Name: Emil Erran.
Age: 18

Personality:
warm and kind-hearted, Emil is a soft spoken young squire with a strong sense of morality and justice. This level headed squire tries his best to stay brave and rational in the face of hardship and adversity, despite his inexperience. Honest and trustworthy, Emil is compassionate and kind, if a little shy and under-spoken. Loyal to a fault, Emil is more than willing to risk himself for the sake of others, and goes to great lengths to defend his loved ones. A very down to earth and grounded individual, Emil's calm and positive demeanor, while bordering on naivety bolsters the spirits of those around him.

Backstory:
Emil, youngest son of the Erran family, comes from a long line of Edessan Knights. Emil, like the rest of his brothers were introduced to the lifestyle of a knight at a young age, and were immersed in their culture from the moment he could walk. The son of a Edessan Knight and his wife, Emil and his brothers were well educated at a young age and were taught manners as well as basic martial skills and knowledges as children. Throughout their childhood, Emil and his brothers would often venture into the town to play with other children. Emil made friends easily, and was known for his gentle and sensitive demeanor, while the rest of his brothers were respected for their various other qualities.

As they Erran children grew older, they were trained in the ways of various weapons, such as the spear and sword, and were trained in horsemanship and riding. After his seventh birthday, Emil was apprenticed to another noble family to serve as a Page, where he would begin to further refine horsemanship and swordsmanship as well as learn the intricacies of reading and writing. A naturally perceptive and intelligent child, Emil was treated well by his host family, and learned much under their tutelage.

The Knights of Edessa, or the Edessan Knights as many know them as. These knights are tasked with serving and protecting the people of Edessa. These stalwart warriors are well known for both their valor and martial skill, despite their relatively small numbers. Every male member of the Erran family had been an Edessan Knight at one point in their life. Emil's brother is among the famed members of the Edessan Knights, and one of the King's personal guards. Each of Emil's brothers has already entered service in the order.

As he turned 14, he became squire to a famed Edessan Knight, where he furthered his training, continuing his work on bladesmanship and horsemanship, as well as learning archery, music, speech, and skills befitting a young knight. Here he learned how to take care of, and maintain armor, how to tend horses and treat wounds. The next several years were difficult, his knight was fair, but strict, and offered him nothing but the most difficult challenges to face.

Now a fresh 18 years old, Emil's journey to become a full fledged knight of Edessan has been cut short by the war. With his lord having sent Emil away with the other youth of the city, Emil is one of the oldest of the youths to leave, and like many of the other older children, has supplemented the sparse number of caravan guards with his own skills.

Skills and Abilities:
Adept Swordsmanship - As a squire, and the son of a Knight, Emil has received martial training in various fields, he is capable with many weapons, but shows the most promise with a sword.
Journeyman Spearmanship - Along with his swordsmanship, Emil has received training with the spear and lance, though it is clear he shows a preference to the sword.
Novice Archery - Alongside his other martial skills, Emil has also been briefly trained in the use of the bow and arrow.
Journeyman Horseback Riding- As a knight in training, Emil is trained on how to ride a horse, fight from a horse, and take care of a horse.
Trained Armor use - Years of training have taught Emil how to quickly don and remove plate armor, and can thus move with more dexterity and quickness than one without training would be able to. He is also well versed on the care of plate armor.
Novice Cooking - 'Cooking' would be a bit of a stretch, Emil is capable of preparing meat and raw food to an edible state without causing sickness.
Novice Lute playing - The way of the arts, poetry, and writing are often emphasized amongst members of the upper classes, music is especially appreciated throughout Edessa. Emil has picked up a tune or two on the lute in his free time.

Equipment:

Father's Sword, Worn. - An old sword used by Emil's father. Though it is worn and has seen its fair share of use, it remains a balanced and capable weapon nonetheless.

Edessan Half Plate. - a cut down suit of plate armor utilized by Edessan knights and soldiers. Plates protect major parts of the body, while the rest is backed with tough leather under a tunic.
Roark, Horse. - A well bred brown horse named Roark ridden by Emil.

In his knapsack, Emil carries a few supplies, some dried rations, flint and steel, and a few other survival items.

Personality: One of the more important parts of your CS, give me a good taste of what your character is like.
Being a slave from the time he was a toddler, Askeladden has an inherent work ethic necessary for his survival. If there's a job to be done, he is often the first to work on it, without complaint or mention of it. Askeladden, despite his new found freedom, anticipates beatings from authority figures or those above him at the drop of a hat and will often wince or look away when he is anticipating them. He tends to not speak unless spoken to and even then is cautious of the action. If he feels threatened by someone that he does not see as an authority figure, he will often by the first to strike out of habit.

