Character Theme – Fear Not This Night
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Captain Artorias

Artorias stands at around 6ft1 and is of slightly over-average build. Years of training have left him with an impressive physique, with large well-toned muscles. He has short dark blonde hair which, as it gets longer he begins to slick back. Whilst typically clean shaven, he occasionally can be seen with a bit of stubble which further adds to his already strong masculine features. He has a three-pronged claw mark scar on his back.

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【Alias】
Captain (if referred to by rank) or Arty (to his very close friends)

【Race】
Human

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
24

【Sexuality】
Hetrosexual

【Birth Place】
Telchar

【Nation/Allegiance】
Free City of Telchar – City Guard

【Profession】
City Guard Captain

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【Personality】
Artorias has a rather stoic personality, being the kind of individual that would rather sit in the corner and listen to a conversation, rather than take part. That’s not to say that he lacks confidence, he just usually has little he’s willing to add. When he does speak, he is usually honest and straight-forward, with his choice of words usually showing rationality over emotions.

In terms of beliefs, he is one of the few citizens in Telchar that does not believe in the God Manannan – or rather he doesn’t believe the creature that surfaced over a century ago is a benevolent god. He doesn’t make this known to others however; in fact, he tends to avoid the subject all together. When he was younger he certainly used to believe in the principles of the church at least, but with the passage of time he has become wiser and more empathetic, and now believes that many of the Church and City’s laws and practices are somewhat draconian and excessive. In particular, he has grown disdainful of the way that all ‘deviants’, regardless of crime, are hanged or burned, which has led to him finding it harder to do his job.

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【History】
Artorias was born in Telchar and raised in the commons. His father was also a city guard, and his mother worked in a pottery factory. Life growing up for relatively normal by Telchar standards. He was raised to believe in the Church of Manannan and often witnessed Warriors of the church patrol through the city and track down those they thought impure. Like many in the city, he was normalised the harsh punishments and overall violent ruling authority.

When he came to age he followed his father’s footsteps and joined the city guard. Through sparring with his father whilst growing, Artorias found himself in a better position than some other new guards. Unlike them, he could at least keep his cool in a fight and knew some basic techniques – which often made all the difference. Over the last few years he has proved his worth and been recently promoted to Captain, being one of two that oversee the guards in the central district.

Recently he has started to have doubts about the way the city operates and his morals are beginning to clash with his duties. These doubts began a couple of years ago when a childhood friend was revealed to be a doppler and burned alive. Watching the way the Church treated someone he knew to be a good person really shook his core beliefs, and he no longer considers himself a follower of Manannan.

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【Skills and Abilities】
Journeyman swordsman - Artorias is better than most with a blade, but ultimately is very far off being at the level of say a Witcher. He has had more than a few encounters with violent citizens, criminals, bandits and even the odd monster.

Adept crossbowman – Artorias knows how to fire a crossbow and can normally hit a stationary or slow-moving target. He enters the odd competition with other guards but never wins first place.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Artorias currently wears the standard armour given out to all city guard officers, consisting of a dark blue doublet, and a steel barbute, plate cuirass, shoulders and greaves. However, he refuses to wear the blue cape for practical reasons; as is the case with a few of the more practical minded officers. Artorias doesn’t tend to carry a shield, instead preferring to use both hands to wield his longsword.

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Murky orange?
Artorias got the scar on his back from a glancing pitchfork jab.

Character Theme – The Wolven Storm/Violet Eyes
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Sia Amarill of Brohval

Sia isn’t a very tall or imposing woman, standing only at 5’5 and weighing a tad under 150lbs. Though her build is above average of the usual person, possessing that of a fighter and runner with strong muscles for swinging her sword. He hair is as black as the feathers of a raven yet are contrasted by her shining blue eyes. Her hair is almost constantly kept short, barely reaching past the top of her shoulder blades when let down.

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【Alias】
Sister Mercy, Ami

【Race】
Human

【Gender】
Female

【Age】
28

【Sexuality】
Straight

【Birth Place】
Brohval, Greyreach

【Nation/Allegiance】
Born in Greyreach but loyal to no nation.

【Profession】
Disgraced Sister of Virtue turned Mercenary/Bounty Hunter

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【Personality】
”Grant mercy to those who plead it but leave none for those who might strike you when you turn the other cheek.”
Idealistic - Kind - Generous - Trustworthy - Brave
Perhaps it may be a curse or a blessing, Sia’s kindness, for she believes that there is goodness and righteousness in everybody’s heart. At least, that is what she wants to believe. Sadly, she knows that the world is not so kind and pure and people are more willing to put a knife in someone’s back than to break bread with them. However, this has not stopped her from forwarding her goal of providing hope for people. It is her biggest fault perhaps, that she is so idealistic that she refuses to let such a world exist.

There is a rarely a moment when one could find Sia show any kind of hatred for another person, there is already so much hatred that there is no room for more in her eyes. She has never found herself downtrodden by the words or actions of others, simply showing remorse that the world is as such and that it needs someone to save it from itself. Perhaps, one of the oddest quirks of her is that she is quick to provide mercy yet quicker even to strike down a foe should they raise their weapon to her once more. Sia doesn’t show remorse for killing, it is the way of the world after all, however she will not kill someone who is innocent nor stand by if such is to happen before her eyes.

All are deserving of a burial, even those heinous murders who Sia has encountered once or twice in her travels. As such, she tends to express her wishes to have the body of the dead collected and buried, lest some beast come to devourer it and cause more harm to those that had just been saved. And perhaps, even beyond that, she is more a fool for trusting people more than she likely should on the base value of their words, though she is willing to change her mind when presented with information and evidence capable of contradicting a statement. Though there are some, such as guards, whom she puts her total trust in no matter what.

Foolish though she is, it extends even to battle for her training drilled into her the belief that there is nobody she cannot fight, no foe she cannot slay, even if it means dying in the process. There have been more than a few times when she had gotten in fights she shouldn’t possibly win, only surviving due to the help of other Sisters or hunters. Her bravery, or brash foolishness as others call it, drives her ever onward to fight against the injustice of the world and prove that there is good somewhere among the evil. Even if it means her death. Even if it means she is that only good.

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【History】
Sia was an orphan growing up on the streets of Brohval, a small trading town at the footsteps of the Reach which connected to a major dwarven hold. Life was difficult, the winters freezing cold and the summers rarely warmer. Her survival was only assured due to the orphanage established by a former Sister, Sister Angeline, after her retirement from combat. It was by the grace and mercy of Sister Angeline that Sia was allowed to grow up, by her grace that she was adopted as Angeline’s only daughter. It was Angeline who taught Sia how to write, how to write, how to count, but most of all it was her who gave her the inspiration to become a sister, to become a beacon of hope for good in the world.

Her first lesson into how cruel the world was came when she first became a squire at the age of 13, having been placed with Sister Gertrude as her Knight. Gertrude was a cruel and vicious woman, things had to be done perfectly and quickly or Sia would be punished for her impudence, mostly in the form of lashings or being forced to sleep outside for the night. This happened often, after all Sia was young and was a freer spirit back then. Many nights were spent outside before Sia realized that there was an order that all people had to follow, even her, if she wanted to survive. Sometimes you must follow orders you are not proud of, sometimes you are told to ignore the beggar for you have more important things to do. Of course, that didn’t stop her from sneaking out at night to help them anyway.

