funnyhappyharry

Finally a chance to type out a proper introduction. 
So first to add onto his physical description he often wears gambeson, leather gloves, and leather boots. It’s something I wanted to add before, but the text limit prevented it. 

Since Ander was a young boy he grew an odd curiosity for the art of creation. Whether this would be building a grand fishing vessel, to creating the towers that made up the fortifications that stood firm upon the distant outposts. Ander felt an impulse, almost an unquenchable thirst for knowledge on how to build items of such grand design! This lead him to become an isolationist for a large portion of his early childhood, slowly diminishing the possibility of making any noteworthy friends that were at least of a similar age. However it was during this time that the seeds of his carrier were sown. Often would he travel eagerly to the docks of his village, watching from the sidelines as the shipwrights slowly constructed vessels of all shapes and sizes. Often the older men would take the time to entertain the boy, encouraging his enthusiasm as older men often do. Stone masons would even soon give Ander a chisel, instructing him on how to create even the most minute of designs, all of which Ander took to heart. Ander despite his age even took interest in carpentry. It wasn’t till many years later did his seemingly boundless obsession with these crafts bare any fruit. 

Ander had since lived on the outskirts of a small village outside Curon. There he worked his fathers land, maintaining the vast, open fields. Despite venturing to any one of the many workshops, and against his fathers wishes, he still found time to work the since aging farm. It wasn’t till his early twenties did fate cast its hand down upon him. For his father who was now in his late 70’s had come ill under a terrible illness. There was no medicine, nor treatment, for time had made it’s decision. Despite having had a very reluctant relationship with his son, Ander had come under his fathers favor. With no heirs, nor family left, his father left his boy but one gift. Upon his passing, Ander would inherit the land, land which his father pleaded that he sold to the local lords. There would be nothing left here, nothing but pain and regret. With the money he’d receive his father instructed his only son to buy safe passage to Reza. There he could start over, perhaps follow his ambitions which had since closed off oh so many doors. For at least his father now understood, and acknowledged Anders wishes. It was there on his death bed, that his father mended a bond which has since been long broken. Just as his late father wished, Ander bartered with the local merchants, and sought transport to Reza.

Having since crossed to these far shores, it was Ander’s time to make a name for himself, to put his obsession to use whilst keeping focused on the here and now. It had cost Ander precious time, especially with his father, and his chance to make any real connections in his youth. Would he repeat the same mistakes?