[CHAR] The Witcher: The Second Conjunction

[Jones Sparrow]

Name: Rilden of Redania, Slayer of the Thousand Army, "Gweintalan" in Elder Speech

Age: Roughly 150 years old, but looks like he's in his 30's

Appearance: Rilden stands at 6'2", and has a rugged, and angry look to him, like most Witchers. Besides his golden cat-like eyes, he has short dark brown hair, with a matching trimmed beard, a scar going across his eye, with many, many more all over his body. His skin is pasty white, also like normal Witchers, and his mouth is always curled in what people would mistake as a frown. He wears his wolf medallion over dark leather armor, with chain-mail embedded into the leather on his shoulders, and forearms. His two swords are placed parallel to his spine for easy access.

Race: Witcher

School: Wolf

Bio:

my long story

I never knew my parents. There wasn't a time I can remember that I wasn't at Kaer Morhen, home of the Witchers. I arrived with a couple dozen other children, and we were put to work very fast. years of pain, and beatings, and fighting, and memorizing every single creature and potion and fighting style. It was hell, and half of us didn't make it through the training. After me and the 12 others proved ourselves capable, we underwent the Trials... the Less said about that the better. When I woke a few days later, I could tell the effects have taken over. I was a Witcher, and only four other colleagues made it.

Before we left our home, we were told to create "normal" names so that people would feel more comfortable with us. I chose Rilden of Redania, and with my swords, I left to the Continent. After being alone with your kind for so long, going into the normal way of life was a shock. No one treated you like an equal, you were spat at, glared at, people would talk to you as little as possible, and your only task was to kill monsters. For fifty years I did that. I learned that people tried so hard to not be compared to monsters that they turned out to be one in their own rights. I drank, fucked, ate, slept, all around the Continent. It is said that Witchers lose all emotion when they go through the trials... I think they say that only to help us deal with the fact of who we are. Not everyone hated Witchers that much. I had acquaintances. mages, townspeople, bartenders, a couple people who knew me. I was efficient, fast, and reliable. Lords would call unto me for assistance, and there were few bards that would sing about my travels.

When the purge started, my first instinct was to go back to Kaer Morhen. It took longer than expected, I didn't know how many survived, who was after us, or why. When I arrived, the fort was under attack, by the Redanians. I assisted in the battle against the army, but we were pushed back into the main hall. In an attempt to protect the younger children, I tried to find the hidden exit into the mountains, but when i opened it, the elite killing force erupted, knocking me unconscious. They were known was the Thousand Army, because their skill was equal to that. When I awoke, the Thousand Army slaughtered the last of the children. I was relentless. I killed them all in a fit of rage, and then left, going into hiding.

One hundred years passed, hiding, keeping my head down, and doing what I had to to survive. I hid in Dryads' forests, took refuge with the friendly forest spirits, I told them my story, and said I was different from normal Witchers, and they named me "Gweintalan"; "Burden of Youth." As the decades passed, I didn't age, but people soon forgot about the mages, and the Witchers. I would ask around, and the answer was always the same: The Witchers were nearly extinct. I continued my profession, I was not hunted, but I was not welcomed even more than I was a hundred years ago. But it didn't matter. Sometimes I heard stories of a Sorceress rebelling against a Lord, or that another witcher came through and killed their beast problem. But it didn't matter.

Many would think that the Second Conjunction would have made me happy to be in work again, but it didn't. It left me more cautious, weary, and longing for a companion to assist me in my travels. It left the world in fear, even more than before. One night, I was abducted in my sleep, and taken to the Grand King, Ezli. He showed me with a surprising amount of respect while I was chained and poked at. It was not a man I wanted to talk to, but I had no choice. He gave me my "destiny." He gave me the choice of "redemption" for what I've done to humans. He told me to gather up the rest of my kind, the rest of the sorcerers, and recruit as many as I can for the cause.

The cause to kill monsters, and the Dark Lord. I started my journey almost a year ago, looking for anyone and anything that would help in the quest. I'm not doing it for the Grand King. I'm not trying to find redemption. I'm doing it to prove something to myself I suppose. That not all of us need to be monsters.

Personality: Like most Witchers, Rilden seems cold, expressionless, and menacing. He has a biased hatred for soldiers, but does his best to stay neutral, because of the Witcher Code. He does have sympathy, and small senses of dry humor, and does his best to conceal any other emotion, because of what he was taught.

Weapon(s): Small blades, a "Witcher's Kit" filled with potion ingredients and medicine, but mainly used the Witcher crafted steel and silver swords.

Family/Relationships: Anyone interested let me know!

Other: Although he'll deny it, he's a sucker for a really well written poem.

