Username: Twain Solemnheart
Character Name: Twain Solemnheart
Nicknames: None
Parents: Lucianna and Ethan Aldwin, both of whom are now deceased.
Siblings: Twain was an only child.
Friends: Among his most notable friends are Edwin Mountainsong, King of An' Tir, Sciath Stonescale, High Chieftain of the Earthen Drakes, and Fenris, alpha of the dire wolf pack that dominates much of the eastern section of Craven Forest.

Element: Light
Race: Human
Age: 27
Height: 6' 2''
Weight: 235 lbs. of trained muscle
Social Class: Nobility, though he doesn't act like it very often.
Physical Appearance: With a tall and imposing figure, Twain is generally seen as a handsome fellow. Dark brown hair falls to his shoulders, which he often keeps tied in a loose ponytail using a dark green silk ribbon. A full, well trimmed beard rests on his face, and piercing steel-blue eyes gaze out from under a thick brow.

Occupation(s): Soldier, smith, apothecary, and inventor. Twain's done just about everything under the sun.
Hobbies: Sparring takes up the majority of his time, during the morning hours, but after that he is generally free to do as he pleases. Whether that's tinker around in his laboratory, attempt a new alchemical formula or three, vent his frustrations on the forge, or get a drink at the Swine's Beard with his friends. When in a mood, he will often take to the forest with Fenris, reveling in the chance to hunt with the pack.
Property(s): He has no true lands as his own, though technically with farthest province in the northeast is under his name. Unfortunately, it has not seen civil inhabitants in the past ten or so years.
Personal Belongings: His sword, Wolf Fang, as well as his alchemy lab and anything else he makes. Also, his clothes.
Home Area: The land he can now call his own, a province in the far northeastern corner of An' Tir.
Personality: He is fairly laid back, though also fairly reserved. He often helps those he sees in need without having to be asked. It has earned him a slap in the face due to pride more than once, which he doesn't mind. He jokes quite often, and usually in a manner unbecoming of nobility. In battle however, he is quite the opposite of his normal self. Cold and calculating, bringing overwhelming speed and force to every confrontation to end it before it can truly begin.
Biography: The general public first became aware of Twain during mid spring roughly fourteen years ago when he was carried in, barely able to keep hold as he rode an ambling dire wolf into the middle of Craven Hollow, followed closely by the whole pack and a rag tag group of refugees from his home province. After that, the public had little knowledge of his life until eight years later when he was seen racing through the streets atop a fully armored wolf, a tall drake and woman on a black horse close in toe during the one siege in recorded history to make it to the walls of the city proper. Soldiers shouted his name in celebration the next day, claiming it was due to his daring, and extremely bizarre tactics that they managed to win the day and keep the city safe.

Since then he has led an interesting life. In the eight years prior to the incident of the siege, he was trained to become one of the deadliest weapons An' Tir had to offer, forced into conscription after striking Edwin with his fist, who at the time was only a child himself. Now, he serves as the vanguard of An' Tir's interests throughout the lands, whether the other countries know it or not. Through his adventures he accumulated many friends from all countries and walks of life, including one he had known since before arriving in Craven Hollow. Her name was Theresa, and she was his best friend, his confidant, and his lover. When all else fell into darkness during the conflicts he faced, she was his light. She accompanied him everywhere on his missions, as the two seemed to be bound together through a bond stronger than love itself.

But when Twain returned from this last mission, he returned alone, Theresa no longer at his side. The official report is that she was killed in the line of duty, and indeed it is the truth. Twain is still haunted by her memories, this one year later. But, he is beginning to recover, to pull himself from the void that her loss had left in him. And as his soul begins to feel again, an itch has settled in his stomach, one both vaguely familiar and completely alien. In it he feels all the compulsion of his love for Theresa, his lust for the trials of battle, and his hatred for the creature that took her away.

Heaven and Hell be damned if he should fail again....

Fighting Style: A calculated frenzy, he brings his whole being to bear during a fight. In that moment, there is nothing but the battle, nothing but the trial and test of arms, wit, and will. He sprinkles devastating swordsmanship with a flurry of magical prowess, using everything to his advantage, especially the environment.
Preferred Weapons: His sword, magic, and the world around him.
Magical Abilities: He is best with augmentation and projection. His alchemical abilities are notable, though nothing extraordinary. Manipulation comes in last, as it is very difficult to accurately bend light to do as one wishes for more than a split second.