The Mirino are knights of lords who frequently venture out into the Dread Deserts to reclaim old gold and treasures to pay the serfs who worked the fields, and often themselves as well. They also defend against the attacks of Orcs and Shadow Creatures on the kingdom, though both are now rare due to Marrulah's position. They have a unique fighting style and consist almost entirely of disgraced or lowly nobles due to the rigorous training and somewhat expensive equipment it requires.

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

Bio:
It is not quite known where The Apothecaries, the Vultures, call home. They seemed to become a more common appearance in recent memory, seemingly in line with new discoveries related to Soul Stone. They have the favor of many a noble house throughout the Empire and now walk freely among the scared masses. While typically there is no more than one in any major city, their presence is enough to bring a sense of dread to the populace. The Apothecaries are terrifying images of plague and death, with rumors abound of what they hide behind their bird like masks and what goes on in their charnal houses, but they always come bearing the greatest of gifts. A life saved, and pain spared. For this reason, they are accepted, even sought after, but always kept at arms length, and the Apothecary like it no other way.

Apothecaries exist as researchers, provisioners of magical substances, undertakers, and most importantly, hired doctors for the wealthy, and quarantiners for outbreaks of plague and disease. Their skills are second to none and many a noble felt the assassins touch but walked the next day, with nary a worry save the Apothecary's growing bill. They are open, but secretive, dodging questions and neither accepting nor rejecting any accusation against them. The imagination can be a powerful deterrent. They have grown in such power that they have their own code and structure of social order. This is where Pox comes in.

Born within the Guild, he was trained from a young age to become an Apothecary, and due to his particular talent and eagerness to please his parents, was chosen to become heir to the Guild, a position always reserved for the most capable of their number. The Guild could not ask for a better student. He would never ask more than once for anything he didn't want to do, and he would never make the same mistake twice, under the consequence of traumatizing pain. Such was the effectiveness under the tutelage of the Guilds Master Chirurgeon Typhon. For the Guild, there was no such thing as special treatment, even for nobles; only special training.

Through grit, intellect, and various chemical enhancements (and dependencies) he managed to live up to the lofty expectations of his family and guild, with the forgivable side effect of OCD, Neurosis, and potentially self harming phobias when when it came to the details and success. The ends always justified the means afterall, and the Apothecaries always did have a results first mentality. And with that, his final test had just begun, a decade long quest as a fully fledged Apothecary out in the field. He was expected to gain clients, acquire fame, favors and fortune, uncover arcane secrets, and come home to take his mantle as leader of the Guild with years of experience under his belt.

However while he is only a few years into his task, the Apothecaries would be remiss to find out just how unlike them Pox really is. Out from under their cruel thumb, Pox had learned just how effective a caring bit of bedside compassion could work more wonders than any draught or pancea. Pox learned to love people. Helping them, healing them, always willing to surround himself with those that may look upon him with fear and always trying to show them that there is nothing to fear. Still, he is an Apothecary, and thus still has a task to do and secrets to keep, thus as eccentric and opens he seems, Pox will avoid things about himself or his Guild, dodging the question or coming up with an explanation that seems a little too practiced to be taken at face value. There is no way he could abandon his own family... could he? The more he speaks, he teaches, he discovers, he becomes painfully more aware of just how isolated he is from the rest of the world, a world he can only see through lenses, and touch through thick leathers. His own kind only wants expectations from him, and the rest of the world wants him far far away. What is the poor prince to do? Perhaps traveling with wayword folks like himself. Surely the brave adventurers would understand, and appreciate what he brings.

In term of personality. Pox is a man of contradiction, much like his Guild but there is something about him that remains genuine. He wants to bring some light back into this dark world. He flatters, he encourages, he studies and shares, bringing a sense of child like wonder with him. He loves to laugh and loves to bring cheer and loves to always learn. His curious mind will allow for nothing else. At the same time however, his look and position as an untouchable makes that quite difficult and he is evasive at best when it comes to questions about himself or the Apothecaries. Indeed, he gets quite chatty when the conversation goes somewhere he'd rather it didn't, a tell tale sign that he's hiding something. His words are so prepared and reflexive that there is almost something uncanny about them, something unsettling. He can't help but sometimes giving into Gallows humor, considering how he is surrounded by pain and death for most of his life. Gotta stay positive in the face of horror.

Fighting Style:
Pox is no warrior. He has combat training, but this is merely to do procedures while on the battlefield and on occasion, keep his ward alive in the process. For those moments, Pox's mainly uses his intellect, calculating and attempting to size up the situation and find alternatives then attempting to over power his opponents. When diplomacy fails, he controls the battle field with afflictions and terrain denial in the form of various types of flask grenades that disperses gas or fire and darts that act as conduits for various physical afflictions such as temporary blindness, paralysis, or strength leeching effects. He's able to do this by physical touch as well if needed. Last resorts are cross bow at a distance, or his scalpels up close. He can enhance himself with a quick drug boost, but his is only so he has a moments strength for a quick escape, preferably with a smoke bomb covering his tracks.

With allies, his tactics change completely, enhancing them with similar consumables in the form of enhancing blessings and dispensing health potions or anti-venoms as needed. His entire purpose is keeping the group in the fight and will only attack if there's an opening or its essential.

Equipment:
Apothecary Encounter Suit - This is the uniform of a true Apothecary of the Guild. These enchanted leathers riddled with attachments, hinges, and tubes allow for its wearing to work in any fundamentally toxic environment, rending them immune to the effects of gas, spores, and other foulness. Additionally, the suit actually pierces the wearers skin with tubes that circulate the blood through various enchantments and filters, which flushes the system constantly, rending the wearer immune to hostile poisons and diseases. Indeed certain entrance ports allow the wearer to freely inject other drugs for enhancement and healing, but other methods simply fail. Most amazingly is that the suit repairs itself after damage, though this is mostly for the convenience and safety of their wards. The bird mask is part of the suit and can be opened slightly for eating purposes.
The Apothecary's Martial Arms - Apothecaries are expected to get into dangerous situations, and sometimes the best way to keep their clients from harm is to remove it. Darts, acid, poison, fire, and smoke flask (grenades), and Knives are their main defenses. Light, fast, and capable of being poisoned if need be. Pox himself keeps a crossbow as well, for long distance problems.
Field Surgeon Pack - Sutures, Bandages, Scalpels, Salves, Disinfectants, and Leeches. Everything the bleeding body needs!
Alchemists Kit - For all your chemistry and potion making needs.
Collection of Various Vials - Indeed, among the multitude of colors are enhancement drugs, healing salves, euphorics, pain killers, and poisons a plenty. He keeps a book on him that contains the recipes but by now, he knows most of them by heart. Alchemy research are one of his passtimes.
Camping Gear - Lanterns, rope, tent, and a bed sack. Its a real wonder how he's able to move around.

