Kuro is tall, with a lean body and only light musculature, possessing cords rather than bunches of muscle. His layered clothing and small personal armory of equipment lends him a deceitfully broad appearance, but when divested of his garments his overall frame is somewhat smaller than is typical. His manner of clothing includes a dark overcoat worn over an unassuming gray cloth shirt and trousers, along with a bandoleer of small pouches slung down from his right shoulder - all worn over ringmail padded with leather, only just visible above the neckline for his shirt.

Kuro's skin is the color of wheat sullied by ash, somewhat pallid and unclean in appearance. His face is slightly gaunt and drawn, with generally rounded edges along with a thin mouth and nose. His somewhat protruded eyes are a dull and empty shade of orange, and their lids have a softer definition than normal, which serves as the only physical evidence of Kuro's distant heritage. He is clean-shaven, with his dark hair cut close to the point of either balding or faint stubble.

Ineffable Grace: More than two decades of battlefield and survival experience has gifted Kuro with a general, almost preternaturally heightened awareness of his surroundings. His vision and hearing are much sharper than average, and he has an uncanny sense that allows him to detect unseen foes and threats. Evading Kuro is difficult, catching him by surprise is a trial.

Scale Tipper: Kuro has built his career upon entirely unfair, one-sided fights stacked grossly in his own favor. Kuro uses and does whatever works, questionable ethics and honor be damned - his idea of a 'fair fight' is one where he grinds the enemy into dust effortlessly, and he goes out of his way to stack the deck in his favor with any and every sort of underhanded tactic and ploy. Anything is acceptable, in order to secure victory.

Tactical Guile: Kuro is experienced in leading soldiers and warriors into combat, making the best possible use of their skills, equipment, positioning, and maneuverability. This skill is limited to relatively small groups - Kuro is most effective when leading ambushes, guerrilla strikes, or planning for skirmishes. His competence as a commander in other realms of battle is untested.

Silent Steps: Kuro is well aware of the value of stealth upon the battlefield. He can walk and run silently, and knows how to make good use of his surroundings for concealment purposes.

Dwarven Machinations: Kuro is familiar with the construction and design of a large number of Dwarven weapons. He can clean, disassemble, reassemble, maintain, and even build nearly any kind of Dwarven mechanical weapon (or any device intended for battlefield use). This expertise does not extend to other forms of Dwarven artifice.

Kuro was born in the year 1139 shortly before the death of King Lysteria to a blacksmith who lived along the Southern borders of the Northern Empire, situated at the base of the local mountain chain. When the succession crisis arose, the small township Kuro grew up in was largely isolated from the bloodshed due to its low strategic value and unremarkable position. For the first few years of his life, Kuro led a largely carefree and peaceful existence under the lax tutelage of his father in preparation for an eventual apprenticeship in the nearby Dwarven steading, as the township and the blacksmith in particular had historically - and unusually - good relations with the population of natives.

Kuro's days of peace were not to last however. Although the township itself was of faint importance, the Dwarven Steading was attacked and raided by forces from a neighboring state, covetous of their mechanisms and devices. They seized and sacked the township afterwards as a matter of course, taking every boy old enough to be of use but young enough not to stir up trouble and forcibly conscripting them. Kuro, along with many of his peers, were brutally beaten and threatened in the process of their reeducation for a year before they were assembled into a levy attached to a skirmishing force. Forced to act as a screen for a vanguard's unsuccessful charge during an assault on a small village, Kuro was trapped beneath a slain horse and was summarily pressed into service by the victorious defenders when they discovered him. Thus did Kuro's next years and early adolescence play out, with him being traded back and forth between militias, surviving each battle due to serendipity and his quickly learning how to stay out of the worst part of every fight. Always seen as just old enough to be useful, and just young enough to be reconscripted, Kuro soon determined that eventually he would wind up in the hands of a force that would decide he was too much of a risk to keep. He stole weapons and armor from his would-be allies and fled, approaching and joining the next militia he found as a free-rider mercenary.

