E M R I K
LATHAM
M A T H I S E N
LATHAM
M A T H I S E N
Name: Emrik Latham Kylen Mathisen
Race: Avialae (Kathar)
Sex: Male
Age: 26
Height: 7'2" ft. | 218 cm
Weight: 320 lbs. | 145 kg
Birthdate: Glade 46, Year 95
Birthplace: Atinaw, Outer-Grimholdt
Profession: Magehunter (Assassin)
Housing: Commons Apartment
Partners: N/A
Orientation: Homosexual
Titles: N/A
Factions: N/A
Fluencies: Common, Synskrit
Conversationals: N/A
Ineptitudes: N/A
Race: Avialae (Kathar)
Sex: Male
Age: 26
Height: 7'2" ft. | 218 cm
Weight: 320 lbs. | 145 kg
Birthdate: Glade 46, Year 95
Birthplace: Atinaw, Outer-Grimholdt
Profession: Magehunter (Assassin)
Housing: Commons Apartment
Partners: N/A
Orientation: Homosexual
Titles: N/A
Factions: N/A
Fluencies: Common, Synskrit
Conversationals: N/A
Ineptitudes: N/A
Personality
The Kathar often appears abrasive, callous, harsh, largely to ward off others. The man believes himself to be acutely aware of his flaws, of which he feels there are many: selfishness, lust, a passion towards violence, an inner want of power, an idyllic obsession with all the many aspects of his ‘future’ he believes he will never have, and a crippling sort of existential dread towards his homeland that clashes constantly with his strong, outward exterior of nationalism. Emrik is a difficult man to bear, but one with a profound ability to love, and a protective nature that too often penetrates his harsh exterior.
Appearance
Emrik is mildly rugged, with strong stubble growing across his jawline, and slightly curly (but kempt) brown hair. He has hazel eyes which appear to moderate between a light brown and mossy green, and overall handsome, masculine (but youthful) features. Emrik tends to dress inconspicuously; like a common man, white shirts of linen cloth, tied and untied by laces running below the collar, simple brown linen trousers, so on. If in wartime he will wear whatever armor is available to him, though he tends to operate on the premise of 'not getting hit' rather than bearing the brunt of blows, and so light armor appears his preference. In all things he appears to be a rugged minimalist, presenting himself as a survivalist, though one with the intimidating demeanor of a trained killer.
Emrik has large, silvery black wings reminiscent of an eagle's, with a wingspan of roughly eighteen feet.
History
And so, he was raised with the presence of a great, looming threat close by. His father would wake in the night in terror; he would remember the days of old, the abuse and the rigor, the brothers he had lost to the furious grip of the Imperium, who weeded out all but the absolute greatest. In those early days, the first decade of his life, Emrik's father trained him perhaps just as rigorously; he was taught to fight, to bleed, to kill and survive. All, he hoped, for the chance that he might live were he to come face-to-face with their enemy, and to exact an ancestral sort of vengeance.
Emrik's freedom from the Imperium did not last forever. In a foray meant to explore the borders of their domain, and to prepare his son for the eventuality of war, Kyrik Mathisen lost sight of his son. Other Avialae perched along the border-hills saw him and extracted him from the fortified landscape, plucking the boy from the ground and taking him back to an Imperial fort. For several weeks he was interrogated, trained to obey in the face of overwhelming punishment. He surrendered information about his father, about what he had been taught, about what Imperial secrets might have been leaked; anything he knew of. For several months longer, his mind was bleached of all of that rhetoric he had been instilled with as a boy. He was taught that his father had led him into delusion, that he was a pitiful and bitter man, a deserter, traitor, cheater and liar; some of their slanderous words carrying kernels of truth, enough to twist the boy's mind.
He was trained to be one of them. This process took years; though he had the strength and martial aptitude, he did not bear what they would often label 'Imperial resilience'. The ability to face any threat, endure any level of anguish or deception - such as the sorts they had inflicted on him, and broken him with - from enemies, and the instinct and drive to act as an agent and Inquisitor. The magic he had been initiated into by his father, Traversion, was expanded upon and used as weapons of Imperial operations. Another, Reaving, was given to him by a man named Aoren, his Kathar superior. Emrik was taught to act as an agent of the state, and particularly, he was honed to hunt mages and other rogue Avialae like his father. For his initiation into the true ranks of their order, he was even made to hunt the man himself... a deed he performed with perverted dignity, and pride, up until the moment the blade struck his throat.
It was this that instilled doubts in him, again; after ten years, he still felt that love for his father, the kind a boy would perhaps never lose. His admiration for him, his need for that man's validation, approval, understanding. His father still loved him, even as the blade swung, and he knew it. The man even seemed to seek it out; a penance for his failure to protect his son.
As Kyrik died, so too did his tangible understanding of the world. Kept silent as these thoughts were, they lingered within him; questions of what could be, had he never been taken from the family he once so dearly loved, and belonged with. He remembered his mother, all of her kin; a tribe of friends. A place to belong. He remembered being loved without condition, rather than being brutalized in the face of the slightest error.
All of these factors combined, and the man sought post elsewhere. His murder of his father had solidified his loyalty in the eyes of his superiors, and international agents were necessary to purge remote threats. Sent outwards to hunt rogue nationals, enemy operatives and magi, Emrik was allowed momentarily to leave, and in doing so experience the breadth of a newer world.