Born to a small family in a small village, poor as the lords demanded them to be for their taxes, Lethe would go out into the world before he ever plied the family trade. A hunter, a forager, and sometimes even a shepherd when the wolves grew hungry, it was a miracle the boy was not so shunned at such a young age, one born from hardship and a lack of hands. In time, though, Lethe would take up that family trade in that family place, helping his father dig graves for those who had passed on. It was by no means a good life, for the others soon looked sour whenever their gaze fell on the young man, nor was it particularly happy, but it was by all means an honest living.

In time, Lethe found bits and pieces to be lost, forgotten. Men couldn't remember when the old man on the hill had lost his remaining family member, or his name, and families seldom remembered the names of the stillborn after the wife, and gravestones weathered away into plain monoliths for none to mourn. Young as he was, Lethe took on the task with fortitude, working first alongside a priest of a church not far from the village before eventually marking down the names himself. It was hard work, but Lethe's ledger grew with every funeral, a task mandated by none yet quietly appreciated by all. In time, he would mark down his father's name too, before some days later his mother also passed. The newfound gravekeeper took the loss by not taking it at all, setting down to his work.

Then the ebbs and flows of monsters, a fact of the shattered world since the death of the Thousand-Faced God, would come for them. The village, small as it was, soon fled to a walled city for fear of being overrun and Lethe, though he abandoned his graveyard, took with him that ledger and so all those names. The fleeing soon became a motif as they began the inevitable trek to another city. The world was still yet mad with divine fools and Lethe, placid as he could try to be, dug graves wherever there was a yard, noted names whenever they were to be had. It was sparse as information went yet, even so, eventually grew to be a comfort to those other suffering souls. Eventually, at a graveyard long since abandoned, in a crypt opened and forgotten by the horrors of monsters slain elsewhere, Lethe found a coal-black tome of the journey of the dead, of the realms long thereafter. The tome crumbled to dust with a touch as that Spark lept from it to him, and in that moment the gravekeeper became Ichor-Blessed.

Lethe was, for a time, lost with this newfound power. He hemmed and hawed, took his time about the whole of the issue, before eventually finding what path would be best to take as the compulsion grasped against him. Lethe set off for the city at the Abyss, to the center of the issues and the great hundreds of yearning dead who needed his aid. As he traveled, Lethe has convinced a handful of pious souls to lend themselves to his cause, to dig graves, to learn their letters, to remember.

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Born in a small mountain community, Rhys was a commoner through and through, and his lands as well could hardly be considered affluent. With the soil and foggy peaks covered in snow year-round, the winters were especially brutal. Resources were scarce to the point it wasn’t uncommon for those unprepared to die from the elements, with there never being enough to go around. If that wasn’t enough, thanks to the wound inflicted by the Perishing Star, the villagers also had to contend with attacks from fell creatures and the like. While this made life more than difficult, it also made the villagers strong and gave them a large sense of community. This strength is what guided a young Rhys in his day-to-day life.

Being one who had a gift for martial talent, Rhys often found himself among select villagers who went out to gather resources and fight back against monsters to provide for his homeland. Most days were a life-and-death ordeal for him, but in his mind it made him who he is and stronger for it. His exploits earned him the respect and admiration of his peers, and it gave them something they lacked for a long time: Peace of Mind. For once, it seemed the villagers could focus more on building up their home as opposed to focusing solely on survival. At least, for a while…

During an eventful trek, the party that Rhys was a part of had encountered a particularly powerful monster. Despite their efforts, they could do little to stave off the beast, soon all Rhys could hear were the beast’s bellows and the sounds of his comrades' pained screams. The fight had caused enough damage to the cliffside they were on to collapse, with Rhys seemingly falling to his death.

As he fell, he thought he saw two turquoise sparks of light falling at him as he descended…

Rhys then awoke after a period of blackness. He had no recollection of how long he had been unconscious or how long he fell, but somehow he managed to survive. His thick coverings were all but mangled, and his body was battered and bruised. However, he felt strange - he wasn’t cold. It had to have been below freezing in the cavern he fell in, his surroundings being completely covered in snow and frost. All the same, he felt no chill blowing over his beaten body. He left a sensation on both his neck and right wrist as well. The two sparks of light he thought he saw earlier were of the countless shards from the Thousand Faced God, they punctured his neck and were absorbed by his body. The aspect of the power manifested as a crimson sigil that appeared on his wrist.

Unaffected by the cold, he managed to find his way out of the cavern without too much trouble. He was determined to head back to his village, as he felt it was in danger. However, upon entering he saw that his worst fears had come to fruition.

His home had been destroyed. The streets were littered with corpses and debris. He saw the monster there as well, much to his rage-filled delirium. The creature, however, appeared to have suffered numerous injuries. It seemed that the last of the villagers banded together to put forth an effort to stay the beast. Having nothing left to lose, the only thing on Rhys’s mind was revenge. No longer being deterred by the perpetual blizzard that was custom in his lands, in addition to the creature’s weakened state, Rhys was able to finally slay the creature. Atoning for the loss of his villagemen didn’t feel the void that their absence had left, of course, but it did tell him that it was time to move on.

Survival was the core of his culture, wallowing in self-pity until his eventual death would betray that.

Deciding to continue moving forward, he found that adventuring work was the most lucrative path for him, given his skill set. He heard tales of the Adventurer’s Guild in Oratorio, so it was decided that his travels would take him there next.

A young and calculated warrior who once served a local upcoming government as a privateer, tasked with hunting local corsairs or other sellswords who disturbed the peace of their lands and interests. Her skill with the blade and ruthless efficiency earned her the name “Huntress Neider”. Unfortunately, whether by bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, she lost her vessel and crew during a terrible storm. The only thing she kept was her life, but having failed her mission she also failed to secure an asset that was integral to maintaining her employer’s political power. She was decommissioned from her station and was forced to live as a common adventurer with no backing to make end’s meet.

Upon a chance meeting, she stumbled across Rhys during a mission, apparently he had been hired as an adventurer to take out a small swarm of monsters alongside her. Aside from being impressed with the man’s skill, she became interested in the rather peculiar abilities his Ichor granted. If she had the ability to sense and predict weather patterns, perhaps she would’ve been able to avert the tragic loss of her crew and thus not have to live this troublesome cutthroat lifestyle.

She decided to become Rhys’s paladin and champion his cause, perhaps feeling that she could make an even stronger crew with him. She may have also felt a sense of kinship with him, both knowing what it’s like to lose everything in an instant.

Skills:
🗡️Deadly Huntress - Lysanndra possesses great insight into predicting the movement patterns and habits of targets she’s hunting, whether it be criminals or monsters.

Grades
STR - I | END - I | DEX - I | AGI - I | MAG - I | LCK - I