Note to readers: the sheet should be considered somewhat "work in progress" in nature for the time being. As the first character of mine on Thorns, it is likely to be riddled with things requiring correction.

'''Name:''' William Vermeer
'''Age:''' 29
'''Race:''' human
'''Place of Origin:''' Vienda

!!!Backstory:
William grew up as the youngest of 3 children in a family of a fairly well-doing black market salesman at the edge of Vienda's infamous Soot District. His father held a fair share in the niche of book marketing, especially restricted materials among the human population of Vienda, but while literate he was more often pricing his merchandise "by the cover", according the condition and rarity of the items but lacking the education and the patience to judge the contents. While intent on having his son inherit the business, he was acutely aware of the fact that the business itself would not feed all of his four children, and as such considered it best for his offspring to specialize in certain areas of literature rather than grow up to compete over the same customers. Learning to appraise books by contents rather than condition was something he could not teach by himself, and finding education for four human children banned of all official schooling was beyond his means though, so his approach to education was more or less that of letting his children into the storeroom, handing them a stack of books and a few sandwiches, and locking the door for the afternoon.

It wasn't as much choice as it was the course of pecking order between siblings that led to William taking up the subject of chemistry - his older siblings, as obnoxiously as older siblings always, merely hogged more intresting subjects such as fiction, military affairs and history. All that was left was the dull and difficult natural sciences, of which he picked a battered manual of toxicology of which the introduction and table of contents had been used for toilet paper. The subject was initially difficult, but caught on quickly at the beginning of his second book, as one would expect from giving a 7-year-old boy a manual containing instructions for cooking up explosives. It wasn't until well into his puberty that he slowly became aware of the importance of what the numerous manuals of medical science contained, and the mortifying injustice of a society that neglects their implementation on the majority of it's population at whim. It is difficult to not become bitter when witnessing a man loose a limb to a scratch on his arm from a rusty nail, or to see another die because old women down the street thought cob-webs and guano to be beneficial for clotting bleeding when quite literally even a child could know better. They say that when fighting, anger is as good as courage, and while he found ample fuel from disgust towards the state of the world - not to mention the usual spitefulness of a teenager - for his actions, the method of it's use differed. He became rather manic in his pursuit of improvement, and eventually, having exhausted the minimal trickle of material to study granted by his father's profession, asked him to allow to continue his studies of medicine under a practicing professional. It took months of arguing, and while his father regarded the monetary cost of apprenticeship like pulling a tooth, strategy of attrition eventually paved way to victory. William packed his bags and took a ferry for Old Rose Harbour, his destination the household of a local physician.

His benefactor, Laurey Dohan, was not what one would consider a doctor of repute. His main source of income was overseeing opium refineries, with the profession of medicine occupying less of his wealth but more of his time. The folk mostly capable of paying a doctor's bill in Old Rose were unfortunately most often better-off Bad Brothers, and it could almost be said that doctor Dohan held a certain form of quasi-membership in the band. This kept pressure of both law and crime out of the old doctor's way, and the freedom it granted let him commit himself better to both research and a more philantrophic form of practice. It is an irony of a kind that a man so deeply bogged in the practices of drug production was one of the first to come up with rudimentary theories of detoxification and addiction treatment, which were among the first the old man passed along. While gruff, solitary and crude-tempered by nature, it was obvious to William that the aging man appreciated his company despite the facade he presented, especially considering how prematurely weakened he was due to the endless hours spent in the fumes of a poorly-winded attic laboratory. His days consisted of handling the mundane chores of the household, from cooking and cleaning, to arranging his master's transportation to patient visits and opium laboratory inspections, with evenings and patient visits consisting mostly of assisting in experiments as well as conducting them on his own, theoretical schooling and a large amount of self-study. Both being individuals serious down to the point of humourless, it was commonplace that days passed in the household where the only times either opened their mouths would be considering medicine.

Study and service continued in this fashion for a whole of five years, until his master finally took too ill to carry on with practice, and by tradition the position was passed down to his apprentice. Unfortunately for William, doctor Dohan had a handful of previous apprentices, and as usual the eldest and most succesful was appointed the "heir" to his patients. The Bad Brothers took advantage of the doctor's working methods and appointed one of their own numbers, who had worked under the doctor long enough to copy his practices, to head the morphine laboratories. What William got as his parting gift was the man's collection of what mostly makeshift medical and chemistry tools he had scrounged along his long carreer, as well as recommendations and a firm lecture over the benefit of clinical research and careful choosing of patients over altruistic take-all corner doctoring. It was a moment of truth of a kind for William, a moment when the dreams of a child were cast down for the sake of an adult's choice; while he would rather save everyone, it was painfully apparent that he would never reach the goal, and rather stifle what potential he could reach by running after people who should have helped themselves in the first place. It was a moment of embitterment as well, as his master dressed in words what he had thought for a long, long time - that people get ill and die should not be considered as the fault of diseases or poisonings. That disease was a force of nature, and that it was the responsibility of men to cope with them, and that the knowledge for avoiding such was right there, sitting at the feet of the ill yet remained beyond reach mostly because of ignorance, sloth, poverty and galdori tyranny. In short, disease existed naturally, but dying of it was the fault of the victim.