He lost trust the same day he lost his eye. Kind words and affection are met with great skepticism and if at all possible he will avoid people that he suspects to be trying to lower his guard. He has a love of telling stories and a greater love of hearing them. The way to his heart is to let him tell a story or two, either from his own experiences, or second hand from one of his patrons. Even faster is to tell him a story. His complete lack of education can add a bit of child-like wonder to him when he learns new things or experiences something he's only heard about in stories. Unfortunately, his lack of education also means that social faux pas are often lost on him. At the very least, a life of being dirt poor and having to rely on himself has taught him how to be resourceful.

Backstory:
Son of a whore, he was born a bastard and left with no surname. He was found lying in the dirt behind The Drunken Mare, a tavern on a connecting road between Edessa's capital and one of its southernmost cities. The bastard was brought to The Drunken Mare's master, Thors Brant, by one of the tavern's maids. Brant instructed the woman to care for the infant and have it learn a skill if she wanted it to live. For his dirty appearance, skin gray from the dirt, Brant named him Askeladden or "Ash Lad" in his native language. Askeladden was raised as a regular child for the first few years of his life until the maid began to grow ill. She passed him off to the Tavern's cook and died shortly after. Askeladden can't even remember her face.

The cook was strict, but generally fair. Failures were acceptable once. Any more resulted in a beating, first from the cook, and then from the master. "Everyone fails, only idiots unfit to live fail again," The cook had told him as a young boy. He had learned to take the saying to heart shortly afterward. He first began handling food at the age of four, fetching ingredients for the cook, delivering the small servings and occasionally drinks to patrons. He had begun to admire the cook at that age. The master was his owner, but the cook was the closest thing he had to a father. The cook often spent time speaking to him once the tavern stopped serving food, his words kind and bubbly as he drank himself into a drunken stupor.

He first handled a knife when he was eight, getting to chop vegetables and help with the morning prep-work. Slowly more responsibilities were handed to him until by the age of thirteen he was operating at a level slightly below that of the cook. It was around this age that he was expected to start dealing with the rowdier of guests. Slap them around a bit if they were making asses of themselves or wrestle them to the floor and hold them down until the cook or the master could step in and take care of the guest. The cook had been showing him how to handle himself in a fight after the master requested it. Askeladden also got a chance to learn more about the cook; that he had been a soldier in the Edessa military, that he had been a massive drunkard, that Brant bought him for a nightly allowance of liquor, and that he still was a drunkard. A drunkard that could have trouble controlling himself.

"You think you can fight?" The cook screamed at him one night after Askeladden had broken a man's arm. "This is what they'll do to brats like you!" The cook wrestled Askeladden to the ground and pinned his face against the ground. "I am being generous, boy. Anyone else would take both to teach you a lesson." An object moved into the vision of his left eye and for a moment the touch against his eye was warm and clammy. And then it was just white-hot.

He spent the night curled up in a corner clutching his eye. The next morning he was handed a bottle of alcohol and a handful of bandages and was told to take care of it and get to work. Brant never questioned what happened to Askeladden. The cook never brought it up. Askeladden never walked without a knife again. Two years later Askeladden ran the kitchen alone, the cook dead and left in the woods after he came at Askeladden one night with a cleaver. His tears for killing the cook were beaten out of him by Brant. With the cook dead, Brant took on the role of the punisher for Askeladden's mistakes and did his best to make up for the cook's absence. Over the years Askeladden learned to cook with a broken arm, broken ribs, fractured hands, and a near swollen over eye.

One night Askeladden saw a man writing on a piece of parchment at the tavern and stared with fascination. The man offered him a lesson either out of courtesy or pity and he accepted whole-heartedly. Askeladden went on to practice writing in his free time, despite having no idea of how to read what he wrote. Parchment was expensive, as was ink, so he made do with what he had. Pigs blood as ink and either apron or his skin as parchment. In one of the many attempts to write his own name on his arm, he found himself on the ground clutching his wrist, holding back cries of agony as his skin felt as if it were on fire. The tankard scribbling on his arm began to faintly glow and a sensation grew with him that felt oddly familiar and horribly cold as if he were laying in a bed of snow. Brant entered the kitchen and looked around for him, walking past him, screaming and fuming that he could neither find nor hear the slave. When the strange feeling abandoned his body, he collapsed to the ground and emptied what little content he had in his stomach into the pot. The beating for slacking off and dirtying a pot was almost dwarfed by the excitement of what he just discovered. Almost.

