[Description, continued]
A relatively young-looking, chestnut-haired man with an innocent air about him. His green eyes gleam with a groomed intelligence, and his pursed lips hint at more experience than his age might imply. His build is soft, to say the least, and he does not look like much of a combatant. He wears well-kept but poorly-made leathers over well-pressed blue silken underclothes, and his left hand is veiled in a strange gauntlet, within which is embedded a large amethyst. He wears a small necklace with a similar gem. Upon his curly-haired forehead, he also wears a pair of strange lenses tinted purple, their purpose indistinct.
Halric was raised by his mother within the walls of Presa de Madera, though he left to seek his fortune outside of the Timberwoods at the tender age of 15. As a quick elarner and eager student, he found himself trying to start an apprenticeship in every single possible trade at once - a recipe for failure. After struggling to achieve even mediocrity in any of his paths for several years in Norland, where he had found a comfortable and cheap living situation on the waterfront, he received an odd letter via a handsome, but slightly out of place alabaster seabird from someone who claimed to be an anonymous benefactor of his. The letter stated, in blunt and simple terms, that Halric's mother had fallen deathly ill, and that it was "in both of our best interests" for Halric to return home and take care of her. The letter also contained the gauntlet that Halric now wears every day - it gave him a small bit of hope and a large bit of curiosity to keep him going.
After two years of caring for his infirmed mother, she did ultimately pass away - peacefully, satisfied, and proud of her only son, who ahd given up most of his ambitions to keep her company in her final days. Halric spent most of those last weeks and months regaling her with tales of his travels, both the wild nights as a fledgling member of an improv troupe and the serene majesty of Atlas's wilderness. He spoke of the many wildly different people he'd met along the way, from the Kha'Leparda troupe leader, Ma'isha, who taught him to play the half-harp and called him "Per'Volo;" to the often-stern, dissociative-identity-disordered dwarf, Khâzad al-Menu, who owned an outsiders' tavern in Norland and taught Halric the value of working with one's own hands, drinking with one's own mouth, and talking one's own way out of trouble resulting from the aforementioned drinking. On her last day of life, Halric's mother, Maura Maripos de Vientos, gave him an amulet with a smile. It hung from a gold chain, and Halric had never seen her wearing it - not that she was ever one for jewelry, anyway - but more than that, the amethyst set within it perfectly matched that of the gauntlet he had received from the mysterious benefactor. Unfortunately, his mother offered only a sly smile and an understanding, sympathetic head-pat when he questioned it, and he knew better than to pry futilely.
In recent history, Halric has found himself without purpose or direction; he hopes to wander the land to meet someone who can provide him with either. He has a passing interest in artificery, poetry, and the coming upon of strange relics and artifacts. He hopes to figure out the purpose and meaning of his gauntlet and amulet, and perhaps isolate the connection between them. Who was his benefactor? Where will he go now? It remains to be seen, but time may tell.
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