Combat training was rough on Sia, she was pitted again squires nearly twice her age at the start, to learn how failure tastes it seems. Gertrude stood over the young girl with a smug look every time she lost a fight, reminding her that she would have to get used to, that she wasn’t going to have a second chance to rise again in a real battle. Her body was bruised and sore, spending morning till night training and honing her skills. Perhaps she was improving slowly or it was just the fact that Gertrude had begun to focus her attention on another new squire. Either way, Sia found that she was pitted against others who were of equal skill to her or only a bit above and she started to grow.

Both physically and as a Sister that is. Her body became more muscle and less fat, she grew leaner and taller as she began to fill out her clothes and she grew out of her childhood clothes. She had always been cute as a teen, at least as the boys from Brohval had told her that is. However, now that she had begun to mature as an adult, she found that there were more men whose eyes were drawn to her and more would be suitors wishing to earn her hand in marriage. Of course, as a Sister, even in training, Sia had to turn away all who would ask for she was to serve the crown and Country and be bound to no man until she retires, if she retired. Soon Sia would find her mind taken off the aspect of the suitors as she and the Gertrude were mobilized south, towards barbarian lands owned by savage elves and humans.

The raiding season of the barbarians had started and the Sisters were needed to crush any attempts to assault the people of Greyreach. Sia had never seen a dead body and her arrival in the border village of Haver was a shocking experience for her, the bodies of both citizens and the few barbarians they managed to kill still strewn around the village. It was a sight she has never once forgotten in her life. But the Sisters had a job to do and the bodies would be in their way so she and all the others began the arduous task of burning them. None slept easy that night, not even the barbarians as the bonfire burned. It wasn’t long before they set out into the southern lands.

The battles were unlike any Sia had been trained in, the fights quick and intense rather than relying on wearing your opponent down. The barbarians went down easily but were far too quick for her to reliably hit, often ending up in the medic’s tent after every battle so she could recover from the dozens of minor wounds. It was a test of not only skill but of her mettle for Sia had to improve herself as she went on, learning how to intercept where her target is moving within the range of her blade, when to strike, and how to avoid the counter-attacks. It was until the end of their campaign that she had managed to stand her own against even a few of the barbarians. But she was alive.

SIa was given leave to visit Angeline after her campaign, to talk with her foster mother once more about all that she had learned and experienced. She was barely even twenty-one yet she had been deployed for the first time, Angeline had been worried sick of course, but the pair were more than happy to see each other after so long. Sia was to be made officially a Sister and assigned to a minor noble as his protector soon after, she wanted Angeline to be there. However, Angeline was growing older and more frail; she likely wouldn’t have been able to travel to the Capital for the ceremony even if she had the time. That week would be the last time she saw her foster daughter, passing away soon after and leaving all of her estate to Sia.

Sia’s life was rather uneventful until her ceremony, mostly spent time finding the children from her Mother’s orphanage a place to live or allowing those old enough and with enough training to run it while she was gone, after all some would have no other place to go than the place they had called home for so long. With her Mother’s estate placed in good care, she turned her attention towards the ceremony. She was one of fifty squire to become SIsters yet the public event had caused butterflies in her stomach, especially at the prospect of being assigned to guard over a noble. Yet, Sia found that the ceremony and gala afterwards were over in but a flash and she soon found herself already well on her way to Castle Faerand, a large town on the border of the Free City of Saph.

Perhaps it was by fate that Sia had been drawn to this place for she found that its warm weather and beautiful forests caused her heart to beat faster. Then again, it may have simply been the young Lord Faerand, Vincent, who she was to guard. Something about him was special to her, his bright green eyes and a smile that caused all to relax and feel at ease. Perhaps even it was the fact that he was refreshingly kind and straightforward, caring not for the Court’s politics and simply wishing to be among the people of the town below, as dangerous as that might be for nobility like him. They pair spent many days in each other’s company, walking through the gardens or traveling to and from the Capital after dealing with the Court.

It wasn’t long before Vincent professed his love for Sia and was subsequently shocked with the Sister ran from him, both in delight and in fear of what this would mean. Sia was a low born woman, even worse an orphan and only allowed to become a Sister because of her adoption by Angeline. Vincent was a noble, born and raised, and would be married away to another noble house, likely one of Saph, when his parents so wished. Their love wouldn’t be accepted yet Sia didn’t want to deny it. With an open heart she came to her Lord the next day and profess her love back and it was that night that they held each other in a closer embrace than either had ever experienced.

However, their love wasn’t meant to be as Vincent soon found himself in an arranged marriage with a woman of higher nobility from the Court of Greyreach, Lady Avandale. It wasn’t long before Sia and Vincent were separated for months, her left to guard Castle Faerand from thieves while the marriage was planned. When they were reunited once again, Sia found that Vincent was a changed man. His eyes were cold and he spoke only of how the Avandales had pressed his family into the marriage, likely wanting for their lands due to their proximity to Saph. That night, Sia did what she could to bring the light back to his eyes, finding nothing as he simply looked through the binding documents of his marriage.

However, it wasn’t long before the Avandales had found out about the pair and their forbidden love for Sia’s life was utterly turned upside down on what should’ve been a simple patrol. She found Vincent one morning simply sitting in his chair overlooking the garden, dead from poison, as the guards came rushing to arrest her. Lady Avandale claimed that she had heard from a maid that Sia planned to kill Vincent for betraying her, for marrying Lady Avandale when he said she was his one love. SIa was taken away to the Council to face reprimands from the Sisters. It was over quickly for the account of a noble was worth more than the denial of a commoner.

Sia was stripped of her title, her estates, and any income from being a Sister; all to be given to the Avandales as reparations for her crimes. All she had left was her armor, her sword, and her memories of her mother and the children. Soon, she was exiled until she had proven herself to be of worth to the Crown once more, set off into the Free City of Saph to make what she could of her life. Sia survived purely off of the money she made as a bounty hunter and mercenary, working for whatever coin she could scrounge up as she traveled through the lands. It was by luck or destiny that she found her way to Telchar.

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【Skills and Abilities】
Adept Swordsman - Sia’s skill was built on bruises and years of training, not to mention the nights spent in the infirmary from how many times she got cut in combat. She is a better swordsman than the average swordsman, having been a knight, however she is certainly nowhere near the skill of a Witcher in combat.

That… isn’t the target- Sia could never quite do well in combat with a bow, often missing her foes by at least five feet and sometimes even grazing her allies. It is possibly due to the amount of time she spent training with her sword and shield that she managed to become so bad at her performance with a bow.

Hold Fast- Sometimes the best choice in combat is to weather the blows with one’s shield or a parry, a lesson Sia learned well. She mostly focuses on deflecting blows with her shield and waiting for the right moment to strike, occasionally lashing out to parry a blow and knock back an unsuspecting attacker.

Bandages and Poultices- Sia’s medical training was rather minor compared to that of the Sister’s of Kindness, knowing only that there are some plants which are helpful for keeping wounds clean, to use clean water to wash a wound, and to wrap it in a bandage to keep out mud and other filth.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

Iron Arming Sword- Sia has had the weapon for the long time and the wear on it is is obvious, the leather of the weapon’s grip beginning to dull in color from the amount of use. However, the blade has been well kept, sharpened and cleaned every night due to Sia’s training.

Oaken Heater Shield- The shield is rather new, compared to Sia’s sword, for it was only recently bought at a market. Thus far it has held up well, the leather covered wood good for blocking hits.

Armor- Sia’s armor is actually rather light, at least for a former knight, as much of her plate couldn’t be taken with her when she was exiled. She was allowed to keep her iron breastplate, sallet, and chainmail. However, she was also provided her grey and black doublet and leather riding boots, all of which she typically wears.

