I never knew my parents. There wasn't a time I can remember that I wasn't at Kaer Morhen, home of the Witchers. I arrived with a couple dozen other children, and we were put to work very fast. years of pain, and beatings, and fighting, and memorizing every single creature and potion and fighting style. It was hell, and half of us didn't make it through the training. After me and the 12 others proved ourselves capable, we underwent the Trials... the Less said about that the better. When I woke a few days later, I could tell the effects have taken over. I was a Witcher, and only four other colleagues made it.

Before we left our home, we were told to create "normal" names so that people would feel more comfortable with us. I chose Rilden of Redania, and with my swords, I left to the Continent. After being alone with your kind for so long, going into the normal way of life was a shock. No one treated you like an equal, you were spat at, glared at, people would talk to you as little as possible, and your only task was to kill monsters. For fifty years I did that. I learned that people tried so hard to not be compared to monsters that they turned out to be one in their own rights. I drank, fucked, ate, slept, all around the Continent. It is said that Witchers lose all emotion when they go through the trials... I think they say that only to help us deal with the fact of who we are. Not everyone hated Witchers that much. I had acquaintances. mages, townspeople, bartenders, a couple people who knew me. I was efficient, fast, and reliable. Lords would call unto me for assistance, and there were few bards that would sing about my travels.

When the purge started, my first instinct was to go back to Kaer Morhen. It took longer than expected, I didn't know how many survived, who was after us, or why. When I arrived, the fort was under attack, by the Redanians. I assisted in the battle against the army, but we were pushed back into the main hall. In an attempt to protect the younger children, I tried to find the hidden exit into the mountains, but when i opened it, the elite killing force erupted, knocking me unconscious. They were known was the Thousand Army, because their skill was equal to that. When I awoke, the Thousand Army slaughtered the last of the children. I was relentless. I killed them all in a fit of rage, and then left, going into hiding.

One hundred years passed, hiding, keeping my head down, and doing what I had to to survive. I hid in Dryads' forests, took refuge with the friendly forest spirits, I told them my story, and said I was different from normal Witchers, and they named me "Gweintalan"; "Burden of Youth." As the decades passed, I didn't age, but people soon forgot about the mages, and the Witchers. I would ask around, and the answer was always the same: The Witchers were nearly extinct. I continued my profession, I was not hunted, but I was not welcomed even more than I was a hundred years ago. But it didn't matter. Sometimes I heard stories of a Sorceress rebelling against a Lord, or that another witcher came through and killed their beast problem. But it didn't matter.

Many would think that the Second Conjunction would have made me happy to be in work again, but it didn't. It left me more cautious, weary, and longing for a companion to assist me in my travels. It left the world in fear, even more than before. One night, I was abducted in my sleep, and taken to the Grand King, Ezli. He showed me with a surprising amount of respect while I was chained and poked at. It was not a man I wanted to talk to, but I had no choice. He gave me my "destiny." He gave me the choice of "redemption" for what I've done to humans. He told me to gather up the rest of my kind, the rest of the sorcerers, and recruit as many as I can for the cause.

The cause to kill monsters, and the Dark Lord. I started my journey almost a year ago, looking for anyone and anything that would help in the quest. I'm not doing it for the Grand King. I'm not trying to find redemption. I'm doing it to prove something to myself I suppose. That not all of us need to be monsters.

• Superhuman strength, speed, and agility beyond that of any mortal, save perhaps a very skilled Witcher. He always has access to these abilities, yet when he takes his bestial true form, they increase exponentially.
• Invisibility. Though he cannot mask his scent by any magical means, he can obfuscate from view, chamelionizing into his surroundings. This is not a perfect invisibility, however, and Valter has little talent for it, often making too much noise to avoid suspicion, or faltering in his concentration, thus losing the effect. As such, he tends not to rely on this power.
• Levitation. Exactly as it sounds, Valter has the gift of slow, graceful levitation in human form. (Note, this is not full-blown flight, though some higher vampires can achieve this. Valter cannot fly swiftly, trasnformed or not. His levitation is however, a very convenient means of silent traversal.
• Transformation. Valter can assume his more bestial true form at will, though he rarely does this save when need is dire, as he does not enjoy the ghastly appearance. Valter can partially-transform as it suits him, giving him access to his bestial claws when in human form, etc. This too, he disdains, however, as he sees his natural weapons as a bit gruesome and inelegant. He will often rely simply on his strength and speed to overwhelm an enemy in martial combat, without bringing his transformation to bear in any capacity.
• Functional Immortality. Higher Vampires are as close to immortal as it gets. They are extremely difficult to dispatch, able to withstand losing limbs and more. Should one manage to slay a Higher Vampire, there's no guarantee the creature will remain dead, as a Higher Vampire given enough time can regenerate nearly any wound, including the severing of the creature's head.

