Binds her chest, has a belt covered in pouches. Wears thick padded elk hide boots and a messenger boy hat. Stands in at 5,2 and her cloths are actually rather patchy and worn. Hair short and red, with hazel eyes.

Anath was given to an orphanage as a baby. Growing up with the other children she had to learn how to be tough and make her own way. No one was going to just take in a kid, not in these times. So she learned, and learned quick. She saw the adults and how they were beaten by guards, she saw how the older kids would pick pocket the nobles so they could feed themselves. Watching is what gave her the ability to survive, watching and a lot of trial and error.

It was not a pleasant learning experience. She has been beaten, she has been humiliated, she was thrown into prison more times than she could count. But each failure gained a lesson, every time someone locked the door behind her she perfected her craft in opening it. Each time someone reached out to hit her she had to learn how to run away.
She was only around 12 when she found herself a partner. Kind of an older brother by the name of Sam who worked with a group of theives. He was kind, a smile offered when she had tried her hardest. But slacking off had caused her to sleep in the cold streets, he helped her. He taught her the social standings that she had not known, he shown her how to read, how to shoot, and basic combat even with her small size. But was the reading that she really stuck to, she would break into the library almost every night just so she could sneak a book, read a message, decode documents to see the standings or alliances waning or plots of assassinations. She knew she was learning things that could get her killed. But she just could not stop the thrill, she actually liked the idea that someone was out to get her. It made her feel important, it made it feel as though she were a threat, that someone out there was listening and fearing.

It did not take many more years for her feminine side to show. And she began to realize that she was getting away with more, but she was also loosing respect. Sam coming up with the idea to dress her as a boy, she changed her name from Namina, to Anath, never answering to her old name again. It became apparent that less people paid attention to a young boy, she seemed to have nothing to offer. And to many people, she didn't, only the thieves that Sam worked with would be given information, and every piece she gave, she earned a bit of coin, making her look out for even more dirt that could be useful to someone. She was learning quick, and she was reaching out to anyone that would pay her, so with her skill set she became an information brooker. Sneaking into people’s houses to find letters, eavesdropping on meetings, even stealing documents, writing them out and putting them back so that no one would even notice. She was gaining a name for herself as she got older, she was becoming well known as someone who had something on everyone and everything. Elves, humans, witchers, witches, nobles and beggars, she had something on them.

And that is what caused her to get on someone's bad side. Giving away information on trading illegal goods between guards for a hefty price. She was given the warning to never do so again by coming home to be greeted by Sam, gutted out and laying like a butcherd lamb on her floor. A letter explaining how the others were after her. She had no where to turn to, with Sam gone the thieves would not take her in, and if one group lost interest in her, they all would soon follow.

And thats, when Dijkstra came into her life. She still hated that look on his face, how he knew he had her. He offered her safety, her name under his protection so long as she worked for him as one of his spies. She didn't have a choice, it was ether do what she already dose, under his name, or be burned at the stake or hung from the tree. Reluctantly she agreed, only to find that she was paid more, she was given better equipment, better housing. Her brother was dead, and in turn she gained a new life. It was a price in which she wish she did not have to pay, but she didn’t play her cards right so she ran with it. Dijkstra and others in the Redanian Intelligence becoming the new group to know that she was really a woman. She began to live comfortably, she gave her work in on time, and so she was never left hungry. Life was good, and she was trusted, feared by her enimes and protected by her friends. Just how she liked it.

But that had only caused her to be given a job that she could not refuse. The wild hunt, the unknown of the unknown. She could never find any information worth while from any book she read. And whenever someone offered, they charged far too much for her to afford. Now she could get it herself, it would not be easy, she always worked solo. But why not? She was always up for a challenge, there are places to see, things to steal and information to be gathered. A new chapter to be opened that she can not wait for.

Personality:
Areir, on first impressions, can be seen as droll, silent and withdrawn. Usually staying out of a conversation and instead silently listening, and observing the body language of the individuals who are conversing with him. This odd habitual behavior of his had led him to be observant to a degree. That is not to say Areir is asocial, he does converse with people as he finds it enjoyable, with many finding his raspy voice odd whenever he does so. Many would find a small smile strewn across his face, but if you observe long enough, you may find that it is sad and melancholic one. Majority of the time you would find Areir staring off into the distance, but would soon notice that he's actually not staring at anything, rather, solemnly recalling his past.