During Kuro's adolescence he managed to survive and make a small reputation for himself as a sell-sword, attached to militias and even large professional armies as part of their mercenary cohorts. However, he made little effort to discriminate between sides and was eventually ostracized, declared a turncoat and threatened with summary execution should he continue. Searching for a means of living, for a time he traveled with a caravan of Dwarven Merchants. During his tenure with them, he learned a great deal in regards to the mechanisms and operation of Dwarven mechanical weapons, particularly their crossbows, from which most of his familiarity with Dwarven armaments is derived. Eventually the caravan was raided by highwaymen who killed all of the merchants and most of their guards save for Kuro, who had sensed that the battle was fated to end poorly and fled after taking a moment to pilfer a pair of crossbows from the caravan.

By this time the Dwarven populaces of the North had become highly suspicious of Humans due to the frequency of attacks by independent states upon their fortress and caravans, and Kuro had difficulty finding work with any of them. Starving and desperate, he was forced to resort to banditry. For some time he operated alone along sideroads, having no compunction with killing his victims if he had to and barely managing to subsist off of the meager fare they carried. Looking for safer and more reliable means of living, he joined up with a larger group of organized highwaymen who specialized in targeting convoys and carriages along more frequented roads. At this time Kuro was exposed to a number of personalities who served as role-models and mentors of sorts, although they inevitably parted ways in time. Eventually the band was broken during a failed attack on a particularly large convoy, and the few survivors rallied around Kuro who by that time had become one of the band's senior members despite his young age.

It was at this time when Kuro became known as Blackguard Kuro, leading his small band of cutthroats in meticulously planned and carefully organized raids on watchtowers, courier outposts, inns, and stables. They made great and effective use of traps such as pitfalls and weighted nets, along with fire. For a time, the fractuous state of the Northern lands allowed Kuro and his band to operate with near impunity, as no local force was both organized and swift enough to chase down and corner his group before they had fled to some other state with their spoils. However, the year was 164, and King Jaython of Arden had just begun to reunite the shattered Northern lands. Kuro started to have to deal with increased vigilance, and more thorough manhunts - with retreat to neighboring states not part of the expanding influence of the Ironmount Throne becoming increasingly difficult. Eventually, Kuro even had to begin to deal with a group of particularly relentless questors who had been tasked to specifically hunt him and his band of cutthroats down and eliminate them. For years, Kuro managed to slip through their fingers - until one night in 1167 when they managed to catch up. In a surprise attack, they slaughtered Kuro's band, with him barely escaping alive and fleeing South, to the lands of Lord Starly.

Kuro joined with the Company of Wolves then, due largely to an interest to escape the pursuit of the questors as well as a new and convenient means of surviving. As a professional mercenary organization with few scruples, his ostracism from the forces of the Northern Realms proved to be no obstacle to his enlistment. The squad he joined moved far too quickly for the questors, and his years of service precluded any further criminal activities on his part (at least, no criminal activities not sanctioned by Lord Starly). Eventually, the questors dropped their pursuit, assuming that the notorious Blackguard Kuro would no longer be plaguing the southern outposts of the Northern Lands - Kuro, for his part, has no apparent ambitions either within or without the company and is seemingly content to serve.

Kuro is, in a word, pragmatic. Forced for more than two decades to resort to any means necessary just to subsist, his morality is most generously described as flexible and his methods most politely described as broad. Kuro is a man who will do anything -absolutely anything- just to survive and, by extension, to secure victory.

A stoic man by nature, he is economical and succinct in all things. Blunt and to the point, he will only ever say precisely what he means to say. He can and will deceive others, but he will not spare their feelings or sensibilities in the process. Highly goal and work oriented, Kuro has very little patience for idle words and behavior.