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Bright Blue
Sia's back is scared from wounds she had in her only campaign to the barbarians' lands and the lashing she recieved as a squire. She carries a necklace of silver in a pouch on her belt that she received from Vincent.

Character Theme – Scholar of the First Sin
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NIAVAK DELTHRANE

Standing at about average height, he boasts a build befitting that of a speedy swordsman. His muscular tone leans towards use of agility, rather than strength. His dirt snowy hair is lazily slicked upwards, falling downwards in random, erratic positions. His hands are calloused, the sign of a man whom takes his training seriously. He almost always drapes his black, graying cloak, around himself fastened by an unknown, shimmering crest.

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【Alias】
Pale Swordsman.

【Race】
Human.

【Gender】
Male.

【Age】
24.

【Sexuality】
Demisexual.

【Birth Place】
Unknown; Forgotten.

【Nation/Allegiance】
Neutral.

【Profession】
Sellsword/Mercenary.

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【Personality】
For a sellsword, Niavak is a cordial individual, perhaps much too much for his own good. He treats anyone he speaks with respect, only taking that away if that person had proven they did not deserve it. He has a certain charisma to his speech, easily promoting acquaintances to a sort of odd friendship at times. Though he is friendly, he will not take real threats targeted towards him sitting down, and almost always readies to defend or fight for himself.

At rarer times, melancholy can be evidently present across his features. Always trying to remember his hazy, unknown past when he can, only to be met by the physical, and mental pain it wroughts whenever he does so. He always wonders what his purpose will be after managing to complete his swordsmanship, he has little idea of how he was in the past, so much so that he has trouble pacing himself on how he should act, feel, think. How he acts now may not be how he had acted in the past. Thoughts like these always leave him in a daze of confusion, and identity crisis. It is difficult to ascertain his past but he always tries to do so when he is able to, actively visiting sites of the scant memories he manages to recall.

If asked about beliefs, he tends to stay silent, allowing the other individual ramble, while providing little to no speech from his end. He doesn't mind people believing in the sea god Manannan, while he himself doesn't really have any faith in said god. Mostly stemming from his childhood; the moment where he had forgotten his past, being forced to rely on himself to put food on the table. As such he chooses to believe in himself to get things done rather than others, and certainly not gods.

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【History】
Niavak suffers from retrograde amnesia, not remembering much of his past. The scant memories he can recall are hazy, and results in a throbbing headache when he tries to remember. Most of what he can remember was a man, who donned a similar cloak with the same crest as Niavak. Moments of almost spartan-like training comes and go. The final, strongest memory is him on a wooden ship, fighting against a raging storm; he remembers the familiar figure shouting at him, before endless black. Oddly enough, he remembers being disgraced for a 'sin', but he has trouble trying to place his memory. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, he travels to places he 'feels' he is familiar with, as an effort to try and remember his past.

Growing up after finding no one but his lonesome was difficult to say the least. The only thing being left to his name was a cloak, and a beautiful sword that shimmered a mesmerizing blue. Being of unknown origins, many villages, in best cases treated with him utter disregard or contempt leaving him to do his business, at worst cases he was chased out due to superstition. Though at the time he failed to remember anything about the past, his body remembered his training. This was made evident when an individual attacked him whilst on the road, screaming at Niavak to lay down his weapon, and he may leave with his life.

He was initially fearful until his body moved away from an obvious, too large swing. The bandit's eyebrows lifted, and he kept swinging madly only for Niavak to deftly weave out of the way right before the hits could land. He was blessed that day as the bandit proved he had little to no training with the way of the sword. Niavak's body slowly began to recall his training. Wielding the sword was like attaining a limb he once lost. At the end, having suffered minor cuts, and bruises, he stood victorious over the bandit. He was unconscious, his body sliced up. The man still breathed raggedly, for better or for worse. Niavak looted what little the man had on his person, including his crude, clearly neglected blade and went on his way.

In present day, he acts as a sellsword or mercenary, taking on different odd-jobs strewn about the great continent of Aridia. He could be an escort, guarding important figures as they traversed through the lands. He was once a trainer for a short amount of time, trying to teach his swordsmanship. In other times, he is chosen to slay monsters as a pseudo-replacement if Witchers were not currently present.

For unbeknownst reasons, something from within pulls at him to complete his unfinished swordsmanship. He has little idea why this was so. His main drive is travelling the land in search of great swordsmen and swordswomen. To study under their tutelage if possible, or duel them to ascertain their styles, and possibly implement them in his own. After a decade of wandering, trying to appease his insatiable desire to 'complete' his swordsmanship has earned him name or moniker as the 'pale swordsman' amongst the great practitioners, often being the subject of curious talks when said great practitioners gather.
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【Skills and Abilities】
Adept Swordsman - Niavak's skill with the blade is what the untrained eye might call 'graceful', to the trained eyes who have witnessed this, most have usually commented on it's finesse, noting that it has little to no wasted movement. His own personal style of swordsmanship has been incremented by various styles of the sword during his travel. He has hit a wall, being unable to transition to mastery, however feeling very close to surpassing the shell of mastery. He also enters the odd tournament to test his prowess at times.

The fastest tend to live - His swordsmanship is focused on parrying, or moving out of harms way in time to deliver a devastating counter attack in the small window when they recover. His eyes are trained to notice the 'follow-through', or otherwise the wind up and wind down of each attack. In turn he makes his attacks fast, and limiting them have a smaller wind down. However this type of attacking tends to take time as he is required to observe his opponent to familiarize himself with their way of attacking, and defending.

Apprentice 'Hunter' - Due to him needing to take odd jobs for his well-being, he eventually began taking jobs that Witchers would normally take. He has basic, and rudimentary understanding of hunting creatures that go bump in the night. Not quite on the same level as a Witcher, of course, but with time he can get there himself.
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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Niavak dons a basic armorset, a breastplate, shoulder-guards, and leather gauntlets. Underneath is a red tunic laced with chainmail. His only other apparel is his black cloak, always draped over his shoulders. The armor is light, allowing him to be more nimble and faster than normal.

He carries two swords on his back, one that he always had on him; 'Shatter', a steel longsword that shimmers blue under the night light. Recently he had acquired a silver sword, naming it 'Tremor', specifically purchased to deal with creatures request that pop up frequently.

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Dark-ish turquoise?
Has a decent singing voice, and can play the lute with some level of proficiency.

Keggar Stoutstride

Keggar has the quintessential Dwarf look. Brown beard reaching past his chest, bulky nose and rosey cheeked. His skull is thick and his muscles are thicker, barrel chest covered in scars. His arms are so long and burly they're almost apeish, with large hands to accompany them. His beard is braided with two brass rings that he intertwined his hair in when he couldn't fit them on his thick fingers.

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【Alias】
StoutStride

【Race】
Dwarf

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
97

【Sexuality】
Straight

【Birth Place】
Mahakaman

【Nation/Allegiance】
Mahakaman/The Wilds!

【Profession】
Big Game Hunter

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【Personality】
Keggar's what some might call rambunctious. Eccentric even! Oh, he's got the usual Dwarven traits. Grim and hard, but boisterous and full of cheer when there's drinks to be had. However, he's got a beast inside him. A beast that makes him hunt other beasts. There's a ferocity to his intentions. At times he'll snarl instead of glare, or freeze and focus instead of flee. Some say Keggar has spent too much time out in the wild, or too much time living in the bottle (guilty of both). Though that being said, he's not bad with company as long as they're loyal and don't mind his odd quirks and mannerisms.

