Handle: Sieve

Description Edit

Age: 25
Place of birth/raising: Small fishing village west of Godan (Tear)
Physical Appearance: Tall medium skinned with a thin muscular build. Short cropped dark hair with pointed beard and bright blue eyes.

History Edit

Geirrin Hale grew up in a poor fishing community where he lived with his family. Geirrin worked hard on the docks while the rest of his siblings worked the family's fishing vessel. Always a reckless and carefree child, by age 15 his father refused to allow him on the family fishing vessel after he nearly sunk it several times.

Geirrin was known for his foolish stunts and taking risks. He enjoyed sailing directly into stormy waters, or dangerously close to shore, or in water that he knew was far to shallow for the boat’s draft all for no reason other than for the fun of it. Several near and actual mishaps led to him finally being grounded ashore. He had a reputation in the community so none of the captains would hire him on fearing that he would find a way to destroy their ship or precious cargo. Therefore his only option was to work on the docks as a laborer hauling cargo on or off ships, mending nets or other menial tasks. Most of the coin he made at the docks went to his father to pay for the repairs that he had been responsible for over the years. The rest of his coin helped feed the family so he had nothing left to spare.

One day an Illianer coastal trading ship on it’s way from Godan to Tear put into their port after half the crew became violently ill. So desperate was the Captain that the villagers warning to not hire Geirrin went unheeded. Geirrin, now 25 years of age, took his meager belongings, said goodbye to his friends and family and boarded the Illianer ship bound for Aringill with a hold full of oil and fish.

Aside from the occasional mishap, Geirrin proved the naysayers wrong. He worked hard hauling the lines, shortening, or letting out the sails, mending canvas or whatever tasks needed doing. When not fooling around he was a very hard worker. The Captain was obviously pleased that the rumors had proven false as he paid Geirrin an extra silver mark when they put into port in Aringill.

Geirrin tucked the coins away and grabbed up his belongings before heading to the nearest tavern. Most of the crew were in there drowning their sorrows in either a mug or the bosom of one of the tavern maids. Geirrin looked around the smoke filled tavern as he took a long pull from his mug. In the corner of the tavern he saw two men in black coats sitting at a table facing him. On the opposite end of the table, with his back to Geirrin, was one of the crew members.

Ever the curious one, Geirrin questioned the crewman when he returned. The man replied that they were talking about wielding lightning or some such though he apparently was not able to do so.

Curiousity won out and before he new it he was before the two black coated men staring at a small flame between them. They told him to focus on the flame until he was told to stop. After roughly a quarter of an hour passed, one of the men commanded him to stop. Geirrin just stared at him with the unspoken question formed on the tip of his tongue. The man testing him nodded briefly then smiled at him. The black coated man told him that he could learn if he wished but warned that it would be tough going, certainly not something for the weak of will or mind.

Geirrin responded that he had nothing better to do, that wielding lightning sounded better than physical labor that he was so used to. Several other tried but none in the tavern seemed to have the ability. In the morning he was off to a place they called "The Farm".

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