Despite his brevity and seeming lack of social grace, Kuro has a deeply integral sense of camaraderie with those he knows, at least up to a point. If he thinks that a life can be saved by sacrificing his own, he will do so - but also, notably, ONLY if he also thinks the life he saves can then lead his side to victory. Kuro will abandon his allies without any remorse if he thinks their battle is a lost cause or that their death is imminent in either case. It would be most accurate to say he is deeply sympathetic to soldiers of fortune and mercenaries, whose troubles and hardships he is intimately familiar with.

Kuro, as described previously, is economical - and efficient. He has learned many lessons from his decades of experiences. Never tolerate standoffs. Never draw a weapon without intent. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Trust but verify. Avoid battles you have no stake in. Never do anything for free. He ascribes to these lessons almost religiously, and expects everyone else to do so as well, becoming extremely irritated and even angry if they should behave in a contrary - and to him, idiotic - fashion. He has maimed people in the past simply for drawing their swords in order to show off, by way of example.

This further manifests in his professional decorum and behavior. Kuro is highly methodical, meticulous, and thorough, taking great pains to plan ahead for what he can. He follows through on his promises (when possible), always investigates possible leads, prepares in advance for all eventualities, and never assumes anything he does not known to be true.

Kuro is distrustful of both religion and magic, the former reminding him too much of his experiences as a child soldier and the latter striking him as too unreliable on the battlefield. He has a deep respect for the craftswork of Dwarves.

Tribal Mountebank: One of the more violent cutthroats that Kuro had a brief association with during his days as a highwayman. Later joined The Company of Wolves around the same time as Kuro, and is one of the infamous few to have been expelled from their ranks due to his unacceptable behavior.

Andromache: A Northern Warlord of an independent state in the North whom he served under in the capacity of a mercenary for a time. Although their association was brief, Kuro learned a great deal from Andromache just by watching her, and still partly idolizes her to this day.

Chalarensis: A powerful spellcaster, and the leader of the Highway gang that Kuro joined as a man. Served as a mentor figure to Kuro for several years before the battle that led to the group disbanding. Currently presumed dead.

To Be Added.

Odran wears plate armor on his arms and legs, as well as a thick brigandine over chainmail on his torso, covered with a deep blue tabard bearing the running direwolf of the Company on its chest.

Triala knows she'll never have the luxury of blending in with the crowd. Her lackluster control over her magical abilities, long ears, and blood red hair make it impossible for the she-elf to hide effectively. In fact, ancient elven legends claim those born with red hair are beloved by Angharad the Crimson King, the wrathful deity of flame, blacksmiths, and courage. They are supposedly harbingers of war, and many elves believe these blessed souls possess unusual talents. Unfortunately for Triala, this last part of the legends is true. A few weeks after her sixtieth name day, the elven girl destroyed the estate of her master, High Lord Ulster Howe, with a barely controlled eruption of pyromancy. Thanks to her emotional state at the time and limited experience with the Will, Triala also managed to set the right side of her face on fire. The teal flames ravaged the elf's visage for several seconds before she quelled them.

Now, almost fifteen years later, the right side of Triala's face is a mass of hideous scar tissue with a single, cat-like eye hiding amidst the pink flesh. While many people cannot see past this horrific injury, those with stronger stomachs might be able to catch a glimpse of how lovely the she-elf once was. While Triala was never the prettiest girl in the Realms, her heart-shaped face, amber eyes, and prominent cheekbones still radiate the otherworldly beauty found in all elves. Thankfully, Triala's red hair has finally grown long enough that she can use it to conceal her disfigurement. The elf also has a button-like nose surrounded by freckles, which are quite visible thanks to her pale skin.

Due to spending most of her life as a maidservant, Triala's 5'7" frame is soft and lacks the toughness of the average Company of the Wolf footsoldier. She has narrow, bowed shoulders that encourage slouching and moderately toned arms, a testament to many hours spent washing the floors of the Howe Estate. Triala's slender hands are delicate, almost fragile-looking, and she's missing the smallest finger on her right hand. An ample bust, prominent beer belly, and wide hips give the elven woman a buxom, if unhealthy-looking, figure. Triala isn't the most physically capable or agile member of the Company, but she doesn't mind her luscious curves. They've actually helped her on more than a few occasions. Long legs and dainty feet complete the picture of a woman who wouldn't look out of place in an alehouse or brothel.

