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| Name |

| Nickname |

| Birth Date |

| Age |

| Gender |

| Relationship Status |

| Occupation |

| In Depth Appearance |

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| Habits | Quirks | Oddities |


| Hobbies |


| Likes |


| Dislikes |


| Fears |


| Personality |

The Nightingale Corporation is full of bright eyed, charming, drop dead gorgeous spies who could cause heart palpitations with a well placed wink and witty remark. Kit is decidedly not one of these people; she's more the one that can found huddled up in comfy chair with a cup of tea in her hand while pouring over a debriefing folder. She is meticulous to a fault, which is one of the reasons she's risen through the ranks so quickly. Her discretion, thoroughness, and dedication to each assignment has left many a customer well pleased with both her and The Nightingale Corporation.

That being said, Kit also has an adventurous side, thrives on action,and loves anything that gets her adrenaline up. This of course makes her a bit of a risk taker, which can get her into sticky situations, but most of the time she can handle them on her own. It also means that she can get bored easily if she feels like she isn't doing something productive. In addition to this Kit can be a bit a sarcastic, with a no nonsense sort of attitude when it comes to people who she deems to be immoral. She has a soft spot for the little lost lambs of the world and will go out of her way to protect them.

She is physically affectionate to those she cares about deeply and can get jealous over just about anything. Fortunately she knows this about herself and just grits her teeth and bears it whenever the green eyed monster decides to rear its ugly head. Her years in the Nightingale Corporation have acclimated Kit to all sorts of violence and bad situations, so she is not easily grossed out or scared of things that might have the average person running for the hills.

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| History |
Work in Progress.

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| Theme Song |

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History:
Sona was born to The Hollowed One and his bride one particularly hot summer night under the baleful glow of a blood moon. The clans-folk murmured among themselves of signs and bad omens, but the only one brave enough to approach The Hallowed One and suggest the babe be cast out, lest she bring poor hunting, was cast out himself and shunned. No one dared speak ill of the child after that, but many privately worried that she would be the downfall of their tribe. Time passed and they became less and less suspicious, as the rest of the hunts that year were bountiful and their stores of dried meats and root vegetables began to overflow.

Soon the people of the Stoneridge Tribe began to see the girl as more of a good luck charm than a curse.

As the summers went by Sona learned from her father how to track and trap all sorts of beasts, as well as the proper ways to skin them and which bits had to be removed so they wouldn't sour the meat. Her mother, Silya, was a devout follower of Kova, Goddess of the Hunt and patron deity of their small settlement. As such the woman set about teaching her daughter the ins and outs of their culture. The young girl soon understood that Kova was a strict and vengeful God who had little pity for the weak, but greatly blessed the strongest warriors and named the best her champion, known as The Hallowed One.

The individual who brought in the biggest, most powerful game was the one who was allowed to bare this mantle. Sona's father, Veld, won this blessing by taking down a large brown bear on his own, which successfully unseated The Hallowed One before him, a woman who had felled a white stag. With this title came all the responsibilities of running the clan as well as the power to take any mate of their choosing. All other clan members would have to wait until their twenty second summer to take a husband or wife and were required to receive The Hallowed One's blessing on the match.

During her tenth summer Silya bore and birthed a second child for The Hallowed One, this one a boy, but sadly his mother died in the birthing bed. For one's life to end this way was considered the highest honor, a glorious death in battle, and as such she was given a warrior's burial. The child that killed her however was once again feared for the bad omen he represented, just like Silya's first child had. Again Veld ignored this and once again the hunts were bountiful.

Nile was soon seen as a blessing from Kova as well and the clan-folk did whatever they could to get the siblings to stay in their huts a little longer, in the hopes of garnering the goddess' favor. They bribed the pair with sweet berries or free lessons on weapon crafting or hide tanning. All of this time spent in each other's company made the two grow closer together and though it was a great sign of weakness to become too fond of another human, Sona grew to care for her little brother a great deal.

As the seasons changed and Sona grew older, she became gradually more preoccupied with honing her skills so that she might one day take up the title of The Hallowed One. When her nineteenth summer dawned the young woman set out to surpass her father and came back with a grey wolf for her troubles. Sona laid it at her father's feet, her arrow still lodged in the creature's left eye, and even though it was not a big enough prize to overtake him, both Veld and the clans-folk grew more proud of her.

