Title: "the Dead"

Rank: Mercenary

Full Rank & Title: Pickleuus Mortuus, Mercenary of the Plague

Birth Date: January 1, 1328

Land of Origin: Some obscure place in Ireland

Land of Residence: the Land of Plenty and Pickles

Occupation: Sellsword

Loyalty: It used to be the guys that threw my corpse over the castle walls last

Favored Weapon: Sword & round shield

Armor Preference: Whatever keeps Death at bay

Motto: In media res, "In the middle of things"

Favored Tactic: Liability

Service: Novice member of the Mercenaries Medieval Combat Guild
      Frostwar VI--Partisan & Axe against the hordes of Sanctus Azathoth

Tourney Record
Kingmaker's Tourney: Sword, Sword & Shield, Dagger, Any Weapon (spectacular deaths in all)

Actual History: A young Irish fighter that managed to get to England through a series of misadventures, flukes and folly's that change every few weeks. The general consensus is that he found a sword and shield somewhere, learned a little bit of swordplay, and stowed away on a trade ship where he contracted the plague. He fought it off just before the ship landed in England, but carries with him a constant aura of plague.

No one, not even him, seems to know exactly where he came from or where the name 'Pickles' came from.

History After a Bit of Ale: He was a cauldron born, but some witch decided that she wanted some pickles, but the only pot handy happened to be the one that he was being born in . . .

Eventually, once he got over that mishap, the witch became annoyed at her creation, for a number of different reasons, the most major of which being that any pickles she might make would taste of black plague, Ebola, and brimstone. So she gave him the plague and gave him a set of vague directions, being something along the lines of "Them's English...hic...Be staling all o' me pickle good taste...Pickles! Go kill the English! Hic!"

So, he walked straight into the ocean, and drowned. However, his dead corpse floated to the shores of England, and he woke up. He got up, and walked off to raze the first English castle he happened upon. Eventually, he managed to give the plague to most of Europe's population, and killed off about 1/3 of the earth population. But otherwise, a good day.

He managed to float back to the witch, who hadn't quite gotten over the whole bad pickles incident, who promptly kicked him across the ocean to France. He is now sentenced to a life of wandering all over the European countryside, spreading the plague wherever he so happens to end up.

In battle, you may be able to 'kill him', but he will get up very soon afterwards, after all the blood he sprayed over your forces gives them a horrible disease. No matter what you do, he'll be there, and he'll be coming. If he happened to be a rank-and-file soldier, all he would warrant would be a liability...And we all know how much paperwork that equates to.