- Ƭнє Ɓαѕιcѕ
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Name |
- Emmyth Iolas Eilhana
Nickname(s) |
- None Currently (not close enough to others)
Age |
- 32
Height |
- 6'1"
Gender |
- Male
Sexual Orientation |
- Bi
Race |
- Human/Elf
Powers |
- The line of elves on his mother's side draw their power from the moon. Generally, they are skilled in light and dark magics. They are said to perform amazing feats of magical skill and physical strength on and around the day and night of a full moon, and be lethargic come the days on and around the new moon. Emmyth, however, being half human, did not inherit any skill for magic, leaving only his physical abilities to be influenced by the moon. His agility and strength greatly increase as the moon's cycle comes to full, and falls as it wanes. At his peak he's about three times stronger than the average man and two to three times as fast.
- Ƭнє ƊєтαιƖѕ
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Personality |
- Some might describe Emmyth as distant and mysterious. Indeed he probably seems this way because he rarely goes out of his way to strike up conversation and tends to provide very basic responses when spoken to. In truth, he's a man who spends his time with weapons, rather than people. People are an unknown, with an infinitely higher chance of harming him than the weapons he considers his friends. It's not that he dislikes people, or harbors ill will towards them, it's just that he fears relationships. That aside, he's extremely single minded, incredibly hard working, never boastful, and rarely judgmental. How would he be if he opened up to someone? Even he doesn't know.
History |
- It's a common story, really. A horror story to one party and a tragedy to the other. Infidelity is unsavory all on its own, but a rich man finding pleasure amid the red light districts? A man with a powerful family name spawning a child with a woman that he readily would admit to his peers he saw as an unwanted devil in their palace of a city? Such clichés are inevitabilities when social tensions run high, and troubles within households are buttoned now to preserve face, quietly tearing a home apart.
Little baby Emmyth was a death toll to the Goodwin family. A family name he was never taught. Contrary to what the rumors would make of it later, Emmyth's mother did not fill his mind with sinister plans to one day take everything from his father. He wasn't groomed for such an undertaking. His mother wasn't a scheming vixen as the murmurs would one day say. She was a desperate woman separated from her family, far from home, just trying to live. She'd not wanted a child, it put her in even more dire straights to care for one, but she couldn't bring herself to be rid of it either.
The sweltering attic Emmyth and his mother called 'home' sat above a forge just outside the darkest parts of Silverkeep. The elf running the business had taken pity on the woman, who simply wished for her son to live in a place away from the smells and sounds of her work. It wasn't as if the man could normally rent the space, tiny and uncomfortably warm as it was. Despite threatening to throw them out if the child cried too much, and saying he wouldn't watch the child, by the time Emmyth was five, he'd become something like the mascot of the forge. Not that everyone found it amusing to have a half-breed toddler babbling at them how amazing the forge was. Or showing them the toy sword the owner had made for him.
It was after being bullied by pure-blood children and having his precious toy broken that Emmyth started to become shy of people. He was so young, only the pain and confusion are at all remembered now. The forge owner, who'd taken to being called 'Uncle' by Emmyth, asked one of the swordsmen who had been a long time friend and client of his to teach the boy self defense, disheartened to see the boy cower and be helpless. So it was that Emmyth started practicing with a proper wooden sword just before his sixth birthday. With a knight, no less. Emmyth wasn't a natural, he didn't express any genius level skills, but what he did have was an instant love for the art, determination, and a lack of as well as a general disinterest in distractions. He practiced all the time, his hands growing calloused and tough, muscle memory being burned into him.
By the age of twelve, when the boy wasn't doing lessons, he was trying to earn money to properly pay for them by entering competitions. When he wasn't practicing for or in a competition, he was doing demonstrations outside of the forge to bring in customers. Neither man asked him for this, but Emmyth could tell that his mother felt indebted. He didn't want her to feel that way, and, by now, thanks to the cruelty of others, he had a sense of what it was his mother did to keep food on the table. The boy wanted to be the man of the house, and provide, so that his mother didn't have to do that any longer. As such, he started trying to learn the other common weapons he could get into competitions for, rarely spending time away from practice. A childhood was not in the cards for him.
His teacher's insistence that he go to Cordelia and get a proper education now that he was of age was rejected against and again by the boy. He didn't want to leave his mother living here alone, and school would mean less time to practice. What was he ever going to use literature and math for? He certainly didn't want to try learning magic, as already the tournament crowd whispered that he had some unfair edge when the moon was waxing to full, having driven the boy to actively weigh himself down to prove he didn't need any advantage to win. He wanted to showcase his Uncle's talent, to win on his own merits alongside the skillfully crafted blades. He wanted to win, to rise upwards, to claim a prize large enough that he could improve their living situation.
