So, I honestly cannot decide between these two, so I'll post em both and see who is a more popular preference.

[hider=Jericho Cross]
[img]https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/629/768/large/siwoo-kim-strider3-web.jpg[/img]

Former Title: Ranger Captain of Istvargrad

Nickname/Alias: Walker

Name: Jericho Cross

Age: Early forties

Pronouns: He/Him

Race: Human

Personality: 
Having been the leading man in a crime ring of thieves, bandits, thugs and assassins turned into a commissioned Captain of the Monarch when Kazzok and his forces invaded, one might think that he was either a piss poor thief, or a god awful Captain, but that is not the case. Well spoken, fluent in several languages spoken among his people, and clever to a fault, one could easily mistake him for a noble playing at crime. Indeed, some rumors are that he was a noble ousted from his family for being too vicious in the court intrigue. Whatever the truth, he hides it behind a facade of feint smiles, blatant lies, and constant distrust of any and all around him at all times. This leaves a great deal in dispute among his (former) peers as to who he is. Exiled noble, jumped up gutter rat, disgraced officer, rumors swirled wherever he walked.

What isn't in dispute is the level of pragmatism that Jericho displays on a routine basis. It served both him and his own well during the conflicts and problems leading up to the eventual loss of his world. Of course, the arrival of Kazzok and his forces should have had quite the detrimental impact on Jericho but, on the surface and as far as he'll let anyone see, he took it in stride. [color=598527]"A gods damned shit stain cleaned, and without a coin paid, what's the bother, eh?"[/color] Of course, one cannot seriously believe this to be the truth, and while he doesn't expect anyone to buy it, he also won't be sharing lightly what the truth of the matter is. Not so much sorrow, but a mix of regret and rage, mixed into a dangerous bundle waiting to simmer to the surface. Regret over what was left undone and of redemption lost, rage over being denied all that he had earned with his own two hands, and of any chance at redemption, being stolen away.

Abilities/Powers: 
- (Reluctant) Leader of Men -
Between his own ring of criminals, bandits, and thugs to when he was drafted to be a formal soldier, and a Captain no less, of soldiers of dubious reputation, Jericho has proven to be a surprisingly effective leader in small, urban brawls. Organizing and tactically deploying small bands of disparate thugs, thieves, and specialists of all sorts tends to come second nature, even if its something Jericho is not fond of. Too much attention, and too much riding on his shoulders. Of course, when Kazzok arrived with his legions, reluctance was no excuse for not applying what skills were useful in fighting back.

- Resilient Physiology -
A life of crime tends to lead one to exposure to all sorts of nasty things, from the obvious such as blades and bludgeons to the not so obvious, poisons, toxins, and various diseases, illnesses, and injuries that were never treated by completely competent healers. In such circumstances, one either becomes resilient to physical traumas, or becomes crippled in a hurry. Fortunately for Jericho, he proved to be rather resilient, even by the standards of his world, bouncing back from most physical ailments alarmingly quickly, and shrugging off injury through will, quick bindings, and a touch of liquid courage when needed.

- Dirty Fighter -
It should come to absolutely no surprise the crook plays dirty when it comes to a fight. While he is certainly a skilled swordsman, and competent archer, he chooses to "enhance" his ability in a fight with cheap, underhanded methods. Poisoned blades, barbed arrows, a bit of sand in the eye and a brisk blow beneath the belt, anything to give him an edge and come out on top, or at least survive to see another day. He is also alarmingly creative when it comes to preparing an area for a fight, when he has time to, lacing traps and patches of unfortunate terrain for whoever isn't ready for fighting in such conditions.

Equipment: 
- Personal Arming Sword (Stolen) -
A personal, well worn, and tried and true sword that Jericho has had for most of his career. Lacking any real ornamentation anymore, besides the remains hinting at a noble owner in the past, it remains his personal choice of weapon. Well balanced, and honed to a razor edge with a hardened tip, it is capable of cutting down lightly armored foes, and thrusting through medium armor and the weaker joints on heavier armor.