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【History】
Keggar was born in the Dwarven city state of Mahakaman, to two conservative Dwarven parents. His father was a banker, and a damned good one too. His mother baked, cooked, cleaned, and ran a small guild for gossipers, helping her husband with potential gains through word of mouth. All they needed was a son, and after being married for a mere 30 years, they produced a rock of a child they dubbed Keggar. He'd grow up and live up to the name, for eventually he could out drink his father!

He grew up being groomed for soldiery, learning a bit of his father's trade and some culinary skills from his mom as well. It was exploration that truly called to him, however. They'd traveled a bit, his father showing him human Nordlings and their settlements on business. But it wasn't enough, truth be told. He'd always look into the forests, or the deep caverns even his kin dared not dwell, seeing vasts worlds down there, and things to kill!

He joined the Mahakaman guard around his 50th birthday, when the lad became a proper Dwarf and his beard reached his waist. He fought a few scuffles and killed a few bandits here and there. It was when he was given duty on Mount Carbon that his life changed forever. A great beast it was! Attacking the caravan was a wolf the size of a wagon! Roaring with spittle flying about, it gutted a Gnome and a Dwarf lass before Keggar ended its life with a well placed Axe to the skull.

The Caravan was so grateful, not only did they give him booze, but he got laid! And he skinned the great beast as well, selling the hide for a tidy profit. His father was so proud of him, and though he wished Keggar could stick to soldiering, he did give him his blessing when Keggar announced he'd become a freelance hunter. For the next 40 years, he applied his craft, killing the occasional witcher beast, but mostly large game throughout the North. He joined merc crews every now and then for the extra coin, his traps coming in handy in capturing bounties or sending enemy forces in disarray.

But even for one as long lived as a Dwarf, things could get boring sometimes. The Northern wars gave him no joy save the coin in his pocket, and the beasts were becoming complacent. He spent 5 long years in a melancholy until he heard tell of a new continent, and the next year he raised the money to gain passage on whatever ship would take him! The rest, as they say, is history.
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【Skills and Abilities】
Savage Fighter - Deadly as most prominent Mercenaries with his Axe and Long Knife.
Tracker - Can track man or beast across most surfaces and landscapes.
Trapper - Excellent at making traps to capture foes, and has the strategic mind to make the skill effective.
Beast's Bounty - Can make many items through his woodcraft and parts of beasts he has killed.
Herbalism - Uses herbs to help heal, or at least halt bleeding.
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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

• Hand Axe
• Long Knife
• Knife for skinning.
• Net
• Healing Brew
• Poison Vial
• Caultrops

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Earthy
AOB

Character Theme – For Victory!
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Inquisator Eramas

He is about 6'4" tall, a giant of a man - with a more toned than a muscly build to him. While rarely seen outside of his armor, Eramas has pale skin - a black mustache and goatee. Alongside a scar on his left eye.

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【Alias】
Black Dragoon


【Race】
Human

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
31

【Sexuality】
Hetero

【Birth Place】
Telchar

【Allegiance】
Church(loosely)

【Profession】
Warrior of the Church

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【Personality】
Eramas used to be like the regular members of the Church - orthodox, unwavering and unflaunting in his duty to apprehend the guilty and criminal. After the false-conviction however, his mood has changed around - as he is more inqusitive, curious and above-all-else, more open-minded.
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【History】
Eramas had been one of many Warriors of the Church - a nobody, that had been trained in the discipline of their God and serving without hesitation. Eramas had been chasing the murderer of the City, alongside many other Warriors and guardsmen - when the Witcher had been caught and hanged, he had cheered alongside many.

Having assumed, they had caught the murderer - sadly, just a day afterwards, he had found his own wife murdered in the City. Namely the same way as the killer had done - he realized his mistake at that moment, having drowned his sorrow in alcohol for a good three days. Mostly in his own home to avoid persecution - when he returned to work on the fourth, he had a revelation in it's Halls.

Namely their God had been both of Great Power but also Great Mercy and Kindness - why else, would he show his great power and instead of destroy, gift them a bounty? It was one of these reasons - that he decided to find others of the Witcher' order and help them uncover the true murderer. Being an agent within the Church - trying to desperately uncover the real identity of the killer. A few times thinking, it might be somebody amongst the Church of Manaanan.


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【Skills and Abilities】
Eramas is a skilled swordsman and fighter - despite being a human, he can hold his own against monsters as well. As his almost veteran skill in fighting in heavy armor - has made him a tank on the battlefield. Able to match both beast and mage, should the need arise.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Eramas wields a black sword and armor - said to be made from a black ore beneath the City, that a select few Warriors of the Church use. Said to be shielded or at least resistant to the effects of magic - though it's not clear whether those rumors are true or not.

As an Inquisator, it usually his task of investigating most magical sources of corruption and deceit - hence his need for protection. While it's magical properties are debatable it is stronger than the usual equipment worn by the regular Guardsmen of the City and even the armies of some nations.

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Awesome blue

Character Theme – The Lion's Heart
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Kieran

Kieran is of an unremarkable height at just over six feet tall, but has the athletic, muscled build of someone who has been training as a fighter since they were a child. His dark black hair is kept long, reaching to his shoulders and is partly pinned back in a warrior's knot while his face is clean-shaven. Kieran has high, sharp cheekbones and a prominent jawline, an aristocratic look that is spoiled by his bright yellow, catlike eyes. However, he has a relatively smooth if suntanned complexion and is largely unscarred, evidence of his youth and inexperience compared to other Witchers. His most prominent scars are several thin white claw marks that run across the back of his right shoulder, a reminder of his most dangerous slain foe to date, a werewolf.

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【Full Name】
Kieran of Saph

【Alias】
Lord Mutant, the Bastard Bear, Kieran the Knight

【Race】
Human - technically

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
19

【Sexuality】
Heterosexual

【Birth Place】
Unknown

【Nation/Allegiance】
The Lost Bear School

【Profession】
Witcher

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【Personality】
Kieran is not like most Witchers. He may be a hardened killer like every other member of his guild, but he has a hopeful and idealistic outlook that is almost unheard of among fellow monster-hunters. Not only does Kieran believe in his duty and responsibilities as a Witcher, he thinks he can change the world for the better. It is his enduring hope that by comporting himself honestly and honorably, by helping people in need, he can change how the inhabitants of the continent view Witchers. And Kieran is honest and honorable. He avoids lying as much as is possible, never breaks a promise, and always deals with clients fairly. Doing the right thing is very important to Kieran. Of course this doesn't mean he will always follow the law. Kieran will do what he thinks is right and necessary for him to do. His casual disregard for laws that inhibit his job makes him like other Witchers in fact.

Kieran still has somewhat romantic notions of what it means to be a Witcher. He sees his profession as a noble and meaningful calling and finds great satisfaction in a job well done, finding that travelling on the Path is an exciting adventure that allows him to see new places and experience new things. However Kieran is no simple rube, and has an introspective and thoughtful mindset, and he often spend time pondering the way of the world. He can be remarkably perceptive, and is as knowledgeable about alchemy or astronomy as any scholar. His honesty however can make him susceptible to trickery. While not an idiot, Kieran doesn't naturally have the guile and cunning other Witchers might, and those with great experience in manipulating others such as nobles or sorcerers, might find him a pliable target. Kieran may know his way around monsters. But the intricacies of politics or criminal underworlds are areas he has no experience in. He is also clueless about women, and has never been with one, another potential blindspot.

