This jung but ambitious highwayman was born in poor circimstances.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

With his mother and father killed in a city raid, and no money in his pocked he started to 'work' as an highwayman to earn him some bread.

His equipment reflect his budget. A bucket as helmet my look crappy and stupid, but it already stoped some heavy stones, thrown after him by angry traders, and so saved his live.

The half bucket on his right sholder and the shovel on his left are fixed by two little leather belts, which he had stolen two rich childs who once crossed his parth. And the fence, protecting all the valueable organs in his body, is a collage of all those fences that tryed to stop him on his journey through Albion, again fixed with a leather blet.

Both weapons he is carrying, were diged out of an grave, over which he oneday stumbled. It was the grave of an great hero, who died in a fight against a even greater hero, but the jung man never cared about history, ... it can't feed him.