The death of his mother due to complications regarding his delivery was but one of the many omens for the life of hardship that was to befall Ernst’s poor soul. He was born as the last child in a litter of four, amongst two sisters and a brother, in a remote, newly-founded village at the northern fringes of the Empire, called Rhoen. Sweet mercy demanded that he be given a good childhood and medieval society did what it could: he attended the small local church with his playmates and friends regularly in the morning for whatever education in basic maths, literature and theology the priest there could offer, and hard, thankless labor followed after noon. He tended to the soil as the father of his father’s father did, alongside his siblings and neighbors. The Eppelmann family had always been that of farmers.

And skilled were they in the art of herbalism and agriculture. Yet they and their fellow villagers were only human, and thus could not stop the wrath of nature when it came in summers that were too hot, springs that were too cold, autumns that were too wet, and winters whose bitterness was nigh-unbearable. But nature showed her gentler side in that Rhoen’s area was blessed with large amounts of game in its myriad forests of pine and whispering spirits. Ernst and his family put to good use the training given to them by army soldiers when the Imperial Diet passed legislation requiring that all able men aged sixteen to forty practice with the longbow to ready themselves for war and conscription, by hunting elk and boar alike to supplement the crop harvest.

So life was harsh, but endurable. And to Ernst and his fellow villagers who knew nothing else but that life, they could do naught but endure.

But as the years went by and Ernst entered the magic of late adolescence and falling in-love until hail distracted him from that, the times grew worse, as for years the crop successively failed. What wine they could make from the shrunken fruits of the harvests was sour and harsh to the tongue, and not even the local priest, Ernst's former teacher by this time and who performed frequent and thorough exorcisms all over the fields to ward away evil spirits and demons that could have been haunting their crop, could help.

The Rhoeners tried to repair their home and fields, but were met only by failure as crops actually began to die after being planted. Not even the radical crop rotation method they had adopted only out of desperation from some clearly mad scholar bore any good results; it may have, in fact, exacerbated the problem! To offset the failure of the farmlands, they took to the forests and their unlimited number of animals to hunt, and for a time, the villagers feasted on meat. Then it seemed that, because of their greed, the forest was depriving them of game. And thus they came to know starvation.

But Northerners are a stubborn people who would do anything to preserve their homeland. This virtue became a curse as the Rhoeners tried in vain to reverse it all, while their lives were snuffed out one by one by the summers, springs, autumns and winters that each had their particular brand of extremes. Only a dozen and a half or so families remained when the first few finally began to emigrate.

And apparently, it was like this in great swathes of the Empire. The Rhoeners were but part of an exodus of people looking to find themselves a living. Southwards was the path to greener pastures yet these pastures seemed to be actively running away from Ernst as every village he and his family came upon were experiencing the same crop failures. It was also with dismay that one of them had been affected with plague, which killed his brother and a sister. Father tried to be strong, but he was old now, and succumbed to exhaustion and overexposure. And so, Ernst, along with the beloved younger of his two elder sisters Julia, went south.

But Julia fell into despair and did not have the same patience as her brother. Provisions as they traveled were beginning to run low, and soon, Julia decided to settle as a prostitute in some brothel down the highway. While mildly disgusted by the act, Ernst understood that it was done only out of desperation. He tried to find what work he could nearby her brothel so they could support each other, but these were usually but odd jobs of carrying things and delivering messages. Though he found temporary work as a carpenter for some noble constructing his family’s summer house, he earned little gold, and so, after saying farewell and making a promise to his whoring sister that he would come back, he went further South.

Yet only calamity would befall him, for as he rested in a roadside tavern (paying his stay via unpaid work as he could not afford to spend that much), a group of deserters from the local lord’s army barged into the building with swords drawn and demanded that the keeper and its patrons give them gold. This was yet another great display of the Empire’s growing poverty, for these soldiers’ purses were devoid of naught but the littlest coin, because their lord had no more money to pay their still-mounting mounting arrears and thus they suffered as everyone else.

Those who could, paid. Those who could not, were killed: for power was a strong wine, and the power of the sword in front of so many unarmed and unarmored civilians could skewer one’s morality so. The fearful Ernst was paralyzed as the soldiers covered both the back and front entrances of the tavern, and could only reply with a sorry “Forgive me, sir, but I haven’t any coin,” to the unhelmed bowman with the face crisscrossed with scars and a pointed dagger.

As expected, this dagger was plunged in Ernst’s direction, yet he had the foresight to know this was coming, and so broke the bowman’s jaw with a good fist even as he cocked his hand back. The farmer took the dagger and began to sprint towards the back entrance, enjoying divine intervention when a spearman suddenly tripped and unblocked the doorway in his fall. The other soldiers began to chase him, but the tavern’s patrons and staff started to attack them as they ran. For as these were but conscripted youths, save for the bowman with the dagger who seemed to be their leader, killing them was frightfully easy under the combined power of numerous boots smacking into their faces over and over.