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Lyra is all long, lean lines that are partially due to good genetics, but also thanks to her love of jogging. Her style is exclusively made up of Salvation Army and Goodwill finds, but they suit Lyra's needs just fine and it allows her to save a little extra Starbucks cash to send home to her family. She has a small tattoo of a flower across her right collarbone in memory of her father.

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Dedicated. Determined. Dauntless.
Lyra grew up the oldest of five girls in one of the nicer suburbs of Memphis. Her mother, an emergency room nurse, was busy most of the time and left the brunt of the child rearing to her husband, who owned a nearby flower shop and had flexible hours. This dynamic worked out well for their family as Mr. Hart had a gentle spirit and took to the role of caretaker like a duck to water.

It doesn't matter much in the long run though, because the year Lyra turned eleven was the same year Mr. Hart was diagnosed with brain cancer. He passed away six months later.

After her husband's passing Mrs. Hart was forced to sell the flower shop and move her family into a smaller house on the shadier side of town. She also had to cut back on her work hours to tend to her younger children, but the money from the sale of the shop helped them scrape by. Lyra assisted her frazzled mom by changing diapers, bathing, and reading bedtime stories to the little ones until she became more like a second mother than a sister to her younger siblings. As the young girl watched her mom spread herself too thin and pinching pennies to make ends meet, Lyra began to feel an overwhelming need to rescue her family form this situation.

So she googled what jobs pay the best and decided on the spot that she was going to be the best damn doctor in all of Tennessee.

From then on Lyra focused all of her extra energy on getting the best grades in her classes and excelling in her extracurriculars, track in particular. If she wasn't spending her weekends pouring over medical journals than Lyra was usually tagging along with her mom to the emergency room and watching her work with wide eyed fascination. All of the hard work ended up paying off in the end because the oldest of the Hart children ended up graduating and received a full scholarship to the University of Tennessee based on her grades and track times.

Lyra made it through the first four years of her college career the same way she had highschool, by knuckling down and focusing all of her energy on succeeding. She even managed to snag a job in the campus bookstore so she could send a little extra cash back home to her mom. By the time she finished her first four years, Lyra was starting to feel run down and stretched too thin herself. Neverless she persisted until she graduated with full honors and was offered a scholarship at the prestigious UCLA medical program out in sunny Los Angeles.

Lyra naturally accepted the offer, but moving across the country and away from everyone she knew was hard on her. While the blonde managed to get a job at the Starbucks on campus, she had a harder time making friends and her packed schedule was starting to get the better of her. If only there was an easier way...

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• Lucky - For some reason or another, the universe really seems to be in this girl's corner. Weather it's winning fifty bucks on a scratch off ticket or always finding a parking spot close to the front of the store, fate seems to smile on her. While Lyra herself is completely oblivious to this fact, her classmates caught on fast and always race to sit next to her on test days.
• Mama Bird - Have you eaten anything today? You look cold, do you need my jacket? Remember to drink your water because dehydration succcks! Lyra is always looking after those closest to her to make sure they are taking care of themselves.
• The Best Bedside Manner- Between helping raise her sisters and spending an obscene amount of time around the dying, the sick, and the elderly, nuturing comes easily to Lyra. Be it distracting a child to administer a vaccine or holding someone's hand when the pain of chemo is too much, you can bet Lyra will be there with soft touches and soothing glances.
• Cool Hand Luke - Ganggrene? Bring it on. Ruptured boils? Child's play. Obscure blood diseases? Fascinating. At this point Lyra has seen so much that she has a steel gut and nothing really makes her queasy or nervous anymore.

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Name: Antonia of the Alboinid Dynasty

Appearance: Antonia doesn't look much like a traditional Lampertei woman and with good reason; she takes after her mother, who hailed from the city of Udos. Still, she does her best to not remind her adoptive father of this heritage and dresses her long, lean limbs in boxy tunics and only dawns her hauberk mail when she's traveling. She avoids flowing robes and anything white like the plauge, lest she provoke his fury.

The king's young ward has recently turned nineteen and the years of sleep deprivation have left their mark, causing deep, dark circles to blossom under each of her eyes. Her face and body are littered with scores of freckles and she keeps her red hair tucked away in a cap or hood when in her father's presence, but otherwise lets it down.

Kingdom Allegiance: Lampertei

Tribe: Lampert

Background: Dalgiserius is the only thing close to a father Antonia has ever known and in her humble opinion, he's shit at it.

