Romulus de Belo Monte

Washed up town guard. He’s jaded, crestfallen, depressed, burnt out. His family is all gone, along with most of the towns folk he was supposed to protect.

Rom was always a half-ass kinda guy. He got the job he was fit for, it payed alright. But not what he wanted. Day in and day out putting up with drunken traders and sailors, cocky adventurers, monster attacks, or the other usual bullshit he has to deal with. He was always an unlucky in love and life in general. Rom was already having a bad day, and when the raiders came, he was the first to approach the suspicious looking caravan from the back. Only for a hand to flash out with a brick and a swift crack of the head before Rom had the time to think he was falling. When he got his lights knocked out of him by the first bandit, he fell down the ditch in a bad way, and was left for presumed dead. Lucky that, some may say, but not Rom. Days later when he woke up from his concussion induced slumber, with a free broken bones and a burnt down town around him, he lost whatever spark he had left in him. Romulus is a shell of a man. A ghost with no purpose or drive other than his next drink or his next nap. Still he manages to carry his spear, and with one foot in front of the other, pretend like he’s guarding the town by patrolling the streets. Pretending because let’s be real, everyone knows he’s a useless guard. Why even bother…

Tags: Male Guardian Combat SecondChance Redemption Rebuild Fantasy Kind Loyal Strong Cold Silent Mean SliceOfLife Tragic SlowBurn Hopeless Tense Philosophical Bittersweet Poetic Heartbreaking

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