Name:
Draco Russ

Appearance:
Standing at around six feet, four inches (give or take) results in Draco normally being the tallest in the crowd (Through he has encountered several people taller then himself). He has often been told that he has the broad shoulders and slim physic to be a natural born swimmer. His white skin is quite pale due to his somewhat nocturnal lifestyle, through it does match his blue eyes and brown-blonde hair rather nicely.

There was once a time where Draco was a handsome young man that could make a young woman's heart swoon; That ended during his first hunt. A misstep while dodging resulted in a werewolf leaving him without a nose and a monstrous looking scar running sideways across the middle of his face. He will normally wear a cloth mask that covers the lower part of his face to cover this horrible scarring up.

Age:
Appears to be in his Early to Mid Twenties (24 to be exact)

Personality:
Life has turned Draco into a highly cynical, jaded man who struggles with nihilism; He wants to believe that there is some kind of god or at least some purpose to all the pain and suffering that he has gone through but he just can't and it causes him to suffer bursts of depression and anger.

Despite this through, he can still recognize when someone else is having a hard time and it is hard for him not to feel some sort of empathy and desire to help them. There are times when he hates the fact that he is such a caring soul because there have been plenty of times where trying to be the nice, understanding guy has only resulted in him getting hurt but deep down he wouldn't have it any other way.

History:
Much like many other hunter clans, the Russ family have a long and proud tradition of prowling the night to stalk and destroy those that would threaten the innocent and defenseless; Unlike many of their peers through it was rare for them to go out into the night with the intentions of hunting down a witch. The Russ family favored hunting the supernatural beast of the night, such as werewolves and the like.

Draco was raised in the somewhat abusive shadow of his father Johnathan, one of the most strong willed and stubborn hunters the family had ever produced. After a lifetime of hunting beasts, Johnathan lost both of his shins to a werewolf and was told by a doctor that he would never walk again; Six months after having his feet sewn onto where his knees should have been, Johnathan walked right up to that doctor and punched him in the kidneys despite his massive loss of height.

When Draco went out on his first werewolf hunt he slipped up, growing overconfident during the battle with the beast and gave it all the opening it needed to try and rip his face off with a swipe; The loss of his nose and the ugly scar across his face is a permanent reminder of the dangers of overconfidence.


Signature Weapon:

A custom weapon created by the Russ family, the saw-cleaver is designed to be used against large, quick moving beasts that can heal from injuries at an accelerated rate by being light, sturdy and able to inflect large, nasty wounds that are hard to heal even for the supernatural. The blade itself is a fusion of silver and steel and is often cleaned/coated with a wolfsbane elixir before every hunt.

Things they look for in a partner:
Draco wants to meet a woman that can make him happy and who can look past the fact that fact that he is a horribly scarred person (in the physical, mental and spiritual sense).

Rank: High Ranked Acolyte

Appearance:
A well educated young man with blond hair whom has clearly come from a higher class (likely noble) family, Bartolomeo lacks the scars and markings of someone who does physical labor for a living. His skin and weight appear to be completely healthy and the look in his eyes are devoid of the hardships that haunt the thoughts of others, suggesting a boy who has never had to experience hardship before in his life.

The fact that his clothing appears new and well made is more then enough to suggest that he comes from money, but he is almost always seen with a book of some kind on his person. As he walks, he is always seen carrying a silver coated cane that rattles whenever he planted it on the ground, reveling to all those who can hear and have experience with such things that it is a sword cane that he carries because it is a gentleman's weapon rather then because he needs it to help him move around. While traveling, he will always be wearing a fine pair of brown leather gloves on his hands, matching the rest of his outfit rather fashionably.

Poking out of his shirt pocket he will generally have a stem of pressed and dried out lavender, it's pleasant scent still lingering long after the process was made to preserve it.

Age:
16

Personality:
Bartolomeo Peckish is a relatively polite young man who has clearly been brought up to understand that he was born into a class of people that was... honestly, just plain and simply better then the classes lower then him. This doesn't mean that he looked down on the lower classes like some nobles did however; For him, being noble born just means that he was born with the potential to do more then most and thus it was his duty as noble to step up and improve the world around him.

Exactly how he came to the conclusion that the best way to serve mankind was by becoming a hunter is somewhat unclear, but if asked directly his answer will generally betray the fact that he appeared to have been raised on stories of the great and mighty beast hunter, slaying packs of supernatural creatures and earning the hand of a beautiful princess and half a kingdom for their troubles; His decision seems motivated by a mixture of hero worship and a desire to set himself and any children he may have up for generations to come.