Antonia was brought to Skadania before her first year had waned and grew up in the cold, bleak walls of Skadan Castle as a ward of the king. The little girl quickly learned to keep her mouth shut and stay out of sight to avoid the king's oppressive fury, but when his mood was particularly foul it seemed as if he would seek her out with the express purpose of punishing her. It never mattered if she actually misbehaved or spoke out of turn, Dalgiserius would always find a reason to discipline her. When the God-damning tower was built during her twelfth year, King Dalgiserius moved her to the room closest to it so she would be forced to lie awake at night and listen to him curse the heavens into the early hours of the morning.

It's during one of these shouting matches that she learned the truth about her adopted father's anger towards her. It seemed that Antonia was the bastard daughter of Queen Nanperga, the king's own lady wife and a lover she had taken to spite him.
While this gave her a new found sympathy for Dalgiserius, it wasn't an issue Antonia could actually fix and their relationship continued to deteriorate as the seasons passed. She also began to grow indifferent towards her half sister, Princess Dalgiserata, who defended the king's actions and never acknowledged the abuse he inflicted on Antonia.

At this point the lack of sleep from listening to Dalgiserius' tyraids had begun to take a serious toll on the young girl. Antonia was just about ready to set the whole castle on fire in the pursuit of getting some sleep when her father named her one of his Gastalds. It didn't make any sense, the girl was barely sixteen at the time and while decent with a bow, she was no seasoned war chieftain. Still she jumped at the chance to leave the castle on impossible witch hunts and no matter how ridiculous or unachievable the goal may have seem, Antonia never shied away from any of King Dalgiserius's assignments.

Because honestly at this point, all Antonia wanted is a full nights rest.

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Name: Gundiberga (Pronounced Gun-da-perga)

Appearance: The many years of weilding her halberd have left Gundiberga's body well muscled and without much softness to it. She keeps her pale hair cropped short and the lines on her face give away her age of thirty eight years. Her eyes are so dark they almost appear black and only truly light up when her enemies are screaming in terror.

Kingdom Allegiance: Lampertei

Tribe: Lampert

Background: Gundiberga spent the first decade of her fighting career as a sellsword, guarding merchant caravans and the like as long as they payed her well enough. It wasn't long before the woman developed a reputation for the manic glee she took in slaying god-fearing Chlotar raiders and Xeaxaenot loving Eodaen swindlers alike. This joy in her work was what caught the eyes of someone higher up in King Dalgiserius' court and she was recruited to assist in the desecration of the temples that had begun cropping up on their borders.

Gundiberga was ruthless in this endeavor as well, her mania and bloodthirst only made more intense by her proximity to the king's own madness. After five years of tearing down temples and painting the walls with their worshiper's blood she was recruited for another assignment. She was to be shield maiden to King Dalgiserius' adopted daughter, Antonia, and aid her in assignments in the city of Udos and wherever else the king saw fit to send them.

The older woman wasn't impressed at first with the king's newest Gastald. Antonia didn't have the first clue about diplomacy or the intricacies of warfare, and as far as Gundiberga could tell the girl had never swung an axe a day in her life. But what she lacked in practice the girl made up for in sheer force of will and after three years of being stuck together, she found young gastald almost tolerable.

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Name: Amara Wolfhart
Age: 25
Gender: Female

Appearance:
At first glance, Amara looks like a fragile doll. The woman is a small, seemingly delicate creature with skin fair enough to cause strangers to wonder if she ever sets foot outside of the shadows. Her long hair is equally pale, a shade of blonde so light that it appears white in certain lights. Most days she chooses to leave it unbound and the gentle wave in the strands draw attention to her heart shaped face and dainty nose. To complete this doll-like look she has large doe eyes with pupils dark enough to appear black, which can be construed as unnerving by some people.

There is something that mars her pristine image however; a scar that cuts through the right edge of her full lips and continues all the way down her neck before stopping just beneath her collarbone. It is completely healed over now, it's pink hue faded to white, but instead of hiding it Amara leaves it on display and wears it like a badge of honor.

She is usually the shortest person in any given room and on an average day chooses to cover her slight form in long, gossamer thin dresses in tones of ivory or dove grey. Her style only truly varies when Amara is on assignment, when she favors black and dons form fitting breeches, leather tunics, and dark hoods so she can move quickly and be as silent as a wraith. The only true constant in her wardrobe are gloves that come up to just below her elbows, which are a necessity considering all of the poison she deals with on a daily basis.

Personality:
This woman’s unassuming appearance often leads strangers to underestimate her and Amara prefers it that way. After all, it's so much easier to get close to someone when they think you're a sweet little lamb.