When the call for the caravans came, Brant forbid it. Brant wanted to profit off of the invading forces needing a place to stay. Askeladden cracked him over the head with pan and beat him until he stopped moving. And then he ran.

And he ran until his feet bled.

And he ran some more.


Skills and Abilities:
Untrained Ritualist - When Askeladden was still attempting to learn to write, he often would use whatever he could to learn. Ink was a luxury for someone like him, so he turned to animal blood when it was available. Parchment being equally difficult to find required him to write where he would not receive a beating for. His apron, his clothing, or his own skin. It was by accident he discovered anything at all when attempting to spell his name on his wrist. The clumsily written letters burned on his skin like metal out of a flame and with that came a new sensation he had never experienced. The manager walked into the kitchen looking for him and passed right by, unable to see or hear Askeladden. The moment the unfamiliar sensation disappeared, he fell ill and expelled the contents of his stomach into a nearby pot. He was beaten severely for hiding from his master and for dirtying a pot.
Novice Reader & Writer - Askeladden was not trained to read nor write and had to make do with picking up whatever he could from patrons.
Novice Storyteller - Every man has a story and in Askeladden's line of work, he often hears every story a passing drunk/traveler/hunter/soldier/mercenary has to share. People tend to get eager to share when good food and flowing mead is at the ready and Askeladden always has an open ear to the patrons. He's also gotten particularly good at remembering other's stories, but he still needs work on telling them.
Adept Brawler - Not every fight in his life has been with a knife and prior to losing his eye, he had fought with his hands. He once used a chair in a fight and was beaten relentlessly by the tavern owner for damaging the owner's property, forcing him to rely on only his own hands in a brawl. He's best when fighting someone larger than him, speed being his biggest asset in fights. If there's not a tremendous difference in size, he would tend to try and pin them to the ground and either threaten to break something or, in some cases, in fact break something.
Journeyman Medic - For someone as prone to beatings as Askeladden, learning how to patch himself up was a necessity. Askeladden can treat most cuts, nurse broken bones, sew wounds, properly clean wounds, and prevent infections.
Professional Knife User - Askeladden understands how to properly and efficiently use and maintain a large variety of knives, ranging from a paring knife to a cleaver and everything in between. His time with a knife has not solely been for cooking and butchering, but for defense as well. Askeladden has been in many fights through his life, a fact of life when dealing with drunkards on the regular. He's been in more knife fights than he's comfortable admitting, but it has left him a competent fighter capable of protecting himself.
Professional Cook - Much of his life has been spent in the back of a tavern whipping up food for travelers. He's well versed in a wide variety of foods, having prepared many game animals brought into the tavern by hunters, as well as every livestock to walk Lucenrai. Askeladden is well versed in making meals from scraps, having to rely entirely on scraps left over from patrons to feed himself, as well as whatever he can steal without drawing the eye of the owner. As long as it's still edible, Askeladden has both prepared and eaten it or can figure out how to.
Accomplished Butcher - When a group of hunters drag in a bear carcass and demand that it be ready to eat by that evening, Askeladden is the one in charge of making that a reality. He's able to skin and hack apart most Lucenrai wildlife with ease. He's learned to navigate around stubborn muscles, how to peel off furs without damage, and how to remove, organize, and prepare every bit and piece of wildlife he's ever had the chance to spend an afternoon hacking up. He highly recommends a dish of his invention involving sheep's stomach, liver, heart, and tongue. To this date not a single person has taken him up on the offer.

Equipment:
Burlap Sack - Two straps have been sewn on. Large enough to hold a horse's head.
Leather Knife Roll Bag - Used to hold the knives Askeladden ran off with. Made by his own hands.
Meticulously Sharpened Varyan Steel Knives - The majority of his knives are made of iron or steel. His selection includes: Chef's, Cleaver, Paring, Boning, Serrated, Butter, Peeling, and Carving.
Honing Bar - Used to straighten knives. Made of iron. Stored in his pack.
Sieve - Used to properly wash herbs and vegetables. Shallow and uses of a mesh of burlap.
Pestle & Mortar - Used for grinding herbs. Stored in his pack.
A bottle of whiskey wrapped in bandages - The alcohol is meant purely to clean infections and the bandages are nearing their third year of age. Washed carefully, they still have some stains from previous wears.
Sewing kit - For maintenance of equipment and maintenance of self. Running low on unused thread. Most is recycled from old wounds. Smells of alcohol.
Eyepatch - Black, sheep's skin leather, soft, aged. Only worn during the day or when before a flame, Askeladden's blind eye being sensitive to light and heat.

