[hider=Hild Zuversicht][center][h1]Hild Zuversicht[/h1][/center]

Age: 27

Race: Human
 
Deity: Nethelin

[center][h2]Appearance[/h2][/center]

Although Hild does not know of her place of origin, she bears the features of one born from Melfician stock; her skin is tanned both naturally and by many long hours in the sun, and she stands at a striking 1.85 meters, with a long braid of vibrant red hair. Her figure is thin and almost willowy, but long warfare has hardened her with wiry muscle and the strength of an experienced fighter. Her features are sharp, and perfectly fit the grimace that often crosses her face.

The priest's clothing carries with it the thematic colors of her lord: Black underclothes and padding, a grey gambeson and pants, and a black mantle decorated rather heavily with the symbols of the lord of the dead. She is covered almost entirely, from the heavy mantle down to her short, black shoes -save for her bare hands, and has numerous pouches containing various necessities. Her sightless eyes are hidden away with a pitch black blindfold, and a plain iron circlet rests atop her head. Each of her ring fingers bears a silver band, and her arms -as well as her wrists and ankles- are decorated with the blackened iron bangles denoting her faith.

[center][h2]Personality[/h2][/center]

Most who meet Hild would describe her as the antithesis of her beloved deity, in terms of demeanor. She is a harsh and unyielding woman, with little care for flowery language or veiled meaning. Her words are harsh and blunt, with no sympathy for those that are undeserving, and rage towards the plight of those that are. She regards humanity as a whole in a bitter and cynical light that borders upon misanthropic, but considers human beings as individuals worth the suffering of warfare. She fights to uphold her lord's tenants and protect the land from the gnashing of dead things that are meant to stay dead, even in the face of pain and mounting weariness in the face of the conflict.
 
Hild's ironclad faith in her lord is only surpassed by the burning, personal wrath with which she regards all that is dead yet moving, and those who would command them. Her hatred for them is intertwined tightly with a sadistic streak, and she finds pleasure in punishing foul practitioners and seeing their work undone, their aspirations stolen from them as they are reduced -often literally- by her hand in the name of her lord.
 
Beyond her wrath and faith, Hild also holds distant authorities in a quiet sort of contempt; those who shy away from the war are granted only begrudging obedience, while those that throw their lot in with the war effort are not regarded as harshly as most. She is not without respect, but it is not easily won, and it is her own desire to see the world set right (and/or purge the undying) that leads her on her path.
 
Hild holds an almost ascetic view of the world; she would forsake everything that belongs to her if it meant that the land was made a better place. She distances herself even -if not especially- from those that she respects and finds worthy of her care, keeping them at arms length even as some level of loneliness nags at her; she has faced loss numerous times over the course of the war, and fears facing it again. She will not admit such a thing, but it shapes her interactions deeply.
 
[center][h3]Skill[/h3][/center]
*Masterful: Divine Magic (Death/Decay; Nethelin)
 
*Skilled: Death/Undeath Lore, interrogation.
 
*Adept: Staff fighting, investigation.
 
*Novice: Horsemanship, navigation.
 
[center][h3]Traits[/h3][/center]
 
[b]Inquisitor[/b]: Although Hild prefers to fight at the front of the war, scourging the undying with accelerated rot or sending them screaming into the void, her combination of skills and unique abilities has made her a nightmare for anyone attempting to hide necromantic tampering or association with undeath. This was put to use extensively; Hild has gained a reputation as a bloodhound for all things foul and unwanted, and she tracks them down with an admirable -and startling- ferocity. Hild is extremely good at detecting lies, falsehoods, and hidden intentions, but her social situation has suffered. She regards those around her with great scrutiny until they have earned something resembling trust, and those who know her name are more likely to be wary than trusting, even if her work is appreciated.
 
[b]Lady of Death[/b]: Despite her relative youth compared to most who are known as masterful users of Nethelin's magic, Hild shows a prodigal talent well in line with her zeal for her lord and fascination with the dead and their keeping. She absorbs lore or magic related to her lord and his practices like a sponge, and has difficulty understanding that not all bear her natural aptitude; she is very hesitant to tolerate failure from others, and holds herself to the same standard. "As solid as the iron upon my arms, I will not fail."
 
[b]The Sound[/b]: Whether this is a sign of favor from her lord or simply a very blatant and unusual display of her talent in the arts of Nethelin, the fact remains that Hild has a sense somewhat beyond the norm: Hild can sense things that have been strongly touched by the taint of undeath -most prominently, flesh necromancers and the undying. From her perspective, acts of necromancy and general sources of undead taint produce a sort of secondary sound below what is physical, like a 'ringing against the world' according to her own words. She is innately, vividly aware of where this sound is coming from so long as she is nearby, and is capable of physically tracking those who ping this sense with ease. This makes her an extremely strong combatant against the undying and necromancers, but too much of this 'noise' -such as being suddenly confronted with extremely powerful necromancy or a very strong undying being- can be very disruptive and distracting, and even stun her until she can adapt if it is intense enough, and leaves her with a very harsh headache. She has used this sense to great effect in her hunting of heathens. [i]"I hear you."[/i]
 