While it is clear that all of his information on the supernatural have come from books rather then personal experience or proper teachings from a mentor, it is clear that the reason he has come to Seren's Folly is to find one or more hunters who would be able to give him the education that he lacks.

History:
Being born as the fifth, youngest child (and forth boy) of the Peckish family ensured that while Bartolomeo would grow up in an environment where he would be safe from such things as starvation or hard work, he was doomed to a future where bar some outlandish twists of fortune and fate he would be unlikely to inherit anything substantial from his father. He wasn't even in a position to be a useful spare in the event that his eldest brother died he had at least two other older brothers ready and able to step in.

Since he was practically a waste of time and resources to bother investing the training required to manage the families lands or fulfill its duties for the higher nobility, Bartolomeo's education was largely left to the family priest with the idea that he would seek to make a living in the church... but he had other ideas. Finding a number of books about hunting the foul creatures that stalked mankind and lurked in the night (and the rewards one could get for doing so), he made the decision to become a hunter to secure a future for himself while being of service to mankind. It was a noble quest to be sure and his father easily approved of it since... well, either his youngest son would earn a successful future for himself while bringing honor and glory to the family name or he would die and thus no longer be a lose end to the succession.

Given some good equipment and directions towards a town that would offer him the best chance to learn what it meant to be a hunter, Bartolomeo Peckish took to the road to get to Seren's Folly with high hopes and dreams of the future.

Signature Weapon:
It's rather hard to miss Bartolomeo's silver plated swordcane since the shine of the silver itself tends to draw the eye to it. The blade itself is just normal steel however, through it is clearly well made.

Things they look for in a partner:
He is a romantic at heart... but a romantic that would prefer a woman of higher class/noble birth like himself to save himself a lot of heart ache and hardship.

Rank: Novice

Appearance:
Due to the nature of Pandor's signature power, no one actually know what his original face, form or even gender is for certain. Whatever it might have been, he seems to prefer being male since that will generally be the gender he falls back to and generally uses the most. While the flesh and body might change, what remains consistent is the red hood and the white mask that he wears when he isn't pretending to be someone else.

Age: Impossible to tell from appearance alone, but he's actually in his mid twenties age wise.

Personality:
Pandor is one of nature's actors and thus it is really difficult to pin down a personalty... at least, pinning down what his actual personalty might be. Some suspect even he doesn't fully know what kind of person he is at heart, since when someone asked him what it was like to be a shape shifter he answered "You have to be careful. You spend too long pretending to be other people and sooner or later you'll forget who you're meant to be when you're not wearing the mask."

While he would never admit it, the reason he wears his trademark mask when he isn't required to pretend to be something else is because he no longer remembers what he originally looked like and the mask... comforts him. It gives him a sense of identity that when the mask is on, he is himself. As such, he will come down on anyone who tries to steal or damage his mask with anger and furious vengeance that will be shift and brutal. Even allowing someone to touch his mask is an act of trust that goes beyond words for him.

History:
Pandor has told numerous tales of his origins. He has claimed to have originated as one of many children born to a farmstead up near the frozen north of the world whom joined his father one day on a raid of the south lands and simply never returned north having been born with the ability to change form at will, the son of a doctor who lived in the far east who uncovered the secrets of how to change his form in ancient occult texts before before forced to flee his homeland due to a war... and one interesting tale about being a noble born from a distant land whom had come across the occult when normal experiences and sensations grew boring. Which, if any, of these tales are actually true he keeps completely to himself.

What is known for certain is the day that he arrived at the Coven almost a decade ago. A young boy with the ability to change his appearance at will, with time and training by those who understood magic and the occult he was able to grow his ability from just being able to change things such as hair and skin color to being able to shift his body, gender and even species as he wished. In return, he has dedicated himself to the Coven as a family that understands him and works as an agent to ensure its safety against outside threats.

Special Power:

Pandor is naturally gifted as a shape shifter, being able to alter his body to take on the appearance of anyone or just about anything mundane that he wants provided that it is a living creature. While he is taking a non-human form, he gains access to the abilities that have... provided that they are a result of a physical characteristic of the body in question. His shape shifting does not allow for the use of any magical abilities that the creature may possess.

For example: If he was to take the form of a spider, he would be able to climb most surfaces easily because that is a physical trait. If he was the take the form of a venomous snake, he would have venom because the venom sacks are a physical part of the snake. If he took the form of a cockatrice however, he would not have its death stare since that is a magical ability and not a physical one.

Things they look for in a partner:
Pandor doesn't really know what he is looking for in a partner... but he feels like he'll know it when he finds it.