Thankfully, she found the Company of the Wolf first.

As far as her attire is concerned, Triala's race and abilities make it prudent to dress as conservatively as possible. In truth, she would rather be ignored than draw unnecessary attention to herself. The elf normally wears long-sleeved tunics made of linen or, if she wants to impress somebody, silk dyed in shades of green or brown. Occasionally, she'll wear a frayed leather jerkin over her tunic, though this mostly serves as an additional layer of protection during battle. The elf's lower half is normally shrouded in calfskin leggings and boots dyed black. Triala is also rarely seen without her oilcloth wineskin, knapsack, and quarterstaff.

Every now and again, usually when the Captain or one of her senior officers deems it necessary, Triala will don a ridiculous blue robe of crushed velvet with the constellations stitched on it in silver thread. This garment, which was "liberated" from a terrified mummer's troupe after the First Battle for Redstone Village, also has a staggering amount of golden scrollwork along the edges. Triala refers to this as her "magicky outfit." It makes her look like a sorceress from a children's story.

Quiet. Obnoxious. Distant. Compassionate. Triala Veclis is an elf of contradictions, and she sees little point in trying to change. She is who she is. For example, the red-haired mage can be warm, amusing, and attentive around people she knows and cares about. Especially if those people happen to be elves or dwarves, though some humans have managed to wriggle their way into Triala's heart. Osric "The Mad Mage" Weaver knows he can always confide in his apprentice, because she wouldn't dream of betraying the trust of the few Company members she considers friends. This small circle of individuals has become a family of sorts to the young elf, and she'd do almost anything for them. On the other hand, newcomers and strangers often find Triala to be uncaring, cold, and outright rude. And she certainly can be at times.

Several unfortunate events during Triala's childhood in the Howe family's mansion fostered a burning hatred and resentment towards mankind within her that persists to this day. Thankfully, as she's matured and grown older, the she-elf has started to realize the merits of letting someone's actions speak for them. After all, Triala knows she undoubtedly killed innocent people when she unleashed her pyromantic gifts and destroyed the Howe Estate. She still feels incredibly guilty about this incident and has worked diligently to master her mystical talents ever since. Triala knows there's more to her than just this single, appalling tragedy.

Nevertheless, the mage rarely goes out of her way to treat a human with anything approaching common decency. Unless she has no choice or the individual in question might prove useful.

At any rate, the past lays heavily on Triala's shoulders, and she often lapses into grim, miserable silences. She can usually bring herself out of these moods by drinking or spending coin on finery, but these remedies don't always work. The elf's amber eyes are constantly drawn to the south as if she's hoping to see her mother. Obviously, displaying this kind of behavior in a company of mercenaries would make Triala an easy target for mockery and derision. So, the elf compensates by drowning herself in alcohol, making jokes, and cursing like a sailor on shore-leave. Whenever she's given an assignment, however, all unproductive and inefficient behavior ceases immediately. Her task consumes her, and she throws herself into her work with an alarming intensity. Triala also has a tendency to become furious and upset whenever someone deviates from the orders they've been given. The she-elf is determined but decidedly inflexible. Strict adherence to her superiors' commands provides comfort in the crucible of war, but the mere thought of improvisation is enough to send Triala into a screaming fit.

In the end, much of Triala's behavior is a facade to hide countless deep-rooted insecurities. She is incredibly sensitive about her burned face, and mentioning it usually results in someone getting hurt. Triala is also an adolescent on the brink of adulthood, and she has no idea what her future holds. The Company of the Wolf gives her life meaning for the time being, and it may even grant her the resources she needs to rescue her mother from High Lord Howe. Beyond that, however, the young elven woman acts competent and crass in hopes of disguising how uncertain she is about her purpose.