- Composite Bow (Stolen) -
Mostly what he had on hand during his last stand in his world, Jericho's bow is a rather plain example of a composite bow. With a quiver full of various arrows, some for armor, some for flesh, and even a few for utility, it rounded out his toolset in a fight, giving him options to face a foe on footing that was not in their favor.

Inventory: 
- Lucky Pipe (Stolen) -
A hand me down from father to son for quite some time, the battered old pipe still functions as a pipe, and is often used as such, even if the remains of ornamentation hint that it was, once upon a time, a symbol of status and nobility.

- Trappers Kit (Stolen) -
A small bag of lockpicks, springs, spare parts, and other bits of metal and leather designed to let a man put together, or disarm, traps, locks, and the like without needing a dedicated workshop following him around. Often times added to with scrap and salvage from fights and thievery, one can be surprised at what might be found in its contents from time to time.

[hider=Istvargrad] 
[img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/8f1fa18c-a123-475d-a36c-12096121c9bb/d6t29ma-4decb912-0352-417c-9c62-2df773b28d22.jpg/v1/fill/w_800,h_1237,q_70,strp/night_over_the_poor_district_by_ortsmor_d6t29ma-fullview.jpg[/img]

	A realm of sprawling cities, often times built on top of those that had come before them, many go their entire lives without ever seeing nature outside of scant few trees, weeds, or roots. Magic exists, of a sort, though those gifted with the ability to utilize said magic liken it to more of being a conduit for powers outside their control, or even understanding, than conventional control over the arcane. As such, magicians were viewed with great distrust, skepticism, and often times ostracized and hunted over problems that routinely plagued the land, either to try and fix them or punish them for causing them. Banditry and organized crime are as common as the official powers that be, a classical Monarchy who's ruling head changes almost as often as the months passed, due to political intrigue, assassination, or just plain bad luck. Guards and soldiers were crooked, and pretty much the entire land ran off crime, organized as it was, and if one wanted to actually get something done, they went to the Robber Barons.

	Of course, the most lucrative trade for the crooks and thieves was in the dealings of Relics. A catch all term, for items that sort of fell from between the cracks and ended up in their world. Magicians and self styled scientists alike paid almost as much to get these Relics, as they did to keep their rivals from getting them. Good scouts and sharp eyes to find proper Relics, or a silver tongue to pass off fakes as the real deal, were prized among such rings as much as a steely gaze, steady sword arm, and complete lack of morals might be.

	Officially, the Church held say over all things related to the arrival of new Relics, though in practice even the Crown overlooked the trade as it often lined his own pockets and coffers with illicit gold. That being said, about the only thing that could unite the disparate groups of Istvargrad would be an outside threat, as the Robber Barons, Church, and Monarchy distrusted each other to the point that all out war would, to an outsider, be all but guaranteed. Of course, Kazzok's arrival was one such threat, and a stiff resistance was put up, but we all know how such fights turned out by now...
[/hider]

Backstory: 
	Istvargrad was one of the largest cities of the realm, not so much a single settlement as a sprawling mass of civilization. Humanity as it was known was, by far, the most dominant species present, though compared to other world's versions, the humans of Istvargrad were hardy and resilient against trauma and disease. Elves circulated as concubines and entertainers among the noble courts, moonlighting as assassins and masters of alchemy for those with coin or information to spare. Dwarves and halflings, lumped together in the poor quarters, ran bars, taverns, and and places of business as readily as a human. They would also turn their deft fingers to locksmithing, lockpicking, and the production of clever trinkets and tools for the trade of crime. Indeed, one would be safe to say that the realm of Istvargrad was, indeed, one that ran on crime, either the engaging in, or fighting of, it.

	Crime, and the Robber Barons that ran the highest levels of it, knew where the profit was. Relics, strange objects and contraptions that fell into their world due to the weakened walls of their world and sold to the highest bidders. The Church and, officially, the Monarchy would oppose them in a three way struggle for power, the Church seeing them as holy objects, trappings of a faith that had once sustained the barriers of their world and protected them from outsiders. The Monarch saw them as leverage against the Church and its enforcers, and the Robber Barons? Money, money to whichever noble, scientist, magician, or eccentric could pay the most coin. Entire bands of rogues, thieves, thugs and assassins would form around individuals with the skill and know how to track down and secure these items. Little did Istvargrad know, in all its constant focus inwards, that the slowly increasing tide of Relics was a sign of its impending doom.

