[hider=Lethe]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/UhibfH5.jpg[/img]
[h1][b]Lethe[/b][/h1][b]Human | 32 | Male | 6’1” | 140 lbs
0th Circle | Death[/b][/center]
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.

[hr][hider=Path to Ascension]
[u][b]0th Circle Ichor-Blessed[/b][/u]

[b]Ichor:[/b] 0
[b]Wealth:[/b] 0
[b]Followers:[/b] 5
[b]Resources:[/b] None.
[b]Artifacts:[/b] None
[b]Property:[/b] None.

[b]Divine Protection of Death[/b][indent]
[i]Domain of the Last Sleep[/i] - Followers of the Scribe better sense when another is drawing near to the end of their natural, mortal coil and are gently motivated to record the mortal life of that person, whether it be by their own hand, the hand of a learned priest, or by oral stories.
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[b]Starting Benefit[/b][indent]
[i]Band of Brothers[/i] - [b]5 Followers.[/b] Those you met on the way were moved or manipulated by you to joining your cause.
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