[FallenTrinity]

Samuael

Samuael of Grimoire, The Phantom of Grimoire

Age:
Has lost count but believes to be around 127 (looks to be in his mid to late twenties)

Appearance:
He stands around 6'2" with a very well defined physique. Underneath his armor and mask, scars are brushed across his body like a violent canvas, each one with a story to tell. His hair is long and white as so with most witchers but still has a slight highlight of black near his forehead. He has deep golden cat eyes that are steeled to age and experience. He has never removed his mask since he has put it on unless in the privacy of his own room.

Race:
Witcher

School:
Cat

Bio:
To be explained through the RP

Personality:
Sort of detached from society, he finds humans to be fascinating little creatures even though he was one himself. He prefers to remain silent and be a listener rather than a speaker as interactions with the regular crowd seem to put him off a bit as he has become somewhat apathetic towards them, seeing as they are more coin than anything else. One thing to particularly note is his like of proper nouns, preferring the pronoun game by saying "his", "her", "a man" or "a woman" when speaking about himself or anyone else. It isn't too difficult however to figure out when he is being serious as he then moves into the third person communication. Only when he is angered does he turn to first person speak though this is very hard to do. He comes off as blunt and dangerously so, to his own physical health as he does not filter what he says.

On the battlefield he is cold, cunning and analytical. Leaning towards quick and easy tactics that are precise and effortless while providing the most efficient outcome but even then he still has his faults. He prefers to work alone but has gotten use to the idea of group effort, although agitation tends to raise inside himself as stupid moves are made by others, sometimes causing him to blatantly knock them out so they can stay out of his way.

Weapons:
1x Two handed Silver/steel Damascus blade
1x Single hand Silver/steel short sword
2x Silver daggers forged with poisons running across the blade.
1x Bow made of dense rare wood and strung together with a mix of fibers and hairs to create a tough and durable bowstring.
1x quill of silver dipped arrows (roughly 25 arrows)
1x Witcher's kit

Family/relationships?:
(To be discussed with others)

Other:
Has a pet Raven named Dahlia,

[Lucian]

Valter

Name
Valter Everard Von Drechen

Aliases
Val, The Sanguine Scholar

Age
375

Race
Higher Vampire

Appearance (Human)

Appearance (True)

History
As with many of his species, Valter's life has been long and storied. His driving goal, however, has always been the study of his species, their origins and their mysteries. This quest has lead him to many strange places, and to many interesting individuals. He has become somewhat infamous among his Vampiric kin for his brazen lack of regard for vampiric hierarchy when it comes to the availability of knowledge, particularly regarding the vampiric races. When he's not pursuing a lead regarding such ancient knowledge, he usually haunts the Northern Realms and the northern tip of the Nilgaardian Empire, occasionally sating his habit with the blood of the local peasantry's undesirables.

Personality
Valter is a polite, erudite being, though he can sometimes come off as rather haughty and superior. This is never his intent, however, and he often attempts to rectify such miscommunications, though frequently to no avail. His vampiric nature is quite expertly concealed, though on occasion he has been known to strut about blood-drunk and belligerent, abusing his power and preying on the innocent. The addiction to blood is a difficult beast to master, and Valter is still relatively young for a vampire, and so has less control over his thirst than the more ancient of his kin. He has developed a code of conduct to cope with this. That is, he tends to raid dungeons, prisons, and stockades to sate his thirst. By feeding only on the "evildoer," Valter keeps his conscience relatively clear, whilst also keeping his bloodthirsty nature in check, and avoiding the ire of local populations.

Abilities

• Superhuman strength, speed, and agility beyond that of any mortal, save perhaps a very skilled Witcher. He always has access to these abilities, yet when he takes his bestial true form, they increase exponentially.
• Invisibility. Though he cannot mask his scent by any magical means, he can obfuscate from view, chamelionizing into his surroundings. This is not a perfect invisibility, however, and Valter has little talent for it, often making too much noise to avoid suspicion, or faltering in his concentration, thus losing the effect. As such, he tends not to rely on this power.
• Levitation. Exactly as it sounds, Valter has the gift of slow, graceful levitation in human form. (Note, this is not full-blown flight, though some higher vampires can achieve this. Valter cannot fly swiftly, trasnformed or not. His levitation is however, a very convenient means of silent traversal.
• Transformation. Valter can assume his more bestial true form at will, though he rarely does this save when need is dire, as he does not enjoy the ghastly appearance. Valter can partially-transform as it suits him, giving him access to his bestial claws when in human form, etc. This too, he disdains, however, as he sees his natural weapons as a bit gruesome and inelegant. He will often rely simply on his strength and speed to overwhelm an enemy in martial combat, without bringing his transformation to bear in any capacity.
• Functional Immortality. Higher Vampires are as close to immortal as it gets. They are extremely difficult to dispatch, able to withstand losing limbs and more. Should one manage to slay a Higher Vampire, there's no guarantee the creature will remain dead, as a Higher Vampire given enough time can regenerate nearly any wound, including the severing of the creature's head.