	This is where Jericho Cross comes into the picture, a man that had erased his past from all accounts barring his own, and yet was a highly successful leader of criminals. Knowing how and when to ply guile, charm, and force in due measures, he had a knack for finding Relics and pawning them off to both higher bidders, and his superiors. He made a good amount of coin off his work, lived comfortably in the seedy underbelly of Istvargrad, and was generally respected for his capabilities. Of course, such things do not last forever, and it was getting more and more dangerous for Jericho to work as the Church had begun to focus on his work more and more closely, trying to pin him down for illicit Relic trade. Of course, this never came to a head thanks to the arrival of Kazzok, who likely either followed the trail of relics that slipped between the cracks and into this world, or perhaps to use them as signs of the best options of where to go next.

	Istvargrad was the last city remaining within a few short years, the rest of the realm falling in relatively short order, though it was not from a lack of effort. Jericho, and many men like him, were appointed as military officers in desperation, leading their own bands of criminals and scum alongside broken survivors of initial efforts to repel Kazzok. Instead of facing his forces openly, they instead opted to often strike from the shadows, ambushing and harassing the enemy forces wherever they could, stalling and buying time and victories where they could. The problem was that open warfare was a relatively rare thing in Istvargrad, standing armies acting more as guards and opponents to organized criminals than monsters and even other professional soldiers. Ironically, it was the criminals, convicts, and the like able to put up the fiercest resistance as their infighting better prepared them then the long guard shifts with little going on within their view.

	Jericho made a name for himself leading men of increasingly varied walks of life against Kazzok and his legions, organizing defenses, leading ambushes and counter assaults, and moving around like a man possessed. It didn't take a genius to realize whatever Kazzok had in mind was bad for business, and everything was thrown into the defense against him, and for his own reasons, Jericho was throwing everything he had into it. Even as Kazzok's legions advanced into Istvargrad itself, entire districts were burned in defiance, forcing them to move in patterns more suitable to being ambushed and making costly assaults on defensive positions. Indeed, scorched earth had become a standard practice, anything that couldn't be taken with them was put to the torch or otherwise ruined. The last point of feasible defense was the barrier to the Monarchy district, a towering manor on an isolated rocky outcrop, accessable via a long, narrow pathway on foot, and the clear, moonlit nights readily exposing approaches by other means.

	It was on this long, narrow road snaking up towards the Monarch's home that Jericho would make his last stand, what surviving associates of his old crew alongside soldiers and survivors that would sooner die in a last ditch defense then turn over and die as prisoners, or worse. On top of his career of criminal activity, underground fighting, and scrapes with the guards, he had years of desperate, hard earned experience fighting a losing battle. The Monarch district was designed to be nigh unassailable by any mortal hands, even magicians were anticipated if an all out assault was to be engaged. In the hands of legends and heroes, it might have even sufficed. But legends and heroes were not commonplace in Istvargrad, indeed, the latter was bad for business, and the former too attention grabbing for subtle operations. Jericho had become a hero by necessity, not by choice, and it was no doubt he would fight to the bitter end alongside the remaining few that held the Monarch district. Though, how can one imagine, as the moon itself is blotted out by the oncoming tide, and the ground itself trembled at the approaching legions, that such a motley crew would last long at all?

[hider=A Tavern Song of great fondness to the people of Istvargrad]
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnMR6SOBa9k[/youtube]
[/hider]
LUMIERE IS MY SENPAI.
[/hider]

[hider=Lashiel Voss]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/yEdEp8h.jpg[/img]

Former Title: Church Reclamation Officer

Nickname/Alias: L or Lash

Name: Lashiel Voss

Age: Early thirties (31)

Pronouns: She/Her

[hider=Race: Crimson Branded]
A by product of experimentation by the Mages of Istvargrad into finding the source of the constant stream of relics, the backlash of energy after a failed attempt to breach a gate left behind by a relic left a stain on the fabric of the realm. This would result in certain newborns having a brand somewhere on their body, signifying mutation depending on the color. The Church decried them as spawns of evil, as the coloration of their brand would mean different sorts of effects and "powers", though scholars maintained that these were little more than biological mutations from exposure to the oft mutagenic properties of the energy released. There were a handful of documented variations in branded, forcing an addendum to the branded classification dependent on the color, as various colors had common traits between them.

