Name: Ysolde Westerlyn
Personality: Ambitious, studious, quick-tempered, bitter
Appearance: Ysolde has always been a young woman of a very unassuming appearance. A life spent indoors has resulted in her being rather pale, though her skin takes to tanning quite well when she's able to go outside. Her hair is dark brown and usually pulled back into a loose braid falling just past her shoulder blades. Though used to have light brown eyes, one of several physical changes as a result of her deal with the demon was her left eye turning an almost golden shade of yellow. The other main change was the series of runic tattoos running up and down her arms and legs. Though tall for a woman, standing at just under five foot eleven, she's on the slimmer side in build and generally rather unimposing. A cursory look at her would bring to mind a librarian or a scholar, not the powerful mage she has become.
Biography:
Ysolde was the youngest daughter of the Baron of Westerlyn, a relatively small, coastal barony known for the fish it exports. She had three older brothers, two older sisters and, eventually, a younger brother. Needless to say, her house was always a busy one. Her parents were loving, but distant, and Ysolde was often left to her own devices. As soon as she was old enough, she'd spend as much of her free time at the beach that was just a few minutes away from their family's keep. A few times a week she'd have lessons with her siblings, but she was generally considered unimportant enough that it didn't matter if she missed a few so that those children who were likely to be heirs could get more attention.

At the age of six, a travelling mage had come to their home to escape a bad storm. Her parents naturally offered him the best guest rooms they had; few places in the kingdom would offer any less to a mage. He ended up boarding with them for nearly a week. During that time, he took an interest in Ysolde, who was just happy to be the center of someone's attention for once. She showed him her books and favorite places, her talent with the lute and, eventually, her imaginary best friend. He was invisible to the eyes of everyone else, of course; the mage, however, saw him clear as day. She'd befriended a harmless ocean spirit, a type that was generally invisible to normal humans. Her magical talent revealed, he explained to her parents that he had no choice but to bring him back to the tower with him.

She only saw that man again a small handful of times, due to the nature of his business generally keeping him away from the tower. She started sleeping in a bunk room with some nineteen other girls near her in age. She attending magical theory lessons, and regular lessons like history.and math. Types like the latter two, she excelled at. The former, not so much. At that point she was a thin, shy girl with two long, easily pulled braids and large round glasses she couldn't see without. She was a natural target for bullying. It never got too bad, thanks to the intervention of instructors, but it was enough to make her first real friend seem like a godsend.

She adored him. She watched with a wide-eyed fascination when he completed spells far past those meant for their age group, was always full of earnest praise when he aced tests. She placed herself behind him when talking to strangers or people who made her uncomfortable, and cried to him when her family took too long in writing or when she felt incompetent in spell-casting. It was her secret aspiration to become strong enough to protect him one day, as she felt protected by him. She was motivated by a desire to keep up with him, that they could one day see the outside world that they so dreamed about, together.

Fate had something else in mind for the both of them, however. He only got farther ahead of their class, and she only fell further behind. She missed him and so often felt abandoned. That abandonment melded with her feelings of inadequacy and frustrations with herself, eventually turning to bitterness and anger. Much of it she pinned on him, because he was an easy person to blame despite not being a fault. She went from wanting to keep up with him to surpass him. All of the other mages as well, but mostly him. Her ambition and her dark feelings made it easy to turn towards darker forms of magic. When she found a way to finally make it outside and away from the circle, she hesitated only for a moment before charging towards freedom.

Hue, almost didn't notice this, until I stalked your profile. XD

---

Name: Briar Thorn-of-the-Shield Melzaneir
Personality: Self-loathing, Arrogant, Stubborn, Level-Headed
Appearance: Briar Thorn-of-the-Shield Melzaneir is, compared to most of his ethnicity, a runt of a young man, standing at an unimposing height of 5'6, with a build that, at first glance, appears to be slender. He has blond hair cropped roughly at jaw-length, something that he constantly cares for with a fine-tooth brush, as there is no greater annoyance that unkempt, lice-infected hair when one was travelling. His bright blue eyes and babyish face gives him the appearance of an innocent, naive boy, but his profession as a Mage in the Queen's Service has allowed him to see much of what others have not, and when Briar is on the job, his eyes harden and his features sharpen, becoming an angel of judgement. His build is deceptively slender, trained in the manner of every other member of the Melzaneir family: to be as strong and light as possible, so that none shall escape, regardless of whether they were on foot or on horseback. His warrior lineage is confirmed quite easily when he dons his battle armour, heavy plate armor that's tarnished in the same hue as the golden plains of his homeland, and outfitted with spikes on the shoulders and forearms, to ensure that even when he was unarmed, he was dangerous.

And as a mage whose speciality lies in the manipulation of the earth, such armour becomes a potent medium for his many spells.