• Though ordinary fire is effective against lesser vampires, Higher Vampires like Valter are essentially immune to mundane temperature increases or decreases. However, sorcerous fire produced by mages (or the Igni sign used by Witchers) is highly effective, often more effective than it would be against a human being.
• Vampire Blade Oils employed by Witchers are quite potent against higher vampires, provided the Witcher is swift and accurate enough to land a blow.
• Black Blood Potion can be ingested if one knows they are about to be fed on by a Vampire. The potion works as a targeted poison for the vampire, and will deal them great harm, potentially leading to loss of consciousness or even temporary death.

Family/relationships?
Have some things in mind here, will get to it soon.

Name: Cenkos Suilana

Age: Well over 100, but stopped counting around 113. Looks around early to mid 30's

Appearance: A 6' tall, dark skinned woman, with brown, long hair that normally keeps braided. Careful observers can take note of a subtle scar running along her left cheek, going back towards her ear. Her facial features became hardened after years of roaming, and her normal stare could easily be taken as a scowl by any bystander. Her green eyes have a golden hem and she's got a muscular build.

Race: Witcher

School: Cat

Bio:


Personality: Normally eager to have a good hunt and relaxed in most of other things, thinks low of the king calling back the people who he sought to exterminate, but will answer to any hunting call, more so if the pay is good. Ususally seen focused and calm in and out of combat, she also has a quirk of smiling to pretty much anything, to conceal any true feeling.

Weapons: The two witcher swords, along with a couple of potions and a crosbow with its bolts.

Family/relationships?: A vampire of... Ummmm... A lot of years?
It goes by Valter, I think. Crossed paths a couple of times, not much more.

Other: Has a quirk of trying to be into anything that is happening, trying to hear conversations or snatch any piece of information that she can get a hold on.

Rilden of Redania
Fellow Wolf.

Scilla of the Dancing Blades
"During a short trip to Skellige, Ferghus met with a woman known as Scilla aboard a galleon and spent the time together with a few drinks-- until they become notable friends. Scilla and Ferghus travelled together for a time with a common goal of refining their best tools of the trade; blades."

Elanil the Silent
"Ferghus' far-reaching travels brought him to many parties and social gatherings of note. One in particular was during a series of strange events when he undertook a Doppler Contract in Novigrad. The local ruler held a lavish party and invited many entertainers to come and entertain guests. When midnight passed, Ferghus was allured by a particular raven female dancer who performed a hypnotising performance."

Koldar, Bear School Witcher
"As Ferghus continued to undertake Haakland's harrowed woes, he would often find several contracts already fulfilled by another witcher who was around the area prior. Gossips of an eerie wraith with a fearsome flickering flail became common rabble and scare stories of many taverns which permeated villages where the contracts had been completed."

Yuna, Manticore School Witcher

"Sometimes the people that he encountered in the Continent are far more interesting than the contracts Ferghus undertakes. Such was the case of a particular female individual whom he witnessed picking herself a monster contract on the notice boards despite of her blindness. What thickened the atmosphere further was when she had realised she was being watched-- a quick dart that Ferghus felt when the eyes behind the cloth had locked on to his."

Character Sheet :

Name: Scilla of the Dancing Blades.
Age: 132 looks around 25
Appearance:
Scilla stands at 5'8'' feet tall with very long black hair, fair skin and piercing gray eyes. Like all women of her vocation, she's very beautiful, but at the same time currently her body appears a lot better trained than all her colleagues. Her muscles are well defined, but not invasive to the eye and it's clear she's no pushover when it comes to physical activity.
Race: Human sorceress
School: N/A
Bio: Scilla was born sometime before the great purge that nearly turned her kind and the witchers all but extinct. In fact she was just a young sorceress when it happened. She was just traveling with her direct mentor when they were jumped on by a great number of soldiers. Everything happened so fast that even to this day she is not completely sure how it all transpired. One moment they were simply riding a carriage down a road and the next a rain of arrows struck the vehicle. The carriage driver and the horses died right away, she and her mentor survived because of a shield he put.

The following was a rather quick battle as a great number of soldiers died to magical fires and lightning, but her mentor also took an arrow to the back. Not wanting to die like a common mutt, Scilla was forced to defend herself, but she was considerably weaker than her mentor at the time. Still in that desperation, she reached into her mind and pulled a way of using magic that no one had taught her. By instinct, using her ability to manipulate objects and energy, she grabbed a great number of the scattered arrows, swords, axes and shields, anything that could be thrown and using her magic turned the hail of death onto the soldiers. First by a handful then by the dozens, as the weapons were hurled with ever so greater speed. She was mostly lucky that those were rather common troops, but non the less she managed to escape while the majority of the soldiers were trying to close their wounds from the randomly hurled sharp metal objects at them... at least those who survived it.