Kieran has a glib tongue and is fond of sarcastic jokes. Unlike other, surlier Witchers, he freely associates with people outside of the caste and enjoys drinking and talking with commoners of all races, with those willing to associate with a Witcher at any rate. Kieran is an inquisitive soul and reads voraciously, always taking the chance to read a new publication or listening to a traveler's stories. He is also fond of music and is a student of mythology, reading on ancient tales and old myths. All of this may be because Kieran never truly had a childhood and grew up in the Lost Bear School and has known nothing else. Now that he is in the wider world, and has a chance to learn so much, he is seizing the opportunity. To this day Kieran still marvels at the beauty of the wider world and yearns to discover as many of its secrets as he can.

Kieran has always felt like something of an outsider, due to the rumors of his noble lineage and his optimism. He had his friends in the school but he clashed with more aggressive, violent brethren. Kieran prefers to use violence as a last resort and vehemently disagrees with Witchers who kill sentient monsters without pursuing other choices. Indeed, Kieran has often let dopplers and trolls and the like go free and unharmed. His friendship with a werewolf is a secret even from his fellows, and one that is highly out of the ordinary. Despite his mutated visage, Kieran is a compassionate soul, and feels great sympathy for fellow outsiders.

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【History】
Kieran remembers nearly nothing about his life before the Witchers, like almost every other member of the guild of monster slayers. The Lost Bear School is the only home he has ever known, as he was given to the Witchers when he was only a babe. His masters never revealed anything about his origins to him, as was their policy, but rumors about Kieran's parentage became widespread. It was whispered among his peers that he was the bastard of a nobleman or knight who had gone off with his men to face a vampire and vanished. Assuming the worst, the man's house hired a veteran Witcher to find the noble's remains and slay the beast. However, the Witcher found the noble in the deep forest, after the vampire slaughtered the rest of his men.

The witcher both slew the vampire and brought the man to safety. On the journey home, the noble asked the Witcher what reward he would have. In addition to gold, the monster slayer invoked the age-old Law of Suprise,
telling the noble that he would take that which the man found at home that he didn't expect. As the story goes, once the noble returned home he learned that a bastard had been left in the belly of one of his wife's handmaidens, his own illicit get. And so Kieran was promised to the Witchers before he had even been born. The story maintains that the Witcher returned after several months to take Kieran to Mossdale Caverns where he was weaned by one of the sorceresses until he was old enough to walk.

Another rumor would have it that the witcher had taken a liking to the handmaiden who would be Kieran's mother and invited her as a guest to Mossdale Caverns. There are varying tales that the woman died in childbirth, which the Witcher mourned, or weaned Kieran for a short while before returning to her household after a lover's spat with the monster slayer. The supposed identities of who this nobleman and handmaiden were run the gamut from several local landed knights to leaders of free cities or even kings, and none know the truth save the veteran witchers, who refuse to either refute or confirm the rumors. The identity of the Witcher in question is also a matter of contention, though most believe it to be one of the school's chief swordsmen and weapons instructors, a personal mentor to Kieran.

Whatever the truth of the matter, Kieran's supposedly noble and bastard-born origins were often a common source of mockery from the crueler and more mean-spirited boys of the school, calling him Lord Mutant or the Bastard Bear. For Kieran, his mysterious and apparently scandalous origins have been both a source of anguish and hope for the young witcher. Some days, he feels as if his parents had abandoned him and that he should be ashamed of his illicit birth. Other days, he takes comfort in his rumored noble origins and dreams of one day finding his family or becoming a heroic knight. The search for his family and his true origins is one that is almost as important to him as his vocation as a Witcher.

Whatever the truth of his parentage, it is undeniable that Kieran was destined to be a Witcher. His first memory is picking up his first stick as a young child and learning the first steps in how to swing a sword. His life since then has been consumed by Witcher training, being one of the youngest to be promised to the guild. His entire childhood, he trained to kill monsters. He learned how to fight in the elegant but deadly dance of the Witcher, how to ride as if he was one with his mount, how to survive in the wild with only his wits, how to track his prey in any environment, how to stalk them silently in the shadows, how to kill a man quickly and brutally, and every other skill a Witcher needed to know. When he wasn't training, he was studying monster lore, herbcraft and alchemy, astronomy, anatomy, and many other subjects relevant to a Witcher's study.

Any free time he had he either spent conversing and playing games with boisterous dwarves, exploring the wilderness or watching the stars with his fellow trainees, or reading about legends and myths from tomes given to him by the sorcerers, dwarves, teachers, and the odd traveler to the caverns. Kieran had his fair share of friends, but he relished the time he could spend alone, reading about the heroic deeds of heroes and knights. Kieran wanted to be like them and so strove the be among the best of the trainees, to become the first hero Witcher. Isolated from the outside world and deprived of a normal childhood, those stories and legends had an immense impact on him.

He struggled to remain friendly and optimistic as Witcher training began to take a toll on his fellow trainees. The physical conditioning and education was grueling enough, and every once in a while a young Witcher would either perish in a training accident or simply expire from the sheer strain of the training, trials that children were not meant to endure. Kieran lost a few friends as such, and the first time he saw a fellow trainee die, he had bawled his eyes out. By the time he lost his sixth friend, he had no tears left. The special diet that the children underwent, unique and rare herbs, mosses, and mushrooms also took their toll on the Witchers. It helped condition their bodies but among many it was simply too much.

Many boys would die of liver or heart failure, and some even succumbed to madness and were given to the sorcerers to perform experiments on for the rest of their lives. Even among those that survived like Kieran, a fair number became excessively aggressive and would often pick fights for little to no reason. A few boys died in sparring matches or were outright murdered over small slights, and Kieran often had to defend himself or others from the enraged trainees. Boys that became too feral and were too much of a threat to others were put down by the Witchers, but otherwise their behavior was overlooked and even encouraged by a few teachers, who saw the aggression as necessary on the monster-infested continent. Often, Kieran considered giving up or trying to run away, but he knew there was no place for him elsewhere and that if he wanted to change things, really change things, he could do so more as a Witcher than a nobody. A bastard with no home.

Finally, came the Trial of Grasses. When the sorcerers fed him the special alchemical substances that would change him permanently into a Witcher. Kieran remembers none of it. Just a confused morass of emotions and sensations, alternating light and darkness, madness and fever induced dreams and hallucinations, and pain, so much pain, pain beyond anything he ever thought possible. It seemed to last forever. On the tenth day, Kieran awoke with golden eyes. Out of the scores of boys that had trained with him, almost a fifth had died beforehand, and now less than a dozen were left.

The training became even more intense, but Kieran adapted. He was stronger now. Faster. More than human. Some part of him was horrified at the journey that had seen him there. But another part relished in the power it had given him. By the time the final Trial of Dreams arrived to cement and strengthen his mutations, Kieran was the best sword of those that remained. At the age of sixteen, Kieran completed his training and was given his Witcher's medallion with his starting equipment and first horse. He chose the name Kieran of Saph, and was made a full Witcher of the Lost Bear School. A slayer of monsters. Then with excitement, he set out on the Path.

For the next few years, Kieran basked in his newfound freedom. He traveled the continent fulfilling contracts, seeing new sights, experiencing new things, and righting the occasional wrong. Most of his stock in trade were nekkers, drowners, and ghouls but he notched his belt with several endrega nests, a few wraiths, some foglets, and even the occasional water hag among others. Kieran befriended many commoners of all vocations across the land, and even parted as friendly acquaintances with a fair number of trolls and dopplers whom he spared instead of putting to the sword. His optimistic, honorable reputation saw him comfortable in contracts, but he knew his limits and didn't pursue jobs best left to more experienced Witchers.