Rank: High Ranked Acolyte

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Her flesh is severely rotted

Name: Rebecca DiLeo

Age: 83

Personality: Due to her condition, Rebecca is very shy and reclusive. She used to be more outgoing, though, and it is possible she will return to her old personality.

History: It all started many years ago. Rebecca had been living incognito in a rather sizable village when the local blacksmith and his family were brutally murdered. Clues were hard to come by, and the town watch was at its wits' end. Rebecca saw a chance to help, and raised the blacksmith's shade, getting him to finger his own murderer. Unfortunately, she was caught in the act and sentenced to burn at the stake.

As a kindness, the inquisitors questioned the man she claimed had done the deed. He broke down and confessed, offering several details that were not public knowledge as proof of his guilt. The inquisitors were at a loss. On the one hand, they had a witch in their midst, and a necromancer to boot! On the other, she had undoubtedly performed a great public service with her magic. The entire town was divided, and eventually, a compromise was reached. She would be allowed to live, and even practice her magic for the common good, but if they even got a whiff of her turning to the darkness, she'd burn for it.

Rebecca made a modest living for a while, bringing loved ones back from the beyond for chats with the living. Letting them know they were loved, and forgiven for any actions they had taken. Meanwhile, she came into possession of an ancient text. She translated it and found it was a half-completed instruction guide for making oneself into a lich. A tempting test of her powers, but she couldn't do it. It is possible to kill a lich, and she wasn't willing to take the risk. There was so much to live for.

Then, the smallpox epidemic struck, and she contracted the dreaded disease. Having always been sickly, she knew she wouldn't survive without drastic measures. She had only one option left, and she took it. It was delicate work filling in the gaps of the ritual and getting her supplies without anyone knowing what she was up to, but she managed. Late one night, her walls decorated in mystical sigils to keep her rapidly fading life force intact, she cut out her own heart and replaced it with a piece of enchanted bloodstone. She'd done it. She'd defied death itself.

Yet there was one little detail she hadn't realized. In her state of undeath, her flesh began to slowly rot. It didn't take long for people to figure out that she'd done something, and the torches and pitchforks came out. Rebecca fled for her unlife and managed to escape the mob. She wound up at Castle Bloodrose, and has been there ever since.

Special Power: Necromancy. Rebecca can raise the bodies and souls of the dead. It's easier to raise bodies as zombies than it is to make shades out of souls, so she only does the latter if she doesn't have any corpses to work with. Shades are also much more fragile.

Partner: Rebecca is bisexual, but doubts that anyone will want to bed a walking, rotting corpse.

Familiars: None, but she's in the market.

Other notes: As a lich, Rebecca doesn't age and shrugs off virtually all injuries. So, how to kill her? She has several weaknesses: as with anyone else, decapitation or destroying the brain works, as does destroying the bloodstone in her chest that is standing in for her heart. In addition, she is far more susceptible than other witches to the standard witch vulnerabilities (silver, lavender, etc.) due to the fact that she is only kept alive by magic.

Rank: Master- few can compare with Rebecca's knowledge of magical theory, and without the flaws of a mortal memory, her recall of everything she learned after her death is perfect. These combine to make her a formidable threat.

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Like this, but... plumper. She also has a second mouth stretching across her stomach, one that is quite capable of devouring a person- and has, if the tales be true.

Name: Phagora Schwarz

Age: 27

Personality: Phagora is a quiet, intellectual woman, preferring her solitude and dusty old tomes of magic to being around people. She can come across as icy and manipulative, though she certainly doesn't try to.

History: Phagora's story begins with her mother, Elise. Elise was an old witch, living alone. She wanted to start a coven of her own, but she was unable to conceive a child. So she did what any normal woman would in her situation: adopt summon a demon to get her pregnant in exchange for her soul. Nine months later, out popped a little girl, who was named for her father.

Phagora and Elise raised merry hell for many years in the southlands, defeating all hunters who came near them. However, they couldn't defeat the ravages of time, and Elise eventually died of old age. Phagora was found by Alexina on one of her travels, and soon thereafter, joined the coven.

Special Power: Soul Devouring. Due to the fact that her father is the demonic lord of gluttony Phagoriel, Phagora can, with a special ritual, consume the soul of another living being, granting her a temporary boost to her physical attributes (strength, speed, etc.) and condemning her victim to an afterlife of being digested eternally. (It's a very one-sided deal.) Humans give the biggest boost. If her victim is a human virgin, it also restores her youth, though she's not old enough to really need that yet. This does come with a weakness, however; if she's injured in her stomach, she loses all her powers and becomes a normal, injured, woman.

