[Medium Sized Model - 25mm Base]
[Presupported with LYS files in 32mm & 75mm Scale]
[No Hat Variant Included]
No nonsense, stoic, straightforward. Sir Harian is a man of few words, though in his brief and sparse moments of speech, his words carry an edge like his blade. Sir Harian is one who prefers resolution through swift action, only speaking when spoken to, and shooting when threatened. There are no second chances if Sir Harian is the one to knock upon your door. If you don’t come quietly of your own accord, you’ll instead go quietly in a bodybag, though with one thundering boom to signal your final moment first.
Harian remembers nothing of his past life, his childhood, teenage years, his parents, friends, where he grew up, stories he was told as a child. All of it is gone, not fleeting nor fading, simply gone. With no past to be born and moulded from, what identity can one create for themselves in this world? For Harian, all he remembered was being found by a group of Inquisitors on a roadside, a squad that had been tracking an enchantress of sorts. Slumped against the south wall of Harian Road, it was the name he took thereafter. All the Inquisitors could divulge to him was that he may have been one of her victims, dumped in her flight on the roadside, his memory erased with hopes that the bumbling blank-minded fool might slow down the pursuers.
At least, that is the story the Inquisitors told him. In his earliest days he felt a sense of longing for whoever this mage was, she had escaped the Inquisitor’s grasp, and part of Harian wondered if truly he was nothing more than her servant and sire, or perhaps something closer. Someone that she loved, wanted to protect, and could no longer be with if it meant keeping them in harm’s way. Though no good would come of drowning oneself in sorrow with such thoughts. These were the musings of a man stripped of his identity, and to dwell on them further would only render his mind plagued and his heart twisted, perverted in fantasies of a life that mayhaps never existed.
Looking back at the ghosts of a past he never knew was pointless, his mind focused forward instead. Even had the mage been his lover, she had abandoned him now. Instead of wailing in pity any longer, he asked his rescuers for the chance to join. Skeptical at first of the man’s request, they tested him with various logic puzzles and even in a sparring match. Remarkably, his aptitude for both combat and problem solving proved apt, with him holding his own against a veteran Inquisitor in a brawl, and solving most problems in mere minutes. It seemed his inherent skills and attributes had not been lost from whatever past life he led, further reinforcing his belief that he was more than a mere servant. Still, it did not detract him from the goal he had now set himself.
During his training, Harian found himself most at home with a pistol or handcannon, enjoying the explosive and destructive power the weapons held, and how swiftly they could be employed against a potential spellcaster before they could even begin to react. He thus carried at least two flintlock pistols and a handcannon on him at all times he was on assignment thereafter, as well as a longsword for backup. He became known as the Gunslinger among his peers, though he cared little for their nicknames and idle chatter; he had little trust in his order, believing more every day that his origin was a fabrication. Now he simply hopes that one day he might meet the woman that cut him loose and left him, and though he might not know her, he’s sure to know the flicker of recognition in her eyes when the barrel of his gun is pointed at her head. It will be up to her to persuade him against pulling the trigger, however.