When she is working Amara is cunning and manipulative, transforming into whatever character she must to earn a mark’s trust. It doesn't matter to her whether she needs to be the shrinking violet, the sweet but naive girl next door, or the sultry temptress, Amara will play the part to a near flawless level in an attempt to get in their good graces. To her close friends and colleagues this can often be both deeply disturbing and hilarious, seeing as how out of the ordinary these behaviors are for her. But no one can fault her talent or the ruthless persistence she employees when on the job.

In her downtime Amara is more relaxed, with a laid back sort of disposition and a dark sense of humor, thanks to a lifetime spent around corpses. This constant exposure to the dead and dying also means that she isn’t frightened by much and doesn't bat an eyelash at gore or death itself, instead choosing to write it off as an unfortunate inevitability. While no one would ever accuse the pale woman of being warm and cuddly, she will commit small acts of kindness for the people she has affection for. Sometimes this manifests itself as making extra salve for a fellow guildmate after they’ve been wounded on assignment or other times you can see it in the careful way she looks after her friend's family and belongings when they're away.

Weapons:

• Primary - Bow
• Secondary - Dagger

Magic User: No.

History:
Amara never knew her mother and was primarily raised by her father, Atlas, who was a well known coffin maker and undertaker within the walls of the disk. As there was no one else to look after the young girl she spent an exorbitant amount of time with Atlas while he was working, constantly watching him wash and prepare the bodies or carefully assembling sturdy pine boxes. Whenever they had a hard month and were struggling to pay their dues her father would cut open the corpses to harvest their organs beforing turning around and selling them on the black market to make up the money still owed. While Amara knew that this wasn't strictly legal, it kept them within the safety of the city’s walls and out of the wildlands, so she never resented him for it.

Life continued and all was right in Amara’s world, until one day it wasn't. The year she turned sixteen someone caught wind of Atlas’ meat peddling tendencies and turned him into the city guard, who had her father thrown into prison and his assets seized. Penniless and out on the streets the girl tried her best to stay in the disk, but was ultimately kicked out when she could not pay her dues. She made her way to one of the smaller settlements on the outskirts of the walls but again luck was not on her side and she was picked up by a group of marauders her second night.

Amara tries to block out most of what happened to her while she was in their clutches.

But it was during these dark times that Amara learned to play her parts so well, altering the way she spoke or fluttered her eyelashes to avoid more vicious treatment. She began sticking to the shadows, stepping softer, and trying to make herself as unseen as possible to avoid drawing the attention of these deplorable men. They went on like this for five long years, until one night the abuse became too great and something in Amara snapped. Quiet as the grave she slunk through their rooms, slitting their throats one by one until the captain was the only one left with a pulse. He woke right in the middle of Amara dealing the killing blow and returned the favor by loosing his dagger and carving a line down her face and neck with his last breath.

She managed to stumble out of their encampment and made it to the road before she could go no farther and collapsed. She faded in and out of consciousness all morning, waiting for some beast to come along and finish her off so she could finally rest for a while, but fortune chose to smile on the the dying girl instead. Traveling along the path came a merchant and a full convoy of armored guards. At first Amara feared that she would be enslaved again and did her best to hold up her dagger through blearly eyes and bloody teeth. Eventually the merchant, an older woman named Meng, climbed down from the caravan and stooped down low to survey the girl before her lips slowly twitched up into a manic grin. "I like your spirit, little monster. I'll show you how to use those claws of yours, if you'll let me."

With no better options in sight, Amara naturally said yes.

It turned out Meng called the small settlement of Moora home and as far as cities outside the disk went, it wasn't awful. The merchant was well regarded in her community for the healing ointments she would craft and powerful people from all over would pay her to brew up toxic potions so they could dispose of their enemies without getting their hands dirty. Meng nursed her young ward back to health and then immediatly set about showing her the ropes of her apothecary business.

Amara took to it like a blade to flesh. Posions just made sense to her and the scarred girl spent much of her time tinkering with recipes, crushing up hemlock and nightshade at her desk for hours on end and mixing it with different snake and scorpion venoms until she got the proportions just right. Getting them perfect became like a game to her. Some clients wanted their victims to suffer and required a toxin that would prolong the agony for days on end, while others desired a quick venom that could be ingested and wouldn't leave a trace so their demise would appear less suspious. Amara gladly filled each and every request, working tirelessly and earning herself and Meng quite a bit of money in the process.