Partner: Phagora cares not whether she beds with a man or a woman, but she does look for someone who is strong of both body and will.

Familiar: A wolverine named Irontooth. No special powers save for telepathic communication.

Other: Due to her father's domain over food, Phagora is the ultimate chef. She has an encyclopedic knowledge of virtually every recipe ever created.

Rank: Disciple

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Okay, this is going to take some explaining. The first picture is her human parts, except for the hair (She doesn't have any.) The second picture is her hood, which stretches from the top of her head to just below her shoulders. The third picture is her snake tail. The human-snake transition begins just below her breasts and is complete by the time it reaches her waist. She is 11 feet long from head to tail, and can raise herself up to a maximum height of six feet.

Name: Saen Patrick (I couldn't resist the reference)

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Personality: Saen is very brash and outgoing. She is rather ambitious in her own way; she has no desire to lead others, but her studies of magic are driven to the point of obsession.

Bio: Saen hails from the deserts of the west. The western tradition is more tolerant of witchcraft and magic than the local one, but that was counteracted by her inhumanity. The snake people often traded with humans, and Saen got a taste of virtually everywhere in the ocean aboard a merchant vessel. This only whetted her appetite for travel further, and she's made her way to Seren's Folly. (She will be staying for the duration of the RP, before you ask.)

Magic: Telepathy- when Saen touches another sapient being, she can access their innermost thoughts and send them hers. This requires skin-to-skin contact and active intent on her part. While doing this, she can absorb the other person's memories. i.e. she remembers them as if they happened to her and the other person forgets them. In fact, one of her favorite tactics is to rip most or all of the memories from her victim's mind. This doesn't outright kill, but does leave them a drooling vegetable due to psychic shock.

Type of man: Saen is pansexual.

Familiar: none.

Other 1- A few notes about lamia biology.

There are 3 different subspecies of lamia, depending on what type of venom they have, if any. Saen is a cobra-type, due to her neurotoxic venom, but her tail is a dead giveaway that there's some viper somewhere in her family tree.

Saen's venom causes paralysis. Immediately after the bite, the victim feels a numbness around the bite that quickly spreads throughout the body. Within about three minutes, every single one of the victim's muscles become paralyzed... including those that control breathing and heartbeat. Death occurs in six to seven minutes. Antidotes and healing magic do work, but due to her relatively large head, Saen can deliver a truly massive amount of venom, which is why death is so quick.

Lamia are semi-parthenogenic. Basically, what this means is that they don't technically need a male (properly called a naga) to have kids, but they can reproduce that way. They can also have children with humans, though they will be less snakelike. (Saen is a pureblood.)

Saen is cold-blooded, so she needs to bask in sunlight often for warmth.

Other 2: Sssaen will occasssionally ssspeak like ssso, jussst to play up the ssstereotype

Rank: Adept

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Name: Kalisel

Age: Older than time itself, but looks mid-twenties

Personality: Sweet, loving, kind, and slightly innocent, Kalisel is everything one would expect in an angel of Heaven. She also has a curious streak that often gets her in trouble- she's not the kind of person to learn from her mistakes.

Bio: Kalisel served God in the Host of Humility, a minor angel in Michael's ranks. Recently, she was sent to Earth to smite a robber. She did as she was ordered, watching the divine lightning bolt char the criminal beyond all recognition, but she had second thoughts for the first time. Upon giving her report to God, she asked him, "Why?"

And all the Heavenly Host was shocked and terrified into utter silence.

Questioning God's actions is something that angels Just. Don't. Do. It isn't even supposed to be possible, and the only other one to do it of their own free will was Lucifer himself. There was a real possibility of a second revolt in Heaven, only this time, God took swift and decisive action. He hauled Kalisel to the edge of Heaven, ripped off her wings, and threw her down to earth. She fell for a year and a day, before impacting in the muddy ground as a mortal, all her divine capabilities utterly stripped from her. Yet she still seeks to earn back her halo and wings, and the Bloodrose ruins may offer her a chance...

Weapon: A longsword she has named Forgiveness. It has no special properties.

What they look for in a partner: Kalisel is hurting, and she needs a man who will give her comfort from her tragic past.

Pet: None yet.

Other: She has two massive scars on her back from when her wings were removed.

Rank: Novice- she has no experience in fighting without angelic powers.

Appearance:



Age: 33

Personality:

Cassilda is a vivacious woman who enjoys the pleasures of the world without letting them distract her from her ultimate goal of transcending it. She has a dark and grim humor when it suits her but can be cruel and callous when irked.

