Biography
I will begin with a tale of sorrow, sadness, and intrigue.
My name is Garmannis. I hail from West Freeport. I do not know my mother, for she died giving birth to me, and that is where my trouble began.
My father, a poor crafts peddler dearly loved my mother and envisioned a long life with her, but my birth ended that happy dream. I was the cause of his pain, and he showed me on a daily basis. I donÂ’t remember much of my childhood, mainly due to the fact that the beatings he would hand me left me in a motionless lump in some corner or alley.
One day, I saw a merchant not tending his counter and I stole a bit of food. The merchant saw me, and dragged me to the ground before I could escape. Instead of going to the guards (which I would have preferred, being fourteen, I would have only been held for a week), he informed my father. He beat me so severely, that it caused irrepairable damage to my eye. Luckily, a passing Knight had to intervene. I was an inch from my life.
The Knight brought me to the Temple of Marr in North Freeport to tend to my wounds. I was fifteen when I fully recovered. The Knights and High Priests were very kind, but their kindness did not stifle my growing hatred for my abusive father. I journeyed to West Freeport, and waited outside of the Militia House (where my father was a frequent) to confront him. He stepped out and I faced him. The tussle didn’t last very long, he was a quick and strong man, and I found myself fleeing as quickly as I could. I ended up hiding behind the door of The Ashen Order with Master Paub looking at me curiously. I turned and he noticed my bruises and cuts. “Being bullied, young one?” He asked. “You can say that!” I replied to him.
He decided to take me under his wing, stressing that the arts his is going to teach me is for self defense only, and not to be taken lightly. Being a naive teenager, I subconsciously shrugged it off. He taught me so many techniques in the monkly arts, he taught me control and discipline, but he did not teach me a way to squelch me anger and hatred towards my father.
I was 18 when Master Paub let me practice unsupervised in the areas surrounding Freeport. I was 18 when my life changed. I was 18 when I knew I could be dangerous. I was returning to the Order House when I bumped into a surly being, a surly being I knew. My father! I punched him in the chest to distance myself, but he came back at me with a dagger. “I’ve been looking for you boy! I needed my little whipping boy!” He screamed as he charged. I side stepped his advances and caught him arm, twisting it behind his back, easily fracturing his elbow. “I am no one’s whipping boy now ‘Father’!” I announced to him. In blind rage, I punched his ribs, sending the broken shards into his chest and he collapsed to the ground, still breathing, but barely. He started to weep, I could only drop to my knees and hold his fading form. “I’m so sorry, my son. I was a horrible father. I didn’t know what to do.” He gasped. “Your mother was too good for me. I never deserved her. Be a man… for her sake.” And he faded. I picked up my Father’s limp form and headed back to The Order House. Master Paub met me at the door, “By the name of Quellious, what happened?!” “He was… is my Father.” I solemnly replied. “Who did this to him?” He questioned in grief and shock. “I did.” Was my only reply.
Master Paub noticed the knife placed on my Father’s waist, and nodded as if he understood, remembering when he first met me. “We will give him a proper burial.” He stated in a calming tone. “After the ceremony, I will teach you the ways of Quellious, The Tranquil. My teachings will do you no good if you do not control your emotions.” I took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. Agree was the only thing I could do. I was a danger to anyone around me, even people I care about.