Triala Veclis was born in the warm spring of 1097 IC to Selune Veclis-Arathan, an elven serving woman working for the Howes of Estermont. The Kingdom of Estermont is a small southern nation, and it was enjoying an unprecedented period of prosperity at the time. And the Howe family was largely responsible for this golden age. By swearing oaths of fealty to the fledgling Vorstagian Empire in his youth, High Lord Wilcott Howe guaranteed his family and territory would be protected in the event of a major conflict. Why try to fight the Empire when the idea of a unified Continent under Vorstagian rule was so much more appealing?

Unfortunately for Triala and her mother, they were elves. This prosperous time didn't affect them much. While the high lord and his wife were unusually kind to their servants, the majority of the elves' time was spent cooking, cleaning the estate, and tending to the needs of their masters. Since both of them were household servants, Selune was permitted to teach her daughter how to read and write, though Triala never fully grasped these vital skills. Even now she often needs Osric to help her with more complicated words and documents.

Day after day passed in a pleasant, if somewhat tedious, haze for the young elf as she learned her place in the Howe Estate. How much clover honey does the high lord take in his tea? Can you fetch High Lady Catriona's red silk gown from her boudoir? When was the last time you and the other servants cleaned out the stables? These were the questions Triala's life revolved around, though she did manage to find time to enjoy herself. The Howe family's stable master, a handsome elf named Ingmir Shadras, insisted on teaching Triala how to ride a horse, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover she was a natural. No matter how often her mother scolded her for coming into the house reeking of horses, the fiery-haired child always found her way back outside for another lesson with Ingmir.

Everything in Triala's life was predictable, an endless list of chores and tasks, until the winter of 1137 IC. There were troubling whispers concerning King Lysteria's health coming from the north, and imperial emissaries were being sent throughout the southlands to affirm the loyalty of the Vorstagian Empire's vassals. The forty-year old Triala, along with several other elven attendants, were ordered to prepare and serve a sumptuous dinner to the high lord and his important guests. Unfortunately, something went wrong almost immediately. One of the younger elves emerged from the kitchen too early with the first course, which consisted of stuffed eggs and beryl prawns, and the rest of the servants were forced to do the same. Presentation was everything in the house of the High Lord of Estermont. After the youth in question was chastised back in the kitchen, an older elf named Myranda Tavellan suggested it might be wise to serve the suckling pig immediately. If they waited too long then the high lord would punish them for making his guests wait. Of course, if they didn't let the initial course settle for awhile then nobody would touch the suckling pig. The argument grew increasingly heated until, in a fit of anger, Triala somehow caused Myranda's wispy gray hair to catch fire. The flames were the color of a cloudless summer sky.

Luckily for Triala, Myranda was a mage of some skill, and she discretely used her own gifts to quell the hungry flames. Humorously, the time the elves spent bickering and trying not to scream when Myranda's hair started burning meant the imperial emissaries were practically drooling when the suckling pig came out. The dinner was a huge success, but this night would be a turning point for Triala. Myranda, after promising the shaken girl all was well, brought the young elf to her mother and took Selune into the next room. The two elves discussed what had transpired in the kitchen for several hours until they reached a decision. Starting the next evening, Myranda would begin teaching Triala about the Will. Both Selune and Myranda knew if the elven child's abilities were discovered she'd be sent to the human-dominated Mysterium Lodge in southern Estermont. The lodge had a well-deserved reputation as a haven for greedy, racist, and incompetent mages with little understanding of their abilities.

To avoid this fate, Myranda began taking Triala with her during her nightly excursions into the nearby Wrenlock Forest. Once they were safely hidden beneath the shadowy boughs, the older elf would instruct her new pupil in the ways of the Will, the otherworldly force that allowed mages to cast spells and perform miracles. Unfortunately, Myranda's talent revolved around the manipulation of plants while Triala felt more of a kinship with fire. There was only so much the withered elven woman could teach her young friend, though most of her lessons were about control as opposed to actual use of the Will. The two grew close over the years, and Myranda became something of a grandmother to Triala. Selune was immensely relieved. She'd already lost her husband, and the thought of losing her daughter was too much to bear. Still, if Myranda could hide her own mystical powers for so long then surely she could teach Triala to do the same. Everything would be fine.

