Name: Calaphindë, often called Calben after an unfortunate incident with someone that couldn't entirely read his handwriting and ended up misreading/mispronouncing his name.
Age: Approximately 150
Gender: Male
Race: Elf (Wood/High)
Rank: Copper*
Appearance: Grey-haired, bright eyed, smooth and youthful even by the standards of the ageless elves—despite the obvious intelligence shining within his green gaze, it's clear just looking at him that Calben is a quite young elf. 5'8" tall, thin, and
perhaps a bit soft, coupled with the artfully made clothing he wears and lack of any sort of scarring, he does not cut a particularly adventure-y sort of figure. He's clearly physically
fit, of course, and holds every weapon he has like he knows how to use it—but he lacks any sign of real life experience or hardship to lend gravitas to his features.
Of note are his curiously short ears for an elf.
Personality: Wide-eyed, idealistic, and absolutely delighting in getting to experience the world beyond his home. Calben clearly has the mind of a scholar, especially given his near-perfect recall of almost everything he witnesses, so long as he pays attention to it. With that comes a drive to learn more, see more, do more—he's a hard worker and doesn't shy away from nearly any challenge put before him, but tales of the capriciousness and flightiness of elves are proven in how he goes about whatever catches his fancy. Woe be to any who expect him to keep paying attention if he should spot some rare alchemical ingredient while they're walking down a trail...
Brief Backstory: Born in the Wood Elven city of Almindon, Calaphindë's father is a skilled archer and bowyer, serving within the city's guard, overseeing some training for them and any who may wish to volunteer for it in times of trouble, and selling his bows on the side; his mother is actually a High Elf, as skilled with magic as is expected of her kindred. The pair oversaw Calaphindë's education as soon as he was able to start, tutoring him in their respective skills while both fostered in him a general love of knowledge and scholarly mindset. His mother taught him of magical spellcraft and alchemy, while his father taught him not only how to fight with bow and spear, but also how to interact with other people, a valuable skill in his own work. His wider family taught him how to hunt, how to survive off the land, the laws of their settlement—all the general education that a young elf of Almindon would be expected to know.
Calaphindë took to
most of it well, though not without a few hiccups here and there as he experimented with things he likely shouldn't have.
It has since been some decades since he last saw his mother, as she was called back to the family of her birth, behind Lethienvel, beyond even the settlements that the High Elves had made beyond the Veil. As such, his magical education could be said to have lagged somewhat compared to the more physical or social pursuits passed from his father—though as much of the city learned before he was very old, he never really
forgot something that he put his focus on, and it's more a matter of practice. However, perhaps brought on by the same drive that first set his mother to set out so far from the High Elven settlements and come to Almindon, the elf boy was
restless. The city and its immediate surroundings were not enough to hold his interest forever, not compared to the stories he'd heard from both his parents, the rest of his family, and the few traders that were allowed to come of the rest of the world beyond their city and their tract of forest, not compared to the tales and histories he could read in the books available to him.
Much like his mother, he was also not one for long goodbyes. With little enough said to ensure he'd be stocked well enough for the journey, Calaphindë set out from Almindon, and as he was in search of adventure, in search of the chance to verify and experience all the things he'd learned of, joined the Estivalian Adventurer's Guild at the first opportunity that presented itself. He quickly learned to be less
artistic with his handwriting, after an unfortunately not-Elvish-experienced guild member thoroughly misread and mispronounced his name, giving him a nickname that has stuck ever since; the rest of the guild that tried to determine his skillset and placement found themselves with a dilemma of just
how to rank him, with such a breadth of knowledge but no actual experience behind any of it.
To his (only
mild) dismay, they assigned Calaphindë the provisional rank of Copper, and set him to work with more real-world experienced members of the guild to see if he was quick enough to actually cut it at Iron or Steel or if he'd really have to start from the bottom and work his way up.
Equipment: Other than general travelling gear, standard the world over, Calaphindë's possessions are totaled up in the form of a journal, a couple of books brought with him about general upkeep of the stuff he
has and the sorts of materials he may be able to find while he's out travelling (he hasn't finished reading that one yet, so he just brought it with him), he has a longbow with arrows and a quiver (all lovingly made by his father) a somewhat long-bladed hewing spear (often finds itself used as a walking staff), and should all else fail (or he needs to cut through some particularly dense brush or the like), he has a small, light falchion/hanger type blade.
Notably, he does
not have any special focus to channel the magic he knows through.
He may have forgotten it when he was packing to leave home.
Skills: Despite his parents' best efforts, he's
not particularly great with other people. He's friendly, he can generally get along, but expecting him to be a leader or persuasive or the like is a stretch.
Other than that, though, he picked up on everything relatively well—fighting skills courtesy of his father, hunting and survival skills, even magic courtesy of his mother, though he's rather limited with the latter given a lack of practice and lack of a good focus to use in spellcraft, and the former has yet to
really be tested. Perhaps most unique to him is his nearly photographic memory; for things that he experiences, whether that be reading them, seeing them, tasting, smelling, hearing, feeling—Calaphindë's recall is almost entirely perfect, barring the obvious inherent bias that every observer has.
Of course, that bias comes with one clear drawback—it is entirely focused on whatever
he was focused on. And for him to recall anything, it has to catch and hold his focus enough for him to actually think about it, as any spontaneous memory is far more likely to be related to his interests that have captured his attention than for anything that might be directly helpful. For the guild, this is already a known struggle for those that have to deal with him to overcome, but if they're careful about it, it may be more useful than it seems...
