Edwin is a fairly young man, especially considering he is entering into the Red Hoods. His odd choice of clothes obviously denotes him as a spellcaster, and he carries several accessories that seem pretty peculiar (Books, a shrunken head or two, etc). His brown hair seems like he cut it himself, and his voice is prone to cracking. Already a late bloomer, but he has lied about his age to help him get into the Red Hoods.

Has a Centipede that occasionally can be seen moving on or in his robes.

Head spinning, Eliza swayed out of the tavern. She blinked slowly, eyes attempting to adjust to the lackluster lighting the waning moon provided for her. In her drunken stupor, she hardly noticed the cool, crisp air hitting her flesh. It was only out of habit that she wrapped her thick coat haphazardly around her body, her fingertips numb against the soft fur lining. Ever forward she wandered, going down cobbled alleyways and backstreets that were only partially familiar to her. She usually made her way home by the early hours of the morning, where she could safely pass out on her cot and wake up to do it all again the next day. However, it appeared the fates had planned something different for her.

Blindly, she stumbled into a warm body. She had to crane her neck to look up into the face of the man she had bumped into and grimaced upon eyeing the leer that painted his ghastly face. She took an unsteady step back. Mumbling a few slurred words, she raised her hands and embers danced across her fingertips. No true flame, sadly, this was just a parlor trick. At times the trick served its purpose, scaring off potential human foes who weren't well adjusted to magic and thought she could do more. Other times, like tonight, the thug before her just smirked and approached. So, she did what she did best, turned tail and ran.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, fighting back the alcohol-induced cloud in her headspace. She could hear footsteps pounding the street shortly behind her and picked up her pace in vain. Her stride was simply too small in comparison to the behemoth man, her feet too unsteady due to her late night spent in the local tavern. He gripped her arm as she pumped it to gain speed, and pulled her to the ground in an instant. Her air escaped her as she struck the floor, and despite her attempt at a screech, all that came out was a pathetic wheeze.

"Hush now," He told her, his body imprisoning her small frame. He put a foul-smelling hand over her mouth to prevent any noise from escaping into the night, and his other hand traveled downwards, frisking her body to search for gold or perhaps weaponry. Knowing she had none to spare, she prayed the man would let her go. Instead, he slipped his hand underneath her layers of clothing. Tears streamed down Eliza's face as she kicked and beat against his sides and face to no avail.

"I'd let the lady go if I were you," A smooth, steady voice uttered from somewhere down the alley. Eliza tilted her head to get a look at her potential savior, but she was unable to see anything other than his shoed feet.

The man pinning her down straddled her waist to keep her pinned to the floor, sitting up in order to get a good look at his competition. "And if I don't?"

Her rescuer muttered something Eliza recognized as an incantation, and before the man straddling her could do so much as duck, a chunk of pure ice collided with his face. Eliza heard the sickening crunch of bone as the man's nose snapped, but wasted no time scrambling out from underneath him. The man slumped against the cobble, either dead or unconscious.

Eliza hugged herself, attempting to forget the villainous man's touch. Her eyes wandered over to her savior, who was a handsome man seemingly in his early to mid-thirties. His hair was a light color, though she couldn't tell exactly what that color was in the moonlight. If she were to step closer, she would realize that he had emerald green eyes. He wasn't much taller than her, and his slim build was certainly that of a warlock's.

"Is he dead?" Eliza suddenly asked, her eyes wandering back over to the vermin who had assaulted her. Her words came out coherent, all signs of her drunken daze having been washed away by the night's events.

"Would you care if he was?" The man questioned in return. Eliza was unsure of how to respond but soon shook her head no. "Well, he shouldn't be dead. Maybe just concussed."

"Why did you save me? Not that I'm ungrateful, it's just...a normal soul would have walked away." She hoped he wasn't expecting payment because she had none to give.

"I saved you because I possess the power to do so." He replied easily, and Eliza wished she could be as sure of herself when she spoke as he was. "Don't you wish you had that power?" He inquired, taking a delicate step forward.

Eliza did. Of course she did, it was only natural to crave power. She had magic flowing through her veins, so why wouldn't she want to be able to use it the way he did? "I know some magic, my parents were spellcasters." She spoke in an almost defensive tone, wanting him to know that she wasn't hopeless.

"If you studied under me, I could show you how to utilize that power in an even greater way." He held out a hand, and Eliza stared at his slender fingers with interest. "Wear my mark, and we'll work towards greatness together."

Eliza had never had a mentor. Her parents hadn't been able to afford one, and they were both novices in spellcasting. She yearned to learn more about the blessing she had received. So, upon the release of a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she reached out. Their hands met, they shared a smile, and he whisked her away.