Until, one village put out a call on a werewolf. There had been reports of several rumored werewolf attacks in the area, no deaths, but Kieran wished to put a stop to it before it happened. No other Witcher was available and so Kieran answered the contract and went out to search for the werewolf, hopefully to free it of its curse instead of killing it. He was unaware that the whole thing was simply a scheme cooked up by the conman Fridolf. And the actual werewolf that lived as a huntsman on the edge of the village was unaware that Kieran hoped to save him from his curse. The werewolf attacked Kieran in the woods in the dead of night. The young Witcher would have died if not for his own keen senses and Storm's quick action, galloping into escape.

The werewolf pursued. Knowing that he couldn't let the cursed beast run amok, Kieran leaped from the saddle to do battle with his opponent. The fight was long, vicious, and brutal. The toughest fight of Kieran's life, as he always just managed to stay away from the werewolf's rending claws and gnashing teeth. The beast grazed his shoulder and left thin, shallow wounds on his shoulder but eventually Kieran triumphed and slew the werewolf, sorrow in his heart for the waste of life. Kieran returned to the village, only to learn of Fridolf's own wolf curse. Not wanting any more death, Kieran relinquished the reward for the werewolf contract in order to spare Fridolf's life and vowed to help the man break his curse. They went to find the reclusive woods witch who was the dead werewolf's wife and the one who cursed Fridolf, but she was long vanished.

Kieran did not want to risk the Witchers in Mossdale Cavern killing Fridolf should Kieran bring him to seek aid from the sorcerers. And so the two have traveled on the road together for several months, seeking out wise men, druids, alchemists and sundry practitioners to break Fridolf from his curse, all to little avail. In the meantime Kieran has aided Fridolf in keeping away from humans during the change and controlling it as much as possible so that he does not run berserk. He has also, vainly so far, tried to get Fridolf to change his conman ways. In return Fridolf has drank with him, played dice and cards, traded stories, and the two are becoming fast friends, though some might think Kieran more honest in the relationship than Fridolf.

On the road, Kieran heard news of a Witcher's death, one of his trainers, and a string of brutal attacks in the city of Telchar perpetrated by some beast. Kieran had never been to the city, but knew of its ugly reputation. And yet, he felt it was his duty to stop the beast from killing more and to perhaps even seek justice for his compatriots death. Perhaps in the city, he could even find an answer for Fridolf's curse. And so, Kieran obtained a glamour to hide his eyes from a wise woman and persuaded the apprehensive Fridolf to accompany him to the city of Telchar, to slay a beast and save lives.


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【Skills and Abilities】
- Due to his Witcher training, Kieran has an expert knowledge of herbs and plants and their properties. He is able to identify any plant and their uses almost immediately. He is also a competent alchemist and is well-rehearsed in quickly concocting standard potions, oils, and bombs. Higher-quality or rarer creations require a greater investment of time, effort, and concentration along with a formula. Nonetheless, like any Witcher, given enough time to prepare, he can come up with an alchemical tool to help him face any beast. As an unintended side effect of this training, Kieran could also theoretically create potions that would be toxic to any human or member of the old races, but he has never tried to do so.

- Kieran was also taught extensive survival techniques. He knows various ways to start a fire even without magic and is a competent fisherman, though he can easily catch fish with his hands. Kieran is also knowledgeable about hunting and can create all manner of traps and snares for game and monsters both. He knows how to navigate even without a map, using his surroundings as a guide and can easily erect or find shelter in any environment he is likely to encounter. Like any Witcher on the Path, left to his own devices and with at least rudimentary supplies, Kieran could survive by himself for weeks or even months living off of the land, not that he would want to.

- Kieran is a skilled rider, having trained at riding horses since a young age. He is not quite a racing competitor or exhibition rider, but on Storm he can ride as swiftly and surely as any knight. Storm is a faithful mount that won't hesitate to give a steel-shod kick to a bandit or cutthroat that threatens Kieran. And while she is not without fear, she is conditioned to not panic nearly as quickly as other horses would in the presence of monsters and will charge gamely at almost any threat if Kieran commands. She is often able to recognize the scent or sound of a number of beasts and has more situational awareness than the average horse. Storm was also trained to realize when a monster was too great of a danger to her and she is smart enough to withdraw and let Kieran deal with the beast if the situation calls for it. All of this is because just like Kieran, Storm was trained since a young age to be a monster hunter.

- As is expected of him, Kieran has a thorough understanding of monsters, their capabilities, and their weaknesses. With his mutated senses and extensive training, Kieran can easily identify any commonly encountered beast on the continent by the traces and tracks they leave behind. Kieran does research as much as is possible to learn as much about detecting, tracking, and defeating monsters as he can. He is not as experienced as older veteran Witchers, and has mostly engaged nekkers, drowners, ghouls, and various sundry common predators. His most dangerous foe to date was a werewolf in hiding, but he knows the theory behind defeating even more deadly foes such as old wraiths or katakans and is confident he could those kinds of beasts down. Hypothetically, he also knows how one is supposed to fight a Bruxa or Fiend and other rare, daunting monsters, but Kieran has until now left those more dangerous contracts to more experienced Witchers. If Kieran encounters signs of a creature he cannot readily identify, he will pursue every clue and every scrap of written knowledge he can find to make identify the culprit and prepare counter-measures.

- Kieran was taught the anatomy of humans and nonhumans as well as a wide variety of animals and monsters since the start of his training. As a result he is knowledgeable about the biology of numerous living organisms and can quickly recognize what manner of trauma a deceased may have suffered in the aftermath of an attack. He can also accurately diagnose most common injuries and sicknesses because of this. Coupled with his grasp of herbs, Kieran has basic survival medicine skills and can patch up a variety of minor wounds or stabilize a patient but he is no medic or doctor. His true skill is in causing wounds. For any human or nonhuman, as well as common animals and monsters, Kieran knows exactly how and where to strike to inflict the most damage in the most efficient way possible.

- Kieran, like all Witchers, is light on his feet and knows how to move quickly and quietly. He can see in the dark where most cannot, and if he puts effort to it, he can hide from almost any mortal in the right environment and sneak around them without leaving a trace. His steps are almost completely silent, and he can nearly break out into a run while causing a minimum of noise. Kieran can move quietly enough to surprise inattentive or less aware monsters as well. Even beasts with enhanced senses to match his would have at least a little trouble hearing or seeing his approach. But of course, Kieran could not sneak up on a truly cunning or experienced beast without quite a bit of effort. If he knew how to pick pockets and pick locks, he would have been quite the thief.

- Like all Witchers, Kieran has the ability to with intense concentration, let all of his worldly concerns and thoughts slip away and enter into a meditative state. He can meditate for hours on end, a useful skill if one must lie in wait for a monster but cannot risk taking a rest. Kieran also meditates if he needs to calm his mind after a particularly stressful event. In this state he is still aware of his surroundings however, and only the most clever or skilled warriors or monsters could catch him by surprise during his meditation, as his superhuman senses are still active. Kieran's mental focus and fortitude also mean that he has much more endurance than normal men and can undergo grueling treatment or conditions that would break an average person, even without his mutations.