She is fascinated and fixated with death of all kinds, particularly random or unlooked for deaths. This trait is, understandably, not one which endears her to many people. Cassilda respects power in all its forms though ultimately only as an instruction for her own.

History:

Cassilda’s mother and twin sister died in child birth, her father overcome by the loss of his beloved wife, took his own life. The newborn girl lay among the dead for two days before a kindly traveler stumbled across the horrible scene, wraping the girl up in his cloak he nursed her back to health as best he could, though it might have been kinder to leave the child to perish from hunger or cold.

The early brush with death seemed to mark the child as weird and somehow unnatural. Her hair grew a strange shade and her playmates complained of dark and strange dreams after spending long periods of time with her. Strange and unexplained events began to take place around her.

When she reached the age of sixteen her fae and uncanny nature took an even more sinister turn. Her foster father, a wise scholarly man, recognized the witch for what she was and, loving the child despite all, wanted to send her away to study. Cassilda, then infatuated with a local boy and not wanting to be separated from him ran off with him. The pair were married by a defrocked priest and spent their wedding night in a bower in the forest. When Cassilda awoke in the morning her new groom was dead.

Fearing she would be blamed she fled her home and traveled the world as a wanderer. Falling in with a band of gypsies she learned some basic arcane lore and began to suspect something of what she was. The traveling folk welcomed her, respecting her skills and overlooking her odd and fearful aspect. These were happy times for Cassilda but when yet another lover died in her bed she was forced to flee the camp. Armed with the gypsy stories she made her way to Castle Bloodrose where her education truly began.

Working in a field that few touch by choice, Cassilda has been a steady but quiet fixture at the castle for the last decade. Her lair is deep in the castle amongst ancient crypts where she practices her dark arts. Despite what might seem like very good reasons to avoid her, many witches have sought her out over the years when they wish to converse with the spirits of the dead or for one reason or another, peer beyond the veil of life. Cassilda is happy to oblige, provided an appropriate bargain can be struck...
Special Power:

Death Magic - Borne under a cursed moon and thrice cursed with the blood of mother, father and child (her twin sister was the younger twin of the mitosis) Cassilda is blessed (?) with the rare gift of death magic. SHe can summon and bind the dead to her will and wield the entropic energies of death and decay.

Things they look for in a partner: Cassilda will work with anyone though she has an eerie fascination with people who have had brushes with death or labor under strange dooms. She covets power and seeks to subtly use all she encounters for her own designs.

Pets/Familiars:

Mckite the raven. This began as an attempt to call the raven Midnight, but ‘Mckite’ is as close as the bird was able to caw. She lives in the crypts with Cassilda though she is not infrequently scene flying from the castle on some errand better not thought about.

Adept

Matrim "Mat" Victar

Appearance:


Age: 24

Personality: On the surface, Mat is a fairly reclusive hunter that tends to use humor at the worst time possible. He has no decency towards witches but will make small talk with them as he's trying to murder them (he claims it helps distract them). To many, he plays off a character that keeps up some dark humor while happily hunting down witches. In reality, Mat is completely broken on the inside, and any attempted recovery has led to worse results soon after.

History:
Mat has an elusive background that he reveals to only those he trusts (which is at this point no one at all). Mat was born to a hunter family, but he never got to be with his mother as she died from child birth. Despite the loss his father trained him from his first days in the art of hunting. Mat has stabbed, burned, decapitated, and tortured lots of witches throughout his life with his dad. While the father-son relationship may have seemed awkward on the outside, the two were inseparable and Mat showed true potential for being a great hunter.

However, at the age of sixteen, Mat's father was killed by a witch, which sent him into a crazed state on finding the guilty one. The death drove Mat completely mad as the boy hunter tracked down and interrogated every single witch he could find. The witches would all have the same response, that they didn't kill his father and didn't know who did, and Mat would finally finish them off after hours of torture. He would leave their bodies mutilated in whatever shack he interrogated them in, and then move on to the next area with witches.

Over the years, Mat lost his mind to his work. There are noticeably two parts to his brain, one for tracking down and murdering witches, and the other for pretending he's okay. His interrogations have deformed to a mode of torture by only asking a single question to each witch he interrogates. "Was it you?" Mat has attempted to fix the situation by trying to avoid witches altogether, but it's usually only a month or so before he falls back into the lull, and another witch becomes his next victim.

While Mat's second half justified the first by thinking all his victim's were witches, he was unable to avoid the truth after he murdered five women who had been falsely accused of being witches in the town they lived in. Mat tortured them like any other witch, only to find out later the mistake he had made. From then on Mat was serious in avoiding witches like the plague, and so far has been successful for an entire three months.

