[i]Additions to the lore by Circ[/i]

[hider=The Trespassers]
[i][b]The Trespassers[/b][/i] - a disunified catch-all term for townless folk far stretched along the passages of the northern gulf. What loyalties, social structures, nomadic impurities and conventions each band of Trespassers has is their own. There is no culture to it all, though some may suggest otherwise from afar, but the groups are as they are. A crossbreed of havens for outcasts or wanderlust folk; the plains, peaks and rivers run freer in their eyes.

Though, that isn't to say Trespasser bands aren't connected to society at all. Many function simply as tradesmen in endless motion. There isn't a destination, only a life to live. For some, the Trespassers are a means to an end. A way in which one journeys between the end of one life and the beginning of another. Few live to be a Trespasser for life. It's a system that was made to bleed itself out in the end.

The ambitions of certain Trespasser groups can vary. On occasion, some may seek vitriolic thrills of banditry, should their bitterness triumph, whilst others take on the work of politicking messengers, consorts or envoys along the occasionally unreached expanses of the gulf. Most, however, have learned to steer clear of such lifestyles for the sake of their own, fundementalised existence.
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[i]Character(s) played by John Roleplay[/i]

[hider=Vildrel]

[i][b]Vildrel Könire[/b][/i] bleeds the very essence of a Trespasser. The apparent half-elf stands amidst a flowing brook of Crisa Trespassers - a standard cohort of varying, nomadic wayfarers that walk in states of confusion and wanderlust. Her garbs are loose enough to act as a promise to thicken her muscle mass, though she remains modestly thin, if not by much choice. Crowning it all sits an unceremoniously cut canopy of whitened hair, unlawfully kept, that sit atop a veil of solar-toned eyes, a glint in the fabric of the dark.

The clash between her drabs of colourless cloaks and hand-threaded shirts do only so much as to blur her subtle expressions into her reserved demeanour. She speaks with immaterial wisdom, though for topics often irrelevant to herself, whilst the winds bring about a certain unease to the daily motions of her directionless life.

A reservation of ones inner-self had often created a strange parallel between her curiosity and the Crisa Trespassers' commitment to societal indifference. Beneath her sleeves, several bracelets are to be found, and they've become a point of personal expression against a world so vastly colourful.

Therein the tenderness she's sewn into her tanned skin, the world often breathes on the flow of changing minds. Should the winds favour alternative exercise, Vidrel often wanders if her inherited abilities, the burdens to subtlety, are considerable. In such cases, she carries a large [url=https://www.viking-armoury.com/cdn/shop/products/image_a73b25b4-41fc-48cd-8822-b69d3b82c8a0_1024x1024.jpg?v=1628775329]scramasax[/url] for her own personal defence.
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