After three years of apprenticing under Meng, Amara had finally saved up enough money to travel back to the disk and pay her dues long enough to find her father. The pair parted on good terms and the young poisoner returned to the safety of the walls only to find that her father had died a few years earlier when a fellow prisioner snapped his neck over a petty argument about food rations.

She took great pleasure in killing that prisoner slowly, bribing a guard to slip increasing amounts of belladonna powder into his food untill his pitiful heart gave out.

Amara spent the next year offering her services to the people of the city. She made poisions and salves indescrimantly and even branched out to murder when the coin was good enough and the buyer could be trusted to be discreet. Eventually she received a letter from Black Lily and after accepting their invitation Amara spends her days due free and doing what she loves most; killing the real monsters of the world.

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History:
Kiana was born one snowy morning high in the cliffs of the Sanoria mountains, within the stone walls of the The Moon Keep. Her father, King Leon, was so overcome with joy that he threw a feast that lasted a full month and encouraged all the citizens of his empire to attend and celebrate the birth of his first born child. Kiana's mother, Queen Feyra, was a little less enthused because the child was a girl and she had wanted a son for her first born, but seemed happy regardless. The young princess's father doted on her and raised his girl with the same opportunities he would have given a son. Then when it became increasingly apparent that he and his wife could not conceive another child, he set about grooming the girl to take his place after his passing. He hired the finest tutors to teach her diplomacy, how to manage funds, and battle tactics, while at the same time having her attend regular fencing and archery practices.

Queen Feyra humored her husband because she loved him dearly, but often worried her daughter would become too wild and headstrong to find a suitable suitor when she came of age, so she did her best to make sure the girl had an education in the finer arts as well. Kiana took to this as well and found that she loved having afternoon tea in a gorgeous gown just as much as she adored practicing her bowmanship from the back of her horse. And so the first twelve years of the young princess's life were filled with laughter, kindness, and love from both her parents and her subjects alike. But all good things must end, and during her thirteenth winter her father became ill and died after weeks of battling his sickness.

Both the queen and princess were devastated at this sudden loss and the kingdom went into a period of mourning. Kiana was still a child, so it was decided that her mother would rule as Queen Regent until her daughter came of age at twenty years. Kiana's education continued, but without her father to advocate for her training in combat, Queen Feyre began dismissing her teachers and eventually out right banned everything but archery in attempt to keep her daughter scar free. Her mother became so obsessed with keeping her daughter blemish free and finding her a husband that by her fifteenth year Kiana was confined to the castle grounds at all times, no longer allowed to even take her horse out on evening rides despite having armed escorts.

In the meantime King Richard from the southern valley kingdom of Rondiha began worming his way into the Queen Regent's good graces and within the year they were married. Richard had naturally assumed that with this union he would become king of both Rondiha and Sanoria, with his first born son Silas taking on the mantle in his passing, so he was absolutely livid when he found out he would only bare the title of King Regent until his step daughter came of age, when she would claim the title of Queen for herself. The culture in Rondiha was very much different from that of Sanoria and women were believed to be feeble minded and thus unsuitable for ruling a kingdom. Feyre, desperate to appease her new husband, proposed a compromise; when Kiana came of age on her twentieth name day, she would wed Prince Silas and unite both kingdoms for good.

At first Kiana agreed to this as she was only a sixteen year old girl and she was enraptured by the twenty year old Prince Silas's good looks and prowess on the battlefield, but as time went by she began to realize the full extent of his cruelty. He would blow up at his future bride over the smallest of things and whenever he'd catch her reading a book he'd rip it from her hands and tell her women weren't meant to know such things. The final straw came one afternoon when she was out in the courtyard practicing her marksmanship and Silas caught her. The prince stole the bow, which had been a gift from her late father, and stomped it into the ground until it snapped in half.

To say that Kiana snapped was an understatement.

The princess went feral and tackled the man to the ground. By the time the guards broke them up Silas had scratches down his face and a bloody lip while Kiana had a rather impressive black eye to show for the scuffle. Kiana announced then and there, in front of the entire courtyard, that she would never marry the prince and when she became Queen he would be banished from the kingdom so she would never have to look at his face again. Both the King and Queen Regent tried to convince her otherwise but on this subject the princess would not be swayed.

Now Kiana is only a month away from her twentieth name day where she will be crowned as the true monarch and King Regent Richard is scheming of ways to get his hateful step-daughter out of the picture. Feyre was hesitant at first, but now her husband has slowing been poisoning the Queen Regent against her daughter for years now, so now she too is willing to do whatever it takes to see Silas take the thrown.

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