[Thragka]

Eckhard, finished but for writing in equipment and leftover money.

Fluff:

Spoiler

Eckhard, he calls himself, and that's obviously a lie, because you can tell he's a Geplite by looking at him, and that's no Forester name. Still, he wouldn't be the first person to distance themself from the recent unpleasantness in that neck of the woods - not even the only such person on this expedition, by a long shot. He keeps himself to himself, rarely speaking without being spoken to and sometimes not even then. He seems to choose his words carefully; almost as if he's scared to hear what might force its way out of his mouth. So he's got something to hide? At least he's doing a good job of it.

He claims to be a carpenter, but while he knows how to work a little with mood and mend small objects, he's not exactly brilliant at it. Still, every little helps on a voyage into the wilderness. He's got something of a knack for healing, betraying some sort of formal training or study. And - let's be honest - he's obviously got some sort of thaumic touch, because water doesn't purify itself and no matter how much practice you've had, nobody can seal a crack in a plank just by running their finger along it.

Those who've kept an eye on him might have worked it out - Eckhard is, or was, a devotee of Adamat, the World's Skeleton. If the wooden symbol hanging around his neck (but usually tucked away beneath his robes) didn't give it away, his furtive sessions poring over Adamat's holy book when he thinks nobody's watching ought to have. It kind of makes you wonder, what with everything that happened in the Ridge, whose side he was on. But he doesn't preach, and his only obeisiance seems to be a fondness for meditation.

He looks like he's been living rough for some time, and isn't used to it - his frame is thin, skin tightly wrapped around his shoulders and ribs and sunken cheeks. His robes suggest he's been living as a penitent monk. His dark curly hair is unkempt, his nails are long and his beard is roughly and raggedly cut - kept close to his chin and cheeks, so he doesn't look like a complete hermit, but thick enough to keep him warm. And he's rarely seen without a weapon - oh, technically they might just be a walking stick and a woodcutter's axe and a sickle and so forth, but they're still capable of grievous bodily harm, and anyway there's no mistaking a crossbow. Perhaps he thinks whatever he's running from is chasing him. But combined with his tendency to be silent, they don't exactly inspire friendliness. Still, as the voyage goes on he seems to be opening up a bit. Time will tell if he leaves his demons behind.

Actual background:
The Geplite now calling himself Eckhard enjoyed as many comforts as were possible - somewhat hypocritically, for a devotee of the World's Skeleton - as a cleric to Adamat as a younger man in the Ridge. The Empire had always called to him, with the grandness of its ideals and its promised connection to an earlier, more ordered age. And with the ubiquitous ill-feeling towards Pelt, it was easy to overlook its downsides and preach to his peers that the Empire held the moral high ground in its struggle with Pelt. But this lifestyle could not last; perhaps the World's Skeleton would not allow one of Its own to rest so easily, and the cleric's devotion was tested at the fall of Pelt.

When the Empire lost its innocence, the cleric suddenly found himself a lonely advocate of a brutal, and some would say genocidal, regime. Terrified for his safety, and wracked with shame and misgivings, he broke his bonds and fled his community, and his homeland, heading to the more central provinces of the Empire. He has abruptly discovered that life in the Empire is not as easy as his had been for a man without means or the privilege of a spiritual role. But despite his doubts, he still has his faith. He is still devoted to the World's Skeleton, and some solid core of his soul knows that what happened in Pelt was a means to an end - that almost any price was worth paying for the sake of the fivilised order that the Empire promised to bestow. When the chance came to join the colonial effort, he took it, conjuring a new name for his new life. Even Eckhard couldn't tell you, though, whether he's still running from his sins, or striving to help build an ordered world anew. Perhaps it's both.

I am hoping beyond hope that my new laptop will arrive tomorrow, after which nothing can stop my regularly posted contributions, mwa ha ha.