After that event, Scilla fled the continent and headed north towards Skellige. The islands were a great place to lay low from the massive witch hunt that was happening, especially since she dressed like a commoner and eventually joined a ship's crew. She spend the following 50 years on ships, before disembarking back on the continent. By now she had mastered sword fighting to a certain degree and in secret she had also advanced another skill she discovered when she escaped the purge. The precise and exact manipulation of energy, which allowed her to control objects and fight with them. Over the next 50 or so years she spend the time traveling, mostly spending her time as witchers would do, despite her not being one. The time with at Skellige taught her to appreciate great alcohol and all chaos that came with it. Eventually she was dubbed The Dancing Blades by a bard from a caravan she happened by complete chance to safe from some rampaging nekkers. In general she did prefer to not use her additional blades though, keeping a low profile and being confused with one of the many warrior women out there suits her just fine... When the Second Conjuring happened it came as only a very vague surprise. So was the massive hunt down for witchers and sorcerers that followed in the desperate attempt by the Grand King to safe his skin by throwing those they deemed evil and unnatural at their enemies. Well for now at least they have not yet realized what she was, so she kept quiet for the moment, simply spending her time, planning a next move. Wondering which would be more beneficial... the death of the new monsters or the death of the...Grand King.

Personality: Mostly calm, Scilla is a very level headed individual who would rarely explode in bursts of rage, but once she does, her wrath could be stated to be legendary. She's has incredibly good memory for people who wronged her in some way and eventually she will always deliver her vengeance down the line. Besides that she's someone who loves nature in almost all of it's forms. One of her most favorite things to do is lay down on a sunny beach, enjoying the sun.
Weapons:
2x Curved steel swords
4x Steel straight narrow blades
Leather bundle wrap for the blades
Family/relationships?:

Other: Immense hatred for The Grand King .

Name: Foltest Voson

Age: 17

Appearance: encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tb..

Race: Human

School: Training to join the Witcher School of the Wolf.

Bio: Born in the village of Midcopse, Foltest was the son of a man that descended from a long line of Temerian mercenaries and a mother who hailed from a now deserted village. Their parents had met as star-crossed lovers, initially forbidden to romance, since Foltest's mother was the daughter of the ealdorman. When her village was destroyed, she fled to Midcopse with the help of Foltest's father. With the threat of the ealdorman gone, fate entwined Foltest's parents together.

The Second Collision was a grim and bleak time, so Foltest's father decided to prepare his young son for the horrors that were to come, fearing a possible incursion from monsters into Midcopse itself despite its relative obscurity. A soldier by birth, the elder Voson was keen on teaching his son the craft, a craft that Foltest relished in. It took quite a while, sure, but for the next eight years, life seemed to continue in its normality. The agitation that gripped the Voson family and the rest of Midcopse eased, and Foltest became an avid hunter, sometimes skirting the outskirts in search for easy prey.

But, hunting could have its dangers, and on one particular day, such a danger came. At thirteen summers and almost a man now, Foltest had decided to venture further into the woods, curiosity piquing his interest. Ignoring his father's stern warning of not going any deeper than he did, Foltest's boyish curiosity almost saw him mauled by a bear! Having spotted the black creature in the midst of dusk, Foltest's had overestimated the durability of the great bear, thinking that two arrows to the head would do the trick. And, while it certainly would have felled the majestic creature, Foltest's anxiety got the better of him, only piercing the bear's hardened back. With a mighty roar of cold-blooded rage, the bear was Foltest's prey no longer. Foltest surely would have been mincemeat, had the timely intervention of a witcher not saved him. Coming from out of nowhere, things were a blur for the young hunter, who, despite being knocked down and dazed, witnessed the sheer power of the mutant's abilities. He'd heard of witchers before, but only of their callous attitude and emotionless stares. When the unknown witcher offered Foltest a hand to lift him up, Foltest was wary at first, thinking that the witcher was going to feed on him. Contrary to popular rumours, the surprisingly altruistic witcher did not. Instead, the witcher mended his bruises and quietly sent him back to the village. He didn't dare tell the rest of the village, clearly aware of what the presence of a such a figure would incite in them. The incident left a profound mark on the young Foltest, who would never forget the witcher's cat-like eyes..or the medallion of a wolf that he wore around his thick neck...It was his first experience with a mutant.

