Backstory

Elijah (Eli) Silversun was born some 20 years ago in a small compound of family homes tucked away in the forests approximately eight miles southeast of Mara. His father, Quentin Silversun, and his mother, Emmeline Silversun, had served as the family heads of this clan-like estate for several years, training a wide assortment of soldiers, nobles, and kin in what was dubbed the Way of the Kensei. This particular martial art would teach its wielder how to harness their inner energies through a combination of meditation and physical training to augment their prowess on the battlefield, specifically in the mastery of a particular weapon. However, due to unforeseen complications with Eli's birth, Emmeline passed away shortly after bestowing his name, an event that shook the family to its core as their patriarch was left a widower. It is for this reason that Eli's older brothers (Sterling -- the eldest -- and Connor), cousins, aunts, uncles, and even his own father seemed to harbor so much disgust whenever the boy was present. Bullied and ridiculed by his generation and ignored or ostracized by his elders, Eli struggled to both find and earn his place within the family.
 
Still, Elijah was a Silversun, and that came with certain expectations. Like the rest, he was trained rigorously and without exception in the arts that made the Silversun family renowned in many circles of martial superiority and prestige. Unlike his siblings, however, Eli was not cushioned by the same words of confidence as his brothers; every mistake he made was met with harsh words... every success viewed as trifling. Over the years, this lack of encouragement and sense of true belonging instilled in Elijah unwavering roots of doubt and self-loathing as he began to believe his skills and character unbefitting of his name. In some moments, this fear of failing his father would drive him to train harder, longer, and without respite; in others, he would succumb to the pressure and resign himself to the shadows of depression. Though rarely physically abusive, this mental torture has been prevalent all his life, and has shaped his frame of self-worth.
 
When he was permitted, Eli would leave the estate and travel northwest into Mara to make some coin peddling his skills with calligraphy, yet another facet of his training and meditation. He had some skill in the art, but these trips were used as both an excuse for him to experience life out from the bootheel of his obligations and as a chore to keep him away when his presence was felt too cumbersome at home. And so, two to three times a week Eli would pull a small stall attached to a cart the eight mile trek into town where he would set up his small booth where allowed. Needless to say, a town like Mara didn't have much use for a calligrapher, but he did get the occasional business from an Air Genasi by the name of Echo. She was one of the only acquaintances he frequented that lacked a judgmental gaze, so he welcomed their transactions... even hoped for them.
 
Only a couple nights ago, however, did Eli's life take a new turn. During a sparring session with his older brother Connor (a contest Eli would usually always lose), Eli managed to gain the upper hand by utilizing a technique not inherently from their teachings, promptly laying the cocky brat on the floor. Their father, who often monitored such sessions and used them to gauge the worth of his sons, reacted to this with great hostility. Having had one of his very, very few successes in his training met with such disdain finally gave Eli the courage to stand up for himself and his fair, albeit unexpected, actions. What was only anger let loose to rage as Quentin laid into his youngest son with such vulgarity that even Connor and Sterling were left speechless. As if the geyser of his true malcontent for Eli's very existence had only just now been let to erupt, Quentin tore off the sleeve of Elijah's training gear. This sleeve bore the crest of their family, a silver sun with rudimentary corona (more elaborate and eloquent versions were adopted by those who have proven themselves an asset to the family), and in tossing it to the side revoked Eli's claim to the family. His father stormed out, leaving the sparring chamber silent though not empty. Unable to bare eye contact with anyone, Eli picked up his torn sleeve, retreated to his chambers to pack, and left the estate sometime that night. He managed to find a cheap tailor in Mara that was able to reattach the sleeve, though the obvious seam would stand as a constant reminder of the damage that's been done.
 
In hopes of honing what he has learned in a more practical setting, Eli has taken up a job as a guard escorting goods from Mara to Greyhaven. Perhaps in time he will grow to be a warrior worth his family's Silversun name, the respect of his brothers, and the love of his father.