- Kieran is adept with basic witcher signs. He can use Aard, Igni, Yrden, Quen, Axii, and Somne, like any Witcher. With Aard, he can push enemies away with a moderately strong telekinetic blast, focused in one direction. It can also be used to clear obstacles. Igni, he uses to light fires and throw a narrow gust of flame at his foes. Yrden is a magical trap he uses to slow his enemies down and control large groups of them. Kieran can cast Quen to form a shield that absorbs damage until drained. With Axii he can confuse and disorient enemies. The Somne sign can be used to make targets feel drowsy and go to sleep. There is a seventh sign, Heliotrop, but Kieran is not advanced enough in his magic to use it. In addition, signs are a remarkably easy form of magic compared to others but Kieran is not yet experienced or skilled enough in his magic to use the basic signs to greater effect like other Witchers do. And while his medallion alerts him to the presence of magic, and he is competent with arcane theory, he has only theoretical experience with performing powerful exorcisms and rituals like his veteran brethren and only knows hypothetical techniques or small-scale workings. When it comes to magic, he has much to learn.

- His true talent lies in fighting. Kieran is competent with all manner of weapons, is skilled in hand to hand combat, and is an avid knife thrower. But he has a natural aptitude for swordsmanship. Like all Witchers, he is functionally ambidextrous and was extensively trained in the signature, almost dancer-like style of the Witchers. Kieran trained with a sword since he could hold one and he is capable of moves that are almost physically impossible for normal men. In combat he is quick and acrobatic, whirling and rolling and lunging like the inhuman warrior he is. Kieran can capably handle himself against small groups of amateur opponents and can face off with ease against weaker monsters. He hasn't yet crossed swords with a truly skilled mortal fighter, but he considers himself to be a match for any mortal warrior on the continent.

- Kieran's Witcher mutations are incredibly potent giving him physical abilities beyond any normal man. His catlike eyes can be constricted to see in blinding light or dilated to see in near pitch darkness. All of his other senses are superhumanly keen as well, allowing him to track men and beasts as well as any animal. He has far greater stamina than the average man and can keep fighting long past the point where others would collapse. He is also highly resistant to toxins and disease and has complete immunity in most cases save for the most potent of poisons. With his tougher bones and muscles, Kieran is also stronger than a normal human, and can land blows with his sword that can cut a man clean in two. Kieran can shrug off injuries that would lay most low, and survive strikes that would kill any mere man. He can also heal and recover from injuries far quicker. Kieran is faster, more agile, and has quicker reflexes than normal men and can perform feats of dexterity and speed that most besides monsters cannot hope to match. Finally, Kieran has prolonged youth and a much longer lifespan than any normal human. He will look like a young man for decades yet, and may even live to be centuries old. All of this together means that he can face a multitude of monsters in single combat, though he still has much to learn. His mutations do not come without side effects either. Kieran's emotional responses are not wiped entirely but they are dampened, and his mutations make him sterile and never able to sire children, a fact that sometimes nags on Kieran.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons/Tools/Armour
- Two longswords, one of steel and one of silver, strapped to his back. Both are of standard make, given to Kieran when he first became a Witcher.

- His horse, a loyal, trained grey coated young mare named Storm, whom he trained with as a pony and the horse he first started on the Path with. Not a thoroughbred mount but a dependable one.

- Saddlebags filled with basic medical supplies, bedroll, tinder box, torch, a bundle of rope, provisions, and other essential outdoor survival items.

- A field alchemical mixing and brewing set to create the potions, bombs, and oils necessary for his trade.

- A whetstone to hone his blades and an oil and rag to keep them clean.

- An unadorned, dark set of leather and mail armor that is neither master quality nor shoddily made, that both allows some protection from blades or claws as well as freedom of movement. Comes with black boots and black fingerless gloves. A standard set of armor made for him when he first became a Witcher and has used since.

- A dark, heavy travelling cloak for incognito travel or protection against the elements when needed and which can also be used as a blanket. He also has a thin cloth black scarf that can be wrapped around his neck or pulled over his head in a hood for when he needs to be disguised but also must have quick access to his weapons.

- A small one-handed crossbow with standard bolts, used for both hunting and combat.

- A sharp, but common hunting knife and hook to make trophies of his kills for his clients.

- A dirk at his belt, a holdout stiletto in his boot, and several throwing knives. All plain but competently crafted steel.

- Kieran always keeps at least two Swallow potions and two Samum bombs on his belt at all times.

- A journal in which he records his notes and personal experiences. He also keeps a map of the continent, a copy of a monster codex and a book of legends and folk tales.
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【Other】
Dialogue color: Gold.

Character Theme – Do They Dream
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Cristina

Cristina is at 5’8 short for an Aen Elle, with the athletic figure of a climber and archer. She has light blue eyes and a very pale complexion, and her long white hair is generally braided and wrapped into a bun whenever she is out and about. She often uses soot, charcoal or other dyes to change the color of both her hair and skin.

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【Alias】
Sharaes aep Auvioc (birthname), Cris (by friends & other criminals)

【Race】
Aen Elle

【Gender】
Female

【Age】
138

【Sexuality】
Bisexual

【Birth Place】
Tir ná Lia

【Nation/Allegiance】
Neutral

【Profession】
Cat Burglar

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【Personality】
Cristina is quiet, always watches what she says around strangers and keeps a wary eye on her surroundings. But she’s always willing to strike up a conversation and smiles easily. She’s always been inquisitive and enjoyed travelling, and her greatest fear is to be trapped in one place. She enjoys a challenging job, which is part of why she’s specialised as a cat burglar, and she’s always moving in some way. When she works it means she remains focused on the job and works quickly, easily keeping track of the world around her. When she’s not working she might come off as a little scatterbrained to people who aren’t very perceptive, as her eyes are always moving and the fingers on her right hand are always tapping on something; whether that’s her leg or something else varies.

The circumstances that forced her to flee her home has caused her to be far less trusting than she was as a child, and it takes a great deal of time for her to open up to people. However, once someone gains her trust there are few things she wouldn’t do for them.

She views killing and thieving roughly the same way, in that she has few compunctions about either. Though she won’t steal from a target who doesn’t have much money that has more to do with the smaller pay-off than anything else. Part of why she steals is because she enjoys the challenge and the rush, and it’s not as much fun when there isn’t some element of danger. It’s also a good way for her to collect more books. She generally avoids killing people as that attracts too much attention, but the only lines she won’t cross is that she doesn’t kill children.

If she can help someone and not be worse off for it, she generally will, but she wouldn’t risk her own life for a stranger. Like most Aen Elle she doesn’t consider other sentient races to be worth as much as her own people, but she doesn’t count anyone lesser than anyone else on the basis of their race or station. She generally feels contempt for people who judge others based on station or preconceived ideas, and thinks ignorance is just as bad as cruelty.

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【History】
The child of a smith and a soldier of the Dearg Ruadhri, Cristina grew up amongst the working middle class of Tir ná Lia. She was an active and inquisitive child who loved to explore the city, and when she wasn’t out and about she usually spent the time reading whatever she could get her hands on. Her mother and father both thought she should be proficient in at least one weapon no matter what profession she chose when she grew up, so they started teaching her the bow when she was a child.

As an adult she was trained to be a scout and a spy; to survive and blend in both in the wilds and in cities, mainly to gain access to other races territories and collect intelligence on them before the rest of the Aen Elle’s forces arrived to either barter with them or take the territory. The profession gained mixed reactions amongst her family and acquaintances, and then she made a bad call on an assignment and almost got a whole company of soldiers killed. Her life took a steep decline from there as she was demoted and got involved with a high-profile theft.

Though she was attempting to stop the thieves, she was convicted as one of them, and she was facing execution when her father and an old friend managed to break her out of prison. As remaining in Tir ná Lia would eventually get her caught, Cristina managed to get her hands on the location of a number of portals that would eventually aid her in escaping to the world which contains the City of Telchar.