At the tender age of fourteen, would Foltest become the only male relative of the Voson household, and burdened with the task of caring for his newborn sister, Effy, and his mother who had fallen sick in the aftermath of her pregnancy. With his father's death, all the innocence that made Foltest enjoy the simple life he had, was lost to the claws of the beasts that roamed the night. From thereon, Foltest became a different man. Stern, cynical and bitter about the tragic circumstances that he was forced in, Foltest dreaded every second of his new surroundings. Food became like ash to him, and most of what he caught were given to mother and sister. And, since there wasn't enough to eat as a result of the wars, the Voson family suffered hardship, only persevering when Foltest started selling the furs of his kills as well. It was still a harsh life, but they managed to survive their mundane existence. An existence that Foltest decided to finally change for the best when he heard that the King announced hefty rewards for those brave enough to stand against the invading darkness of the Second Collision. Realizing that he didn't have the necessary skills to hunt monsters, Foltest sought out the mutant that saved him in the past and volunteered to be trained in the ways of the School of the Wolf so Rilden could restore their ranks, and in exchange, a good sum of coins would be delivered to his family in Midcopse....

Personality: Having lost his father at a young age of 14, Foltest was forced to mature at a very young age. At a time where food was scarce and families went hungry, Foltest adopted a very cynical take on life. Whereas most of Midcopse's peasants fretted over the dangers, and feared the woods, Foltest hated the sanctity of where he was born, but having a sick mother and little sister to provide for, family always came first for the boy. Almost devoid of any support, Foltest's bears a strong sense of drive, independence and survivalism. Yet, for the maturity that he developed early on, he is also very prone to taking risks, especially when hunting. A reckless soul, as the villagers would label him as such. In short: Caring towards those he cares about, brave, reckless and a survivalist. Despises his mundane lifestyle, and is wary around individuals he is unfamiliar with.

Weapons: optional

Family/relationships?: Roland Volen(Father/Deceased)
Elena Volen nee Burst(Mother)
Effy Volen(Sister)
Rilden of Redania(Teacher/'Father')

Other: As a Witcher-in-Training, Foltest realizes that when he takes the Trial of the Grasses, he could very well not survive the process. For that occasion, he makes sure to prepare an efficient amount of money to cover for his sister and mother in the case that he is perished.

Name: Yuna - "Blind Maiden"

Age: 130, around 30s

Race: Witcher

School: School of the Manticore

Bio: Yuna grew up in the East, where customs and cultures were much more exotic and alien - that the ones in the North and South. Her journey in the School of the Manticore was similiar to many other Witcher schools. Namely trained in the arts of bladefighting, poison, monster-hunting, tracking and so on. The agenda of the Manticore was however different - namely compared to the other Schools, they placed less emphasize on the monetary and more on the spiritual aspect.

What mattered wasn't doing the job or getting paid - it was the hunt and the satisfaction of slaying the creature. Namely they had been taught to utilize more of their slain prey - beyond a simply trophy or leg - as such, gathering coin wasn't as needed, since they could easily get-by mostly with their hunted creatures.

In addition to everything, Manticore's were taught to be more cunning and less visible than most. Since it was realized long ago - how hostile the commoners or Kings could become against those of non-human appearance. It didn't aid the situation either, of being perceived as cold mercenaries for their future legacies either. Witchers like Yuna, were taught to blend in with the crowd.

Yuna herself took on a meek appearance - as she had sealed her eyes behind linen cloth, that gave her the appearance of a blind woman. This was partly true, as the cloth she used was enchanted by magic - allowing her to see through easily, while keeping the appearance of a blind one. It helped her in many ways - since Witcher eyes were an easy give-away, she could blend in better. Switching between a warrior and a blind traveller whenever needed.

When the Purge happened - Yuna, instead of fighting like many others, simply stepped to the side and walked away. The School of the Manticore had been elusive and mysterious - and there wasn't any need to draw attention to it. Yuna simply left the carnage and headed into the countryside - namely the outskirts, where small villages had been established and farther away from the fighting of men.

Yuna easily lived into her blind traveller persona, as Manticore's were never much for gathering prestige or infamy. Settling down with an older man for about four decades. Yuna' position was calm and a simple life - only broken when her husband had died and a week later the Second Conjunction happened. To which Yuna gathered her equipment and pulled on back her warrior persona - heading back to the North to slay the many new beasts that had come.

Personality: Yuna is much more friendly, than the average Witcher. Compared to the average one, she is much more open, talkative and understanding - being less cold and cynical than the others, with a slight philosophical quirk to her - often times appearing meek and shy, or forward and interactive. She is much more street-wise than many others - able to easily interactive with commoners and how to avoid any confrontations without bloodshed.

Weapons: Silver short-blade, Gwyhyr. Belt of bombs - puffballs and Zerrikanian suns. Several poisoned steel and silver daggers - hidden inside her coat and sleeves.

Family/Relationships: Yuna has had many friends over the years - her friendly and meek persona, being a more easier and relatable personality than that of a cold mercenary. She has atleast one friend, in each city in the North - and one even in Nilfgaard. She had taken several lovers of the years - and during the years of the Purge had even been married for about four decades - before her husband had passed away and she returned to deal with the Second Conjuction.

Other: Likes to be called pretty.