Personality: Having grown up first in a woodcutting village, then a fishing village, and then a farm, Dalsarad has a very "get it done" mentality, something his father hadn't so much as taught him as he did exemplify for him. He looked up to his father quite a bit growing up, regardless of his father's tough attitude towards him, and Dalsarad doesn't find it unsettling in the slightest that he considers himself to have grown up in his shadow.

One of the more easily defined traits that Dalsarad carries is passion. Whatever the young man sets his mind to doing he does it to his fullest ability until he deems it complete. Stemming from that comes a sort of tunnel-vision, however, and many have observed that there are times where Dalsarad seemingly can't move on with his life over trivial things that he saw as "incomplete". It's also been noted that he has a deep-seeded fear of both ridicule and failure; all of this comes from his father's harsh treatment, but Dalsarad does his best to remain positive about them, saying they're more like "motivators" than "fears".

Because of that, Dalsarad struggles to not take himself too seriously, but to let his actions speak for him, thus eliminating any chance of ridicule or (ideally) failure. This comes off as an almost relaxed or carefree demeanor to others featuring a down-to-earth sarcastic humor. As Dalsarad himself puts it: "I don't care until I do." All in all he could be seen as an ideal person for tedious gruntwork, like running a farm, as he doesn't mind doing it, applies himself at doing his best, and relishes results more than anything.


Backstory: Dalsarad is admittedly well traveled, though not by choice. He was born in a small woodcutter's village named Rowanwood in southern Edessa, and it was here that a small towheaded boy would spend the first seven years of his life. His mother was a housewife while his father was a woodcutter, as was expected of him. As soon as Dalsarad was able to hold an ax, his father had him working, hacking at smaller trees or having him climb them to cut off bothersome branches. He would establish small quotas for the boy to uphold weekly, and should he not fulfill him, his son would meet his heavy, calloused, workman's hands. Dalsarad's mother would often protest this, saying it would lead to problems in the future, but the boy swore that he loved his father, no matter what.

After those first seven years the Erborum family moved farther north to central Edessa to live Dalsarad's uncle in a laketown creatively named Blue Lake. To this day Dal can't remember exactly why they moved, but he vaguely remembers his mother acting strange a few months prior. It was in Blue Lake that Dalsarad and his father began work as fishermen under his uncle, who owned a small barge made for lake fishing. More importantly, it was during the weekends where he wasn't on the barge that Dalsarad discovered his love of athletics. He and a few other boys from the town would regularly get together for a few rounds of "boxing" on the beach when the water from other barges soaked the shore. The damp sands- not too soft but not too hard- made for a great arena. Dalsarad feels he practically grew up on that beach. Occasionally the boys wouldn't "box", but would rather play a game they called "Cribbich", wherein stones were thrown at a target with three different sized holes in it for varying values of points. Dalsarad had good aim. He remembers that when he was in danger of losing, he'd often take the other boys' stones, throw them into the lake, and say it was a draw.

When the barge overturned and Dalsarad's uncle was nearly killed, his family relocated once more, even though they had spent nearly seven years at Blue Lake. They traveled towards the capital and his father used the money he had saved working for his brother to purchase a plot of land to farm. It is here that Dalsarad has lived ever since, not only tilling the fields, but helping his mother with her garden, as well. The young man found he enjoyed the life of a farmer. However, his relations with his father were worsening. He had recently taken up his son to teach him how to really fight, having been a marshal earlier and his life and claiming proud membership to the local militia. He taught Dalsarad how to correctly wear and use armor, as well as a sword and shield, and even on weeks where the training was particularly intense Dalsarad was still expected to fill his quota, no matter how badly his arms were bruised.

In the winter months, when their farm could reap no harvest, Dal's mother taught him how to read and write, having only recently learned, herself. The young man also frequented the taverns on the outskirts of town, where the boxing rings were to give the angry drunks something to swing at. With those men and women being most of his opposition, Dalsarad managed to become a somewhat accomplished boxer, renowned to at least the frequent patrons of those inns.