Weaknesses

• Though ordinary fire is effective against lesser vampires, Higher Vampires like Valter are essentially immune to mundane temperature increases or decreases. However, sorcerous fire produced by mages (or the Igni sign used by Witchers) is highly effective, often more effective than it would be against a human being.
• Vampire Blade Oils employed by Witchers are quite potent against higher vampires, provided the Witcher is swift and accurate enough to land a blow.
• Black Blood Potion can be ingested if one knows they are about to be fed on by a Vampire. The potion works as a targeted poison for the vampire, and will deal them great harm, potentially leading to loss of consciousness or even temporary death.

Family/relationships?
Have some things in mind here, will get to it soon.

[Kenaron]

Cenkos Suilana

Name: Cenkos Suilana

Age: Well over 100, but stopped counting around 113. Looks around early to mid 30's

Appearance: A 6' tall, dark skinned woman, with brown, long hair that normally keeps braided. Careful observers can take note of a subtle scar running along her left cheek, going back towards her ear. Her facial features became hardened after years of roaming, and her normal stare could easily be taken as a scowl by any bystander. Her green eyes have a golden hem and she's got a muscular build.

Race: Witcher

School: Cat

Bio:

Bio

Cenkos has always known the life of a Witcher, the strain the training put on her made her the best version that she could ever become, and she was always eager to prove herself. Whenever she had the time, she would go out and hunt whatever it was for whatever the reason, she didn't care how much food she had, or how small of a critter it was, she always could work around any excuse to enjoy a good hunt.

She never felt any ulterior motives to become a monster hunter, she was just the best at it, the pay was good as she could get, and the whole thing was about tracking and taking down beasts from her size to several times her size. It was the ultimate test of skill when it came to hunt, and Cen couldn't resist to something like that. She always shrugged off the praise of the people, with or without the needed tact, and always walked away with some trophy from whatever beast she had slain.

Her life was comfortable enough as she had plenty of money to spare, and she lived a laid back life whitout almost any concern, living mostly on the road with her own hunted food, her money always ended up paying reapirs to her equipement, or purchases of new gear, herbs, or fully made potions.

She remembers the day she saw the Purge, from afar and coming back to the city. She had just hunted a hulking monster, easily twice her size and broad as a house. The fight itself had been a blast, but she hadn't recieved any of the fanfairre and praise that she normally had. She didn't mind, but it was something odd that there was people missing from the usually lively town.

The city was in the middle of the Purge when she entered, seeing Witchers laying dead on the street or pitted against walls, with their swords drawn and surrounded. Immediately after seeing this, she threw everything that was not a weapon and drawed her crosbow, aimed at one of the soldiers and shot without a second thought. As the bolt was shot, she turned and ran for the gates.

She retreated to a nomad life in the woods, hunting for herself and laying as low as possible. She saw the lack of monsters, and knew that the services of a monster hunter were of no use without said monsters, so she understood the principle in which humans had acted, but still despised the actions they had taken. She grew older and more accustomed to the simple life she was keeping, every day integrating herself more and more to the world she had once served, but that now had no place for her.

When living on the wild, she had picked up the hobby of hunting thieves and grunts as she once hunted monsters. They yielded far less coin, and she now had no use for it, but some offered her exciting news about the human world, and, if the information was good enough, could walk away. One of such attempts, however, left her empty-handed. She had heard a couple of days before of the second conjunction, and she couldn't care less of this human quarrel, but the thief who she had caught this time, he was not alone, and was no thief.

As soon as she jumped onto him, heavily armored guards jumped out from nearly everywhere. She had, apparently, become too laid back in her retirement. She knew that she was outmatched, but as soon as she surrenderd, she was handed a seal, and read a letter from the king himself. He offered a "pardon" for the "horrible things her species had done" for the "honor" of helping humanity once more. She would have thought about it, and she might have had accepted, but given the circumstances, she was taken- I mean, escorted to the castle, where the king gave some speech about something, and he offered her, again, the "pardon"

She's had an idea, while the sodiers where taking her. She would become the first "Kingdom Approved Assassin" with the help of all the work she was to get done in the mean time. After all, if she had no choice, she might as well enjoy a big reward.

Personality: Normally eager to have a good hunt and relaxed in most of other things, thinks low of the king calling back the people who he sought to exterminate, but will answer to any hunting call, more so if the pay is good. Ususally seen focused and calm in and out of combat, she also has a quirk of smiling to pretty much anything, to conceal any true feeling.

Weapons: The two witcher swords, along with a couple of potions and a crosbow with its bolts.

Family/relationships?: A vampire of... Ummmm... A lot of years?
It goes by Valter, I think. Crossed paths a couple of times, not much more.

Other: Has a quirk of trying to be into anything that is happening, trying to hear conversations or snatch any piece of information that she can get a hold on.

