Editing Campaign:Golby's Beautiful Placeholder/Johnway (section)

== Basics ==
'''Campaign:''' [[Campaign:Golby%27s_Beautiful_Placeholder|Golby's]] <br/>
'''Name:''' Emmanuel Harken <br/>
'''Concept:''' Wandering general  <br/>
'''Caste/Aspect:''' Dawn Caste Solar <br/>
'''Anima Banner:''' An eagle holding an olive branch in its right talon <br/>
'''Motivation:''' Establish a nation where all men and women can be free <br/>
'''Intimacies:''' his followers and the ideal of liberty<br/>
'''Experience:''' 289/394 <br/>

=== Background ===

I won’t bore you with a long drawn out story of how I came to be where I am now. Up until a few years ago my life was different than any other citizen of the south. Although it might help the story to simply skip my childhood entirely, there are a few choice moments which set me on this path. I was born the son of a group of traveling merchants in the south. I’m sure that you can fill in any unexplained gaps with just that information. My days consisted of sand, traveling, and “learning” the trade from my parents. Even now, I sometimes wonder about the path not taken. My parents were exceptionally dedicated to their work, and hoped that I would carry on their business after they passed on. Despite their best efforts, I was always more interested in the stories the caravan guards would tell than their economics lessons. Looking back on it, I’m sure that most of the stories they told about fighting off bandits and barbarians were nothing more than fictitious campfire stories.
 
Throughout all the travels we went through, I only ever saw group of guards ever display their skills. We were attacked while we approached an oasis. We were attacked by a group of nomads as soon as the oasis came into sight. The guards urged us all into the back of the wagon, although I couldn’t help put peek out to see what was transpiring outside. I heard the guards organizing a defense perimeter and soon after the now familiar clashing of steel. From my position in the wagon, I could only see the leader of the group. I became fixated on his movement; every action was measured and precise. It was like watching water flow or seeing the sun set. What I saw wasn’t chaotic, if anything it was the exact opposite. Every action was given a purpose, a distinct ordered reason. After the battle was through, I exited the wagon and saw the result of the battle. The sand was dyed red with the blood, glistening as it reflected the light of the setting sun. That night, no one spoke around the campfire and several days later we parted with the guards. I’m not sure how I would react if I were to see those men again.

My time came several years later when we were attacked again. This time however, we were not as lucky. The bandits assaulted our camp while we slept. Although one of the guards had been posted as watchman, he was quickly dispatched by a well shot arrow. I was awoken that night be the sound of something rummaging in our camp. At first I paid no attention to the noise. It wasn’t until I felt what I thought was someone splashing water onto my sleeping bag that I bothered to look around. When I opened my eyes, I was mortified to find the corpse of one of the guards lying next to me. The attackers could be heard shifting through our goods; luckily they were too blinded by their own greed to notice me. I took the sword from the guard’s body and resolved that I would fight them off. I don’t know why I ever thought that I had any hope of victory; at best you can call it youthful exuberance. It was then that I exalted, I simply mimicked the style of the guard from that night, and somehow I lived to tell this tale. I was the only surviving member of our caravan. What I saw that night was not the purposeful method I observed all those years ago. This was simply carnage, an utter disgusting meshing of gore and disorder. I felt sick to my stomach as buried my former companions in the sand. Afterwards I took what goods I could and headed off to our destination. Using what money I was able to obtain from selling our goods I headed off into the desert with a new resolve and a new power. 

It has been many years since I set out and my eyes have been witness to the injustice of life in south. Traders are attacked without mercy, innocent men and woman are treated as slaves, and individuals are forced to swear allegiance to rulers at the cost of their own freedom.  There are days where I feel that the ideals of freedom and liberty have been lost beneath the desert. I have made it my task to dig my hands into the desert and drag those lost ideals back to the surface. It would seem that I am not alone in my journey, as I have attracted a small group of followers whose thirst for liberty is a strong as my own. Sadly, I am a man of war and although I may be able to forge a nation, I doubt that I will be able oversee my creation. I can only give the people of the south the materials they will need to build a new life for themselves, they will require someone else to show them how to fit the pieces together. For now though, I will continue to walk towards my goal. 
=== Appearance ===
A man standing 5'11 tall, with moderately long reddish-blond hair, a short reddish beard, fairly muscular build, who is in his mid-late 20's. Although he prefers to wear his buff jacket even when out side of combat, he carries a set of a walking clothes with him. These clothes consist of gloves, pants, a light cloak, sandals, etc. Although these items appear well worn, they are certainly still functional. He usually keeps his poleaxe slung across his back and his sword sheathed at his side. The buff jacket itself resembles the item pictured in the core book.