Cornwell’s upbringing was one of a modest farm hand, much unlike the decadence enjoyed by most other of his fellow Heartlanders. His time spent in the fields north of Adria working taught him the value of hard work and patience. At seven years of age Cornwell was sharpening his fathers scythe when he accidentally let the blade slip and gave himself a nasty slice along the length of his left arm. The healer managed to save his limb, but Cornwell was left with a gnarled scar from the crook of his elbow to the base of his palm and an arm that lacked most feeling. In time Cornwell recognized that the curse of reduced mobility was also a blessing in disguise. Feeling less pain made it easier to absorb blows from fist and sword alike, although the latter wouldn’t do much good if there wasn’t a gauntlet or shield in the way to to translate the edge into blunt force. His scar also worked wonders on the tavern maidens, so long as he claimed it was from a wrestling match with a bear which he, of course, won. On three separate occasions during his youth, Cornwell witnessed elves swindle his father for their own personal gain, leaving the George household diminished because of it. This gave Cornwell the opinion that elves are verminous backstabbers and can not be trusted, a sentiment that still persists today.
Since a young age Cornwell wanted to be a hunter so that he could eat the meat, sell the skins, and do so at his leisure. As time went on however it proved more and more apparent that Cornwell was less than exemplary at the art of marksmanship. No matter how often he practices he can never seem to hit his mark, it is as if the land itself conspires to deny him his accuracy. Nevertheless, he carries a bow with him to try his luck whenever the opportunity arises. Realistically though, Cornwell knows that his dreams of being a hunter are unrealistic and that his inheritance is forfeit until his father sees him advancing in a good, honest trade. So, seeking his path in life, Cornwell left his fathers farm with little more than the clothes on his back and sword on his hip into the great wide world of Arcas.