That dream was shattered when Sir Goodwin decided to pursue a higher political standing. Emmyth was fourteen when the political enemies of the father he'd never known dug through the past to find dirt to fling into Sir Goodwin's eyes. What they found was a half elf illegitimate son, which was far from dirt, more like a mountain. It was a political circus. Emmyth discovered who his father was right alongside the entire city, and Sir Goodwin discovered he's accidentally fathered a second son. His first son, Justin Goodwin, properly human and born in wedlock, caused an incredible scene, confronting his step-brother. Another painful and confusing memory for Emmyth, trapped by the crowd as he was cursed for being born, threatened, told he would never have any part of the Goodwin name, something he'd never asked for.
Considering how well documented the one sided confrontation was, when Justin appeared brutally beaten the next week, Emmyth became the obvious suspect. Few were willing to believe his mother or Uncle, that he'd been nowhere near the area. He was arrested with much fanfare, the well-to-do humans of the court frothing that he be tried as an adult and insisting he was a dangerous monster. Considering the sheer money on the other side and his inability to put up a proper defense, Emmyth was sentenced to four years in juvenile detention and two in jail for 'attempted murder'. The boy only served ten months before it came to light that Sir Goodwin had beaten Justin, who had been putting the family in jeopardy with his gambling habits and had made a fool of them by dragging their name around when he had confronted Emmyth so publicly before. It was Mrs. Goodwin, tired of it all, that eventually brought forth that and many other secrets of the Goodwin name.
Early release hadn't come early enough for Emmyth's mother. Her son arrested and likely to be a target forever, the media making out that she'd been grooming him up through the competitions to eventually place her son before Sir Goodwin and make a claim to the family money, the harassment her home was subjected to. Whether she meant to overdose or went too far in desperation to calm her nerves would never be clear. All Emmyth could make of it was that somehow, it must have been his own fault. Without the Knight who'd trained him and his adoptive Uncle, the boy would have surely fallen away into obscurity, dwelling in the city's dark underbelly until it claimed his soul as well. Instead, they helped him through his grief, and alas enrolled him in Cordelia Academy. The Academy provided him lodging, classes, and food at least twice a day, though the boy fended for himself for extra nutrition, clothing and the like through funds won at tournaments.
While he looked like hell through his entire student career, Emmyth managed to graduate high school and college knighthood, finishing his education at the age of twenty five, having solid 'C's in most classes outside of combat classes. He continued to join just about every tournament he could, ever ignoring whispers about himself and seeming to have sold his soul to combat arts. He didn't spend time hanging out with friends, never developed a crush, didn't enjoy the simple pleasure of sitting around the house doing nothing. He was always practicing. He became a knight and was offered a job assisting in teaching Weapons Training. He accepted because it allowed him to continue training himself without having to do another task to make money for home and food. After four years, he became the primary teacher of the class, but only stayed a year before requesting leave to study combat abroad. He's been traveling for two years, and has returned to Aeston to resume teaching.
Likes |
• Weapons
• Forges / Smiths
• Training
• Being in very Social situations
• Mentions of his past
• People who don't use weapons properly ('hurt' the weapon)
• Relationships
- Ƭнє Ɛxтяαѕ
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Dorm # |
Pets |
- NONE
Scars/Tattoos/Notable Features |
- He has burn scar on his face which seems to have been caused by a magic attack. It is larger and more pronounced when the moon is approaching new, and smaller when the moon is approaching full. He might appear fully human if his skin tone wasn't just a bit grayish-purple and his eyes weren't red.
What clubs are you in? |
- NONE
Classes |
- Teaches Weapons Training
Other |
• Names weapons
• Will very likely flunk anyone who disregards their weapon, doesn't maintain it properly, and will be especially upset if they cause it to break
• He is skilled not only with various weapons, but also using them with a variety of enchantments
• He is still extremely interested in tournaments
• He wears weights on his ankles, wrists, and waist, increasing them as the month goes by and the moon waxes, to balance the boost he gets from the moon
• He tries to keep to a strict schedule which allows him the maximum amount of time to practice without fatiguing himself to the point that he would injure himself
• He's more likely to talk to a weapons smith than anyone else, and might show an interest in those students if they produce weapons with 'character' and 'soul'