Despite being trained in school of griffin, he very much resembles the school of the wolf. He tends to try and help individuals when they need so. Usually in such a way that the individual would not recognize his help, and will only help a person if they are willing to help themselves as he doesn't like when people depend on others too much, rather than themselves. He also, like many witchers, have a distrust towards 'Witchers' who have traveled down the path of the school of Cat. He personally thinks they aren't really 'Witchers' anymore, referring to the school as a den of thieves and murderers.

Flaws/Weakness:
Areir is one of the more younger Witchers, being one of the few under the tutelage of George of Kagen, a renowned and legendary Witcher who was rumored to have slain a dragon with a broken silver weapon. He is not as experienced as the more venerated and seasoned witchers you find around as his training wasn't fully complete. Areir also has a tendency to help individuals even at the cost of his own health.

Strengths & Powers: As a patron of the school of Griffin, he has a solid grasp over majority of signs, having a notable expertise in Yrden, Igni and Aard while still having experience in using Axii and Aard. He also has the normal skillset and powers that Witchers have.

Bio:
Areir was born in Nilfgaard, but was quickly found to be travelling. His parents had died at the hands of war, prevalent in Nilfgaard. He never knew his parents figures, nor did he come to know them. All he knows was that he had to keep moving or perish. It was only through his own instinct and luck that he managed to survive from city to city, scrounging up the barest of food to keep himself going day after day. It was through trickery and stealing that he managed to survive, usually being chased out of the town or city. However this luck didn't last forever, Areir found himself collapsed onto the floor of a dirt road, being chased out by the townsfolk after being caught multiple times.

Was he going to die there, on an insignificant road, where no one would remember him? Well his desires really didn't matter as he didn't have any energy to even lift up a single finger. As even his eyelids began to close, a stream of water entered his mouth and a strong hand was holding his head up so he could drink a water. Areir weakly opened his eyes, to see a person with odd eyes- cat like almost, the pale yellow of the iris grasping at the pupils. It was a Witcher.

Areir has heard of Witchers before, but with most of it being hearsay about the cruelty and 'evil', greedy nature of them. However, this Witcher was actually letting him drink water and even had a slight look of worry about him. The Witcher had a griffin crested necklace, which at the time Areir didn't know to be the sign of the school of Griffin.

He was taken under the direct wing of George, who was now past his prime after slaying a dragon. He taught Areir directly for many decades and millenia. After the gruelling process that Witchers normally endure, George directly taught him signs, the combat style of the Griffin which was to be fleet footed and be able to handle different and many opponents at once without faltering. He also taught Areir to be kind, and helpful towards people in need, but only giving a helping hand so as to make them self dependent rather than relying on others.

Everything was peaceful and serene until that one night, during a night much like others.
Areir was awoken by screaming and clashing of steel, fire illuminating the darkened village. The village was under siege, by an unknown group at the time. Areir was caught unprepared and a man entered his room, weapon unsheathed and pointed directly at him. The man charged, Areir flinched and closed his eyes, only to find that he didn't die. George had come in and deflected the blow, stabbing the unknown man through the chest.

"Quickly Areir, you must escape, you are one of the few Witchers left under the school of Griffin, you must live!"
In a blur of weapons and shouting Areir once again found himself running through the forests, he stopped and looked back at the burning village, and for the first time tears welled down his cheeks. Memories of the people in the village came flooding in as the fire crackled against the silent and dark night. He turned around once more and ran away, his two weapons at his hand, and the knowledge of Griffin in his head.

A few more decades had passed, and Areir had self trained himself, visiting different schools and trying to incorporate their styles into his own personal combat style.

There was a rumor being whispered in hushed tones around him, something about the wild hunt. And an odd inidivudal by the name of Dijkstra, who somehow knew of his past offered him a deal. A deal that Areir didn't even think a single second for.

Other:

He has a crest of a griffin on his left shoulderpad.
Keeps the necklace of his mentor, as it was given to him before his escape.

Theme song:
Hymn for the weekend.