Skills/ Abilities:
Pox's magic is centered almost exclusively into the purview of Life, Enchantment, Entropy, and Death as the spells that deal with biology and chemistry touch on these magical disciplines. He can heal at a distance, curing light wounds and drawing poison from a victims pores, but actually potions and medical techniques are necessary for more mortal injuries, with magic coming to help the wound heal quicker once the victim is stabilized. Indeed, he is more likely to use alchemy and his mind for problem solving than any simple trick. Indeed he is actually quite brilliant when it simply pertains to factual knowledge. He has always been curious, and always eager to see how things work which has served him well in the past.

Offensive magics are always in the form of afflictions and diseases that are liken to symptoms of sickness, some of them being quite supernatural. Poisonous Cloud, Spell of Weakness, Strike of the Blind, Belly of Maggots, to just name a few. All of these spells are designed to not be permanent, and only effect a certain area. Pox is no fan of collateral damage.

He also knows a useful arcana spell of telekinesis. Without a nurse to aid him, he sometimes needs to do several small things at once. There are no excuses for being too slow and not having help when lives are on the line.

Additionally as actual, formal training, Pox is expected to lead the Apothecaries one day when he comes of age, and part of his job functions are to act as mediators to nobility. Pox is expected to uphold any culture mannerisms and social protocols. Despite his monstrous attire, he can kneel and flatter, and rub elbows with the upper echelons of society. In fact, Pox enjoys this facet of his life the most, as he's a regular social butterfly.

Other Information:

[ ⍚ ] A _{P P E A R A N C E :}
Octavia stands at 5'4. She is just a petite girl at first glance but upon closer inspection, she is visibly toned and strong due to her years of training. She has raven black hair which flows to her hips, but you will rarely see her without the signature braid. Thick, dark eyelashes frame her ocean-blue eyes; a contrast to her fair skin. Octavia is always clad in black, usually wearing the traditional garbs of the Starforge household.

[ ⍚ ] B _{I O G R A P H Y :}
Octavia comes from a bloodline of Dark Casters. These are mages who delve into the dark arts by extracting human soul stones and using them to amass great power. For centuries, the Crestkeep family has been discreet about their forbidden practices, laying low and staying in secret, but the darkness eventually consumed them and left them with an uncontrollable desire to kill others to fuel their powers; this was referred to as the Curse of The Crestkeep. The curse would physically show itself through their eyes, the usual shades of blue turning into red orbs. Word of their power and wickedness eventually got out, and the military took it upon themselves to hire powerful mages and assassins to execute the family.

The man who led the operation was Lord Starforge; a nobleman. He also belonged to a family of assassins who worked directly for the military. The operation was a success, but not without casualties. With the powers they have amassed from human sacrifices, the Crestkeep easily overwhelmed the other mages. After Starforge's team succeeded in the operation, they split up to investigate the house, confiscating many forbidden relics and soul stones. Alone, Starforge investigated the main bedroom, which eventually led him to find the secret room behind the large bookshelf. Laying there in a small crib, was the newborn child, Octavia. By orders, he was to exterminate every last member of the Crestkeep family, but he found himself unable to fulfill his duty, bombarded with the memories of his wife and son who died in cruel hands years before. With great hesitation, he decided to hide her from the rest and take her under his wing, keeping her identity a secret and raising her as his own.

When Octavia reached six years of age, Starforge found her in her room, practicing the art of magic. He felt a sudden pang of fear, and after days of weighing his conflicted thoughts, he finally decided it would be better to tell her the truth about her identity--afraid that she would end up on the same path as her ancestors. To his great surprise, young Octavia responded that she already knew, even claiming that she would often dream of her ancestors and hear their voices speaking to her. Upon hearing this, he lost his composure and cried, fearing for his child. He had always thought that Octavia would not inherit the Curse of the Crestkeep. After Octavia saw the fear in her father's eyes, she then realized that she, herself, was afraid. She promised her father that she would stay away from magic, and instead learn to fight with a sword, just like him.

Octavia spent years training with her father and his unit. She showed exceptional skills in combat, her small stature enabling her to be more stealthy and swift compared to the rest of the men. When she's not training, she occasionally spends her time practicing the flute. To this day, Octavia is still haunted by nightmares and the voices of the damned, but she has kept this a secret from her father, afraid that he would worry too much about her safety. However, as time went on, the dreams became more frequent and violent. She started to have cruel dreams of herself--killing her father. Throughout the day, she would hear the voices of her ancestors telling her to kill Starforge and avenge them. When she woke up one day with her left eye resembling fire, she knew it was time to leave. Octavia was afraid of falling deeper into the curse and losing her control. She covered her left eye with an eyepatch and bid her father farewell, with the excuse of joining a group of adventurers in order to gain real experience.

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[ ⍚ ] F _{I G H T I N G S T Y L E :}
Octavia fights with stealth and deadly precision. She is proficient in hand-to-hand combat and the use of swords and knives. She doesn't attack her opponents head-on but waits for an opening to land a strike at the perfect time, focusing on her opponent's weaknesses. As she falls behind in raw physical strength compared to others, she relies on her skills, speed, and accuracy.

[ ⍚ ] E _{Q I U P M E N T S :}
- A long sword that was given to her by her father
- Knives hidden under her garbs
- A rope

[ ⍚ ] S _{K I L L S :}

• Speed and Stealth - The ability to engage the target and deal damage before the enemy can realize it. She is hard to detect, which allows her to approach the target quickly and quietly. Fighting in an open field would be a disadvantage to her.
• Weapon Efficiency - She is well versed in many weapons, mainly swords, and knives, but she is also able to wield bows and lances, though she never has the reason to.
• Hand-to-hand Combat - Skilled at fighting with her bare hands, though someone who could keep up with her speed and accuracy will have no problems going up against her, as she does not possess as much physical strength.
• Photographic Memory - She has the ability to remember anything she has seen at least once. Octavia can easily memorize faces, places, and many other things, such as texts in books.
• Observant - As a trained assassin, she is able to notice the smallest details and movements. She is skilled at understanding the body language. With her heightened senses, it is almost impossible for others to approach her without her noticing.

