Emiel Emmerson

[Emiel Emmerson]

Emiel Emmerson

Race: Wick
Birthday: Dentis 2, 2696
Age: 24
FC: Original art by Caporushes

Place of Origin: Brunnhold, Anaxas
Current Location: Still Brunnhold
Occupation: Bartender, Occasional Courier, Resistance Informant
Resistance Codename: Wren
Player Name: Muse

Physical Description

Emiel has never been the tallest among his peers, but the wick is comfortable in all 5 feet, 6 inches of his height. Lean but not lanky, he's often remembered as a few inches taller just because of the way he carries himself instead of any benefit of his genetics. Ne, instead he was blessed with a pretty face and a smooth voice that've both gotten him into more trouble than out and he's not sorry about any of it, not even the kind of trouble that's left a knick or two permanently etched in his flesh.

Angular features are complimented by pale skin that freckles instead of tans, and while Em's gone through a myriad of hair colors, his roots are dark and thick with just enough wave to breathe life into whatever length he chooses to keep his locks at. Currently, his hue preferences are toward blues and purples, sometimes shaving creative patterns into the undercut sides and back of his scalp thanks to those Black Hand nomads he's been warned to stay away from by his Daoa. (He finds 'em anyway.)

Amber eyes and an easy smile are rounded out by more than a few piercings, glittering gold to match his honeyed charm. His way of dressing is best described as on the rebellious edge of fashionable, influenced by the eclectic Brunnhold galdori youth culture that permeates even into tsat life in the Stacks, the alluring curiosity of more traditional nomadic wick clothing, and his own bold self-directed sense of style. Comfort is important, but so is having a good place to stash a knife. Looking good is also key, but Em values being able to slip into a crowd as much as he does putting folks at ease right there the bar.

Personality

Emiel is gregarious and talkative, ridiculously comfortable in both a crowd or settled in with a handful of people. He doesn't do well alone, if only because he almost never is. Being left to his own thoughts tends to toss him into a broodiness that only a good social gathering can cure.

He hides an observant quick wit behind an easy smile and smooth tongue, though the truth is if something isn't exciting enough, he's probably bored and hiding it handsomely. That's not to say the wick doesn't have a temper—he's never once lived a life of impeccable impulse control (just ask his friends)—but he's learned how to work a bit of charm to pour himself into just the right situation or, failing that, he's learned how to be patient to get what he wants in the long game no matter how much he wants the immediate pay off. He can be a right stubborn bastard when intent on getting his way, even if he's learned to hide it all beneath an otherwise seemingly warm, friendly exterior. He's far from perfect, however, and when Emiel snaps, it's almost always a conflagration.

Growing up in a busy household and an even busier tavern has left Em with a confidence around strangers (of all races) that can come across as smugness and conceit when he's not feeling particularly interested in being his usual, relatable self. He's the one everyone wants to talk to at the bar, that comfortable cup of tea that may feel good to curl up with before you realize that maybe you've let it steep too long and that soothing liquid's just a bit bitter. A life as a wick in the intellectual and academic capital of Anaxas has left Emiel Emmerson just that: a little bit bitter. Alright, maybe more than a little.

He loves his family, sure. He's loyal to his friends, what few who've kept him closer than just arm's reach after his brother's hanging, after rumors of the Emmerson's association with the Resistance finally quieted a bit. It's admittedly always been easy to assume the tsat doesn't care about how the world turns in Anaxas because he's got a steady work, because he's got a writ, and because he's never lacked for anything other than the education that's literally a stone's throw away from the Singing Badger his parents own and run, but the truth is he cares quite a bit. A restless jealousy born from growing up too close to galdorkind but too far away seethes deep in his warm heart and it's festered there, fermented but not in the way that makes a good barrel-aged stout so much as a sour wine.

Serving tables, wiping vomit, smiling sweetly, and charming fresh-faced jent babies out of extra coin hasn't entirely made him more tolerant or more hopeful for equality so much as it's all made him more aware of what's not equal at all, of what may never be unless someone does something about it.

Personality Type: ESTP, The Entrepreneur
An Entrepreneur (ESTP) is someone with the Extraverted, Observant, Thinking, and Prospecting personality traits. They tend to be energetic and action-oriented, deftly navigating whatever is in front of them. They love uncovering life’s opportunities, whether socializing with others or in more personal pursuits. Entrepreneurs always have an impact on their immediate surroundings—the best way to spot them at a party is to look for the whirling eddy of people flitting about them as they move from group to group.