Crimson Brands, derogatorily referred to as "hot bloods" or "forge whelps", tended to be the most resilient out of the Branded. Boasting an unnaturally high self healing rate, the reason why is apparent when their blood is spilled since, moments after, the spilled blood will combust and set fire to the most whatever the blood landed on. This means injuries will self cauterize, aiding in the healing process, though external help in binding wounds or other healing efforts fail, for fairly obvious reasons. Their blood, when properly extracted, also makes for a potent power source, spawning a new generation of crude alterations of steam tech to run on their blood, often times grafted and installed onto the limb that bears the brand to "get the most potent source of the blood possible". Besides the mutations from the Brand, they are effectively human and can, and often did, have human offspring, confounding efforts to pin down precisely what caused a child to be born Branded.
[/hider]

Personality: 
	Lash is a fairly gruff, no nonsense, and pragmatic soul to be dealing with on any given day, though hints of a wry sense of humor hint at something under the surface. She is a highly private person, however, mostly since her career of choice ended up being a rather lonesome one, and tends to stonewall or otherwise react poorly to prying questions. She will volunteer information as she deems fit, and will frankly tell others her feelings on a matter otherwise. The amount of distrust from her, sometimes reluctant, employers meant that she is always expecting treachery from those she has to work with, making it a slow process to actually trust and open up enough to work with someone outside of a professional setting. She is also fiercely proud of her work, despite it being glorified grave robbing, having been able to make ends meet in a sanctioned manner unlike many of her kin who either ended up in bonds or as petty criminal enforcers, agents, or other useful bodies in a criminal syndicate.

Abilities/Powers: 
	Crimson Brand Physiology: A byproduct of what she is, Lash has all the benefits and drawbacks of being among the Branded. Her blood will combust when spilled or extracted incorrectly, which not only self cauterizes a wound but also acts as a means of self defense since the unaware will suddenly have burning blood flying about. Curiously, the blood's combustion doesn't destroy any articles of clothing worn by the Branded, though this protection doesn't extend to their flesh and blood. As a side effect, their bodily functions are capable of healing wounds and injuries at an alarmingly fast rate, meaning that unless an outright lethal amount of damage is done, its likely for her to recover in a timely manner.

	Brand Extraction Implants: Despite the misleading name, and general hatred that Lash has for the device, it is an integral part of her now. Removal of the device would be, at best, a lifetime crippling injury and, more likely, a lethal event. Fortunately, it is sturdy and designed for combat, meaning that if an incoming blow would destroy the device, odds are it would just kill Lash outright as well. Fortunately, this device gives her means of employing her blood's properties without just constantly cutting wounds and trying to splash enemies with the blood before it combusts. The extractors in the device, which are linked to her arm's arteries, can draw out blood to maintain tanks in the armored gauntlet device running along her left arm. This can be used to either fuel converters that let her, in short, launch blasts of electricity or launch small balls of the blood at high velocity, meaning that it is, effectively, pyromancy without the magic. Of course, she cannot just keep doing this as blood loss can eventually take hold, but thanks to her physiology, she can get away with more than one might think.

	Grave Robber: Despite the formal title, Lash is pretty much a grave robber, and anyone who could afford to have Relics buried with them would have elaborate means to protect their buried treasure. This means that, besides being skilled at infiltration and stealth (as to avoid formal discovery by guards around such burial sites), she has had to learn how to detect, disarm, and even make her own traps when the need arose. And, when in doubt, leg it and live another day, so fast on her feet rounds out the talents and skills she picked up from grave robbing, or as the Church preferred, Reclamation of Sacred Relics.