[VKAllen]

Character Sheet :

Name: Ferghus of Haakland
Age: 117 (Appears as though he is 40)

Appearance

With a stature of 5 foot and 8 inches, the weathered Ferghus stands shorter and more nimble footed compared to his witcher peers who often focuses more on brute strength and sheer tenacity. With an athletic build that rivals the infamous Cat School, blood-slit witcher eyes and his famous Haakian curved blades; no movement is uncalculated in the eyes of this monster hunter.

Race: Witcher
School: Wolf
Bio: In Progress
Personality:
Serviceable is a word most people would use to describe Ferghus. It's the kind of attitude that's there to get the job done and move on to the next hunt. He has a tendency to keep other's matters outside of his sights unless it was their life that was on the edge of his katana. Other than that-- he possesses a laissez faire demeanour.

Weapons: A pair of steel and silver katanas adorning his left waist. A tanto blade is also often seen when gathering trophies of his kills.

Family/relationships

Rilden of Redania
Fellow Wolf.

Scilla of the Dancing Blades
"During a short trip to Skellige, Ferghus met with a woman known as Scilla aboard a galleon and spent the time together with a few drinks-- until they become notable friends. Scilla and Ferghus travelled together for a time with a common goal of refining their best tools of the trade; blades."

Elanil the Silent
"Ferghus' far-reaching travels brought him to many parties and social gatherings of note. One in particular was during a series of strange events when he undertook a Doppler Contract in Novigrad. The local ruler held a lavish party and invited many entertainers to come and entertain guests. When midnight passed, Ferghus was allured by a particular raven female dancer who performed a hypnotising performance."

Koldar, Bear School Witcher
"As Ferghus continued to undertake Haakland's harrowed woes, he would often find several contracts already fulfilled by another witcher who was around the area prior. Gossips of an eerie wraith with a fearsome flickering flail became common rabble and scare stories of many taverns which permeated villages where the contracts had been completed."

Yuna, Manticore School Witcher

"Sometimes the people that he encountered in the Continent are far more interesting than the contracts Ferghus undertakes. Such was the case of a particular female individual whom he witnessed picking herself a monster contract on the notice boards despite of her blindness. What thickened the atmosphere further was when she had realised she was being watched-- a quick dart that Ferghus felt when the eyes behind the cloth had locked on to his."

Other:
Waterstone kit, alchemical supplies to craft Witcher Potions.

[ManoftheNorth]

Character Sheet :

Name: Koldar
Age: 159

Appearance:

[+]

Koldar stands roughly six feet and six inches tall and his build is that of a powerful titanic man. He puts many figures to shame, but this was only due to the processes of Mutation he volunteered for at the School of Bear. Koldar's eyes are considered sharper than the average Witcher's, as his Witcher training and mutations were voluntarily more intense and unique to the School of Bear.

Race: Human Witcher
School: Bear

Bio: Coming Soon

Personality: Despite the general conception of a Witcher under full training being that of a Cold, silent person, Koldar is nothing of the like. His time and his being have formed something all it's own. He is boisterous and proud, and rarely quiet, but he isn't without his own beliefs and ideals. The School of Bear taught him how to be a Witcher, but he taught himself how to be a Hunter. He believes not only in the Witcher Code, but a code to hunt down Monsters to assure that he is one day sung about in the taverns for his trophies. He enjoys the hunt, and the way it effects a person, and this is why he often feels most peaceful and most himself when trailing his query.

Weapons:
Koldar of course has his Axe, a uniquely designed war-axe of Witcher Steel. This was his weapon of choice after he broke his Witcher blades during training, and the School Bear saw fit to give the man a weapon worthy of his strength. However he took only a steel Axe, and opted to craft his own tools of the hunt.

The first creation was his Silver Lantern Flail. This weapon is a marvel in it's design, as it is both finely crafted and beautiful, but also strong enough to be swung against a mountain by Koldar. This Flail's lantern is also lit with a unique Sign, one that combines the uses of Igni and an unusual sign that hasn't been seen too often. This combination produces a blue flame that doesn't require a fuel source, and it seems to amplify the effects of Silver onto beasts susceptible to it.

[+]

The Second weapon was a much simpler design, as the weapon is a merely an enlarged Crossbow. The Crossbow of the School of Bear were always larger than Cat's, but this one was made for a man who desired to shoot his query from the sky, and nail them to the ground. This mighty weapon, named "Medvedi Zub" or "Bear's Tooth" is one wielded by Koldar when his prey can fly, or when he knows that he must deal a blow long before the prey knows he is close. He carries both steel and silver bolts for the Crossbow as well, to ensure it can be used against all potential prey.