[center][h3]Backstory[/h3][/center]

Despite her proud, almost regal and noble bearing, Hild's beginning is a humble and bitter one. She, like many, was a child steeped in the ashes of war, her livelihood withering under the attention of the undying hordes. Although Hild does not know of her specific place of birth, she knows herself to be of Melfician stock, and indeed it was a Melfician convent within a small town in which she was raised. Hild was left as an infant upon the doorstep of that lonely house of Nethelin's followers, an event which is often used to symbolize that those who left the child would soon perish -going into Nethelin's hands, and leaving a sightless child at the mercy of his people.

Hild spent many long years within that convent, and to the faith she was pledged almost as soon as she could understand the significance of her oath; to Hild, the people of Nethelin are her family, and the looming power of her god a distant father that has protected her from the end. For indeed, Hild saw much death in her time with the priests who tutored her. She had first laid eyes upon a corpse when she could still barely walk, when one of the nearby townsfolk died and their body was in need of proper care. Too young to understand the full implications of what laid in front of her, and surrounded by those who had thrown off many of the taboos surrounding the dead, Hild was not disgusted; rather, she was morbidly fascinated, that someone could be so cold and motionless, with no beating heart in their ribs, and no life beneath her hand.

Luckily for her, and unluckily for the vast majority of the area, the coming of war gave Hild many, many opportunities to examine the state of the dead and dying, of the rot and decay, and of the grueling destruction of war. Her aptitude for the teachings of Nethelin was discovered extremely early, and nurtured by her tutors and 'family' as the power she wielded to rot and destroy became clearer and clearer. She was gifted, they told her. She would scour impure things, and bring miracles to the world. It made her happy, to know that she was connected so firmly with her 'father'.

Though perhaps too connected, she would later muse: It was in this renewed war that Hild found herself separated from the only family she knew, aside from that of her dear Nethelin, and amidst the screaming and raging of fires, she could do naught but curl into herself as the world around her screamed and rung with a frightful straining against the roof of the world, a ringing that would follow her for all of her years. For the fingers of war are long and cruel, and snare even the innocent and faithful with sharp talons.

She was left alone and abandoned in the burning husk of a town, saved only by the noise from which she tried so desperately to hide.

It was in this event that young Hild found herself dragged into the battle against the Undying: Young and full of power, filled with unreasonable pride and an aching, burning fury and grief, she was able to use her unusual height and status as a wielder of Nethelin's power to push herself into the war earlier than most. Perhaps she hoped that lashing against the mindless things that slew the living would bring about some peace and renewed strength.

It did not; in the years to follow, Hild's faith lost its gentle hope, and her love was molded into a burning zeal, steeped in her longstanding wrath and cooled by her firm control and bitter heart. Hild saw no end to the fighting, to the death of things dear to her at the hands of uncaring corpses, to the defilement of her lord's way, to the cowardice of mortals and foulness of necromancers; it was mortal men who brought these things upon the land, and it was mortal men who carefully shaped her into an inquisitorial force of death for all who would disturb the dead.

Hild is a hardened soul, and she is alone now in the world. The only things she holds to her name are her simple possessions and her faith. She hopes to see an end by following after the strong Duchess and her ambitions in the war. Whether an end to the war for herself or the war remains to be seen, but she is not afraid of Nethelin's grasp. The Duchess, an inspiring figure to all who know her, had managed to stoke the dying hope of an end to the battle in her lifetime, and has gained some of her distant respect.

She will follow the Stormsparrow Lady into the land of the undying, and smite the dead in the name of Nethelin and a peaceful grave.
 
[center][h3]Weapons and Armor[/h3][/center]

See appearance description for clothing/armor. For weaponry, Hild keeps upon her few hidden daggers as sidearms, with her primary weapon being a rather interesting staff. Made of steel and tall enough for use as a walking stick, Hild's staff is decorated with runes and symbols honoring and idolizing Nethelin, with the various engravings covering it from end to end. Atop one end are words engraved in a circular fashion, raised ever so slightly so that Hild can feel them and remind herself of them: 'Our Fate Eternal'. The staff is hefty and durable due to its construction, and is capable of cracking open skulls with a properly aligned swing. It seems unusually effective against the undead, a product of its masterful dedication to Nethelin.
 
[center][h3]Misc Gear and Possessions[/h3][/center]

Hild travels relatively light, but keeps long-lasting rations within some of her pouches, as well as a water-skin at her hip, and various small tools. On her right hip is kept a book detailing various undying and necromantic spells, mostly for the sake of those around her; she cannot read it, and has memorized everything within it with the help of one of her teachers.

A small, silver locket hangs around her neck, bearing no names and no engravings. Instead, a pair of coins have been set into the locket as through they were pictures, a representation of a memory Hild holds dear.[/hider]