Backstory

Note: I tried to keep spoilers out of this as much as possible. Anything considered a major spoiler is omitted completely, while minor spoilers are marked like this. Questions? Just ask! My DMs are always open.

Short SummaryDiscovered wandering alone near the Quarrymill, a child with no memories save his name, it was by chance that Remiel encountered the elderly man whom he would soon call ‘father’. Their relationship was imperfect, its foundation broken from the start, fracturing bit by well-meaning bit as time went on.A strict and stoic man, his father was sparse with both praise and affection. While he trained Remiel in carpentry and wood-carving, the boy never could live up to his father's lofty expectations, and his true passion soon drifted to the arcane arts. He may have started with healing, but before long his interest morphed into an obsession with thaumaturgy. With no guidance, he eventually succumbed to hubris, aspiring to something beyond his ability—a lesson which came at great cost. Humbled by failure, he ran from the consequences, retreating to the quiet life he knew too well. The shame and remorse would come to colour his future interactions, plaguing him with a persistent, lurking doubt.Content for a time to watch the world from within those four walls, his curiousity amounted to nothing more than wistful, half-finished plans. Though he did continue to practice healing and later delved into arcanima, it was the role of the dutiful son he played best—learning to cook, clean, and practice compassion for others, even those who wrong you. He was able to reconcile with his father shortly before his death and seized the chance to step out into the wider world, putting his limited experience to the test.Unable or unwilling to foster close connections with others, he drifted from job to job, taking carpentry commissions before finding his niche behind the counter of bars and cafes, a smiling shadow lending a friendly ear to those who need it. The impression of a warm, soft-spoken and caring man would oft cause others to entrust their secrets to him, and while he served as a source of comfort where he could, he rarely confided in them in kind. He still searches for a purpose, and finds what contentment he can by living vicariously through stories—in books, overheard in passing, or in the treasured tales shared with him by those he’s come to care about.Continued:These days, Remiel puts far more effort into bridging the gap that exists between himself and those he's come to call 'family'. While fear remains his constant companion, no longer does he listen to its whispers, its urgings, its warnings. He tries instead to do for others what his loved ones have done for him, acting as their strength and support for however long they might permit.The most prominent example is in Villanelle, his closest friend, cherished partner, and love of his life. It was in no small part due to her influence that he has learned to look ahead, rather than behind. Whether his newfound hopes will be realized still remains to be seen, but he finds his smile doesn't weigh as heavy these days as it did in years past.

Misc• He stands on the shorter side, with an unusually pale complexion and dark circles under his eyes. Beneath a mess of purple hair, grey eyes hide behind thick, black frames. A long scar spans the length of his left palm, and many more of varying sizes run across the top of each—hidden by gloves he never removes. A criss-cross of scars also run across his back, faint and not noticeable at a glance. While his style tends towards suits and ties, he can occasionally be spotted in more relaxed dress.• Remiel's accent is an amalgamation of Sharlayan, Shroud, and Old Gelmorran, noticeable mostly in his odd pronunciation of certain words.• His father was a Hyur named Warren Hayes, a former Sharlayan scholar who retired overseas in Gridania. While tight-lipped on his field of study, numerous texts in his house suggested a man with well-rounded knowledge of Aetherology. Despite his best efforts, he wasn't well suited to parenthood, offering little in the way or encouragement or warmth. While they did develop a bond, it came perhaps too late in life.• Light Spoilers: He has little control over how much aether he can draw or expend. As most arcane arts draw upon the caster's own personal reserves, the use of magic taxes him greatly. As such, he avoids combat and other situations requiring excessive channeling of aether. Additionally, certain circumstances have lead to him having a drastically shortened lifespan—an issue he's currently attempting to resolve.

Photo Gallery