[+]

Family/relationships?: Koldar doesn't have much family, his parents are long gone, and the only other person he ever came to know as family was a young huntress, however that story is long and full of moments both close and far from Koldar's heart.
Other:

[rivaan]

Scilla

Character Sheet :

Name: Scilla of the Dancing Blades.
Age: 132 looks around 25
Appearance:

My Hider

Scilla stands at 5'8'' feet tall with very long black hair, fair skin and piercing gray eyes. Like all women of her vocation, she's very beautiful, but at the same time currently her body appears a lot better trained than all her colleagues. Her muscles are well defined, but not invasive to the eye and it's clear she's no pushover when it comes to physical activity.
Race: Human sorceress
School: N/A
Bio: Scilla was born sometime before the great purge that nearly turned her kind and the witchers all but extinct. In fact she was just a young sorceress when it happened. She was just traveling with her direct mentor when they were jumped on by a great number of soldiers. Everything happened so fast that even to this day she is not completely sure how it all transpired. One moment they were simply riding a carriage down a road and the next a rain of arrows struck the vehicle. The carriage driver and the horses died right away, she and her mentor survived because of a shield he put.

The following was a rather quick battle as a great number of soldiers died to magical fires and lightning, but her mentor also took an arrow to the back. Not wanting to die like a common mutt, Scilla was forced to defend herself, but she was considerably weaker than her mentor at the time. Still in that desperation, she reached into her mind and pulled a way of using magic that no one had taught her. By instinct, using her ability to manipulate objects and energy, she grabbed a great number of the scattered arrows, swords, axes and shields, anything that could be thrown and using her magic turned the hail of death onto the soldiers. First by a handful then by the dozens, as the weapons were hurled with ever so greater speed. She was mostly lucky that those were rather common troops, but non the less she managed to escape while the majority of the soldiers were trying to close their wounds from the randomly hurled sharp metal objects at them... at least those who survived it.

After that event, Scilla fled the continent and headed north towards Skellige. The islands were a great place to lay low from the massive witch hunt that was happening, especially since she dressed like a commoner and eventually joined a ship's crew. She spend the following 50 years on ships, before disembarking back on the continent. By now she had mastered sword fighting to a certain degree and in secret she had also advanced another skill she discovered when she escaped the purge. The precise and exact manipulation of energy, which allowed her to control objects and fight with them. Over the next 50 or so years she spend the time traveling, mostly spending her time as witchers would do, despite her not being one. The time with at Skellige taught her to appreciate great alcohol and all chaos that came with it. Eventually she was dubbed The Dancing Blades by a bard from a caravan she happened by complete chance to safe from some rampaging nekkers. In general she did prefer to not use her additional blades though, keeping a low profile and being confused with one of the many warrior women out there suits her just fine... When the Second Conjuring happened it came as only a very vague surprise. So was the massive hunt down for witchers and sorcerers that followed in the desperate attempt by the Grand King to safe his skin by throwing those they deemed evil and unnatural at their enemies. Well for now at least they have not yet realized what she was, so she kept quiet for the moment, simply spending her time, planning a next move. Wondering which would be more beneficial... the death of the new monsters or the death of the...Grand King.

Personality: Mostly calm, Scilla is a very level headed individual who would rarely explode in bursts of rage, but once she does, her wrath could be stated to be legendary. She's has incredibly good memory for people who wronged her in some way and eventually she will always deliver her vengeance down the line. Besides that she's someone who loves nature in almost all of it's forms. One of her most favorite things to do is lay down on a sunny beach, enjoying the sun.
Weapons:
2x Curved steel swords
4x Steel straight narrow blades
Leather bundle wrap for the blades
Family/relationships?:

My Hider

Ferghus of Haakland - Scilla met him a good half a centure ago now while she was still in Skellige. They happened to share a ship and got to talking, then drinking and finally traveling together for a while. She came to consider him a friend, during their journey to forge great weapons for themselves.

Other: Immense hatred for The Grand King .

[Rekaigan]

Elanil The Silent

Elanil The Silent

Age:
Appears to be around her early to mid 20's

Sex:
Female

Appearance:
Elanil stands at a somewhat short, 5'7". Her long, black hair stops at the middle of her back. Her icy blue eyes contrast with her tanned skin and dark hair, making it a feature that is often used to describe her. Her body is quite slender, somewhat similar to other sorceresses that rely on their magic.

Race:
Human, Mage

Bio:
Elanil was born mute, such a defect would've warranted being thrown out onto the street to die or given to an orphanage. Fortunately, her magic was realised before such an incident could occur. The Lodge of Sorceresses saw her potential as an asset and believed that wasting such potential would be against their goals to preserve magic in the world. Thus, like many magical children, she was put under rigorous studies and training, honing her powers and teaching her the science that is Magic. Had she not been taught in this way, Elanil would've been doomed to die or become mad. Either path was one of destruction. Although she was under strict training, Elanil always found a way to have fun, whether it be pulling pranks on passerbys or simply dancing to the music of bards. She'd often get into trouble for spending too much time dancing with bards, but such things made her popular with some of the locals.
Upon finishing her training, she set out on her own. Wanting to travel from town to town, learning more about the land and it's people. Due to her appearance and 'muteness' (Which is seen as a quirk), she is famous to some, and unknown to others. She goes by the name "Elanil The Silent", which was given to her by her mentor.

