Major Cuddlesworth

Name: Major

Age: 32

Race: Charr

Class: Guardian

Bio: In the world of Tyria, there many dangers. Some small, some little. Then there are the big ones, and the huge ones. And each day, the people of Tyria fight these dangers. To soldiers with their swords and shields, to the farmers with their pitchforks and axes. To the people of Tyria, these dangers are relentless. A bat swoops down and attacks. You killed said bat. For a few seconds, there is piece. Only to go back in danger when another bat replaces the other. Each day, the people Tyria fight for their lives, as if it was a daily chore. And each race was no better off than the other.
You have the humans of Kryta, with their relentless attackers, the Centaur. You have the small intelligent race, the Asuran, with their twisted kind, The Inquest, and the frog people, Hylek. You have the Nords of the Shiverpeaks Mountain, with the cult, the Sons of Svavir and the mole people, the Dredge. You have the Sylvani, the plant people, with their evil kind, the Nightmare Court. And then, you have the feline race, the Charr. Of all the races in Tyria, the Charr of  Ascalon, have the most dangers of them all. The ogres, who are fighting to make Ascalon as their own land. The Separatists, humans who were angered with the peace treaty between Charr and their kind, who wish for the war to continue. The Renegades, the alternates of the Separatists. The Flame Legion, Charrs who wish to see Ascalon in flames and conquer all lands. The Ghosts of Ascalon, who no matter how many times are perished, keep rising up from the ground to fight more. And lastly, there is, the Branded. The Branded, as the name implies, is where the crystal dragon, Kralkatorik, has branded itself of half the western side of Ascalon, and all of the Crystal Desert.
For many years, the Charr people of fought the Branded, with no avail and a victory. But this has never stopped the Charr from trying, as everyday they push the Branded back from getting more land. Many soldiers have fallen, but most, become the Branded, no longer themselves, know only to kill. Warbands fighting former members, some they knew, some they once knew. Fighting others that the Branded has consumed and taken as its own, Ogres, devourers, griffons and so on. It was a cruel site to be seen.
Many warbands have fallen to the Branded. Either killed, consumed, or just simply, vanished. Their names, either written in stone in honor of their courage, or lost, forgotten in time as if they never had existed. With many warbands keeping the Branded at bay, there was one in particular, who’s soldier was a sad one to tell. His name, was Major Cuddlesworth.
He grew up like many of his kind. Born, lived with his parents for a few years, and still being a cub, was sent to the Fahrar when the time was right. His father disappearing or killed like many others, and a mother who thought he was a nuisance. He had two sisters, twins, though he faintly remembers them, as he was in the Fahrar most of his early life, and they were never close. He remembered the youngest one, Coffee, who somehow developed the powers of the Mesmer, magic that the Charr found disgusting and evil, and valued only strength, that is their society. He remembered Coffee would run toward him with tears in her eyes, being bullied by other cubs, and her twin sister, Rooibosa. He remembered the twins joining the Blood Legion when they got older, but after that, the memory fades, only reports saying the warband the twins joined had many deaths in different ways. His warband was the best of its kind, the Worth Warband. With 16 members, they walked from Plains of Ashford, to their base and new home, the Blazeridge Stepps, the front of the Branded. It is there, the Worth Warband fought many of its creatures, and the Ogres who had made camps on the western side. The many battles these 16 brave Charrs were astounding. Many waves of branded creatures charging at them, only to lay dead on the ground, with the Warband standing tall in victory. Other Warbands, staring at them with awe and cheers, as they raise their steins in their triumph when the sun sits. The Worth Warband was the mightiest of them all, cubs wanting to be them, other races wanting to get to know them. This lasted many years. Until…
Gervan Rockworth was the first of the Warband to fall, blindsided by an branded Ogre, when Gervan was making repairs outside the walls of their camp.
Then Drum Worthsmasher, who went out to get wurm meat as it was the only food source, to get killed by Harpies who swarm over him.
Then Nelkir Axeworth, who went to scout the area, only to vanish and never returned.
Disaster over another, when 5 members of the Band was killed by a surprise attack, thinking they had the area secured.
And now, in the present day, there was only 3. The rest, consumed and now amongst the Branded. Riger Worthpick, who is just the cook as he was severely injured doing a scramble, and Corm Luckworth, who was slowly dying from sickness of the branded poison. But Cuddlesworth himself… He was truly the last one standing of the Worth Warband, but Blazeridge Stepps has changed him and the responsibilities that were giving to him had took its toll on his body and mind.
The Charr of the Black Citadel, gave him the rank of Major. One would think this isn’t much, but to Cuddlesworth, it was, as he was the only one of kind with the rank of Major. He had become the military leader of Blazeridge Stepps. To many, this is a great achievement, but to Cuddlesworth, it was a nightmare. Not because it was such a huge task to handle, but simply it was his mind set.
Cuddlesworth fought the Branded for so long, he is, and many eyes that have landed upon him, is becoming one of the Branded. With so many blood of the creatures sinking in his skin, and the essence his body took in as he slew them, had changed his appearance. When he left the Fahrar, he had yellow feline eyes, and a black mane. But now, his eyes were branded purple, and his hair has well. To hide this, he now wore a purple/dark pink coat, to make it look as though he dyed his hair, but to many, this was laughable. With this look, and that his name was Cuddlesworth, a name he got cause he was cuddling his crying sister Coffee a lot, he was barely taken seriously by fellow soldiers. He had bloody a few here and there to make them listen and follow his orders, but with new soldiers coming in, replacing the ones that have died or consumed, it came to the point it was all for naught and the stress made his mind worse. Though he was still the leader of Blazeridge Stepps, hardly anyone takes his orders and he is mostly left alone on his thoughts.
The Branded had took its toll on him. The stress and the branded in his veins has made his mind in a way that a normal man could not take. He had become forgetful, so the point he could not remember his first name, it was just Major Cuddlesworth. His early life, he faintly remembers but forgets as time goes on. Wandering around Stepps aimlessly, thinking of his past as much as his could, only to stop in his tracks and in a daze. Thinking of his warband, the happy and great times they had together, drinking and cheering after a good day fight, only to yell and curse at himself, believing to be a failure. Major Cuddlesworth, a great warrior but not only a shell of his former self.
As the branded was in him, he had consumed the powers of it as well, as he was now a Guardian, a respectful class, a class to help others in need. But this was just a nuisance to him, as his mind cannot handle its stress as well, and that he never wanted such powers to begin with. These days, he now just sits on a cliff, pondering about what to do next, wandering aroumd Stepps with no real goal to reach. Killing the branded and other creatures here and there, just to survive. Riger searching for him time to time when Major forgets to go to camp to eat. Though honestly, Major does have good days when he talks to other people as if nothing was wrong, and that he is normal. Riger, the only friend Major has, gave Major the idea to find a cure when one of the good days happened. A cure to end his wandering days, to be normal, away from Blazeridge Stepps, away from anything that is Branded. Healed from the wounds, the bruises and the bad memories over the years. To once again step in the great Charr city, The Black Citadel. To be at peace. So now, he tries to find a way to be healed on his good days when he is isn’t on the cliff on his bad days.