Signature Weapon: A black-painted spear that can detach at the end to be used for a walking stick.

Things they look for in a partner: Preferably one who's honest and won't stab him in the back. Attractive and nice would assist as well.

Pets/Familiars: None.

Other: Matrim has done awful terrible things. Some hunters and witches may have heard of the desecrated witch corpses Mat left behind, but no one knows who did such a thing.

Adept in combat skill.

Aromull Vodney

Appearance:


Age: 28

Personality: While he is willing to fight and hunt with other hunters, Aromull would prefer to watch and witness from afar, documenting the entire hunting experience. He is inquisitive of nearly everything, wanting to find answers to it all.

History: Aromull is...an unusual sort of hunter. Instead of having the goal to protect humanity and hunt supernatural, he is simply in it because he finds the world of supernatural extremely interesting. As a graduated scholar, Aromull happened to learn about the world by accident, and ever since then has wanted to learn more. To other hunters, he might be known as the "book keeper", someone who has devoted a large amount of time into compiling a massive encyclopedia on all things supernatural. Recently, he has developed an interest in the study of witches, and has been hoping to fill out a section on them.

Signature Weapon: One-handed sword

Things they look for in a partner: Someone who is reliable, charming, and witty.

Pets/Familiars: None.

Other: Acolyte in combat skill.

Fevra, the Walking Plague


Fevra consistently has the plague mask on at all times when she is not alone.



Age: Appears as 24, forgets her real age.

Personality: It has been a long time since Fevra had a warm heart towards humans, and has barely ever held even a degree of respect for any. Fevra has a tendency to have a soft spot for other witches, but this should never be mistaken for friendship. To burn a bridge with Fevra is to never allow that bridge to be built back up again, for the witch has a long memory, and a very patient mind.

History: Fevra was once a witch in a well respected coven, treating with care any who begged for assistance. She had done so for many years, until hunters arrived to defy her good measures. For years her coven was tracked down, but everything was but on hold when a plague crossed over the country. The plague took the lives of many, including the rest of Fevra's coven. One day Fevra awoke with the symptoms herself, and knew her life was at an end.

Fevra should have died days after becoming infected, but instead she defied the plague, and mixed her own power with the plague itself. What become of her was a cursed piece of the plague, and over time she was able to wield it. While the harrowing disease still courses through her, she has learned to embrace it, and for years she willingly spread it through to many areas, afflicting all with her plague.

Over time, Fevra was able to still the plague, and pulled back her own power. She realized she herself was still dying from the plague, and empowering it would make the effects of it on her even worse. Fevra resigned herself to study the plague, and was eventually recruited by Alexina to join the coven. Currently, she has been on assignment from the coven leader to study a new threat to the coven, but will be returning shortly.

Special Power: Fevra contains a plague within herself, a special malevolent plague she herself can manipulate and control. Currently, the plague cannot affect other witches, though Fevra takes extra precautions just in case. Most of her powers are based off this plague, inducing sickness within her enemies, giving them biles, internal bleeding, and organ failure, along with inducing coughing, vomiting, and sudden limb loss. However, her usage of these powers affects her own character, though at a lesser rate. Whoever is harmed by the plague she herself is harmed, and remains cautious with her power.

Things they look for in a partner: Test subjects would be wonderful, but a partner? What use is one?

Pets/Familiars: Has multiple rodents and crows as pets.

Hellena Leigh



Appearance; Perhaps the feature that makes Hellena extremely stand out is her red locks of hair with the striking color of flowing red lava. A notable favorite wardrobe haul for her would be a deep emerald greed colored cloak where she can be seen wearing it multiple times. Additionally, it also allows her to camouflage and blend along with the deep colors of the green forest.

Age; 30

Personality; Ever since the death of her mother, Hellena has grown to possess an image of being very cold and quiet. She will speak only when necessary, but a crowd is not something she tends to collide well with. She will surely seem unapproachable and hard, but deep down, good company is all she desires. Much alike trying to break down a wall. With a trait as such, Hellena knows who to keep close.

She is also very studious. You will most definitely find her performing 2 of her main tasks; if it is not picking herbs, it is studying herbs and making potions, seeing as to how the two tend to have common grounds in terms of mixing ingredients and spell casting.

History; Hellena was once a normal young lady who worked in her town as a local doctor, helping and tending to her townsfolks who were suffering from severe illness and diseases or from fatal physical injuries. The mode of treatment used in the time were mere herbs, but Hellena was extremely good at it.

The village loved her. She always tended to every need of the people in her village. She managed to heal every patient that came to her for aid and not one has she ever failed or let down with her deep knowledge of healing and herbalism.