Backstory

Emiel Emmerson was born the second son to Paolo and Eriyenna Emmerson just after one of the hottest Dry Seasons on Brunnhold record, in the fresh cool of the first week of Dentis. The middle child of four in a family of wicks who'd been tsats in the Stacks for generations as far as any of his folks had kept records for—rumors of Black Hand nomad associations notwithstanding on his uncle's side—Em was raised to value hard work from a young age. Paolo had inherited the Singing Badger, bar and restaurant from his father, who'd passed it down from his father, and who was quite convinced he'd pass it onto one of his two sons or perhaps one of his two daughters should they choose a good match in marriage. Until the four were old enough to stand out as the right choice, however, they'd all learn the ropes with equal measure. The establishment was and still is the Emmerson's pride and joy, no matter who actually owns it.

Em was put to work as soon as he could walk: he mopped floors. He did dishes. He fetched groceries. He bussed tables. He lugged barrels and crates of alcohol off carts and up from the cellar. He also smiled at customers—most of them golly students, faculty, and staff—and quickly learned to work his natural-born charisma in their company. He picked a few pockets. He stopped a few fights (he started a few, too). He flirted with gollies in green uniform just because he could. Eventually, he got to serve the drinks, work the bar, and earn the tips—much to the jealous resentment of his older brother, Rohan.

Because of the nature of their business, the Emmersons were granted writs to learn to read and write as they came of age, but even in the shadow of Brunnhold, their limitations were glaringly obvious. Insatiable, curious, and never one to back down from a challenge, Em's rivalry with Rohan included outdoing each other in whatever method of studying they could find—only where Ro stuck to the straight and narrow, paranoid of legal trouble, Emiel was brazenly unconcerned. He earned a name for himself pilfering class notes, charming textbooks from the hands of schoolgirls, and helping himself to a notebook or two right from the bags of inebriated erseholes in uniform.

There were two things in Em's life that he admittedly never saw coming: just how much he'd come to enjoy the company of a handful of gollies in his life and just how deep his brother Rohan would get himself involved in the Resistance, right under their parents' noses.

Needless to say, neither of those things ended well and at twenty-four, Emiel Emmerson tends the bar of the Singing Badger as the eldest and only son, having watched Rohan hang in Vienda on his birthday in 2718 alongside a handful of other Resistance members for riots everyone in their clocking right minds knew those poor sods hadn't been responsible for.

Aptitude Skills

Mental
Average

Physical
Average

Social
Good

Focus Skills

Combat

Unarmed (Brawling): Beginner

Linguistics

Monite: Conversational
Estuan: Fluent
Tek: Broken

Magic

Spoke's Magic: Beginner
Spoke's Tricks: Beginner

Professional

Business Management (Bar/Restaurant): Proficient

Career and Income

Barkeep/Informant

Em literally grew up in the Singing Badger, as his home was above the tavern. He knows the intimate details of running the restaurant and bar, and he especially likes mixing drinks for students on their first night on the town. He’s good at listening, better at charming tips from wealthy patrons, and knows when to send troublemakers home (because he’s sort of belligerent when drunk himself, let’s be honest). He can cook, but he’d rather not. He can clean, but gods, he’s done that his whole life. He can break up a fight (by getting in the middle of it). But, honestly, he just really likes tending the bar, ye chen?

Not officially connected to the Resistance as a cadet, the death of his brother in the hanging of 2718 has led him to feel out his own associations with them, providing information and sometimes stolen written letters and such for occasional cash on the side (which he usually turns around and spends on books, knives, or unusual foreign alcohol). He’s mostly fueled by boredom, vengeance, and discontent with what he sees as his own galdor-imposed limitations.

Income: Average

Born to tsats, he’s always lived a pretty comfortable life in the Stacks. The Badger is popular for its entertainment and it’s fine selection of international alcohols often not found elsewhere in Brunnhold, mostly because of Paolo’s connections in both Vienda and the Harbor.

Housing and Inventory

Housing: Just a flat.

Em stopped living at home a few years ago, right before his brother’s death. He lives in a small, book-filled flat on the sunny side of the street a block up from the Singing Badger. He can roll out of bed and be there in less than five minutes and he can crawl up the stairs dead drunk without much worry.

Inventory

Well-kept, youthfully fashionable clothing
More books than wicks really need to own
A curious collection of international wines
Matches, papers, and tobacco
Too many knives

Goals

Keep the family business running with his sisters
Make a difference to honor his brother (and stick it to golly erseholes everywhere)
Check in on the one that got away