Aethan Hale
Apr 16, 2014 18:07:01 GMT -6
Post by Aethan on Apr 16, 2014 18:07:01 GMT -6
Name: Aethan Hale.
Class: Knight.
Hair Color: Chocolate hued, though with hints of blonde in the right lighting.
Eye Color: A blue reminiscent of the icy waters of his home, in his good eye.
Age: 26 years old.
Appearance: While still quite muscled, Aethan isn't as tall or imposing as one might expect a man of his profession to be. He stands just taller than the average man, though not by much, and has a lean but sturdy frame. Of course, his lean frame is hardly noticed when he dons his armor. His skin is naturally pale, balanced slightly by his time outdoors, but still showing his Ilian heritage. This heritage is the same reason he tends to dress in lighter clothing than most people consider appropriate for the weather. (He's used to snow, so even a chilly southern day feels like summer time to him.) He wears his hair long and somewhat unkempt, not ever thinking to do anything else with it these days. Of course, the feature most people notice is the eyepatch covering a sizable burn scar. (The scar has faded over time, but it's still easy to tell why he wears the patch.) Still, despite his otherwise ragged appearance, he tends to dress neatly and carry himself with a proud posture, leaving people with mixed first impressions.
Equipment: Aethan initially dressed in heavy armor out of a desire to hold an imposing presence, as well as keeping himself away from the weapons of his enemies. Over time he grew used to the weight of it though, and started adding more as he got more used to the feeling. He went from cloth and light plates originally to being able to fight comfortably in a suit of field plate. While of the same coloration and material, his armor shows some lack of congruity due to his "getting it when he feels he needs it" manner of equipping himself. (Thankfully, he could afford quite a bit because of the coin he "borrowed" from his family, though this is all spent now.) His left arm, being his off side, has slightly more armor than his weapon arm. He might have more armor if he was willing to settle for poorer quality, but this isn't the case. He's meticulous about keeping his armor polished, almost to a mirror shine if he can help it. The silver color he usually dons has become something of a calling card for him as a mercenary. He wears a full suit of plate, along with some chain mail and blue cloth (As clothing underneath, as well as worn as a sash and tied around his lance), and tends to carry all he owns either in his hands or in belt pouches. Despite the general lack of comfort, he prefers to stay dressed in his armor while out and about, but this is mostly because he doesn't have a consistent place to stay or a safe place to store his things often. He doesn't yet have a weapon he favors, but he does like to tie a piece of blue cloth around his lances. (He tends to transfer this to his favorite lance at the given time.)
Born in: Ilia, in the region of Carrhae.
Story: If you asked the man known as Aethan his life story, you'd never hear the same tale twice. Twenty years is a lot to remember when you're paying attention to other things, isn't it? Though, perhaps it's more that he delights in making up stories. Or that he enjoys toying with people. It's probably the last one.
The truth, though? Well... That's far less exciting as any tale he might come up with, but it's still an eventful life compared to where he could have been.
His life began in Carrhae, the snowy lands of Ilia that no one sane would enjoy living in. His parents weren't exactly sane, but they also didn't have much choice. It was where they were born. It was where they built their life. There wasn't anywhere else they could go with that considered, in their minds. And so they made the best of what they had. What they had was actually quite a bit, all things considered. They had a small plot of land where they would raise Ilian Pegasi, and while they didn't have the ability to raise many, they still made quite a bit of coin off of this profession. They had children once they were established; First came Aethan, and then his sisters Lily and Rose. He was the eldest, but he was quickly pushed to the sidelines in a sense by his younger twin sisters. Especially more so when it turned out that they had a natural talent with handling the Pegasi. Aethan was given a good deal of responsibility, was educated well, and was being trained for a job that his family considered to be important, but being a short-sighted youth, he didn't look at it that way. No, to him, this wasn't much of a life at all. Was he supposed to just accept that that was how it was supposed to be?
