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: [hider=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.[/hider]

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.