However, that all came to change for her one night when her mother came barging into their house from herb picking. She tried to suppress her loud moans of pain as she showed her daughter her right leg that was in the deep color of purple with her veins dangerously displaying themselves. With a few quick diagnoses, Hellena was able to pinpoint that this was a case of snake poisoning. Having to be extremely familiar with these kinds of matters, Hellena quickly tended to her mother using herbs and other needed ingredients to make a healing formula that would suck and absorb the poison out. Despite her attempt, it only got worse for her mother who later on revealed that the snake that bit her was truthfully a demon in the form of a serpent.

No doubt that her attained knowledge would not suffice to heal her, and amputating her would surely lead to death. The only known way to counter this was through the use of dark magic alone. Left with no other choice, Hellena quickly summoned a demon in the same night for help who appeared to her in the form or a female spirit. The demon started to give Hellena instructions that didn’t seem understandable to human ears, but she went to work with no hesitation on the healing formula with adding one more vital ingredient. Hellena chanted a deep spell with the assistance of the demon, placed the formula on her mother’s wounded area and watched as she got better and her skin color come back to normal.

Once the demon disappeared, Hellena’s mother couldn’t ignore the sorrow on her daughter’s face as the young girl explained to her the last part of the demon’s bargain; how in exchange for her mother’s life, she’d have to start working for ‘them’ for the rest of her life.

With hunters around the village with the keen senses of a hawk, the happening that night eventually spread around the village like wildfire with the news that Hellena and her mother have had an affiliation with the devil. One morning, their home was invaded by huntsmen while Hellena was out in the forest, but her mother had met a terrible fate from the sharp edge of a huntsman’s sword. As soon as Hellena bore the news, she had carried out her duties alongside the devil wholeheartedly for revenge.

In the midst of a village festival, the huntsman who had murdered her mother in cold blood had been drinking the merry night away. Under a disguise, Hellena served his next drink with dark poison she’d formulated using harmful herbs, and with a spell that will be bound to send his soul straight down to the pits of hell.

Any last memory the village had gifted her was the horrified shriek of a village woman after finding the huntsman passed out, with the color of his skin as dead as grey, before fleeing the village, eventually finding her way into her supposed new home, Bloodrose Castle.

Special Power; Potion-making – with the skills obtained from her excessive knowledge on herbalism, making potions has become a specialty for Hellena, ingredients and methods specifically given and instructed to her by demons. The main part of it is casting spells infused with dark magic. She had lately been enhancing her skills to making poisons.
Some potions and poisons that she had been able to perfect are;
- Potions that allow you to transform into an animal (requiring some kind of part from the animal)
- Potions that enhance sexual appeal / seduction
- Poison that makes you rot inside when consumed (A kind of slow torture method)
- Poison that thickens your blood, leading to death
- Potions that put you into a deep sleep
- Potions that allow a woman to be pregnant, in exchange for their soul to be sold to the devil

(Potions and poisons do not necessarily need to come in the form of liquid. They may be smoke or mist, powder or sand etc.)

Things they look for in a partner; perhaps the main trait Hellena looks for in a partner is for their ability to see through her. Behind all that strong silence tends to be a book of stories.

Pets; Hellena has been gifted a pet Black Mamba by the devil, giving it the name of ‘Lucy’. It was given purpose to initially assist her with making poisonous potions using its venom, but time elapsed and she had been able to find a sort of pet-owner bond with the dangerous snake.


Rank; Adept

Name: Sanjin Zoric
Appearance:



Age: 20

Personality: While not on the hunt one could be forgiven for thinking Sanjin a friendly and energetic individual, if a bit dull. He a social little pup and is a frequent face among the tavern dwelling sort, enjoying tall tales of other hunters or brawling amongst them with a wide eyed amusement only matched by a child.

However, on the hunt is where his true nature is revealed. The aimless energy seen at home focuses to a razor sharp feralness, often devolving to the man dropping to all fours and snarling at the ground or sniffing at the air. Once he gets like this, there is very little that can persuade him to stop until his prey (be it beast or witch) is grasped firmly in his jaws, bleeding and mewling for a mercy that is unlikely to come.

History: Sanjin was born into a hunter clan known colloquially as 'The Pack'. However, 'clan' is somewhat of a misnomer. The Pack is a loose collection of hunters (both families and individuals) who are share a characteristic feral ferocity during the hunt. They are often simple hunters, openly disdainful of new technologies and following simple tactics. The most famous of which being their persistent hunting strategy, where in they drive a witch from their hiding place with a large team then follow them (sometimes for days on end) until they either die from exhaustion and exposure or finally tire enough to be beaten to death by the group.

