TRISTAN.GOFFE | |
| 16 | 173cm/73kg | Male | "Nothing made purely by magic lasts. You have to put your hands on something to build anything real." PERSONALITY: | Tristan often comes across as rather dour and stoic. He isn't exactly broody, but certainly quiet. Often he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and defaults to holding them still by crossing his arms, putting his hands in his pockets, etc. Give him anything minutely crafty, however--a ball of clay, paper and pencil, etc--and he'll soon show signs of a creative and inquisitive mind. The strongest opinions he has are all related to craftsmanship; most other things, he couldn't care less. That said, he has a kind heart and strong community values, having grown up in one of those kinds of villages where everyone knows everyone. | MAGIC: | Sword Magic: A magic that allows the user to create swords out of their mana. Further mana manipulation can be accomplished through using the blades as a focus, and more advanced spells imbue certain qualities into the swords themselves. Once given shape, the swords can be stored in the user's grimoire. At a certain level of control, they can be manipulated telekinetically. | SPELLS:
ABILITIES & SKILLS:
GOALS & FEARS: | He wants to at least make Senior Magic Knight before he retires, though he has no delusions of being a Captain or much less the Wizard King. He just wants to send enough money back home to support his family...and maybe one day open his own workshop in the royal capital. | | He worries that he isn't ambitious enough; that nothing he does is of real, enduring value; that his life is somehow pointless because all he wants is to do the same thing his father does, and his father before him, and so on. He constantly compares himself to others who are more driven and goal-oriented and feels a deep sense of inferiority. | ............................................................................. | The Goffe family are a small bunch. Father, Mother, Tristan, his older sister, and his younger brother. But going back several generations, they have lived in the same village, working the same forge. They fix plowshares, sharpen axes, make hammers and nails...and, every so often, a spear or a sword. Not exactly master crafts, but enough to get a local guardsman or occasional mercenary along. A little magic helps the process along here and there--Tristan's grandfather had fire magic used to stoke the bellows, and his grandmother's earth magic is probably what influenced his father's iron magic--but by and large it all comes down to elbow grease and skill. Tristan had never imagined the possibility of being a Magic Knight. Oh sure, as a kid he played knights and devils with the other brats, and the braver boys sometimes went on little excursions through the forests. But, the way his father taught him to swing a hammer, and pedal a grindstone, and polish, polish, polish until he couldn't feel his hands anymore...it turned into an appreciation for the gleaming metal he held up afterward. And seeing the thankful face of a farmer whose pitchfork or hoe he'd made, or the smile of a toothless old woman whose soup pot he fixed, was a good enough reward for him. Then he received his grimoire. He'd wondered if it would be something fire related like his grandfather, or if his mother's wood magic would be passed down instead--he could still use it to help make handles and tool shafts. Instead, the book that came to him sprouted a sword's hilt from its pages. "Hey, Tristan got Sword Magic! Isn't that kinda rare?!" "They say the Anti-Magic King had different kinds of swords in his grimoire too--do ya think they can cut through other magic?" "He's got to be a magic knight now, huh? What better use is there for magic like that?" He didn't feel the same connection between the blade in his hands, and the ones he'd forged with hammers and tongs. The swords he made with his meager mana couldn't last forever. For being a "rare" magic, it sure didn't actually seem all that powerful or versatile. But it was true that swords had no real use except to fight. Maybe...maybe he could give it a try. If he failed, then oh well, he could just go back to the village, and the forge... |