Name: Sybille
Gender: Female
Age: 18 (Actually 43, as she has inherited the long lifespan of Elves)
Appearance: She usually wears a form concealing robe to hide her nonhuman traits.

Bio: Sybille was an orphan who was taken into servitude of a certain Baron of the Empire, whose territory bordered the Silent Forest. A wayward creature born from two feuding enemies, the young kid faced a lot of scoff at her half-blood inheritage and was resented by many, usually being relegated to the most menial and denigrating jobs one could imagine that a child could make. However, it was equally true that a lot of the staff were kind to her, and did not mistreat her any poorer, even if her growth was slower than human children in that regard.

One day, everything changed for the young fey-blood. Chasing one of the lord's pet cats, she wandered into the castle's dungeon. She saw something that she was never meant to see. The chained and ravaged body of an elven woman, who had been subject of abuse for years, bound in cold iron chains and so weak she could barely talk. Suddenly, a grim realization came to herself. Why would anyone take a half-blood inside a household if not to protect an even more unspeakable secret? That woman... was her mother. And she had a hunch that the human that fathered herself was none other than the Baron himself.

Something inside her awakened. For a moment, she touched deep inside her own soul, and awakened the power of her own Soulstone. The Baron's mighty hold was suddenly set aflame in wrathful magical fire, as a teary eyed, screaming child with newly awakened magical powers went on a rampage and assaulted the dungeon. There, she broke her own mother's binds and took the broken elven woman outside the fortress in the ensuing chaos. While she had been a product of a vile act, she nevertheless thought that she at least owed her for bringing her to life. She had hoped that maybe, just maybe she would be accepted despite her half-blood nature.

She was wrong. As soon as she stepped into the forest, no less than half a dozen of bows aimed at her, whispers into her ears telling her of how abominable her nature was. She however, was granted mercy for she had brought one of their kin into their fold, and allowed her to leave the forest unscathed. She did so, unable to keep gazing at her mother who saw her as something she would rather never see again in her life. Heartbroken, she turned her sight once more in the lands of men, only to find that she had nowhere to go. She had set fire to her lord's keep, and also, after revealing herself to elves, she had doomed the entire hometown to perish under a rain of arrows.

She hid. Inside a wine cellar, deep in the town's tavern, hoping she was never found by either side, for she would probably be killed on the spot. Not that she had much will to live, but still, she was convinced that her death would be anything but quick. Her fortune for once, smiled at her. No elf or human soldier found her, but instead a wizened scholar, who had been asked to offer magical backup on the humans' counterattack. After she broke into sobs and told him the whole story, the old man just smiled and comforted the troubled child, and decided to take her as student. He also offered her to find people who could teach her the elven script and language.

Sybille left her past behind and aimed to become a great scholar aswell. However the old man, whose name was Zultar, eventually died of old age. Sad for losing perhaps the person who had been closer to a parental figure, she nevertheless heeded the old man's words, who encouraged her joining the Blood Rose Irregulars, an organization which would probably accept her condition and allow her to see the world experiences she needed for her skills to continue growing.

Fighting Style: Sybille can't do close and personal, and she only knows how to flail a dagger in melee. She, however is a decent shot with the bow, and most importantly, she has a peerless aim when it comes to magical combat. She relies on offensive elemental spells for the latter, both fire and ice.
Equipment: A fine enchanted cloak, a dagger. Seweral jewelry accesories containing Soulstones.
Skills/Abilities:
-Elemental blast: Sybille is adept at flinging elemental blasts at great ranges.She currently can perform fire and ice, but she hopes to improve in this regard.
-Enhaced Senses: Being half elf, Sybille has better eyesight (and even nightvision) and hearing than humans. She has also better reflexes.
-Archery: While not to the level of her magic, Sybille can shoot fairly well with a bow.
-Fey-blooded: She is unnaturally resistant to mind-altering magic and illusions. Also she probably has a lifespan of centuries if not millenia.
-Elven Script: She knows how to pronounce and write it.
-Servant chores: She can cook, clean and make beds.

Other Information: Being a Half-Elf and fey-blooded, she possesses the weakness of the fae to Cold iron. IE: A horseshoe or similar pure iron item would definitely feel like -acid- to her skin.

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APPEARANCE

There have always been whispers that the Duan Family had some Elf-blood in it, and Lei’s birth really didn’t do much to dispel them; with her fine boned face, with high cheekbones, slightly pointed ears and almost cat-like slanted honey-brown eyes further added to these scandalous rumors. About the only thing missing was fair skin, instead her skin is a warm brown, more commonly associated with those living near the desert.
With the exception of one of her older sisters, she towers over most women, and quite a few men, at somewhere around six foot, and while not super heavily muscled, it is quite obvious that she is extremely fit.
Once she used to have her raven black hair twisted up in long elegant braids, but that was another lifetime, now she keeps it cut quite short and right side of her head shaved to prevent any potential accidents with the flash over from her gun.
-
Under her armour she wears a long-sleeved tunic, some hard wearing pants and tall leather boots. Like all her gear its plain, but very well made; she learned early on not to skimp on the quality of the gear she used. To keep the weather off she has a broad brimmed hat, with the right side of the brim pinned up.

BIO

The Earldom of the Silent Narrows covers the river valley that leads from the Empire to the Silent Forest and since the Empire’s inception House Flendeall has stood guard at the city of Green Watch against the fell creatures that come from that forest.

After the old Earl died childless, Lei’s father Zeng Duan married the Earl’s younger sister Mathera Flendeall to ensure the continuation of the Flendeall bloodline; but to his dismay his wife only produced daughters. As the fifth daughter, Lei knew from a young age that she would most likely be married off to a rich merchant or a lower noble trying to elevate her status, and while she was never thrilled at the idea, she thought that that was the only way of things.