No. No, he couldn't. And so he found a way out of it all. Ilia might have been known for its Pegasi riders, certainly, but even without them it was still the premier mercenary nation of the land. That was what he'd do. He'd become a mercenary. Once he settled on that, he took a portion of the funds from his household to get on his feet (telling himself he'd pay it back some day), and then stole away by ship, sailing off into the sunset to wander the continent.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. He stole away by ship, true, but sailing off into the sunset and living the romantic life of the sellsword was hardly what he found. He might have been dressed in the thickest armor he could find, but even with such a presence and with the world as it was, he didn't find much work for quite a while. Nothing that he wanted to do, at least. There were the odd jobs to help him get food, sure, but many times he was just a common laborer or a helping hand. It wasn't until a mercenary company was passing through the town he was in, in Sacaen lands, that he found himself experiencing combat for the first time. The company was hired on to rout a group of bandits nearby.
It didn't go well.
His inexperience aside, the rest of the group he accompanied didn't seem prepared for the job either. The bandits had axes and magic on their side. It was that magic that took out Aethan's eye, and the axes that left him bloodied and wounded after it all. He didn't do much of the fighting himself. His only kill was the last bandit standing, after both parties were nearly wiped out. And once he won that fight, he became the last man standing. The only survivor. Still in shock on quite a few levels, he used his lance as a walking support and tried to make his way back to the town, but collapsed halfway there.
Thankfully, their group had a curious follower, who was able to report Aethan's location and see him rescued. A pair of children who snuck away from home, to watch the gallant heroes face off against the menacing bandits. That was how it was supposed to go, right? But it didn't. Still, these children seemed not to hold this failure against him, and neither did the townspeople. In fact, he received a welcome as though he had done all the work himself, and got paid accordingly.
This is something he couldn't turn down, but weighs on his conscious even still. (He had to spend the reward on repairs and healing.) Many would think that after such a harrowing experience that one would hang up the weapon. But Aethan, no. His injuries may have been fresh, but the events only served to annoy him, and to strengthen his drive. (As well as his disdain for bandits and, to a lesser degree, magic users.) He took his pay, and chose to continue as a mercenary. This time though, he'd be strong enough to make those narrow victories into crushing successes, wherever he might find them. He forced any doubts he had into the back of his mind, recovering with a grin on his face and his eyes on the horizon. He had his own plans and ambitions now, but he'd need to take them one step at a time.
For now, his only plan was to continue bettering himself, and adding to his funds. He set out from that small town with his lance in hand, keeping cheery and enigmatic as ever, age and experience having hardened him and made him into a capable warrior in mind and body, deciding to continue wandering once more wherever the tides took him.
And that's where we find him today.
Class: Knight.
Hair Color: Chocolate hued, though with hints of blonde in the right lighting.
Eye Color: A blue reminiscent of the icy waters of his home, in his good eye.
Age: 26 years old.
Appearance: While still quite muscled, Aethan isn't as tall or imposing as one might expect a man of his profession to be. He stands just taller than the average man, though not by much, and has a lean but sturdy frame. Of course, his lean frame is hardly noticed when he dons his armor. His skin is naturally pale, balanced slightly by his time outdoors, but still showing his Ilian heritage. This heritage is the same reason he tends to dress in lighter clothing than most people consider appropriate for the weather. (He's used to snow, so even a chilly southern day feels like summer time to him.) He wears his hair long and somewhat unkempt, not ever thinking to do anything else with it these days. Of course, the feature most people notice is the eyepatch covering a sizable burn scar. (The scar has faded over time, but it's still easy to tell why he wears the patch.) Still, despite his otherwise ragged appearance, he tends to dress neatly and carry himself with a proud posture, leaving people with mixed first impressions.
Equipment: Aethan initially dressed in heavy armor out of a desire to hold an imposing presence, as well as keeping himself away from the weapons of his enemies. Over time he grew used to the weight of it though, and started adding more as he got more used to the feeling. He went from cloth and light plates originally to being able to fight comfortably in a suit of field plate. While of the same coloration and material, his armor shows some lack of congruity due to his "getting it when he feels he needs it" manner of equipping himself. (Thankfully, he could afford quite a bit because of the coin he "borrowed" from his family, though this is all spent now.) His left arm, being his off side, has slightly more armor than his weapon arm. He might have more armor if he was willing to settle for poorer quality, but this isn't the case. He's meticulous about keeping his armor polished, almost to a mirror shine if he can help it. The silver color he usually dons has become something of a calling card for him as a mercenary. He wears a full suit of plate, along with some chain mail and blue cloth (As clothing underneath, as well as worn as a sash and tied around his lance), and tends to carry all he owns either in his hands or in belt pouches. Despite the general lack of comfort, he prefers to stay dressed in his armor while out and about, but this is mostly because he doesn't have a consistent place to stay or a safe place to store his things often. He doesn't yet have a weapon he favors, but he does like to tie a piece of blue cloth around his lances. (He tends to transfer this to his favorite lance at the given time.)