Biography: The western Caldiran plains had always served as the homes of nomadic warriors, those who followed the herds and fought amongst each other for the sheer fun of it. They were a wild race, gifted in the art of war, born in the heat of the forge and baptized in the blood of their foes. A battle was not the last method in which a problem could be solved, but the first. Duels were enjoyed, meant to be displays of skill, speed, and strength, not just a match in which the objective was to kill another. Riding on the backs of wild stallions and mares, they roamed those plains for centuries, unbothered by the rest of the world.

Prominent amongst them were the Clan Melzaneir, renowned as noble lancers and skilled blacksmiths, led by the man who bore the title of 'The-Thunder-Before-The-Storm'. A man of great strength and even greater size, he wielded a halberd that most would consider that of a giant's, believed to have decapitated dragons in a single stroke of his blade. The husband to three wives, he sired four children, three boys and one girl. Yet, while three of them showed a talent of the traditional art of war, the fourth, the youngest son, was but a runt. He was small, even for those younger than him, and while he showed determination, that was the extent of his ability. The boy, Briar, tried as hard as his siblings, but where they succeeded, he failed.

His father, needless to say, was disappointed, yet there were more pressing concerns. On the third year of Briar's life, negotiations had started the Queendom to the East, who wished to establish a trade route through the Caldiran plains to the empires that were farther west. Such a project, undoubtedly, would disrupt the migration patterns of the animals they hunted for subsistence. As the representative voice of the entirety of the plains, he had to strike a beneficial deal with them, and thus, The-Thunder-Before-The-Storm had little time to be spent at home, helping the runt of the family. So Briar spent a fair chunk of his childhood doing his best, but only getting rewarded for effort, not achievements. Of course, he didn't understand things like that as a child, only that it never really felt like he was 'winning'.

It was when he was five years old, after the people of the Caldiran plains were properly recognized as a nation and an ally of the Eastern Queendom, that Briar's own talent was discovered, one that hadn't graced the Caldiran plains for decades. Whilst on a hunt for a wounded baby elephant, separated from its herd, Briar and his brothers found that they weren't the only ones searching for easy meat. A dire wolf, one battle-scarred and bloodthirsty, happened upon the wounded beast as well, and found that its prey had attracted three more towards it. Without even a snarl, it launched itself at the trio, and in a moment of clarity, Briar raised his spear...and the beast was impaled by the earth itself.

Word spread fast amongst those in the Caldiran plains, regarding that of the youngest son of The-Thunder-Before-The-Storm, the boy who held dominion over the earth. Naturally, the Queendom was also interested, and after more negotiations, including a redone deal over how the profits from the trade route were to be split, Briar was finally sent to the tower, in order to hone his unique gift and bring glory to the Clan Melzaneir. Back then, he was still too young to really understand the circumstances behind why he was sent away from his family. All he remembered was that his sister was really angry, and his brothers were treating him really nicely during the day before he started travelling towards the tower.

He was eight when he came into the tower, surrounded by other kids, who, for once, seemed physically weaker than himself. It was the first time that he allowed himself to feel a little bit of happiness, outrunning another boy during break. His magical theory classes, too, were grounds for competition, and he found that he could exceed in his studies by focusing, trying, and being hard on himself. He would consider himself trash when he studied, but would exude an aura of effortless skill when he showed his development the day after. It was a bipolar state between arrogance and humility, but Briar maintained that strict regime. He was ultimately an outsider, and his only friend was one that he sought to become an older brother to, even though he was shorter than her, and most definitely a few months younger than her. He strived to become a good role model, forcing himself to be confident and decisive in hopes that she could follow in his path.

Yet while he succeeded, she failed, and before he knew it, the fruits of Briar's labor ended up with him leaving the tower long before any other mage ever had. At 15, he came home, a wiser, stronger person that he was. He was greeted by his family, given his coming-of-age suit of armor, introduced to the steed he once rode as a child, and finally, after a rite-of-passage against his father, bestowed his own title.

Thorn-of-the-Shield.

He was happy, and after that happiness ended, he was busy. The letters he sent back to his friend slowed in frequency, decreased in length. His encounters with other young mages, and the sheer amount of freedom he enjoyed had caused him to almost forget about the kind of person Ysolde was. And even after that, he had justified his actions by thinking that being forced to stand on her own two feet would be good character-development for the timid girl.

Then, one day, in what he considered to be a particularly sadistic order from the Queen, he was tasked to hunt down Ysolde, who had dabbled into dark magics and escaped from the tower, with demons in her wake.

Yeah, I was going to give you the link when I finished the IC post, which I'm still working on right now. :P

Well, sorry for ruining your surprise. XD

Haha, don't worry about it! :P

Well, there it is! I left it open for you to have him confront her in town, if you so wish, or for him to wait once she's passed through. I

Hope it's coherent. Basically, he's arrived during the morning, after guessing that she'd go to Mansford.

You can have her pass by/notice him. The choice is yours...and I even gave you two abandoned buildings to destroy~

Hmm, well, to be honest, if she noticed him she wouldn't initiate combat. Unless she knew that he saw her, she'd still focus on getting as far away as possible. :P

So, I suppose I'll try to figure out how to stretch her walking by into a decent sized post! Haha.