Arda 4e - Scales of War
male human shielding swordmage (hybrid artificer), Storm's End Company
Full Name: Alexander Milo Calwin
Weight: 191 lbs
Hair: Black, just past shoulders
Dark green tunic with black Arlandrian Engineers Guild duster. One eye covered by what appears to be a single goggle with an opaque lens.
From the personal writings of Alexander M. Calwin—
Hailing from the proud nation of Arlandria, along the southern coast, I am the only child of a War Hero father an Assistant Nurse mother, Nikolai and Selista Calwin. My father was a stern man, within reason. Nothing one could not expect from a military man. My mother certainly had her moments but, let’s face it, I was her baby boy. My father’s position in the military allowed us a good living. We weren’t as well off as the nobility, but we didn’t want for much. And my father wouldn’t have had it any other way. He hated being associated with nobles. They paid for their place instead of earning it, he always said. But, being a man of his stature, we could never get away from them.
At age 10, my parents and I were attending a Gala, commemorating….I don’t know. An anniversary of some sort. History never interested me. The Gala, a masquerade actually, was being hosted by another noble family, the Carthingtons. It was then that I met their daughter, Ithiria. A year older than me. I had no interest in playing with a girl. But when the only other option is to be bored with a bunch of adults…I guess I can explore a mansion. Unfortunately, a few low-lives looking for some easy gold felt the Gala would make for the perfect distraction, in hopes of kidnapping the young Ithiria. Long story short, I convinced her to switch clothes. With her dress and mask, they would chase me. Allowing her to escape and get help. It worked. But, cornered in a closet (there were so many closets……I still don’t know why the Carthingtons needed so many), my life as i knew it changed because, when stuck between a rock and a hard place, my body chose “erupt in flames and burn down the rock to death.” Who knew that little ol’ me had an affinity for magic?
The Carthingtons, thankful for what I had done to help Ithiria, took it upon themselves to pay for my education. And so I learned. Well, at least what I cared to learn, Magic and Machines. I started apprenticing in the Engineering Guild, along with my studies. My father never really had a tolerance for magic. It made people weak, he thought. So at the age of 13, I was also enlisted in the military. Arlandrian law dictates that at age 14, anyone may willingly enlist. And, against all her fathers wishes, Ithiria did so as well. Since the night we met, she always knew that she wanted to be someone that others wouldn’t take for granted. And someone that younger girls could look up to. Not just a rich snob, but someone who makes a difference. As the years passed, Ithiria became, by far, the strongest sword in our ranks. I was…..ok, but I always felt restricted by all armor. It weighed me down. Slowed me down. But she always there to push me along. We were close.
We stayed close. We’d spar. She’d best me. We’d make love, I’d best her. Our lives were great. Remaining in the Arlandrian Reserves, I focused my mind on my machines. I no longer studied magic. What was written in the books never felt right to me, so I pursued my own thing. Ithiria continued her service, now training the young teens who looked up to her. Our lives were great. I had made plans for her 25th birthday. We were scheduled for a sparring session to “show off” for the new recruits. I had intended for us, afterwards, to spend the evening away from the City. The first full moon of the season was not an opportunity to waste. And waste it, I would not, for I intended that night, to ask for her hand in marriage. It was the only thing missing, our lives were great.
It never happened. At least, not that I can remember… I woke up two weeks after the full moon in Drellin’s Ferry, a small town within the Elsir Vale, north of Arlandria. An older Dwarf, went by the name of Sully, had been tending to me, he said, for the past 8 days. “T’was just the two of ya, lad. The lass brought you here, barely clinging to life wit’ yer right eye who knows where, and left. Paid me handsomely t’ look after ya, she did. Not that I’d let a youngun like ya die if’n I can help it. Asked me t’ give ya this when ya woke.” A footlocker laid beside the bed. Within it are the only remnants of my past life that I have: a pendant of Sehanine that Ithiria always wore, the Carthington family sword, and a small note that read only four words, “Please don’t come back.”