In 1152 IC, everything changed as the Wars in the South ended and the Empire claimed the southern kingdoms once and for all.

Estermont didn't contribute many soldiers to the conflict, but High Lord Wilcott ensured the Vorstagian forces never wanted for essential supplies. In addition, he sent a small cadre of household guards led by his twenty-year old son, Ulster Howe, to support his imperial allies during the war. Ulster had always been a quiet, unassuming boy, but his first taste of combat twisted him in ways his father couldn't have foreseen. When he returned home, the youth had transformed into a man of violence, anger, and disrespect for anyone he considered beneath him. Regrettably, this included his father, who'd taken ill earlier that same year and was now bed-ridden. None of the healers or priests High Lady Catriona summoned could cure whatever ailed her husband. Many of them feared it was the dreaded damp lung, an illness that slowly but surely asphyxiated its victims.

After a valiant struggle, High Lord Wilcott Howe died of the damp lung in the fall of 1152 IC, and Ulster was declared the new High Lord of Estermont. His mother would act as his advisor and confidante until her death. This signaled a major shift in the way the Howe Estate was ruled. Suddenly, elves were beaten for the slightest mistakes and treated like animals by their once benevolent masters. Men they worked beside everyday were suddenly free to rape and despoil them. Filled with sorrow over her husband's death and repulsed by what her son had become, High Lady Catriona Howe-Maddox passed away during the dismal winter of 1153. Without his mother to curb his savage impulses, Ulster Howe earned the nickname "The Grim," and his reputation as a cruel, drunken monster spread throughout the kingdom.

Only his devotion to the Vorstagian Empire kept him from being usurped or replaced as High Lord of Estermont by the other nobles in the kingdom.

The situation worsened in 1154 when the high lord decided to take an evening walk through the Howe Estate's renowned rose gardens. During his stroll, Ulster spotted Myranda and Triala running off into the Wrenlock Forest to continue practicing with the Will. He sent several guards to bring the elves before him, thinking they were trying to run away, but his soldiers brought back dire news. The older elf had been showing her youthful companion some magical cantrip or spell. Horrified and enraged, the high lord sent Myranda to the Mysterium Lodge the next day and beat Triala senseless for keeping this secret from him. He demanded to know if she also possessed the gift of magic. Through tears and a broken nose, the red-haired elven girl swore she didn't, and the inebriated nobleman decided to let her remain at the estate. After all, he was having sex with her mother on an almost nightly basis. The last thing he wanted was for his favorite elven doxy to start blubbering because he'd banished her daughter.

With Myranda gone and her mother known throughout the kingdom as the "high lord's whore," Triala began to feel trapped in the Howe Estate. She marveled at how many opportunities she'd had with Myranda to simply escape into the Wrenlock Forest. Of course, she hadn't because the older elf wouldn't have been able to keep up, and the idea of leaving her mother behind was repugnant. The resentment and fear she felt towards High Lord Howe came to a head in 1157 when Ingmir, Triala's friend and tutor in the art of horseback riding, approached his master and told him the truth. Triala did, in fact, have the Will.

Furious and drunk on several bottles of Vorstagian wine, the aristocrat ordered his guards to bring Triala to the kitchen while he fetched Selune. When everyone was gathered in the larder, the High Lord of Estermont began beating Selune with a truncheon while shouting at Triala for being a "pointy-eared monster" and a "lying, thieving elven mageling!" Horrified and barely in control of herself, Triala let loose. Everything Myranda had taught her about taming the Will vanished in an instant.