She came through to the human world by a portal that had been submerged over time in the Bay of Sharks, and was luckily picked up by a fisherman from the Kingdom of Moorwind before she could drown. He helped her back to shore and aided her in figuring out where she’d ended up. She took up work as a hunter in the area to pay the fisherman for his help and a place to sleep while she got accustomed to the land and decided on what to do next. It was there that she picked the name Cristina for her own, leaving her old behind just in case of the slim possibility that someone might one day track her down.

After a few months in Cliffshire village she began her travels south and east through the kingdom, hunting and stealing depending on which was more profitable and gaining far more information about the land than she’d managed in the little village. When she heard about the state of affairs in the City of Telchar she quickly decided to travel there as it sounded like a good place to disappear in the crowd and build a new life for herself. Still, she took her time travelling there, and encountered a number of interesting persons and monsters on her way. She familiarised herself with the local flora and hunted down a couple of bandits that crossed her path and attempted to rob her by evading them and later doubling back to track them down. They had quite a bit of valuable loot that she took for herself, amongst other things the majority of the daggers that she now carries.

When she finally arrived in Telchar Cristina kept a low profile initially as she figured out who would be a good idea to steal from and where she could sell her stolen goods. While doing her recon she met an old fence who’d gotten himself addicted to fisstech and by chance she saved him from his dealer’s collectors when they came after him. In return he offered to introduce her to other thieves and fences in the city, and to rent her the small loft in his house. She took him up on his offer as he didn’t ask for much and was quite happy to get help to sell her stolen goods.

Cristina has lived in Telchar for a few years at this point and earns enough stealing that she doesn’t need to worry about money day-to-day.

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【Skills and Abilities】
Apprentice mage – She was born with the ability to use magic and has over time focused most on illusion and dispelling magic. With illusion she mainly changes her own appearance and conceals tracks, contraband and valuables in her home. Dispelling magic is mainly to uncover illusions of the like and to disarm magical traps and illusions others have cast. She also knows some simpler spells to take care of her own hygiene and other simple tasks that she was required to learn as a scout of the Aen Elle. For example spells that clean her own person, lights camp and hearth fires and casts light around her. Since arriving in Telchar she limits her magic use as much as possible so as not to be detected as a mage, and she has no experience with using magic in battle.

Adept archer – Her main weapon is the bow, and she’s been training with one ever since she was large enough to hold one. Despite this, she has rarely used her skills against humans or other sentient races, mainly having used her skills for hunting.

Trained as a Scout/Spy – She was trained to survive in unfamiliar and familiar environments with whatever supplies she could find, and to stay undetected while doing so. She’s best at climbing in city environments, has some training in fighting with daggers and without conventional weapons, and generally relies on her own cunning to survive.

Cat Burglar – As a cat burglar she traverses the roofs of the city on quick feet and slips in and out undetected on the higher levels of houses. She can open most locks with some time to work.

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】
Weapons – Cristina carries an old wooden recurve bow and a stiletto she keeps in her boot made by her mother which she brought with her when she fled Tir ná Lia. She uses a back quiver for the arrows and also carries a dagger at her belt, as well as having between four and a dozen throwing daggers hidden in her clothing at any given time.

Clothes and Light Armor – She wears nondescript beige and brown clothing with a simple leather tabard and tall fingerless black leather gloves above them, as well as a pair of leather boots and a black hood. A thick belt around her waist holds several pouches and three dagger sheaths (two real and one fake to keep stolen goods) and another strap that goes diagonally over her chest and back over her right shoulder that holds a smaller false dagger sheath in the front and which she attaches her bow and quiver to.

Other Equipment – She always carries lock-picks, a few sticks of charcoal and a small notebook.

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【Other】
Dialogue colour: Fire Brick
She rents a small loft with only enough space for a low bed, a small hearth, a low bookcase and a couple of chests. One end of the loft is split off from the rest and functions as a storage space that she hides with illusion magic. The loft is accessible through a ladder from the upper floor of the house and through a small window next to the bed that is only just large enough for Cristina to get through without trouble and that she traps with magic when she sleeps. It’s situated in a part of the Commons that’s only just better than the shanty-town areas and lies near the south gate.

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Character Theme – Lantana & Friends! - La Bruja (Live Performance)
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Oh, you've come to marvel at my physique? How oddly peculiar of you! Please, please, La Bonita, your corset need not unraveling for this tale. There's not much that separates me from most, I assure you. Height and weight are but numbers for tailors which otherwise calculates the vassal's mediocrity. I've but two feet and two hands, quite like yourself, though, might I add, far less impressionable to the naked eye! Clearly, we should be painting words of your beauty, for your pastels are simply magnifique. Ahem, oh, well then...

30 minutes later...

Where were we? Oh, yes! Forgive my self-deprecation. I am as pale as moon skin, calloused and, just like the moon, battered from flying rocks as well! Though the sun's gross incandescence does not escape my praise, I prefer the sweet calm of night. My garments you've so hastily stripped onto the floor are birthed from the aristocratic threads of La Firencé, tailored by the fashionably daring minds of York. Note the craftsmanship along the coat, the jeweled sugar skull that keeps the scarlet tie in place. It is my finest suit, my costume, in this grandiose play called life!

Do the silken tufts of ebony upon my skull bring delight to your fingers? The fiery hazel in my eyes are accentuated by a pallid countenance, no? My fangs, you say? Oh, these are merely...prop pieces! What was that? Oh, yes, yes, ... they are permanent. Such is the life of an actor committed to one singular, vampiric role, I'm afraid. *Laughs furiously* You, you want me to do what to you with them? Ahem, oh, well then...

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【Alias】
Formerly Viscount Saul Lestat, Baron Diego Alexander, and Scumflower, now known as Edgar Cervantes, or simply, Lantana.

【Race】
Higher Vampire

【Gender】
Male

【Age】
200+

【Sexuality】
Indeed!

【Birth Place】
Across the Great Sea...

【Nation/Allegiance】
His most consistent allegiance is to himself. Lantana was raised in La Firencé, but lived many lives in La Lament, Himeria, Greyreach, and Bein. The Free City of York is his most current of homes.

【Profession】
Actor, Musician, Poet, and Painter.

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【Personality】

From the words of Giuseppe Gavignone:

Lantana follows the beat of his own drum. Whether you admire its rhythm, or hate its cacophony, the instrument never stops playing. Ever. The half-elf, or whatever stirs within that genetic cocktail of his, does not sleep. He works tirelessly on his craft, but still manages to enjoy the finer things in life. While the sword is not his forte, his words cut far more deeper into men and women alike.

His mental jousts are unconventional, known to leave lesser minds into frayed ribbons. Such tact for the langue has been both fortuitous and dangerous for Lantana. Yet no matter how grave the situation, he still manages to escape death's clutches, unscathed, time and time again.

His loyalty is a hard earned concept on both fronts. Lantana comes and goes as he pleases with mere acquaintances, but is unwavering to whomever he considers is his truest of companions. I include myself in that unfortunate lot, and I constantly mull over whether that is a gift or a curse. What I can divulge is that there is never a dull moment with Lantana.

You may find yourself in the gallows, no doubt at the expense of that pale dolt's musings, but you'd not share an adventure with anyone else, lest dull conformity is your preferred suitor of choice. Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment, but life has become a thrilling phantasm since our introduction.

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【History】

The rarefied account of a higher vampire and his many lives...

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【Skills and Abilities】

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【Weapons/Tools and Magic】

-=Old Wooden Guitar=-
-=Calligraphy Set=-
-=Tomes of empty parchment & original works=-
-=Engraved Dirk=-

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【Other】

Dialogue colour: Maroon