Personality:
If Elanil had a voice, she would not have the title that she current has. She often makes jokes about her disability, although it makes things a little awkward at times. The sorceress is quite cheerful and upbeat for someone who lives in a world full of danger and scorn. She's often quite compliant when it comes to the requests of Witchers, for she understands that being on their bad side is a terrible idea. Elanil can be quite cheeky, using her magic in subtle ways to mess with others, mostly in the ways of telekinesis and illusion.

Due to her mostly sheltered life, Elanil doesn't really understand the meaning of 'friendship' or 'love', but she mostly just goes with the flow. Going where the wind takes her.

Weapons:
None

Family/relationships

Family/relationships:

Ferghus of Haakland
Although Elanil doesn't know his name, she remembers his appearance quite clearly. A Witcher was always a rare sight, however this Witcher looked a little different from the rest. How different? She probably couldn't tell you, she was too busy dancing to the wonderful tune of the tavern bard. Novigrad was indeed a nice place for an audience, especially when a local ruler starts a party.

Other:
Elanil is surprisingly good at dancing and she isn't shy about it. Good music will always put her in the mood to dance, thus making her a wonderful impromptu entertainer at taverns.

Due to her inability to speak, Elanil is never without a roll of parchment and a quill, writing out what she wants to say. She uses her magic to mask previously written messages, thus allowing her to use the same parchment over and over. Unfortunately, most people don't know how to read, making life just a little more difficult.

[Nightwing95]

Vossy

Name: Foltest Voson

Age: 17

Appearance: encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tb..

Race: Human

School: Training to join the Witcher School of the Wolf.

Bio: Born in the village of Midcopse, Foltest was the son of a man that descended from a long line of Temerian mercenaries and a mother who hailed from a now deserted village. Their parents had met as star-crossed lovers, initially forbidden to romance, since Foltest's mother was the daughter of the ealdorman. When her village was destroyed, she fled to Midcopse with the help of Foltest's father. With the threat of the ealdorman gone, fate entwined Foltest's parents together.

The Second Collision was a grim and bleak time, so Foltest's father decided to prepare his young son for the horrors that were to come, fearing a possible incursion from monsters into Midcopse itself despite its relative obscurity. A soldier by birth, the elder Voson was keen on teaching his son the craft, a craft that Foltest relished in. It took quite a while, sure, but for the next eight years, life seemed to continue in its normality. The agitation that gripped the Voson family and the rest of Midcopse eased, and Foltest became an avid hunter, sometimes skirting the outskirts in search for easy prey.

But, hunting could have its dangers, and on one particular day, such a danger came. At thirteen summers and almost a man now, Foltest had decided to venture further into the woods, curiosity piquing his interest. Ignoring his father's stern warning of not going any deeper than he did, Foltest's boyish curiosity almost saw him mauled by a bear! Having spotted the black creature in the midst of dusk, Foltest's had overestimated the durability of the great bear, thinking that two arrows to the head would do the trick. And, while it certainly would have felled the majestic creature, Foltest's anxiety got the better of him, only piercing the bear's hardened back. With a mighty roar of cold-blooded rage, the bear was Foltest's prey no longer. Foltest surely would have been mincemeat, had the timely intervention of a witcher not saved him. Coming from out of nowhere, things were a blur for the young hunter, who, despite being knocked down and dazed, witnessed the sheer power of the mutant's abilities. He'd heard of witchers before, but only of their callous attitude and emotionless stares. When the unknown witcher offered Foltest a hand to lift him up, Foltest was wary at first, thinking that the witcher was going to feed on him. Contrary to popular rumours, the surprisingly altruistic witcher did not. Instead, the witcher mended his bruises and quietly sent him back to the village. He didn't dare tell the rest of the village, clearly aware of what the presence of a such a figure would incite in them. The incident left a profound mark on the young Foltest, who would never forget the witcher's cat-like eyes..or the medallion of a wolf that he wore around his thick neck...It was his first experience with a mutant.

