Name;
Arwan Sverrir

Age;
26

Appearance;
Short hair, brown in color, short and tattered as if cut with a blade in a hurry instead of letting someone with skill to complete the style, slender features and a lithe build only added to the woman’s intimidating look. Sharp green eyes peer out from under a dirty hood, their piercing gaze always searching and always seeing through their target. The worn hood, matching the rest of the outfit, crafted out of hard leather a dark brown easily able to blend in with both the desert and the few furloughs of trees that remained, a simple tattered cape fluttering down to the middle of her back. The rest of the outfit scantily cover her, an overly exposed mid section, both her chest and stomach open to the elements. The top tailored into a jacket of sorts, fastening at her midriff and splitting back open to fall down past her thighs.

Sculpted pads layered to add width to her shoulders run down into completed gauntlets, offering protections for the length of her arms. Long studded boots snake up enveloping her legs eagerly racing up to meet the ends of her top. Multiple buckles and straps cross over the leather, binding and pulling it to warp against her build. As alluring as the outfit comes across, its tightness allows her to move with ease and with little restriction of bulky armor and ill-fitting clothes. A tattoo splayed across her back marks both her guild and her family, black wings with a bow and spear crossing over them. The outfit belong to her mother, and when the time comes she will pass it and her weapons on to her child should she be blessed with one.

Personality:
For someone that has a lot of honor and pride in her history, Arwan could be called a sellout. Growing up poor instilled a desire for money deep within the woman. If there’s enough money involved then she’s more than happy to offer her services. Charming and quick witted, she often found enjoying a glass of beer or ale with the rest of the guild comparing stories and scores. If a challenge comes along with money than she’s even happier to help, often finding ways to complete the request in the simplest and quickest manner which happens to place her in precarious situations.

This desire for a challenge can make her quite stubborn at times, and her unwillingness to take on any request that doesn’t have a monetary gain, callously turning away those that approach her only offering their heartfelt thanks and gratitude. Some whisper behind her back, saying that her cruelness and avaricious are family traits and that she doesn’t care about the city just what she can gain from it. She’s been known to punch anyone that speaks ill of her family, vehemently defensive of those that she considers close and cares for.

Biography;
Awran grew up poor, what little money her father brought in from taking on request and going out hunting was barely enough for their small family to get by on. Her father had a soft spot, and often took on jobs that had little payout but the small girl was attentive enough to notice that the rest of his friends lived well off and had plenty to spare. It was then that she started to focus on wealth, taking up odd jobs running letters and errands for shop owners hording her money away in a tin can under her bed. She didn’t know what she was saving up for, but she knew she wouldn’t spend her entire life living in a small shack on the verge of collapsing.

The years went on like this, the only difference in their daily routine was a small black cub running around in between the small girl’s legs. Her mother had found the small mewling ball of fluff wandering close to the gate eagerly looking for food. At first she resent the creature, seeing nothing but another mouth to feed but she soon found a fast friend; when she was old enough to enter training to become a Hunter like her father she choose a different track focusing on taming instead of learning to slay beast. She became absorbed in her studies often running home to eagerly practice her lessons on Fahd, much to his disdain. He would rather run and chase the small girl around the house and plaza earning treats and praises for his behaviour. As she became more deft with her hands, she continued to help out shop owners fixing things they weren’t able to reach learning how to fix and craft small things.

Her early mornings soon consisted of pedaling small trinkets and half assembled traps, trying to add to her small meager fortune. For years she kept at it, getting better and better at trap making even picking up more lessons from her trainers to further her skills, the small cub she grew up with was growing just as fast and soon stood even with her chest. Though the proud beast would often throw her every times she attempted to ride him, making a game of it, seeing how long she could hold on before he deftly rolling her off playfully pouncing on her cleaning her face with happy purrs.

While her childhood was lacking in material things, it was relatively content.

The poor living conditions she grew up in soon started to affect her mother's health, and the money her father did manage to scavenge up was only enough to feed them and pay for her lessons. It got to the point that she had to give up her small collection to pay for medicine, and while she did so willingly she still resented the fact that she was reduced to having no money once more. She finished her training around the same time Fahd reached his full growth and started to manifest mutations, at first it startled her making her skeptical of her friend but with a little explaining and teaching from her mother on caring for him any reservations she had soon melted away. It was one her first request that he ended up saving her from a Silversnake, the poison on his fangs and tail far more lethal than the adolescent snake. She was able to sell it’s pelt and poison for good money, which she turned around and used to get the family crest embedded into her skin.

When she turned twenty her mother passed on her outfit and weapons, a symbol that she had passed from being a child to an adult. They had a small feast, a basic meal compared to the food served in the Guild’s mess hall but the feelings and hopes behind it made it taste all the better. Now she spends her days lazing around looking for high paying request, often splitting the money between supporting her family and saving it up in a small tin can hidden under the floorboards along with several others.

Archetype;
Hunter
Beast Tamer

Skills;
-Stealth
-Beast Lore
-Trap Making
-Tracking
-Spear Combat
-Judgement and Decision Making
-Negotiation

Weapons;
~Senka:
A long Spear, longer than most standard issue, the shaft a durable metal easily capable of withstanding the jaw force of many of the larger beast, strange script and filigree etched into the metal filled with ink and powder. The warped blade, jagged and multipronged, an obscure design seemingly meant to be decorative piece instead of made for stabbing and prodding. A small blue crystal imbedded into the binding, a water crystal, wrapped in the same metal used to craft the entirety of the weapon. An expertly forged spear, upon first glance it often appears to be seamless as if one had warped a rod of metal into shape with no binding or welding. Tapping the spear butt hard enough activates the crystal, the metal coursing with cold fury, any wound made by its marring bite freezes spreading through the target, momentarily incapacitating them.

~Ayla:
A small dagger, simple and elegant in design. The double edge blade shines in any light seemingly unblemished no signs of knicks in the blade, a sign of being well kept, the leather binding worn and soft to the touch. It sits comfortably in one’s hand, well balanced and versatile for close quarters or if need be able to be thrown a few paces away from the body. Also capable of being used when fashioning or cutting material.

~Fahd:
A cub birthed at a place that formerly called San Francisco Zoo, his parents had long fled the park sensing danger in the aftermath, crystal spires destroying most of the man made structure. Born south of Ambrosia into a litter of five, one ate a crystal and mutated, one died squealing in the maw of a Silversnake, only three survived under the megger care of their mother. But the young panther knew little of this strange world, and little else about finding food. At 8 weeks, the mewling cub wandered away from his den, stumbling over paws that were too big to be called normal. He ran into a boot, which he promptly attempted to eat before being swept up and had a rag soaked in milk placed in his mouth. The young woman who found him, raised him taught him how to hunt and how to fight. As he grew larger and larger, large enough to the size of horse, but his build was greater, less meat and more muscle, he showed signs of other mutation. The tip of his tail bore spikes easily capable of doing damage with one well placed lash, his fangs sharper more like snakes than that of a feline, both can become coated with poison if not cleaned regularly. It’s possible this mutation accorded when attempted to clean his siblings wound, laced with the poison of the Silversnake.

Equipment and Gear;
-Three Water Canteens
-Scrap Metal
-Various Size and Length of Rope
-Dried Meat
-Sleeping Roll
-Fire Kit