Name: Eamon Vaas
Race: Elves
Height: 5'10''
Weight: 145 lbs
Age: 19
Occupation: Pugilist (Nominally, Student)
Personality:
To say that Eamon is cheerful is like saying the sky is blue. Anyone within line of sight can tell that he's cheerful--the spring in his step, the perky smile, the ease of his laughter? Forget about it. An excitable and friendly sort, Eamon is the kind of chatterbox more than willing to talk your ear off as an 'expert' on a variety of subjects, including most forms of manly arts, some forms of womanly ones, and even a few academic topics if you can get him on the subject. Opinionated but easy-going, it's of tremendous surprise to most people that he considers himself, in his words, 'a gentleman first and foremost and a pugilist shortly thereafter', as it's relatively hard to imagine a situation where he would be angry or frustrated enough to throw a punch. And it's true--it takes a great deal to even tip the young man's mood!

He just throws punches anyway.
History:
As far as Eamon is concerned, history is boring. His is, certainly, with the only point of interest being just a few years over a decade ago on the anniversary of his first gunshot wound.

Born to a pair of elven carpenters struggling to make a name for themselves in the Kingdom of Sola, when he was young it was a struggle for them and Eamon's two siblings to get the recognition they deserved. They were elven, after all, and though not necessarily of the brigand persuasion as many orcs or goblins were commonly seen to be there were more than a few who remembered barbed arrows and banditry from their pointy-eared cousins. Money was hard to come by, but they persevered and flourished. Eamon, of course, couldn't be bothered to remember much of such hardship--as far as he was concerned his youth was cheerful and bright, the labors of his parents and irritations of his siblings long in the past and ultimately paling in comparison to that fateful day he was nearly blown in half.

At the tender age of six, Eamon was shot in the chest during a chase involving the town guard and a particularly well-equipped bandit making off with a not-inconsiderable amount of wealth from a local business. A classic situation of wrong-place-wrong-time, the bandit fired off a round that caught him high in the chest before hitting his intended target, the pursuing guard. Though both dropped, only Eamon made it through. Though at first it seemed to be a miracle, later investigation by the local healers revealed it to be a bit less-than: Eamon was one of those rare few able to summon innate magic to his cause, and it was this resilience and enhanced healing factor that prevented him from losing most of his shoulder and quite likely his life to an errant bullet.

He had never been prouder.

The healer in charge of him, who had never seen such a thing, got in contact with a friend of his in the Magnus Empire; in spite of his elven heritage, it was clear that Eamon had a natural gift to be nurtured. Though his parents were hesitant, especially with him at such a young age, even then the boy's spirit of adventure couldn't be squelched. He wheedled, weaseled, cajoled, bribed, threatened, cried, and otherwise made himself sufficiently annoying until they acquiesced--a year later he was in the custody of one Lord Arnold Royan, attending the Obertus Academy for Young Persons of Interest. He'd been warned that school would be difficult, that he would spend much of the standard academic year away from his family, and that much would be expected of him. He would, he was told, grow accustomed to it.

So he did.

Though notably poor at academics, it was clear from the start that he was a talented sorcerer with interests in more physical affairs. As he grew older he grew bolder, acclimating himself to the Magnus ideal of Personal Power Above All and demonstrating himself more than capable of holding his own in the ruthless back-room brawls and under-the-table foot-fights of youth. By the time he was sixteen he'd become the Obertus Boxing Champion, and as he began his more advanced coursework he attracted the eye of one Prof. Marcus Absimilard, an innate sorcerer teaching an elective involving the use of runic magic to amplify one's own natural talents. Eamon and the Professor grew quite close in the following three years, bonding over a shared love of punching the living daylights out of anyone stupid enough to get in a ring with them, and it was here that Eamon developed his love of Archaeology and crushed his poor parents' hearts in one fell swoop. Archaeology was of notably less use than Finance to a family such as theirs, which is what he was supposed to be studying from the get go.

With word of the Wishing Star having fallen in the frontier, however, both Marcus and Eamon were aflutter with excitement. What a find! What a journey! Though the aging professor was locked into his tenure and unable to travel, the pair hatched a scheme to send Eamon over as 'field experience' towards his education.

Eamon parents, meanwhile, still think he's safe and sound at school. Pointedly.

Combat section
Weapons:
Eamon's current arms are...well...his arms. A purist, he prefers to rely on himself and his magics over fancy, new-fangled contraptions like 'swords' or 'guns'. In spite of himself, he does carry a frankly ridiculous Ladykiller Mk. III .50 Cal revolver, which he is frankly ridiculous as shooting. His working theory is that bigger bullets are better and if he's going to get lucky he might as well make it count.
Clothing: Eamon dresses well, though his clothes are often in various states of disarray--they lack his personal enchantments, so he goes through them relatively quickly in the course of an average...we'll say 'outing'. He prefers to dress in a suit and tie (tan and black, respectively), with a leather over-coat to keep off the dust. He also wears glasses, as he's a tad nearsighted.
Magic:
Eamon uses his natural capabilities of Innate Magic augmented by the Runic arts he's learned from Prof. Absimilard. Strangely enough, Eamon's innate talents are entirely internal, 'limited' to the extensive manipulation and enhancement of his personal attributes such as healing, strength, speed, and other such assorted esoterica. The adjustments made by the Runic Magic he's learned are largely implemented via the tattoos he uses as a matter of course, such as the ones on his hands that prevent them from shattering (or burning, or freezing, or, or, or...) when he punches his way through a steam engine or the ones on the soles of his feet that allow him to focus his energy through them and amplify an ordinary stride, step, jump, or skip.
Fighting style:
Eamon's fighting style is acrobatic at best and idiotic at worst. It can best be described as 'martial arts', and at worst classified as 'punching someone until they don't need it anymore'. Impossibly fast and a good deal stronger than he looks, he prefers to close with his targets and take advantage of things like joint locks and strikes to soft areas to incapacitate them (his boxing days taught him how silly it was to focus on the hard bits if you're actually fighting). He is able to dodge, catch, or deflect most standard projectiles and bullets that come his way, and he isn't above relying on his enhanced healing to take an otherwise dangerous hit and cross-counter like a boss. He has a poor penchant for fair play, and in many engagements (even life and death ones) he'll only pursue options he considers 'sporting' until the other side 'cheats'. They usually regret it.

Miscellaneous stuff
Inventory:
Eamon carries a basic archeology kit (magnifying lenses, brushes, charcoal and papers, inks and pents, all that jazz) as well as rations and water for five days of travel, which typically last about half that time given how much the boy eats when he's not keeping his mind on it. Aside from that he has a basic pack including a collapsible shovel, compass, knife, rope, tent, flint & steel, and a small magnet.
Money: 150gp