Member
Neziul
Scrawl Banditta
Ohm
erikhAsher (Edgar) Thyne
Age:
25
Gender:
Male
Appearance:
Background:
There’s something to be said for having lived on the streets for most of one’s adolescence. Enrimor itself isn’t poor, but certain regions under a lesser noble’s rule can become very...gritty. Asher was on those streets for the longest time. He only knew his father for a short time, and his mother even less. They couldn’t afford to keep him, and so he went to an orphanage run by the fief’s lord.
The place wasn’t particularly nice. Not at all. The place wasn’t abusive, but the other children were, and they were all treated like animals, barely being fed enough to think. Asher left when he was capable of leaving, after years of neglect. Out into the wilderness he went, the wilderness of the streets. For several weeks, he scrounged, worked, pleaded, and stole for survival, but it couldn’t last. He was only eight.
But someone found Asher, after a time. A middle-aged man caught the tiny boy trying to pick his pocket, and instead of punishing him, the man brought Asher home and gave him a meal. The man’s name was Emerson. Aric Emerson. Asher never really learned what Aric did, exactly, but the man always seemed to have time for Asher, and never seemed to run out of patience.
He instilled in Asher a kind of determination, the kind that drives one to accomplish great things. He taught Asher to read and write, and to calculate numbers. Asher learned history, philosophy, and logic.
Asher learned all this, but his true interests lied in exploration, and knowledge of the unknown. The old stories of travels, epics, the establishment of nations: that is what Asher loved. That and observing.
Emerson’s finest gift to Asher was the ability to investigate. The ability to put two and two together, arriving at answers or learning things others wouldn’t have noticed. His ability to learn by observing is his most valuable skill.
Around seventeen, after a particularly vivid tale about an old treasure, still unfound, Asher begged to go out and search for it. Emerson reluctantly agreed, and Asher set out with a spring in his step.
Perhaps by a stroke of genius or miracle, Asher found evidence of the treasure actually existing. A real live lead. He returned to Emerson, excited and proud. The older man and the younger set out with a true purpose, but when they finally tracked the end of the puzzle down, there was nothing there.
Disappointed, Asher returned with his father-figure to the city they lived in, downtrodden and defeated. But during the time that followed, an influx of wealth swept through the region, a welcome change for many.
Years passed, with Asher still honing his skills, always on the lookout for something he could really find and discover for himself.
Then the civil war in Sevitel began. He’d heard about certain treasure troves of lost kings, hidden somewhere in Enrimor’s neighbor. The stories refugees had told him got him riled up, and he left for the other country as soon as he was able.
Since Emerson wasn’t getting any younger, Asher insisted he stay home, and promised to tell his friend and mentor all about his travels when he returned.
He wouldn’t fail again, he was sure of it.
