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⸻⠀the self⠀⸻
Short paragraph about your character's general temperament and character traits.
Standing at six feet tall, weighing in around one-hundred and seventy-eight pounds, Fern is a fairly lithe young man, with a toned by not bulky physique. His steps are quiet in a trained sense and his posture and movement are graceful. He has brown hair that falls to the nape of his neck and emerald green eyes that glint in the sunlight. His skin is a sun kissed tanned caucasian, and his features are sharp and youthful. Handsome would be a good way to describe him, in that freshly matured sense. His personality is generally bright, positive with other people and empathetic to other's plights. Despite his area of work, he has a tenderness and a moral belief system that keeps him from doing anything heinous. He often attributes these quirks of his to his very simple upbringing as a farmer's son who helped guide teams as a ranger through the mountain passes when they were going through uncharted territory. When he is working however, he is professional to a fault, and unflinching when something needs to be done for the job. He is less likely to take a life than his compatriots, but he doesn't shy away from other gruesome acts if they need to be done. "Like shearing a sheep with ingrown wool, or slaughtering a pig for the winter. Sometimes the nasty work needs to be done."
ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral
LIKES: Hiking in the mountains, swimming, walking the streets, busy taverns, musical performances, star gazing
DISLIKES: Arrogant pricks, Selfish bastards, those who ignore the poor or needy, bugs (namely spiders), Racists, the church
⸻⠀the body⠀⸻
HEIGHT: 6'0 feet
WEIGHT: 178 lbs
HAIR COLOR / STYLE: Wavy cut brown hair, to the nape of his neck and over his ears.
EYES: Green as emeralds
SKIN TONE: Tanned Caucasian
PHYSIQUE: Toned Athletic/Average. Narrow shoulders, defined abs and biceps.
DOM. HAND: Right hand dominant
APPARENT AGE: 19, often mistaken for half-elven do to his youthful features.
VOICE: Warm and youthful with a slight country drawl.
MODIFICATIONS // N/A
SCARS / MARKINGS // He has several scars across his arms and shoulders, as well as a brand in the shape of a goat's head over his left pectoral where he was branded a heretic by inquisitors hunting for him.
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⸻⠀the ability and tools⠀⸻
How did your character get their skills and abilities? Are they natural, granted by items, training, etc.
ABILITIES // Above average endurance, trained eyesight and hearing, Marksmanship training, Training with two-weapon fighting, Stealth proficiency
SPELLS // N/A
ATTIRE // Cured leather gambeson under a chain shirt and green tunic shirt, linen undergarments, cured leather pants with knee pads and extra padding for protection, thick wool farmer's stockings, cured leather downturned boots, and a light grey hooded cloak.
GEAR // A hand crafted ashwood shortbow, and a set of Dalmascan steel scimitars with draconic motifs, and inscriptions on the hilts in Elvish: "Aevitar: My Beginning" and "Orvitair: Your End."
INVENTORY // He carries his scimitars on his hips at all times, but unless he is on a job or plans on leaving the city leaves the rest of his equipment in his residence.
⸻⠀the story⠀⸻ Fern al'Dayin was born to a Farmer on the southern border of the Tethisian Mountain Range. His father, Tayn al'Dayin owned the farm that made up their homestead, working in animal husbandry, namely goats and sheep, selling the wool and milk they were able to harvest at the local village of Ivor's Stead. His mother, Aida al'Kyne died in childbirth, leaving Tayn a single father to raise a young boy.
When Fern was old enough to look after the flocks and till the soil himself, his father began taking work as a Ranger, guiding parties through the mountains whenever necessary. Ivor's Stead, the small village that congregated with farmers from around the area, had several men with strong enough intuition of the mountains to act as Rangers and guides. Growing up, after his chores were done, Fern often joined his friends in exploring the foothills of the mountains, charting their own courses to one of the lowest peaks of the range, as well as hunting game in their spare time, camping in the wilderness for days on end when his father was home to take care of the herds.
Around the time of his 16th birthday, Tayn's age began to catch up with him. A strong and capable man usually, his body quickly began to deteriorate, leaving Fern to take up his role as one of the village Rangers, guiding folks up into the mountains and down the opposite side. Fellow ranchers from around Ivor's Stead helped in keeping his family's farm afloat, relying on the wool and milk for export goods with passing tradesmen to keep money flowing in the village.
In his second year of acting as a Ranger in his father's stead, Fern was approached by a diplomatic party from a great city, a handful of nobleman politicians and their retinue of guards, with a handful of hired mercenaries who were tasked with making their way to a diplomatic meeting on the far side of the range. The trip would be at least a week in length before Fern would be home, but the money that they offered would be enough to purchase the aid of a local apothecary who had refused to help Tayn in the past. With little choice in his mind, he accepted the job and led the team into the mountains.
Two days into the journey, half way through the peaks, Fern awoke that evening to find the mercenaries having rounded up the politicians, binding them and slitting their throats meticulously. Fern scrambled to his feet to fight them off, but was too late to stop any of them from killing the men.
The leader, a grizzled looking man named Pitur tried to talk Fern down, explaining that they were bounty hunters, and they were just doing their job. They weren't bad people, just people trying to survive like him. Handing over the promised reward to Fern, Pitur told him to go home and forget he saw any of it. Ashamed of himself, Fern did return home…and what he found was a miserable sight.
His father's herds were slaughtered. Their wheat field was torched, as was their farmhouse. The burned remains of his father still laid in his bed, and Fern wept when he found him. The sound of his crying drew the people responsible for this, a group of inquisitors led by the famed Prelate Charles De'Mathey. Being taken under arrest by the inquisitors and beaten mercilessly for answers on what happened to the group of nobles who had come through, Fern held his word, telling the man that they had been killed by a freak accident, a wild bear that had snuck into their camp at night.
As he lay bloody and bound in the prison tent they had set up, his death by a noose from his father's willow tree within a handful of hours, he was stirred to consciousness by the sound of bloody battle. Pitur was at his side, cutting him free, and dragging him out of the tent. When Fern came back to consciousness, he was in a wagon, rumbling along a dirt track, the grizzled merc sat next to him with an annoyed expression as one of his cohorts told him how stupid he was. Pitur had led a rescue job for him, having felt guilty about leaving the young farm boy to blame for the death of those politicians. "Tayn al'Dayin was a good man, and I'll be damned if I let his boy hang from a tree in place of me."
Leaving behind the farmstead that was his home, on the run from the puritanical zealots of Tethis' less savory faiths, Fern was carried off half against his will to Khare. For several years now he has been living with the group of mercenaries that took him in, becoming like a second family to him that have shown him a much rougher side of the world that he had dreamed of one day seeing.
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