Her early life and tutoring was pretty standard for a young noblewoman, lots of etiquette lesion and such, but things took an interesting turn not long after her twelfth birthday. As her birthday was on the same day as the creation of the First Regiment of the Flendeall Guards, the commander (with permission from the Earl) thought it would be a good morale booster the name the young Lady Duan-Flendeall as the (honorary) commander of one of the companies. When Lei visited the men that she was to ‘command’, and saw for the first time, soldiers sparring with swords and practicing with their guns, she found something that she’d never realized she’d been missing. The need to be a part of that tugged at her until one night after the castle had gone to bed, she slipped from her room and headed to the companies barracks. The first time she went one of the soldiers on duty, firmly but not unkindly, sent her back to her room; after the fifth or sixth time, the commanding officer relented and let her stay awhile. As time progressed, she’d slip away to the barracks more and more; eventually taking the training masters into instructing her how to use the weapons of the men.

She loved the barracks, it was the one place where she felt free. Back in the castle, there was only her ‘duty’, to marry an acceptable man and then produce heirs for him so that her family could maintain its status. She cared little for all that, her parents and older sisters where largely unknown people to her, their ‘wants’ held no concern; she felt more affection for the nannies that raised her and men of the Fourth Company that treated her like their beloved little sister or their own headstrong daughter. By her fourteenth year, the talk of marriages began much to her dismay, and while she stalled as best she could, that was only a temporary measure. Still during all this she kept up her clandestine trips to the barracks, and her training. By her sixteenth year, she was one of the top shots, and while she lacked power, she could move and parry to hold her own in a sword fight with most of the actual soldiers.

Two more years of this passed before the Earl had finally had enough. During one of his, infrequent, dinners with his family he stated that in two months’ time, Lei was to be married to the son of local wealth merchant, much to Lei’s horror. She’d met the young man in question at a formal party, and he was as petty, shallow and dull as he was ugly. That night when she went to the barracks, she broke down in tears as soon as one of the men ask what was troubling her; the men, her ‘brothers’ were horrified, but like Lei they had no idea of what to do…or even if anything could be done. At was until the veteran sergeant-at-arms, whom Lei saw as more of a ‘father-figure’ than the Earl, came forward with an idea.

To her shock, he told her to run…and that he would help her if she chose to; to a man the rest of the company gave their support as well. As the First Regiment was responsible for patrolling the castle, it was easy for Lei and a small escort, pretending to be another security patrol, to get in and get what few keepsakes she really wanted. Using the servant’s passages they made good time, even after a detour to the Earl’s library, where much to her escorts dismay, she stole a significant purse of soverns and one of his hunting guns and its associated gear; as well as leaving a note full of rather inventive swearing on the blotter.

Once they were back to the barracks one of the men, who was the closest to her size, gave some of his clothes to help disguise Lei for the final part. When she tried to pay him for the clothing he refused to accept it, so she just stuffed the soverns into the tunic he was wearing. From there she was smuggled off of castle grounds and out of the cities wall. After a tearful embrace with her old sergeant-at-arms, she set off to the nearest crossroads inn and into the wider world.
--
Sixteen years later, she has yet to go anywhere near the Earldom of the Silent Narrows. Using the alias Yui Ren, she’s made her way as an adventurer, bodyguard, hunter, mercenary and about a hundred different other things. The first few years of the ‘real world’ came as a bit of a rude awakening for ‘Yui’ but by now she’s gotten the hang of things.

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FIGHTING STYLE(S)

Single handed sword fighting
Marksmanship

EQUIPTMENT

Weapons

• Dagman & Sons Custom breech-loader
  
  To Load and Fire [+]

  To load, one twists the clock spring mechanism on the right side of the gun backwards, applying tension to the spring and locking the hammer onto the main sear. Then pull the latch on the top of the rifle backwards, and the spring loaded breechblock will pop up and open on a hinge to the left-hand side. Once the rear of the breech is exposed, insert the pre-loaded steel cartridge into the breech, slotting the tab on the rear of the cartridge into the notch on right-hand side. Press the breechblock back into position so it ‘clicks’ and now the weapon is ready.
  
  To fire, bring the sights to eye level and pull the rear ‘set’ trigger until it ‘clicks’, the forward ‘hair’ trigger will now fire the gun.
• Loaded cartridges (10)
  
  Cartridge [+]

  The steel cartridge is reloadable and contains a small refined Soul Stone harvested from Lesser Salamanders; each Stone is good for ten firings before it needs to be replaced.
  With a Stone in place, to load a cartridge all one needs to do is pour in a measure of black powder, tamp it, add the wad, then seat the bullet.
  
  When the gun fires, the hammer swings up through a notch in the breechblock, where it drives a small point through a hole in the back of the cartridge and into the Stone. The Stone flares when hit, igniting the black powder and propelling the bullet.
• Single edged short sword

Armour

• Jack-of-plates
• Gambeson

Gear

• Camp knife

(In Pack)

• Reloading and cleaning tools
• Spare Soul Stones for reloads (10)
• Powder flack
• Firelighter kit
• Dried provisions
• Small alchemist's kit

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SKILLS & ABILITIES

• Tracker – Having taken many jobs to hunt both men and beasts, she’s learned over the years, and from those willing to teach, how to find and follow beings as they move through the world.
• Bush Cook – If you live a life on the move and you want to eat good food, you better learn how to cook.
• Smiling Politely – She may be long gone from that life, but the ‘manners and etiquette’ lessons that were drilled into her as a girl are still there and have come in handy on those occasions where she has had dealings with the ‘Upper Class’.
• Singer – A little used talent of hers. She has, according to others, a rather wonderful singing voice, though it take some special circumstances, and usually some alcohol, to get her to actually sing.
• Minor Alchemist - Due to the expense and the fact that blackpowder isn't always available wherever she is, she has learned to make her own small batches.

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APPEARANCE

Isbeil is dead average in height and weight at about 5’5”, maybe 100 lbs and has a slightly pinched, almost underfed, look about her. Despite the fact that she moves from place to place fairly often, she is remarkably pale, like someone who has rarely, actually stepped out of doors. Her deep green eyes are made all the more noticeable by her pale complexion. She has a shoulder length mass of wavy red hair that she rarely shows, under her head scarf.

Clothing-wise she wears some knee high boots, trousers and a slim fitting shirt under a pricey enchanted robe and with a head scarf that when wrapped up, only leaving her face exposed. The robes and scarf have been enchanted with both Physical and Magical Resist enchantments, which let them act as light armour. Isbeil also wears long gloves pretty much all the time.