	Passable Fighter: While not as comfortable with it as, say, frontline soldiers or captains in the guard, Lash is perfectly capable of defending herself should she run afoul of nosy guards or furious nobles. Preferably, her reinforced shovel is her go to weapon, which gets her routine ridicule from fellow robbers that carry shortswords or other weapons suitable for close in work. But, as she points out, she'd rather just cave some poor sods head in or use the sharpened edges of the shovel to get a problem sorted out. 

Equipment: 
	Reinforced Shovel: Lash jokingly refers to this as her "Master Key", and it sees as much use as a proper shovel as it does a means of forcing entry and defending against guards, traps, and other problems that might arise when one goes robbing noble graves and tombs. The shaft is reinforced to be able to parry and block blows, while the actual shovel portion was sharpened and weighted to make bashing more effective. She will be rather furious about it being removed from her person. (Currently Missing)

Inventory: 
	Nothing Worth Noting

Origin: 
[hider=Istvargrad] 
[img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/8f1fa18c-a123-475d-a36c-12096121c9bb/d6t29ma-4decb912-0352-417c-9c62-2df773b28d22.jpg/v1/fill/w_800,h_1237,q_70,strp/night_over_the_poor_district_by_ortsmor_d6t29ma-fullview.jpg[/img]

	A realm of sprawling cities, often times built on top of those that had come before them, many go their entire lives without ever seeing nature outside of scant few trees, weeds, or roots. Magic exists, of a sort, though those gifted with the ability to utilize said magic liken it to more of being a conduit for powers outside their control, or even understanding, than conventional control over the arcane. As such, magicians were viewed with great distrust, skepticism, and often times ostracized and hunted over problems that routinely plagued the land, either to try and fix them or punish them for causing them. Banditry and organized crime are as common as the official powers that be, a classical Monarchy who's ruling head changes almost as often as the months passed, due to political intrigue, assassination, or just plain bad luck. Guards and soldiers were crooked, and pretty much the entire land ran off crime, organized as it was, and if one wanted to actually get something done, they went to the Robber Barons.

	Of course, the most lucrative trade for the crooks and thieves was in the dealings of Relics. A catch all term, for items that sort of fell from between the cracks and ended up in their world. Magicians and self styled scientists alike paid almost as much to get these Relics, as they did to keep their rivals from getting them. Good scouts and sharp eyes to find proper Relics, or a silver tongue to pass off fakes as the real deal, were prized among such rings as much as a steely gaze, steady sword arm, and complete lack of morals might be. The Church employed its own cadre of grave robbers, or in their words "Reclamation Officers" to go into graves and tombs of nobles or magicians that were suspected to hoard illicit relics and reclaim them, paying their teams a living wage for doing so. It also was one of the only ways for Branded to avoid persecution and hunting by the Church, yet most Branded only took up such a job once actually hunted down and cornered by the Church.

	Officially, the Church held say over all things related to the arrival of new Relics, though in practice even the Crown overlooked the trade as it often lined his own pockets and coffers with illicit gold, fueling the Church's need for its Reclamation branch. That being said, about the only thing that could unite the disparate groups of Istvargrad would be an outside threat, as the Robber Barons, Church, and Monarchy distrusted each other to the point that all out war would, to an outsider, be all but guaranteed. Of course, Kazzok's arrival was one such threat, and a stiff resistance was put up, but we all know how such fights turned out by now...
[/hider]

Backstory: 
	Istvargrad was one of the largest cities of the realm, not so much a single settlement as a sprawling mass of civilization. Humanity as it was known was, by far, the most dominant species present, though compared to other world's versions, the humans of Istvargrad were hardy and resilient against trauma and disease. Elves circulated as concubines and entertainers among the noble courts, moonlighting as assassins and masters of alchemy for those with coin or information to spare. Dwarves and halflings, lumped together in the poor quarters, ran bars, taverns, and and places of business as readily as a human. They would also turn their deft fingers to locksmithing, lockpicking, and the production of clever trinkets and tools for the trade of crime. Indeed, one would be safe to say that the realm of Istvargrad was, indeed, one that ran on crime, either the engaging in, or fighting of, it.