At the tender age of fourteen, would Foltest become the only male relative of the Voson household, and burdened with the task of caring for his newborn sister, Effy, and his mother who had fallen sick in the aftermath of her pregnancy. With his father's death, all the innocence that made Foltest enjoy the simple life he had, was lost to the claws of the beasts that roamed the night. From thereon, Foltest became a different man. Stern, cynical and bitter about the tragic circumstances that he was forced in, Foltest dreaded every second of his new surroundings. Food became like ash to him, and most of what he caught were given to mother and sister. And, since there wasn't enough to eat as a result of the wars, the Voson family suffered hardship, only persevering when Foltest started selling the furs of his kills as well. It was still a harsh life, but they managed to survive their mundane existence. An existence that Foltest decided to finally change for the best when he heard that the King announced hefty rewards for those brave enough to stand against the invading darkness of the Second Collision. Realizing that he didn't have the necessary skills to hunt monsters, Foltest sought out the mutant that saved him in the past and volunteered to be trained in the ways of the School of the Wolf so Rilden could restore their ranks, and in exchange, a good sum of coins would be delivered to his family in Midcopse....

Personality: Having lost his father at a young age of 14, Foltest was forced to mature at a very young age. At a time where food was scarce and families went hungry, Foltest adopted a very cynical take on life. Whereas most of Midcopse's peasants fretted over the dangers, and feared the woods, Foltest hated the sanctity of where he was born, but having a sick mother and little sister to provide for, family always came first for the boy. Almost devoid of any support, Foltest's bears a strong sense of drive, independence and survivalism. Yet, for the maturity that he developed early on, he is also very prone to taking risks, especially when hunting. A reckless soul, as the villagers would label him as such. In short: Caring towards those he cares about, brave, reckless and a survivalist. Despises his mundane lifestyle, and is wary around individuals he is unfamiliar with.

Weapons: optional

Family/relationships?: Roland Volen(Father/Deceased)
Elena Volen nee Burst(Mother)
Effy Volen(Sister)
Rilden of Redania(Teacher/'Father')

Other: As a Witcher-in-Training, Foltest realizes that when he takes the Trial of the Grasses, he could very well not survive the process. For that occasion, he makes sure to prepare an efficient amount of money to cover for his sister and mother in the case that he is perished.

[NecroKnight]

Yuna

"We humans are bastards - we dislike and outmost hate those, whom are different than us. But then, what does that make us?"

Name: Yuna - "Blind Maiden"

Age: 130, around 30s

Race: Witcher

School: School of the Manticore

Bio: Yuna grew up in the East, where customs and cultures were much more exotic and alien - that the ones in the North and South. Her journey in the School of the Manticore was similiar to many other Witcher schools. Namely trained in the arts of bladefighting, poison, monster-hunting, tracking and so on. The agenda of the Manticore was however different - namely compared to the other Schools, they placed less emphasize on the monetary and more on the spiritual aspect.

What mattered wasn't doing the job or getting paid - it was the hunt and the satisfaction of slaying the creature. Namely they had been taught to utilize more of their slain prey - beyond a simply trophy or leg - as such, gathering coin wasn't as needed, since they could easily get-by mostly with their hunted creatures.

In addition to everything, Manticore's were taught to be more cunning and less visible than most. Since it was realized long ago - how hostile the commoners or Kings could become against those of non-human appearance. It didn't aid the situation either, of being perceived as cold mercenaries for their future legacies either. Witchers like Yuna, were taught to blend in with the crowd.

Yuna herself took on a meek appearance - as she had sealed her eyes behind linen cloth, that gave her the appearance of a blind woman. This was partly true, as the cloth she used was enchanted by magic - allowing her to see through easily, while keeping the appearance of a blind one. It helped her in many ways - since Witcher eyes were an easy give-away, she could blend in better. Switching between a warrior and a blind traveller whenever needed.

When the Purge happened - Yuna, instead of fighting like many others, simply stepped to the side and walked away. The School of the Manticore had been elusive and mysterious - and there wasn't any need to draw attention to it. Yuna simply left the carnage and headed into the countryside - namely the outskirts, where small villages had been established and farther away from the fighting of men.

Yuna easily lived into her blind traveller persona, as Manticore's were never much for gathering prestige or infamy. Settling down with an older man for about four decades. Yuna' position was calm and a simple life - only broken when her husband had died and a week later the Second Conjunction happened. To which Yuna gathered her equipment and pulled on back her warrior persona - heading back to the North to slay the many new beasts that had come.

Personality: Yuna is much more friendly, than the average Witcher. Compared to the average one, she is much more open, talkative and understanding - being less cold and cynical than the others, with a slight philosophical quirk to her - often times appearing meek and shy, or forward and interactive. She is much more street-wise than many others - able to easily interactive with commoners and how to avoid any confrontations without bloodshed.

Weapons: Silver short-blade, Gwyhyr. Belt of bombs - puffballs and Zerrikanian suns. Several poisoned steel and silver daggers - hidden inside her coat and sleeves.

Family/Relationships: Yuna has had many friends over the years - her friendly and meek persona, being a more easier and relatable personality than that of a cold mercenary. She has atleast one friend, in each city in the North - and one even in Nilfgaard. She had taken several lovers of the years - and during the years of the Purge had even been married for about four decades - before her husband had passed away and she returned to deal with the Second Conjuction.

Other: Likes to be called pretty.