When it was all done, Ernst had the good idea to loot a corpse or two. From this act of disrespecting the dead, he procured a gambeson, a mail shirt, an arming sword (undoubtedly stolen from a knight), new arrows and a simple sallet helm of good make that had only a few noticeable dents: good stuff that would have cost him no small amount of silver. Though three patrons lost their lives, Ernst was rewarded with some coin for making the first move by the tavern keeper. The youth then asked the keeper if she would hire him after this incident, half-jokingly offering to be a bodyguard, in the hopes that he could get some steady money now that he’d made a good impression (or so he thought) but the woman but frowned and said that they were already fully staffed.

Now armed and armored, Ernst continued his journey southward, and found no prosperity for him. No good work came to be, and the enlistment sergeants warned that even if he did join the standing army, there would be delays in his pay -- which, of course, meant that he wasn’t going to be paid at all.

Now, Ernst was never prone to flights of fancy, but desperation could do much to change a man. His many months of staying in inns and taverns has brought to his ear much gossip, ancient treasure so unimaginably great in the bowels of some lost Dwarven city being one of the more interesting ones, along with other rumors of other treasures, both of which he was slowly coming to believe. He also came to know loneliness, for he longed for his far-away sister, the only other living member of the Eppelmann family, and of the older days, when things weren’t as bad.

He also tried to be a hunter in these more southward regions, only that it was apparently illegal to hunt deer, and the forests were already exhausted of their game. Every potential employer but showed him an empty hand faced at him, saying that he should have come earlier. Ernst’s despair deepened, and soon he was no better than a common thief. His pickpocketing skills, however, leave much to be desired as he was caught on his second try after chickening out on the first; so he went south again, this time to evade prosecution, finding himself in the village of Toruka.

If anything, Ernst at this point was incredibly unhappy. Life, already lacking luster for a peasant like him, seemed to have turned black. His movements were sluggish as he went to check the message board, and it was his slipping grip on sanity to consider and accept the proposal of the mystery man.

“Gods and Kings do what they will, and the rest of us do what we must,” he said, reflecting on his life thus far as he steeled himself to accept death in this most desperate adventure. For what could he do but embark upon it, when he was almost out of money and not even the most menial of all work was available?

Jespir was born in a large city far west of Toruka. He is the result of an affair between a high ranking official's wife and a passing traveler; the harsh treatment received by his family is a constant reminder of that. His half-siblings mocked him endlessly, and his "father" beat him on sight. Even his mother neglected his existence.

Even through the constant abuse, he had one sanctuary of peace: the Airship Tower.
In the center of the city was a high tower, large enough for multiple airships to load and unload cargo and crew. Jespir would watch in fascination as the magically powered ships came to rest, and listen aptly to the tales and ramblings of sky sailing crewmen. The tower had become almost like a second home to him, and he knew every inch of the place.

After his eighteenth birthday, Jespir made up his mind and snuck onto the largest airship he saw. The ship departed with him on board, and no one was the wiser. It was only during the third day of the journey when disaster struck.

During the night, the airship was invaded by a crew of pirates. It was an absolute massacre. Before anyone could be roused from their beds, they were killed. Only Jespir lived. He didn't remain hidden for long, though.
Rooted out just before the pirates left, the first mate was just about to blow the elf's brains out with a bullet before the captain intervened. Seeing Jespir as more of an asset than problem, he was taken in as a reluctant cabin boy.
The first few days of Jespir's new life were rocky. Jeers and insults were thrown at him, but like the abuse in his former home, he tried to shrug it off. As time passed, the insults became more lighthearted than anything and he actually made some good friends with the crew. He was even promoted to chef after the former one was killed in a small scuffle.

When Jespir was nineteen, rumors of the captain's corruption surfaced. There were whisperings onboard the ship about the captain taking more than two thirds of the loot acquired. The rumor was made even worse due to most of the crew coming from poor backgrounds, and the captain was said to use the money for his own personal mansion.
Mutiny was inevitable.
Jespir was reluctant to join. After all, this was the man who kept him from being killed. But one look at the captain's disregard of his men was enough to join the mutineers.
After months of planning, the plan to overthrow the captain was set into motion. Though the group of mutineers were small, their planned seemed foolproof. They snuck into the captain's quarters at night...

...and were met by him, his loyal followers, and a lot of guns.

With mutineers to loyal followers numbering one to four, the betrayal ended with a slaughter. The bodies of mutineers were taken off the airship and thrown into a forest before the ship fled. Miraculously, Jespir survived with three bullets to the chest.

A man from a small town right by the forest spotted the mass of corpses. If it wasn't for Jespir's pained moans, the man would have left him there without even knowing. The man carried Jespir to his home and cared for him until the elf healed. His recovery was a painful process, and he barely survived. Once he was able to wall, though, he was quick to leave.

Hijacking a small, disrepaired airship along the way, Jespir journeys around continuing to live a life of pirating--solo, this time. His love for adventure and a growing desire for treasure when the depression hit was the fuel for his travelings. He wants to find the greatest treasure in the world, and he'll do anything for it.