The resulting explosion of pyromantic magic engulfed the kitchen and nearly killed the young elf. Only the presence of several torches in the room allowed Triala to survive this expenditure of energy. She did, however, set the right side of her face ablaze. Screaming in pain and barely cognizant, the elven girl fled through one of the side doors and raced towards the forest where she'd once practiced magic with Myranda. She only looked back once and saw the high lord, with her mother in tow, sending a dozen guards after her while the rest struggled to put out the flames. Triala quelled the blaze scalding her face and ran until her legs gave out.

Weeping in pain and terror, the elven mage decided her only chance to avoid recapture was to leave the kingdom. Perhaps she could head north? There was a village called Last Hope a few days south of the border between Estermont and the neighboring kingdom of Cygnar. It seemed like as good a destination as any.

Triala barely survived the long journey northwards, but she finally reached Last Hope after nearly two weeks of walking and living off the land as best she could. Outside of the ramshackle settlement, the she-elf saw a standard that would forever after fill her with hope: a simple black flag with a running dire wolf on it. The Company of the Wolf was looking for recruits in the area since there were rumors of a new war starting in the north. In light of her desperate circumstances, Triala knew she had nothing to lose by joining, but she kept seeing the horrified and disgusted expressions of the villagers around her. Her scarred face was too revolting. Who would be willing to tolerate an elf with no combat experience and a visage only a mother could love?

The trembling she-elf turned to walk away...only to collide with an older member of the Company, Osric "The Mad Mage" Weaver. The man immediately sensed this dirty creature's connection to the Will, and he told her she wasn't going anywhere. Triala was too weak to fight back. He dragged her over to the recruiter and helped her sign her name. The gaunt spellcaster promptly declared that she would be his greatest student ever. She would be the one "The Mad Mage" would share all his secrets with. The recruiting officer simply rolled his eyes and told Osric to take his pet to the Company's encampment to await orders from the Captain. The mage complied and, with a hearty chuckle, led his new student into a life that would reshape her both literally and metaphorically. The next fifteen years were some of the best of Triala's life. Her new teacher taught her to use her gift in ways Triala hadn't thought possible, and he even bought her a quarterstaff and dagger. Occasionally, he'd try to teach her how to fight with them, though the spellcaster wasn't particularly good at it.

"You can never know too many ways to kill a man," Osric always said. Triala took him at his word. And it was a good thing she did, because war once again threatened the Continent.

The Wars in the North began in the year 1162, and the Company of the Wolf fought for whatever side was willing to pay them the most coin. Gold flowed like a lustrous, clinking river into and out of their purses as they prospered from the chaos engulfing the land. For the first time in her life, Triala knew what it was like to have money of her own to spend. And spend she did. When she wasn't buying clothes or alcohol, the elven woman bought the most expensive meals she could afford and even purchased an old Vorstagian Charger from a horse merchant after the Battle of the Celebron Fields. The scrawny, starving wretch Osric found on the streets of Last Hope blossomed and grew into a plump, money-hungry elf with a taste for the finer things in life. She eventually became Osric's new apprentice, and "The Mad Mage" couldn't have been more delighted.

This doesn't mean Triala forgot about her mother and her old master, the High Lord of Estermont. Even during the Company's time serving Lord Van of Starly, she kept one ear to the ground in hopes of hearing what was happening in Estermont. She finally learned that the Howe Estate had been completely lost to the flames, and the high lord paid a ridiculous sum of gold to have dwarven masons rebuild it. The elf was happy to hear it. Now, she could move forward with her plans. Shortly after being recruited, Triala reached the conclusion that she could save up enough coin to hire the Company of the Wolf to help her exact revenge on Ulster Howe. Maybe she could rescue her mother as well. If she was still alive.

Now that she was earning a decent wage and knew the Howe Estate had been reconstructed, this notion began to nag at the elf more and more. In 1168 IC, the seventy one year old mage decided to commit herself fully to this course of action. Triala has squirreled away nearly two hundred golden pieces thus far, though she knows she still has a long way to go. Sacking a nobleman's mansion isn't a cheap or easy task. In 1172 IC, however, Lord Van's kingdom fell to the Vorstagian Empire. It was during that final, awful battle that Triala lost her pinky finger. The Company of the Wolf was forced to surrender to the Empire.