BIO

Isbeil’s early life is unknown, as she was left outside an Imperial orphanage as a toddler. From there, she was quickly made a ward of the Southern Coast Collage of Mages, as her magical affinity began to manifest before she was five. She was always a most apt student, eagerly absorbing everything he instructors taught her, willing to push herself to uncover whatever she could find on the latest interest to grab her attention; though this sometimes led to difficulties, like trying to preform spells that were beyond her current skill level, or trying to get in to place she wasn’t supposed to be. During one of these explorations, she managed to find her way in to a series of long abandoned cellar chambers.

During subsequent trips to the old cellar, she found a disused study, still full of writings. While looking through the accumulated works, she slowly began to realize they were all works on Dark Magic, specifically Necromancy. Isbeil was only twelve, but she knew enough to recognize what she was looking at and that if she told Mistress Thalia, her guardian, about her find, Mistress Thalia would have all of the writings sealed away or destroyed. Instead, Isbeil kept it a secret and over the next six years did what she could to teach herself Necromancy. She had no desire to try and raise armies of the dead, or to subjugate the world, or any of the other innumerable evil things people seemed to think Necromancy was used for; she simply wanted to know. It was a discipline that was not commonly known, and that alone made its pursuit worthwhile.
--
While her guardian and instructors had hoped she’d stay in academia once she reached adulthood, Isbeil knew that if she wished to find more on Necromancy she’d have to try and find it herself. For years she signed on with expeditions that were going in search of pre-Starfall artifacts. The writings she’d found had on more than one occasion had notes mentioning necromantic knowledge had been found in the desert, so that seemed like the best place to look.

While on one of these trips, her party found some early pre-Starfall ruins that led into a natural cave network. Exploring deep into the caves, they found what could only be described as a necromancer’s lair. The rest of the band, hired more for their strong arms than their brains only saw the coin a trove that a find like this could bring Isbeil saw knowledge that called to her…and sensed that they were not alone. The spirits of the necromancer still inhabited the space, and it was not happy at the intrusion.

It lashed out, tearing the soul from one man, a slew a couple others with the shambling bones of undead who had found the cave in times past. Using what she knew, Isbeil halted the undead while the survivors ran, and when the shade turned on her in wrath, she bowed as one would as a supplicant towards a king. Speaking fast, she begged the spirit to impart what it knew to her. “What good is knowledge if it stays locked away in the sand?”

It took every bit of persuasion she could muster, but eventually the shade relented. It would accept the lives already lost as partial payment, but it warned her, she would have to pay a price in flesh and blood as well; without hesitation Isbeil accepted.
--
When she awoke, Isbeil found the bodies of the men who’d died next to her were desiccated bodies wrapped in corroded and rotten armour, even though her own clothing was no worse than before. The shade was gone, and with nothing else to do, she staggered back towards the surface; she’d not gone far when the cave collapsed behind her. Staggering into the harsh sunlight, she finally saw her ‘price’; her right arm was nothing more than bones, tied to her by runes of binding far stronger than she’d ever seen, and across any skin she could find, black tattoos marked and protected her in ways she did not yet understand.

One would thing such revelations would be shocking to say the least, but, while she couldn’t remember the details of what transpired in the cave, she knew what had happened had been necessary and that she’d asked for it. The greatest shock came when she finally made it to the town the band had originally set out from. It had doubled in size and none of the outfitters that they’d used even knew of the group she’d been a part of. Eventually she came to understand what had happened, while she had communed with the shade it had preserved her, and passing so much had not been a quick task; while she learned, a century had passed, even though she still appeared to be a young woman in her 30s; before entering the town she’d done what she could to hide her right arm, explain to anyone who got curious, that she was born without it.
--
After creating a new identity, she went back to what she had been doing. Much of what she’d learned in the cave was still beyond her, but the more information she studies and the stronger she gets, the more the understanding that was given to her makes sense.

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FIGHTING STYLE(S)

Some basic knife fighting moves taught to her along the way, and her magic

EQUIPTMENT

Weapon

• Dagger – A pattern wielded steel dagger with a black handle (The handle scales are actually made from the piece of bone that was removed from her right arm)

Armour

• Enchanted Robes
• Enchanted Scarf

Gear

• ‘Endless’ Grimoire – A book she found while on an expedition into the desert years ago. No matter how much you write in it, you can always find a blank page, and no matter what you may open the book to search for, you always open to the right page.
• A leather pouch with four black Soul Stones. (Don’t worry, the world is better off without the people those came from)
• Ritual supplies for some of the more complicated spell works

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SKILLS & ABILITIES

• Dynamic Mage – Isbeil’s innate magic allows her to impart or eliminate motion on any object.
  • Wind Blade – Creates a focused ‘blade’ of air that can cut through soft tissue quite easily; harder minerals and magic barriers are generally unaffected.
  • Barrier – A wall of super dense air to halt most moving objects, though something with enough speed and/or mass may still get through.
  • Hasten – Accelerates a single object to incredible speeds (The smaller/lighter the object, the easier it is)
  • Cessation – Robs the target of all motion
• Necromancer – She can manipulate, summon or banish the souls of the dead and turn them to her own uses if she wishes.
  • Greater Life Leech – Powerful, but slow to cast and requiring much preparation; it allows her to ‘feed’ off the Life energy of a large area for a limited amount of time. The greater the drain the shorter it lasts.
  • Lesser Life Leech – Not nearly as powerful, it has a much shorter cast time and needs no preparation; however it does require direct contact with the subject and has no area of effect.
  • Soul Summon – She can recall a soul from the afterlife for a time, through the use of a talisman made from something that belonged to the soul in life. The closer the talisman was to the deceased and the more recent the death, the easier it is.
  • Reanimate – Turns any dead bodies into an undead automaton, capable of preforming simple tasks. Like with Soul Summon, the more recent the dead body is, the better.

[♪] Appearance: A lithe woman with black hair and blue eyes who extrudes a sort of mysterious but alluring aura, though many contribute her natural physical charms to having gotten from her father. Though she always dresses in flowing manners, even while in armor she has a long open skirt or in flowing short skirts while outside of it, mixing plain with the alluring.

[♪] Name: Nanami Sanada
[♪] Gender: Female
[♪] Age: 26

♫ Bio ♫
One of six children to the famous leader of the Blood Rose Irregulars, Nanami grew up as a bit of a black sheep among them all. Jing was and is still famous for being a strong, charismatic figurehead and most of his children followed suit in his footsteps, though Nanami had been more interested in knowledge than anything else, much like her mother who has passed away at childbirth. While all the others spent time playing outside and making fun of the youngest among them, Nanami stayed indoors and poured over myths and legends. Even with the fame of her father, not many knew her or paid much attention to the quiet child compared to the others, though her younger years were still spent in learning some measure of warfare like the others.

