Name: Cola
Group: Saxons
Age:18
Occupation: Stable hand
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Physical Description: Dark complexion due to distant Brythonic ancestors (Father's side, three generations removed). Sturdy frame due to long hours of physical work. Plain of feature the most noticeable thing about him is his nose, which has been broken several times (by horses and in the odd brawl at the tavern). He stands 5ft 5" and has thick black hair. He currently trying to grow a beard.
Personality: Quiet except when he gets in his cups, prefers the company of horses to people, he is often regarded as sullen and unfriendly by others, but in truth he is merely shy except when drunk. He is very fond of animals, especially dogs and horses and has a small terrier called Gyp that accompanies him around the place wherever he goes.
Biography: Cola lost both parents (his father was a labourer his mother a tavern wench and washerwoman) to one of the epidemics that occasionally swept through the land when he was a small boy. Having no extended family to speak of he was lucky enough to be apprenticed in a stables, having some experience from occasionally helped out with grooming and feeding the horses that used to be stabled in the hostelry where his mother worked. His aptitude for the work meant he was taken on full time. He found his dog Gyp wandering around hungrily one day, doubtless a poor stray who had been left behind by a traveller, so he took him in and the two have been inseparable ever since. By and large he keeps himself to himself, except when too much mead or ale passes his lips - then he becomes pugnacious and boisterous, and has been involved in more than one brawl as a result - he is a decent brawler but has no weapon training. Following a dust up with the son of his former employer Cola left before he could be punished and wandered for a while until a friendly Friar he encountered in his travels tipped him off regarding good prospects for work in a nearby village close to the river Poth for a lad who could keep his wits about him and his head down. He found the Friar had spoken truthfully, but somehow had failed to mention it was a village on the cusp of conflict - that probably explained why his services were in such demand he thought - warriors need their horses after all and there was quite a gathering of them here. The risk was clear, but where else could he go, out of coin and with no one to turn to?