Now, the Company has been ordered to report to the Imperial City for an audience with the emperor. In spite of her missing finger, Triala's mastery over her pyromancy has improved substantially, and she's survived five major battles alongside her fellow mercenaries. Yet the she-elf is deeply concerned about returning to the southlands. For now, she's content with keeping quiet and staying close to Osric. If worse comes to worse, Triala intends to abandon the Company at the first sign of danger. There are plenty of other mercenary companies who'd be willing to help her achieve her goals. Besides, it's hard to rescue anyone if you're dead.

Colette was born in a small home to two very loving parents. Valeria didn't know if she would ever be able to conceive a child, but years of trying with her husband finally ended when the little bundle came into the world.

Shortly after, Valeria's husband, Colette's father, passed away. Unsure how to make ends meet and what she would do to care for her new child, Valeria had no choice but to work as a maid/healer to the Alberts family: a wealthy, connected human family known for going through servants with little reluctance.

Valeria cared for Colette as she tended to the Alberts family, which included the old crone Beatrice and her constant need to humiliate Valeria any chance she got. Beatrice made the mistake of saying Colette was an unfortunate accident and Valeria lashed out, striking the woman. Cartwirght, Beatrice's son, took matters into his own hands and punished Valeria with an hour long beating, leaving the elf woman in a crumpled mass. Even with her own healing magics, it took weeks before Valeria could return to work. However, due to her transgressions, a new stipulation arose in her contract with them. Colette had to be put to work too.

Colette started work at the age of 5, doing basic household chores. With her mother's temper, Colette tried, unsuccessfully, to go against her masters, but Valeria warned her about the troubles that would cause. Keeping silent, Colette worked to the bone for many years.

At the age of 13, Colette grew into a young, beautiful elf girl and Cartwright, at age 16, wanted Colette for himself. Valeria begged him not to, promising a vast amount of favors, making excuses, and even working without any pay in order to be sure her daughter wouldn't be sullied that way. Cartwright, eventually, grew tired of it and decided to take Colette anyway. Valeria fought back, lashing out again against her masters. Cartwirght, finally sick of the woman's audacity to fight against her bosses, took his dagger and plunged it into her heart. Colette watched her mother's life edge out of her.

Colette had no choice but to stay with the Alberts family, having nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. Cartwright wanted little to do with her anymore, but kept her as a message to his other servants what would happen if you crossed him or his family. Years went by until Colette had the courage to fight back. At 18, she palmed a knife and went into Cartwright's bedroom to end him. Cartwright didn't go down without a fight and the two fought. Cartwright ended up losing the fight and before Colette could plunge the knife into his heart, he uttered the words "Go on. End me. You elves are all alike. You and your pathetic mother. Cold-hearted. Blood-thirsty. Demons, all of you. You are no better than common criminals. Filth! Go on, do what you've dreamed of doing for years."

The realization set in. Colette knew she wanted to get back at the man who killed her mother, but not in this way. Instead, Colette fled into the night.

She stayed many nights on the street with no roof, until she met Daniel, who gave her a bed. Daniel, an elf like her, ran the streets as a thief, but only targeted people who deserved it and he never killed. Cartwright's message echoed in her head as she decided to run with Daniel. It was then she learned how to remain unseen and how to use a bow.

Years went by as she worked with Daniel. Daniel, knowing what had happened to Colette, sought a way for her to become better than him. Better than she was. It was then he heard about recruiting for the army and urged her to sign on.

Colette took some persuading, but eventually she came around and signed up. Having only been in the military a month, she aims to show what she can do.

She still seeks Cartwright's blood. That goal will never change, but she wants to prove she can become a better person. Punish him for his crimes against her and everyone else, and see that he is treated like the monster he is.