[b]Name:[/b] Sernal Civilies
[b]Race:[/b] Human
[b]Age:[/b] Perhaps 19
[b]Gender:[/b] Female

[b]Appearance:[/b] With complexion like that of bleached bone and meek height of a meter and sixty-two centimeters(sixty-three, you might hear her protest), mass of forty-nine kilograms, Sernal indicates little belonging to the field of battle. She is no frontline combatant, and her very frame, delicate and soft it is, keeps her well-wary of ever straying too close to adversal predicaments. She seems to belong in some safe household, away from sharp steel and blackened blood. Perhaps like some well-kept noble’s daughter, she holds the scent of some white flower, and her hair is that of long gentle waves and soft snow. Her pale-grey eyes hold curiousity and a kind of serene understanding unbefitting of her young appearance.

[b]Background:[/b] The idea of a child raised by undead would be a wild tale, if not simply unprecedented, but here is Sernal, curiously fortuned to have been under guardianship of a wight that since left. 

(Un)Naturally, this led to a growing life revolving about Necromancy and its associated influence. Sernal’s come to learn a notable deal in the dark arts, even if she’s not particularly adept in their usage.

Still peculiar, are the philosophies she’s come to hear. “A World plunged in darkness will stumble without progress, a world bathed in light will fall in poor sight.”

Necromancy is a tool to seek understanding, as much as it is a tool to demonstrate force. Sernal believes it a method of balance, and so could be used to preserve peace.

Wandering, wavering between the Darkwood and Falconreach, Sernal keeps her presence slight. A few could recognise her here and there, yet her occupation isn't all so known.

[b]Equipment:[/b] Robes, archetypically simple and dark, adorn Sernal. They reach her ankles, and might barely be considered threatening if not for their user’s diminutive height, and how they hug her feminine figure. 

A sword of complex construction centred about a elegantly swept cage-like guard, a schiavona. Dark is its blade and silvered is its hilt. A few scrabbles of necromantic runes adorn the base of the blade, but Sernal couldn’t really make meaning of it.  The weapon's usually sheathed in a dark scabbard, hung off a similarly coloured belt.

[b]Skills, Spells, or Abilities:[/b] Expectedly, the diminutive necromantress holds access to minions, two at most, of skeletal, zombified or otherwise corpsely composition. They are basic in function, usually bearing a manner of simple melee utilities like pavises, clubs or staves. Their skill rests on the time Sernal is allowed to concentrate, and may act between the spectrum of wild swings or precised strikes. 

Living among the dead has rather blessed Sernal with an atmosphere of indifference. Without a group of living humans for effective reference, undead do not generally aggress her.

Not so much capabilities, but Sernal does hold a small number of odd traits. She unsurprisingly, is frail, and although worthwhile in blade and magic, is a relatively poor soldier, lacking much endurance and strength. Additionally, she does hold peculiarly low fleshly temperature and notably high tolerance of the cold and pestilence. Perhaps linked, is her most sinister, albeit weakest utility; Sernal is able to channel a small stream of darkness to drain life. Subtle and slow, this has no real combat use, and only serves to be a convenient manner in how the little necromantress eats.