When the Varyan Empire invaded Dalsarad's mother moved into the city while he and his father stayed at the farm to continue their work and defend it from any stray sappers or spies looking to damage Edessa's infrastructure. Some months later Dal's uncle showed up at their door- the very same who had nearly drowned back at Blue Lake. He brought with him a large crate which the horse seemed too ready to get rid of. His uncle explained that men and women of the Welds were moving north, masquerading as refugees and that he didn't trust them; he'd been moving north and planned to enter the capital but wanted to drop of an old "marshal's cache" to his brother, Dal's father. Contained within were useless badges, rotten sundries, well expired writs and warrants, and an old set of armor.

When things quickly got more intense, Dal's father forcefully moved him into the city with his mother. He hasn't heard from him since. With the presence of the Varyans, though, he wasn't expecting much, and was making plans to lie about his age and join the military when his mother forced him to join the caravan headed into Ardel. It took a great deal of convincing and consoling, but eventually, Dalsarad accepted and was on board.

Skills and Abilities:

Novice Woodcutter- It was the early part of his life, so Dalsarad had only taken to the profession for a few years before he and his family moved to Blue Lake.

Journeyman Fisherman- Dalsarad was old enough to be taught how to fish from the get-go, so his father had him fishing out on the barge with him four or five days a week. He was never very fond of it, but he still remembers most of what he was taught.

Adept Farmer/Gardener- The life Dalsarad enjoyed most was that of a farming family. Having also been his most recent profession, Dal is good at crowing crops and has some knowledge of flora from helping tend to his mother's garden.

Trained in Armor Use- Though he has never personally owned any, Dalsarad is trained in the proper use of armor, thanks to his father, who have served as a marshal for a small southern town before Dal was born.

Trained in Shield Use- Anyone can pick up a shield, but it takes training to know when to throw that punch block or how to plant one's self to take a heavy blow.

Novice Swordsman- A facet of his father's training, Dalsarad has been taught some sword techniques, though he hasn't yet had the opportunity to use any of them.

Journeyman Brawler- A hobby that Dalsarad has kept to this day has been boxing. It had kept him occupied during the winter months, and with clever bets, earned him a little coin.

Novice Thrower- Coming from his time spent playing his brainchild-sport of "Cribbich", Dalsarad found he was good at throwing things hard and accurately. To compliment this, he sometimes practiced with small sharpened branches he improvised as javelins when his father was training him.

Equipment:

Small Shield, Ironwood w/ iron boss- It had been his fathers, but Dalsarad had trained with it so he relinquished it to his son. It's not large enough that one could "turtle" behind it, but not so small that it's useless.

Sabre, Steel- A step up from the wooden weapons his father trained him with. It's your regular run-of-the-mill sabre, featuring a knuckle guard and a curved blade intended for slashing. When Dal and his family first moved towards the capital, on their new farm, Dalsarad met up with one of his old friends from Blue Lake, who was in a similar situation. However, him being of a very wealthy family meant he was moving into the capital. Nevertheless, the two often went for rounds of Cribbich when they could (Went by faster than boxing), and often would place friendly bets with one another. Dal's friend's father was a retired knight and cavalry instructor, and Dal won his old saber after his friend had bet it on Cribbich. He could probably afford ten more, anyway.

A padded jack- Featuring metal reinforcement at the elbows and hands. The accompanying gauntlets are a tab big for Dalsarad's hands, as this armor had once belonged to his uncle, who had been nicknamed "Bearhands". It was this uncle whom had been moving steadily north following the influx of Weld refugees whom he had grown paranoid of; this paranoia lead to him delivering a cache of old marshal supplies to his brother, Dal's father. Included among the useless old writs and warrants was this set of armor- probably the only useful thing in the box. Being too big for him, Dalsarad was the one to receive it, allowing the boy to put his armor training to a practical use.

Bag of small javelins- Dalsarad purchased these himself. Weighing 700 grams allows the wielder to throw these hard without sacrificing too much power.

Leather pack, containing your average travel supplies as well as the following:

• Carrot,tomato, potato, squash, rhubarb, rosemary, thyme seeds. Brought at the behest of his mother.
• Small fishing spear. Unscrews into two "halves" for better portability. It's not as good as the actual thing, and it could never be used to harm anyone, but it catches fish better than empty hands.
• Small gardening tools, with which Dal could plant the seeds he brought.
• Several pairs of leather boots, in which Dalsarad could (theoretically) use to plant some of his seeds in. Not all of them, certainly, but some of the smaller ones.
• Blade oil and grip wax, which Dalsarad likes to put in his hair.