Some time into her young adult years, when she was in her teens, it was found out that Tsai - the youngest - had been playing a dangerous game with his father's politics by giving away secrets to the highest seller. Her father was furious and hurt by the betrayal and eventually exiled him from the family, leaving a bit of a gap in the once happy family. While Nanami stayed to her studies, Riou had decided he wanted to take up arms with his father in the Blood Rose Irregulars. However only a year into recruitment, he was hit by a stray arrow during an assignment that was strangely poisoned and lost his life. The tragedy stirred Tir, the closest to Riou, to join the Empire's military despite Jing's reluctance. Leaving Ce, the oldest to tend to the lands while Jing was away, Lorelai to tend to his castle and guests, and then finally Nanami herself.

After a few months of deep deliberation, Nanami came to her father and pleaded with him to let her join the Blood Rose - to which he stubbornly refused for a month straight. He did not approve of another child being in the same position as Riou, let alone one of only two daughters. However when she finally came to him with blade in hand and gave him a demonstration of a skill she had learned from delving into ruins, by herself, he softened to the idea - though there was quite the argument about her visiting such strange places by herself. Since then, it's been nearly six months and she's been nicknamed the Songbird for her talents and idealistic views.

[♪] Fighting Style: Nanami's style is more akin to a blade dancer than a traditional fighter, especially given she normally single-wields short swords for the dexterity and agility, however she is proficient in using bucklers and daggers as well as other blades as well.
[♪] Equipment: Custom tailored armor that includes flowing (mostly cosmetic) components as well as a well-made short sword attached to a belt with a pouch.

♫ Skills/Abilities ♫
Bladesong: A unique, forgotten practice of bardic magic in the form of blade dancing, bladesongs are a mix of swordsmanship and music that can produce beautiful and haunting tunes in the middle of combat for various effects. Usually with a swing of a blade of some sort, the wielder doesn't need knowledge on how to play or sing but instead needs some understanding of martial skills in order to make their blades sing. The source is mainly from their own soul stone, though not everyone has a naturally affinity for it. Those who use bladesongs are usually referred to as 'Songblades.'
𝄞 Blade March: With powerful strikes, the Songblade can produce heavy notes that reach out and cut their opponents, making it feel as if they've been struck several times by a single swing of the blade. (Heavy, powerful notes)
𝄞 Soothing Whirl: Swirling with blade in hand, the Songblade can design a song that heals their allies within a small radius around themselves. Though this mainly closes small wounds and gifts a small bout of energy - a dedicated healer is needed for much more. (Calming, soothing notes)
𝄞 Quickening Strike: Weaving the blade in a quick motion, the Songblade can speed their attacks up for a short amount of time or boon another ally with the same quickness. (Quick, catchy notes)
𝄞 Sharp Cord: Drawing the blade back into themselves with a fluid but sharp motion, the Songblade can produce sounds directed to an opponent that brings feelings of depair, though many won't succumb to surrendering, it still lowers their overall effectiveness. (Sharp, painful notes)
𝄞 Sense Song: A sixth sense for the Songblade, she can mentally 'hear' the song of another person, be it of good, evil, or neutral will though it must be focused on to work - meaning it simply helps her discern the matter of the heart and cannot stop things like being ambushed nor tell if someone is lying or what their true intentions are.

[♪] Other Information:

Name: Hafrbjǫrn Ráðvarðr (Haph-BYORN - RAD-vard)
Gender: Male
Age: 42

Appearance: Hafrbjǫrn height towers on 215.3 centimeters (7 feet tall). His burly build is the result of a brute lifestyle honed through the art of melding steel and iron, fingers scrapped through the tending of the fields, arms scathed through the clashing of steel and all adorning the flesh which would provide his comrades with the finest of stories. His weight is about 330 pounds and hair of ginger which is only seen at pigment of his beard. He wears his hair bald, yet in exchange his head and arms are branded with the marking of his people. The iris of his eyes are like that of emerald in their hue that blend together nicely with the tan of his skin.

Bio: The third junior of a family of eight, Hafrbjǫrn was the first son of the town's farmer and fisher Hafþór. With two the first sibling being sisters, he was tasked with most of the work and duty as the first male, which came as a boon later in life. Quickly at his teens his stature began to flourish and his physic grew a respectable size for the expansion of the family business. Soon he took up wood working, and much later in his life he began to meld and learn the craft of the steel from the local blacksmith. As such he inevitably found himself selling and repairing weapons and armor to travelers and members of the guild. His life up until adulthood felt simple, and uninspired. The blade always seem to come naturally to him, he would forge his own axe when it came to chopping the bark he needed to feed the flames which would heat his cauldron. He would sharpen the knife to near perfection, when he decided to skin the deer. His hands were drawn to the chisel and anvil, but more over, as a blacksmith, he took it upon himself to learn the sword, the hammer, the spear and axe. If a man would fall at the hands of an animal, bandit or soldier while the blade he forged was at their hand it was because of incompetence out of his part or the soldier.

Yet he could never be knighted, that blood did not run among him. Steel was his body, and fire was his blood. He later found love and married, he had his first child who began to show interest in the guild. Reluctantly, Hafrbjǫrn forged his son his sword and armor, the finest of which he has ever developed. Such craftsmanship could impress the kings and queens of the nations. However, tragedy struck when he was brought the unfortunate news of his son's death. This tore the man, cause him a fit of rage and anger of which he has never understood. Taking the same sword which was made for his son, he went forth and killed the man responsible in a fit of rage. Hafrbjǫrn was jailed, served a hefty sentence and soon after became a shell of the man he once knew. He had an affinity for battle, his body was his armor, flesh like steel honed under years of welding and toning weapons. Someone took notice of such, and blessed him with freedom in exchange for protection. With his fine paid, Hafrbjǫrn began to work as a bodyguard, and he was splendid at it. His brutality and strength were all enough to withstand the skill of those who weren't potent enough to sustain his swing.

Eventually, he decided to join the guild, regaining a inkling of peace and serenity. This somehow reminds him of his son. He is a serene giant for the most part, yet a man of not many words.