	Crime, and the Robber Barons that ran the highest levels of it, knew where the profit was. Relics, strange objects and contraptions that fell into their world due to the weakened walls of their world and sold to the highest bidders. The Church and, officially, the Monarchy would oppose them in a three way struggle for power, the Church seeing them as holy objects, trappings of a faith that had once sustained the barriers of their world and protected them from outsiders. The Monarch saw them as leverage against the Church and its enforcers, and the Robber Barons? Money, money to whichever noble, scientist, magician, or eccentric could pay the most coin. Entire bands of rogues, thieves, thugs and assassins would form around individuals with the skill and know how to track down and secure these items. Little did Istvargrad know, in all its constant focus inwards, that the slowly increasing tide of Relics was a sign of its impending doom.

	Lashiel Voss was born with the brand on her left palm, which was unfortunate due to how difficult to conceal it would be. Yet she would do so, keeping a close eye on the Church parties that swept the poor districts routinely, searching for newborn branded to be snatched away. Having to abandon her birth parents at a young age, as they planned to turn her over for the bounty on all Branded, she would end up running with a gang of thieves and crooks for awhile run by a fellow who folks called Walker. She worked as their entry specialist, getting people in and out of areas, slipping in wherever one might think to need someone skilled in breaking and entering. Walker would be the first to find her Brand, and to her surprise he didn't turn her over to the Church, instead keeping her clear of jobs dealing with the Church from then on out. Of course, good luck doesn't run forever, and she got picked up by the Church in an unexpected raid.

	Normally a Branded of her age should have been executed, but the official in charge of her trial had owed a favor to Walker and he had called it in, to give her an option. Execution, or enlist with the Reclamation Branch. While it would, officially, put her opposed to her old boss, it gave her a chance to find a way out. She had to undergo the rather gruesome and painful grafting of the Brand Extraction Implants, though she survived and, despite the stigmata such a thing carried, had to acknowledge its usefulness in her new job. She spent several years robbing graves, growing to be proud of the job she was doing despite it having been forced, though she turned a blind eye to certain shadows where they weren't supposed to be and worked just a tad slower every now and again, just for old times sake. Whether Walker had called in that favor to benefit him and his crew, or to bail her out, it wasn't something she was going to forget, and planned to eventually escape from the Reclamation branch and join back up with Walker's crew.

	Of course, the invasion by Kazzok changed all of this. Walker got drafted as a Ranger Captain, and the Reclamation branch was drafted to help build fortifications and defend them alongside Church militant groups. While they looked down on a Branded, she was sanctioned all the same, so they helped stiffen the backbone of the best equipped to defend and slow down Kazzok and his forces. Between their stiff resistance and the guerilla efforts by the auxiliaries led by Walker, they were able to stall the inevitable for several years, though Istvargrad would end up being the last city left. Lash would assist in scorched earth tactics, putting her burning blood to use to put entire districts to the torch, rigging them to be impassable and force the legions into where the defenders wanted them to go, and she got a reputation for a Church sanctioned devil, putting the torch to things that could not be saved to prevent them falling to Kazzok. They continued being pushed back, however, and when the Magician's quarter erupted in a sphere of light, leaving it a barren husk, the defensive lines collapsed and the survivors fell back to the Monarchy district.

	While Walker and the remaining soldiers dug in on the bridge, Lash would help dig and burrow towards the coast, trying to dig a way for those too young, infirm, or otherwise incapable of defending and fighting to the last. There was some hope that the docks had a boat that hadn't been damaged or torched and could put to sea and head for parts unknown. It was better than dying at the hands of Kazzok's forces. With the sounds of fighting in the manor above announcing the defenses had been breached, and Walker likely dead, Lash ran back headlong into the manor, to defend the tunnel entrance and buy the diggers a scant few moments more to try and finally breach out. Whether they did or not, well, Lash wouldn't be able to tell as, despite her best efforts and nearly killing herself expending her blood into the device strapped on her arm, she was overwhelmed and consciousness fled from her mind.

Other: 
During dry spells, Lash would assist local graveyards in digging graves, putting her shovel to honest work and giving her an understanding of funeral rites and basic prayers, giving her a bit of spiritual understanding.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so2s-NZVXZA]Current Theme Song[/url]

LUMIERE IS MY SENPAI
[/hider]