[VKAllen]

@Lucian@NecroKnight@Nightwing95@Rekaigan@rivaan@ManoftheNorth@Kenaron

If you would like me to continue the current story, I can create a separate thread with the same situation, similar plot and continue on. Are you guys interested?

[NecroKnight]

@VKAllen

Indeed I am.

[Bazmund]

Name: Moro the Muddler

Age: 140 years, 5 months, and six days as of the last time he saw a calendar.

Appearance:


Race: Human Witcher

School: School of the Manticore - however, he is heavily distanced from that school now.

Bio: Moro the Muddler was - as is easily surmised - not always known as Moro the Muddler. Before he was inducted into the strange, quasi-religious Manticore School as a child, he was known as Tirimet Kadgadursen, and he was the son of a moderately successful caravan owner, trading silk from Zerrikania. He had no head for business, though his mathematics was slightly above average and his reading more than sufficient, and he was easily distracted from the education his parents were trying to provide for him - but ultimately, that doesn't matter. They were killed in a raid on their caravan when he was 5, and staying home from the trip on his father's orders, to study for an exam.

Shortly thereafter, he set about wandering the city to kill his boredom, and it was in this vein of things that he stumbled upon a Witcher, deep in meditation. The Witcher, known then as Josef of Velen, awoke to find the boy sitting in front of him and - beguiled by a charm that Tirimet would quickly lose as he grew up - decided to take him in.

Throughout his training, Tirimet became known for above average but ultimately unremarkable swordsmanship, a complete inability to aim with a crossbow, his tendency to make potions that worked perfectly fine, but somehow all tasted like ghoul piss... and his stunning proficiency with Signs.

In particular, with axii.

After the trial of the grasses, which Tirimet passed adequately, he set out into the world to do business as a Witcher.

Only, as aforementioned... he has a horrible head for business.

In fact, having lost much of his persuasiveness during the grueling training of a witcher, Tirimet's greatest reknown was very rapidly gained for his subtle use of the Axii sign during fee negotiations - and indeed, in general life. The Manticore school saw this as dishonorable and soon became apprehensive of having him connected to their name, considering it edging towards breaching the Witcher's Code. So they cut him loose.

"Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, your use of the abilities granted to you by merit of being a Witcher is nothing short of dishonorable. To prevent the sullying of our noble name, we henceforth consider you an outcast of this school." They told him, having brought him before their elders in cuffs, stripped of his weapons.

"To redeem the dishonor you have dirtied yourself and your brothers with, you shall also drop the name granted to you by this school. From this day until the last you live to see, you will be known no longer as Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, nor as Tirimet Kadgadursen."

"And what am I to be known as in their stead?" He had spat through clenched teeth, and white knuckles.

The Elders had scowled at him.

"The Old Zerrikanian word for 'Trickster' is 'Moro' - and enough of the locals have taken to calling you 'the Muddler' that the rest of it should be obvious to you."

Few alive today - outside of the School of the Manticore - learn to speak Old Zerrikanian. Those that can understand it are usually magical in nature, whether they are witchers or not.

But the purpose was not to have it be known to all, the purpose was to have it be known to whom it concerned, and Moro the Muddler's muddling ways concerned mostly his fellow witchers, should they ever meet him again.

To fast forward from there, Moro the Muddler is now one of the best traveled, and more experienced Witchers in the land. His use of signs is, as ever, world class, and it makes him a valuable asset indeed to those who can afford him. But dishonorable as he may be considered, Moro the Muddler still keeps mostly to the Witcher Code - and does not speak as much as he used to.

Personality: Mostly a straight sort of man, Moro does not usually joke about things - and when he does it is often in poor taste. Instead, he prefers to be more somber than most, and consider what he sees before he acts upon it. He still uses Axii too much, but is coming to realise that the life it will lead him to is an exceptionally lonely one - especially since his reliance on it managed to lose him the woman he loved.

Weapons: One zerrikanian steel sword, gently curved from hilt to tip for additional slashing capability - as the expense of thrusting capability, and balance. It's a weapon almost unrivaled for cleaving and dismemberment, but it relies heavily on the chained style of the Manticore school - or a mount - to be fully effective.

One custom made silver sword - smithed roughly in the style of the Manticore school, but an imperfect copy that would never be identified as based on that design, excepting by a Manticore witcher themself. Though not all manticore witcher swords are curved, this one is, to best complement the chained fighting style he's grown used to.

Family/relationships?: No family - they were all killed in the caravan raid that orphaned him. However, there is still one sorceress in this world that he once loved. There is no guarantee she still feels the same way, however.

Other: Moro's potions really do taste like ghoul piss, but he was taught the recipe for zerrikanian fire - an explosive compound - during his Witcher training, and could theoretically replicate it with local ingredients outside of Zerrikania. However, efficacy is not guaranteed when not following the original formula.