Fighting Style: Brutal, fierce without a pause and relentless. His weapons are large like his stature and he has the potency to swing them with ferocity and speed. He's proficient with a bow and arrow and terrible with anything magic. He's the perfect example of a brute.

Equipment:

• Weapons:
  
  
  
  • Two small axes: One for each hand holstered on his side. They are made of the finest steel he could find.
  • Large Axe: His main weapon of choice. It would take the average man two hands to wield, but Hafrbjǫrn can easily wield it with one.
  • Carving knife: Although not particularly a weapon. He carries it around almost like a bad habit.
• Armor:
  
  
  
  • This one
• Misc:
  
  
  
  • Anything that comes standard while traveling.
  • Forging materials (back at base)
  • Always has a whetstone
  • Throwing Bombs
  • Small bag of soverns (100)

Skills/Abilities:

• Brute Strength
• Forging
• Weapon Savant: Anything he picks up he can use with ease, although not necessarily with a mastery of an art. As a blacksmith, he hold extensive knowledge of weaponry.
• Survivalist
• Cold Resistant: He lived majority of his life in snow, he can withstand cold weathers with much more ease than other. (Not particularly any ice spells though.)

Other Information:

[⇹]_Name
Garret Alester
[⇹]_Age
Twenty-seven
[⇹]_Gender
Male

{⇹}_Appearance
Gerrett is a man of normal stature, standing at roughly 6 feet and weighing a little over 190lbs. Often, his void-hued hair droops in messy curls to act as a veil obstructing his vision; Inherited from his late Father. His visage consist of light olive skin, embellished with thin pink lips, a rather flat nose, and finished with warm hazel hues; handsome in its own special way. When serving with the Serim Knights, his attire naturally consist of lustrous segments of Seromian crafted plate into sturdy armour. These suits usually lacked lower body armor , as to allow greater mobility. Naturally, an enclosed helm accompanies this. During celebrations and festivals, a highly decorative vestment was worn over top the armour; The knight’s accolades pinned to this.

[⇹]_Biography

Garret was the first and only son born to a well-respected Serim Knight. His mother, a seamstress, died whilst giving birth; Which left his father distraught for some time. Gerrett spent most if not all his childhood within the Guild's hall, hearing the revered tales of many a veteran. The Serim are a respected mercenary group; often mistaken for Empire Soldiers, with the innumerable members, Uniform..well..uniforms, combat prowess, and rigid class structure. Not only are they mistaken, but the EOM(Empire of Man) often employs them for high-risk missions. Each member has 'Honor, Duty, and Devotion' instilled into their mind during the rigorous training one must undergo to join.

At around 10 Garrett began as a squire, running small task for his Father and occasionally tagging along with a Clearing Party. Clearing Parties are groups of Serim Knights(of no less than 2 and no more than 5) hired to exterminate monsters from an area. Squires are only allowed to accompany them for missions with little to no threat. The relationship between He and the Knights was good enough for them to -through the Grandmaster's approval- allow him to not only carry a weapon but undergo more dangerous missions. One such mission, a 17 year old Garret and his Father were tasked to clear what was seemingly an easy dungeon. However, upon arrival they discovered a plethora of beast, which they engaged in combat. The battle ends with beasts slain along with his Father; Garret seriously injured. As per tradition, his sword was returned to the guild to be stored amongst the other blades in the 'Hall of Honor'. This encounter inspires Garrett to be a better man, a better Knight for his Father.

Honor. Duty. Devotion. Exactly what they put into Garrett, as he came of age to formally join(that age is 22). The training was fraught with difficulty but through determination, grit, and blood(quite a bit actually), he prevailed. The ceremony for accepted individuals is held within the halls and before the Grandmaster, whom bestows the Knight with his or her armaments. Garrett, upon stepping to pedestal instead received the blade of his late Father,dubbed The Light, which he accepted with teary eyes. Since that day, Garrett has underwent numerous missions and gained renown equal to if not above his father.

[⇹]_{Fighting Style}

The fighting style of the Serim consist of inherently normal sword strikes and movements, but chained with unorthodox movements from the Knight his/herself. Such as rolls, dashes, and the occasional jump. These movements were adopted due to the lack of lower body armor, which allows for exceptional movement.

[⇹]_Equipment

⇹10 days rations
⇹Guild allowance of 100 Soverns.(If these come in gold/silver/bronze, then silver is their worth)
⇹2 draughts of healing
⇹Map{acquired before missions, mainly of the mission area}
⇹General Supplies{bedroll, sword cleaning kit, etc}

[⇹]_{Skills/Abilities}

⇹Serim Sword Fighting
⇹Map Reading
⇹Moderate survival experience
⇹Extensive knowledge of other mercenary groups.

Name: Alleria Eyre
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Appearance: 5'9"


Bio:
The middle of three siblings, Alleria like many other girls of her status took lessons to become an ideal lady alongside her elder sister. However, Alleria had little patience for a noblewoman's education (with the sole exception of knitting, something about creating her own patterns and design was just too fun), unlike her elder sister who took these studies very seriously. With the sole younger brother set to inherit the families fortune, Alleria's future trouble her parents greatly as no nobleman would want such a rowdy and rebellious lady as their wife.

She was an active and curious child, preferring to roam outside than stay inside in her great big home. To the frustration of her parents, Alleria did not mind getting dirty and had a keen interest in catching and observing bugs. Whenever her father went on trips, she would beg him to take her along.

At times, her grandfather from her father's side would visit. Alleria enjoyed listening to her grandfather regale her with riveting tales of her ancestor's past, a past filled with glory and battle. She remembered her grandfather jokingly telling her perhaps she would be the one to serve in the army as the Eyre family, to the best of his knowledge, has seen someone in every generation serve in the Empire's army one way or another.

At the age of 11, after a near death experience Alleria had subconsciously activated her soul stone. A frightened Alleria found herself surrounded with a torrent of water. She was unable to control her magical powers as the waters lashed out at anyone who approached her. As the magic raged around her, she began to suffer backlash and the first sign that something was wrong was the color of her hair changing to a silvery grey. Thankfully, a mage contact from the army her father called for arrived in a timely matter to calm Alleria down and put her to sleep.

In the months that followed after she had recuperated, her father gave her two options. One would be to stay and continue her education to become a fine noblewoman. The other would be to join the army at the request of the mage so that she can control her soul stone and use it for the good of the empire. After careful deliberation, Alleria decided to join the army and begin studying to be a mage. This was a path of immense hardship. She knew this but couldn't help but feel truly alive with her choice.

