Name: Gruffudd (spelled “Griffith” in common usage) Haern
Age: 18
Appearance: Griffith is large, in part from his height of about six feet. The genetic lottery has supplemented his above-average height with a bulky frame, and his choice of hobbies has filled him out with muscular to match—though he has avoided excessive bulk, which would have been a hindrance. His lips are almost always upturned in a massive grin, and his eyes shine with mirth. His dark hair and eyes contrast his skin, which is paler than most. Said hair is long for a male, reaching down to the base of his neck, and is often tied back when he doesn’t want it getting in his way.
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Crush: None
Personality: Griffith proves a match for the mirth found in his eyes. He is warm, and amicable to a fault. His deep, echoing laughter is always bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to burst forth in response to some good natured ribbing of one of his friends, or even of himself. It is a rare day when he is angry, but it often happening in response to some perceived threat to himself or one of his friends. It is a point of shame for Griffith that if the issue is not resolved, he has a tendency to lose himself in his anger. In such cases, his echoing voice turns excessively aggressive, and he has dragged himself into a fair few fights because of it.
Ultimately, there is little that is more important to Griffith than loyalty, and he is inclined to make stupid decisions to side with those he considers friends—which has dragged him into considerably more fights than his own anger. He is fortunate enough to never have known a true betrayal of his trust, but it would not be something easily forgiven.
Bio: Griffith—or rather, Gruffudd, which is pronounced the same way—was born in Caernarvon, Wales. His parents, both hailing from the welsh countryside, taught him to speak Welsh before English. In Caernarvon he was an unremarkable child, but things changed when, at the age of nine, circumstances far beyond the scope of his young mind to understand conspired to have his family move to Red Lake. His mother had American citizenship before he was born, so he gained it at some point in accordance with
Jus Sanguinis nationality law.
For a short time, he was a marvel. His bilingualism and accent (both of which he has retained) made him an object of both adoration to some, and derision to others. Both faded as the children of Red Lake grew accustomed to his presence, though some taunting still remained. Until he hit his growth spurt, at least, but we’ll get to that in a bit.
Griffith has always had a love of history and legend, particularly which of his homeland of Wales, and—when people he knew were not involved—he found the present rather dull. He wouldn’t give modern conveniences like indoor plumbing, or actually effective medicine, but he has a romantic fascination with the past. For much of his early life, he would rather pretend the surrounding forest was the ancient Kingdom of Dyfed, and that he was the ancient hero Gwydion—or some other such fantasy—than play sports with the other boys, which also resulted in him being overweight. Football (or as he calls it, “American Football,” making a distinction with what the rest of the world—including the Welsh—calls Football and Americans call Soccer), was something he found particularly boring.
As he was crossing a minor threshold into Senior High School, one of his older friends introduced him to HEMA—Historical European Martial Arts. What many people do not realize about European Martial Arts is that, unlike the well-known martial arts from East Asia, they involve weaponry. As his parents would not purchase normal weapons, Griffith and a small circle of friends made do with Sword-Like Objects made from wood, pool noodles, and a veritable mountain of duct tape. After a short wait, and a period of written correspondence with an organized group of HEMA enthusiasts, this small circle acquired proper training swords with the same weight and balance of the steel weapons—but not until after the proper safety equipment. It is worth noting that, despite is enthusiasm, Griffith is hardly an expert, and completely lacks any sort of formal psychological preparation for fighting—it’s just a hobby.
Hobby though it may be, it was the most physically exerting thing he had ever done up until that point, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it properly in the shape he was in. Motivated by his zeal for recently-found passion, be devised a workout regimen for himself, eventually including weight training. He slimmed his fat-bulk, and gained a fair amount of muscle-bulk. The timing of this lined up with him hitting his growth spurt, and he was soon considerably larger than he had been.
Misc Info: Recently, Griffith was given steel longsword, with thoroughly blunted edges, as a gift.
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