The following nine years were filled with intense work of a variety of worth and legality. While he dedicated his attention mostly in research and study, Opium still remained as a source of income, and while he refused to sell it, he did participate in the market by taking commissions to occasionally test the quality and purity of the material during larger exchanges. On the other hand, he also participated as a "programmer" on several occasions. At one point he found himself living in a basement room of an otherwise empty tenement building. For reasons he considered better left unconsidered, one of the rooms of the basement was closed with a sound-proofed and extremely heavy door unlockable only from the outside. Combining the quiet location with his master's studies into addictions, and the fact that even the wealthy and influential could fall for the temptations of opium, a rather daring plan formed. It took only a while of setting up connections to find an employer, and late one night William and a few newly made friends of burly and morally ambiguous sort accosted the wayward son of a, in human terms, wealthy merchant at the yard of a house of ill repute. The group roughly mobbed the man and his retinue, incapacitating their chosen victim with ether, stuffing him into a burlap sack, and blackening a few eyes in the process. A coach-ride later, the patient found himself in a dimly-lit cell, dressed in a straight-jacked and with three weeks of isolation, large amounts of water to drink, and very rough incentives towards dropping a bad habit. After several initial near-failures the gang's methods gained a certain routinely finesse, and business became more regular.

On the side of this work, William sharpened his specialization in his practice of medicine towards that of chemistry and pharmacy. While his loss of intrest towards bettering the lives of people had soured somewhat, it had not entirely withered - rather than treat people first hand, the realization that a single practitioner of medicine could do preciously little against the force of ignorance that led to such a great deal of illnesses had more shifted his attention. What was necessary for people to stay in health was not a savior, but a system where they could save themselves. First step towards this is bringing information of treatments to the people.
The second is ensuring the availability of medication. Third was shared and communally sponsored research. Finally, fourth came organized health care, in which professional help was both available as well as regulated to keep quacks out of the field. While knowing the realization of such dreams to be almost as remote as the closest star, William meets the difficulty of the challenge with most human fatalism. Death is cheap, that is apparent to every human being. There's no shame in betting high with one's life.

Today, at the age of 29, William Vermeer is at the foot of the intimidating mountain he considers his life work. Having finally saved enough money for a small private apartment and laboratory at the edge of the Soot District, he is preparing to open up a business producing and shipping medical sundries to doctors in Vienda and abroad. In truth, this he intends to be merely the source of funding towards his higher goals; he is actively seeking for a printing press or similar instrument, with which to start production of "common man's medical manuals" for circulation among the populace, as well as larger laboratory spaces and apprentices for production of medication for more commonplace ails for direct sale. Beyond this, William has had little time to plan, but even what he has underway are large challenges. There is much to be considered, and it could be said his plans change daily depending on opportunities, but he is content in considering the options to be "victory or bust".


!!!Personality:
William Vermeer is a serious man. It could also be said that he very much enjoys leading people to think so, in equal measures to how much he enjoys dead-pan humour. It isn't as much lack of humour that leaves William slightly difficult to deal with, but rather his intense focus on what he considers important in life. There's hardly anything considerable as extra in his life - he eats in moderation, imbibes in moderation, sleeps in moderation, excercises in moderation, and works in excess. The few moments of relaxation and slack or play he partakes in his daily life are rather often spent in a form of meditation, enjoying the rare moments of silence for their own worth rather than filled with other activities. The great downside of this is that it leaves William a rather socially awkward or difficult person to deal with, especially when engaged in less serious activities. On the other hand, when pursuing his goals - be they day-to-day work or grander undertakings - he tends to be both very reliable and mercilessly driven. While he rarely displays a temper, and generally considers it poor form, he can flare up even violently when confronted with setbacks caused intentionally or through plain stupidity. It could be even said that, while generally benign to the point of idealism, he quite largely considers ends to justify means. Apart from these qualities, there is very little colour to his scale of emotion - moments not spent pursuing something by circumstance and not choice are usually moments he finds himself almost lost and confused.

!!!Physical Description:
William is a slight man, by height and build. He reaches barely 5'4", and by weight is at a wiry 125 pounds. He is in excellent condition, though, practicing what he preaches in both habits and excercise, being a walking exhibition of healthcare from fitness and hygiene to his rigid posture. His hair is a sandy, darkish blonde, and by complexion he is somewhat on the pale side. His facial structure is somewhat as gaunt and thin as that of his body, with sharp angles and points in his jaw, nose, brow and forehead. His eyes are dark brown, and propably thanks to long nights in a poorly-lit laboratory, he tends to squint a lot when looking afar. This habit has left faint crow's feet spreading from the corners of his eyes. By dress he opts towards neatness and synergy of taste and functionality, favoring businesswear at most hours when not in a laboratory frock. There's perhaps a bit of a dandy in him, considering his habits of dress, as well as the meticulously cared moustache. The latter, thanks to their colour, tend to bring up jokes concerning fish sticks, but less often to his face.


!!!Inventory:
Cheap apartment and laboratory, with furnishing and day-to-day commodities.
A few sets of serviceable clothing, business- casual- and lab-wear.
Laboratory and medical equipment, including a wide variety of chemicals.
A small library of medical journals and manuals.
A small, easily concealed dagger for personal security.


Weapons:
The previously mentioned dagger. Apart from that, likely to own only household cutlery, plus scalpels and medical scissors.

Stuff:


!!!Career

Chemist.


!!!Goals
The improvement of the healthcare of the human population of Anaxas. While his long-term goal is the foundation of an entire healthcare system, William is too much of a realist to imagine winning the fight in any other way than one small battle at a time. He also harbors small ambitions towards improvements in research.

Hi William, so sorry it's taken us so long to get back to you. Welcome to Thorns

This is a great sheet, very well-written! I particularly love this line, as I think it could serve to sum up the character's outlook on life: "In short, disease existed naturally, but dying of it was the fault of the victim." I think a brilliant chemist is exactly the sort of thing we need in this game.

You're approved! If you have any questions, let me know.