weather… Scaring away all my costumers” Mumbled one of the local farmers.

The streets soon ran with Britain’s people, overwhelming the already distraught guards.

“Please! Your majesty requires order; this is chaos!”  The Guard Captain cried out.

Riots soon emerged from the mob; fires broke out, people were stabbed.
In the crowd, a small child of eight, and a mother clinging to him desperately:
“Don’t worry Obidah, just hold on!” she shouted out to him, trying to clamber above the noise.
She hoisted Obidah into her arms and started to run.

She tripped.

Obidah never saw her again… But he could here her as she cried out for help. His mother, Josephine, was trampled under the feet of hundreds of beasts.

Obidah ran off into the distance.
Bent double, gasping for breath, he started to cry; he fell to floor…
“Mother…”
Those words uttered from his mouth countless times, until he drifted off to sleep where he fell.

                                                             ***

Obidah woke up several hours later (at least that’s what it seemed like to him) in a daze. He wandered aimlessly, looking for comfort.


“Oww, watch where yer goin’!” Squawked the boy, of around the same age as Obidah.

“I’m… I’m… sorry I jus’, I was…”

The boy in front of Obidah sighed heavily:
“Quit yer whinin’ ye twerp!”

Obidah bit his lip, wiped his tear stained eyes, then looked back to the boy.

“O… Okay.” Sniffled Obidah

“Good! So where did ye come from anyways? Yer all covered in mud, loik.”

Obidah looked down his torn shirt, to find the boy’s claim to be all too true.

“I didn’t even know it was ripped…”

“Yeah, well, now yer do. An’ ‘sides; I asked you a question! I’m the boss round dese ‘ere parts an’ ye do as I tell yer to do!” he exclaimed angrily.

“Well… I’m Obidah, an’ I came from Britain.” Obidah ushered reluctantly.

“Nice t’ meet yer ‘aqua instances’, Obidah” He grinned as he said it, offering his hand; Obidah shook it quickly.

“I’m Rex an’ this ‘ere is my town: COVE!” Rex blurted out eagerly.

Obidah stood there, soaking it in.
Cove?! He exclaimed in his head. That was a long way from home… But he had nothing back home now - Nothing.
He opened his mouth to speak; Rex had beaten him to it, though.

“Would yer like a job, Obidah?” Rex questioned him

Obidah pondered upon what kind of job, if any REAL job, a boy of around his age could possibly offer...