Thus she became a mage apprentice when she was nearly twelve and she spent the next 5 years learning about magic and about her soul gem. It was here that she discovered she had a water affinity with magic. As she had proven to be a good student and had a surprising amount of athletic ability she was given a choice to either continue her studies as is or become a part of the newly created swordmages corp, warriors who were trained in melee combat alongside magic.

She was inducted to the ranks of a sword mage. With another four more years of intense study, simulation and drills, she and her comrades in the program were sent out to do various tasks to test their mettle. They proved to be successful but the violence over years she had saw gave her pause. The embellishment of glory her grandfather had told her had crumpled. But in spite of this, Alleria does not regret the path she decided on.

Until the present day, she continued to fight for the empire. She has no love interest but her family hasn't stopped trying to introduce suitors for her.

Fighting Style:
Versed in the art of war and magic, Alleria is a melee combatant who uses spells to give herself an edge in fights. Formally trained in the army, she has experience with all manners of weaponry. However, Alleria does prefer to use a shield and spear with her short-sword sheathed until the need arises. She is a defensive fighter, using her shield and protective magic to keep herself safe and her spear to find openings in the enemies defenses.

Equipment: What is the basic equipment you carry on your person
Army issued equipment

Skills/Abilities: Any special skills/talents you possess (Mages list magic types here)

Water Affinity/Water magic: As part of her mandatory mage training, she discovered that her own soul stone has an affinity with water (ice, vapor included)

Arms Training: Being a part of the army, this goes without saying. However, using a shield and spear is her strongest and most comfortable way of fighting

Horsemanship: Many people can ride a horse to get around places. It is a different matter when you are riding a charger to battle

Knitting: Finds it very therapeutic and relaxing

Other Information: any special information about your character (must be approved by GM, so shoot me a pm and lets talk)

Alleria is a mid level officer. Due to her family's history of service, she has some minor repute in the military. As for family heirlooms, they are mostly memorabilia and useless in battle. The only heirloom of interest is a tower shield refined from the soul stone of a fire salamander that was lost 2 generations ago.

Name: Selova Ajes 'the Yellow Wolf'
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance: Selova is a young but tall girl, with long golden hair that is tied to a braid. Her pale skin makes her dark grey eyes distinctive. She often wears her riding cloak and seen on a horseback. Her sword is tied beside her waist, and she has countless calluses along her forearms from the use of her weapon.


Bio:
Selova Ajes is born as the youngest daughter of a local lord. From a young and tender age, she was trained as a squire. She had excelled on her way of the sword, but wasn't good at her own studies. Overall, she led a relatively comfortable life, until her father passed away from an sudden illness.

She was left to her own after her dad's passing, and was declared the most suitable successor to inherit her father's duties. But that would mean her abandoning her dreams of being raised to a Knight, and the worst of all, putting down her sword that she had swung for her whole life. After a couple of weeks of deliberations, she decided to walk away of her home and abandoned what was placed in front of her.

She then joined the Blood Rose Irregulars, and felt like there's more than what she could know in this world. Despite the fact that she would have to throw away her title as a high lady, she felt that it was more worth than to be stuck in a room with administrative duties.

For her two years as a mercenary, Selova became known as the Yellow Wolf. Dedicated at her job, but known to be impatient and rash at times.

Fighting Style
Selova fights mainly with her longsword. Having trained with the sword for most of her life, her sword looks alive and menacing once drawn. Her slashes doesn't resemble slashes at all, it resembles bite marks that eats through targets. But she is known to be impatient and haughty at some times. Her style was like a style of a common knight, and she fights very offensively.

Equipment: Ajes' Longsword - A crescent-marked double edged sword. One of her family heirloom.
She also wears a cloak outside her armour, and is known to stash horseshoes and reins for her horses.

Skills/Abilities: Selova is good at taming horses, having to tend horses as a child. She is a proficent swordsman.

_{B A S I C I N F O R M A T I O N}

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_{D E T A I L E D I N F O R M A T I O N}

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_{O C C U P A T I O N A L A N D F I G H T I N G A B I L I T I E S}

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_{P E R S O N A L}

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_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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_{B I O G R A P H Y}

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Ehri Khan, just like many of her clan, although scattered through the Grand Empire, still use the old surname her ancestors used in the times before the starfall. Daughter of two hunters from the same Old Blood clan (which is quite rare, given how scarce the members from this old, forgotten clan are) Ehri was born and raised learning the old ways of the clan. Preserving the techniques and the culture of her ancestors, she is one of the few who inherited some of the forgotten abilities from their old clan.

When her parents died, victims of a mysterious disease, Ehri was alone in the world with only Isaz and Misha. Following her parent's footsteps, she choose to live the same way they lived, as a huntress. Starting with small jobs, although only a few people know her, they know exactly how good she is. Even in a young age of 20, few can match her skills, be with her bow or with her Khopesh, when she sets her eyes on a target, the outcome of that hunt is already decided.

Unlike other 'mercenaries' though, Ehri always worked more for the thrill of the hunt and her own survival than money, so she only takes jobs she wants. Even if someone offers her a decent reward, if she doesn't agree with the motives of said contractor, she won't accept the hunt. This sense of pride coupled with her skills and the fact that she is a Skinchanger from the Old Blood only serve to make it even harder for her to find 'jobs'. Common folk seem to avoid her and even some nobles or mages see her as either an object of study or a 'relic' from forgotten times and usually not taken seriously, at least until others see her skills personally. Due to the lack of knowledge regarding her people's culture, there are many rumors such as that she is part animal or that she eats like a beast & etc. Due to this and some other motives, Ehri often prefers to be discreet regarding her jobs and only accept a few ones.

But despite all the mysticism that exists regarding Ehri and her clan's very existence and origin, she is only known by a few who are very well informed. Maybe it's her own desire to not attract unwanted attention, or maybe it is because some people still don't see the ones who follow the old customs with good eyes, labeling them as savages or 'tribal', often only calling her as a last resort. A way she found to circumvent that problem was joining an adventuring company. After a quick search, she found about the name of the Bloodrose Irregulars. Joining them would to be the best option, since being the member of a well known adventuring company such as them would make it easier for her to get jobs and mostly wouldn't even care to know which hunter would complete their request since they trusted the Bloodrose Irregulars.