Born in: Ilia, in the region of Carrhae.
Story: If you asked the man known as Aethan his life story, you'd never hear the same tale twice. Twenty years is a lot to remember when you're paying attention to other things, isn't it? Though, perhaps it's more that he delights in making up stories. Or that he enjoys toying with people. It's probably the last one.
The truth, though? Well... That's far less exciting as any tale he might come up with, but it's still an eventful life compared to where he could have been.
His life began in Carrhae, the snowy lands of Ilia that no one sane would enjoy living in. His parents weren't exactly sane, but they also didn't have much choice. It was where they were born. It was where they built their life. There wasn't anywhere else they could go with that considered, in their minds. And so they made the best of what they had. What they had was actually quite a bit, all things considered. They had a small plot of land where they would raise Ilian Pegasi, and while they didn't have the ability to raise many, they still made quite a bit of coin off of this profession. They had children once they were established; First came Aethan, and then his sisters Lily and Rose. He was the eldest, but he was quickly pushed to the sidelines in a sense by his younger twin sisters. Especially more so when it turned out that they had a natural talent with handling the Pegasi. Aethan was given a good deal of responsibility, was educated well, and was being trained for a job that his family considered to be important, but being a short-sighted youth, he didn't look at it that way. No, to him, this wasn't much of a life at all. Was he supposed to just accept that that was how it was supposed to be?
No. No, he couldn't. And so he found a way out of it all. Ilia might have been known for its Pegasi riders, certainly, but even without them it was still the premier mercenary nation of the land. That was what he'd do. He'd become a mercenary. Once he settled on that, he took a portion of the funds from his household to get on his feet (telling himself he'd pay it back some day), and then stole away by ship, sailing off into the sunset to wander the continent.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. He stole away by ship, true, but sailing off into the sunset and living the romantic life of the sellsword was hardly what he found. He might have been dressed in the thickest armor he could find, but even with such a presence and with the world as it was, he didn't find much work for quite a while. Nothing that he wanted to do, at least. There were the odd jobs to help him get food, sure, but many times he was just a common laborer or a helping hand. It wasn't until a mercenary company was passing through the town he was in, in Sacaen lands, that he found himself experiencing combat for the first time. The company was hired on to rout a group of bandits nearby.
It didn't go well.
His inexperience aside, the rest of the group he accompanied didn't seem prepared for the job either. The bandits had axes and magic on their side. It was that magic that took out Aethan's eye, and the axes that left him bloodied and wounded after it all. He didn't do much of the fighting himself. His only kill was the last bandit standing, after both parties were nearly wiped out. And once he won that fight, he became the last man standing. The only survivor. Still in shock on quite a few levels, he used his lance as a walking support and tried to make his way back to the town, but collapsed halfway there.
Thankfully, their group had a curious follower, who was able to report Aethan's location and see him rescued. A pair of children who snuck away from home, to watch the gallant heroes face off against the menacing bandits. That was how it was supposed to go, right? But it didn't. Still, these children seemed not to hold this failure against him, and neither did the townspeople. In fact, he received a welcome as though he had done all the work himself, and got paid accordingly.
This is something he couldn't turn down, but weighs on his conscious even still. (He had to spend the reward on repairs and healing.) Many would think that after such a harrowing experience that one would hang up the weapon. But Aethan, no. His injuries may have been fresh, but the events only served to annoy him, and to strengthen his drive. (As well as his disdain for bandits and, to a lesser degree, magic users.) He took his pay, and chose to continue as a mercenary. This time though, he'd be strong enough to make those narrow victories into crushing successes, wherever he might find them. He forced any doubts he had into the back of his mind, recovering with a grin on his face and his eyes on the horizon. He had his own plans and ambitions now, but he'd need to take them one step at a time.
For now, his only plan was to continue bettering himself, and adding to his funds. He set out from that small town with his lance in hand, keeping cheery and enigmatic as ever, age and experience having hardened him and made him into a capable warrior in mind and body, deciding to continue wandering once more wherever the tides took him.
And that's where we find him today.