Like many children raised in The Pack, Sanjin was raised communally and did not know who his birth parents were. Not that he cared in the slightest, he had many mothers and fathers to learn from and they spared no expense putting him and his broodmates through the ringer. Spending months at a time in the deep woods with few supplies beyond what they could track or gather was a norm, and frequent beatings by older Pack members even more so. So all in all, a rather happy childhood if he said so himself, even if an outsider might disagree.

When he was fifteen he was finally allowed to join the hunting parties. Not for witches, of course. The Pack was simple, but they were not stupid enough to let an untested hunter chase after such dangerous prey. Instead he followed hunters too old for witch hunts on expiditions for more mundane beast, hunted at the behest of local villagers in exchange for meat and coin. The scale and danger of the beast gradually increased over the next five years until eventually he was allowed to take a mask, the symbol of his right to participate in witch hunts within the clan. Now on the eve of his first hunt, the young pup is fit to burst with excitement.

Signature Weapon: A heavy silver plated club with spikes of iron.

Things they look for in a partner: Sanjin is a man of simple needs. Affectionate contact is a good start, though this may only make you a mate rather than a partner. He would like a person who can cook or make tools, as they can be invaluable members to The Pack's nomadic lifestyle. Try and take his somewhat simple nature in good stride, dont try to 'civilize' him and you are likely to get along fairly well with him. Do be prepared though, that feralness is rumored to come out in more than just hunts...

Pets/Familiars: Don't need a pet when you ARE the pet....wait no that came out wrong.
Experience: Novice.

Appearance:

Age: 65 appears to be mid 20s.

Name: Usoa

Personality: Usoa is...aloof, even by witch standards. There is an uncomfortable awkwardness that hangs in the air in any room she enters, so she is rather under practiced in the art of conversation. While not much of a talker, she is as close as Castle Bloodrose has to a 'doctor', and as such is somewhat of a caring figure in the coven. Those currently under her examination enjoy a considerable degree of protection while recovering, unless someone whats to incur a legendary anger that bubbles beneath her normally calm demeanor. She seems to have an aversion to clothing, but will not explain why (only adoring what little is needed to constitute 'appropriate')

History: Usoa was born to an elder Witch that formerly lived in Castle Bloodrose, having stalked out to the Glow Wood for several months to construct her 'magnum opus'. That is the claim anyway, as all that anyone in Castle Bloodrose know is that she arrived at their gates 92 years ago, alone and fully formed as she is now.

She took very little time to...assert herself in the castle, destroying every shred of her mothers work with no real explanation other than 'its no longer needed'. Examinations by other witches showed that, despite appearances, she did not have any connection to an alien power or entity which helped calm things considerably.

She has lived a relatively quiet life since then, only making brief stops outside of the Castle when absolutely necessary.

Special Power: Progenitor Coil- The basis for Usoa's healing arts. Several long tentacles sprouting from various points in her body which claw and worm their way inside of wounds and detach themselves, dissolving and closing the gaps in which they've embedded themselves. They are strong enough to support her full weight (she often uses them in lieu of walking) and are somewhat useful in a fight.

At any given point she can have a maximum of eight tentacles protruding from her body. If the limbs are cut off or detached for healing, she can regenerate up to five quickly over the span of three seconds. Once these five quick regens have been used, she must rest for two days (rebuilding the of reserves of proteins and fats needed) before she can quickly regenerate again. These tentacles can extend to their full length of about five feet from her body.

Things they look for in a partner: Having spent most of her life in Castle Bloodrose, Usoa has no love for the male form. It is simply dull to her and then thing between their legs looks silly. Still, her appearance is a bit disturbing to most of her fellow residence so someone who can look past that is a welcomed change. And if they dont mind not having pain killing drugs running through their system while she 'heals' them that is...a sufficient boon.

Pets/Familiars: No. Just No. That's how problems like this start in the first place.
Rank: Novice.

Appearance:

Age: 23

Color:bc8dbf

Appearance: Emiliah has the typical look of a Haze, warm brown hair and grey eyes. Standing at nearly 5'6", she tending to blend with the crowd. Years of training kept her well toned. Lacking the pure brute strength of some of her male colleagues, she tends to favor lighter, leather armor. Banking on dodging rather than taking oncoming attack. In the few moments when she isn't actively hunting, she tends to favor loose tunics and leggings.

Personality:
Emiliah, like every Haze that came before, is intense when it come to hunting. She doesn't care who someone is, or where they came from, as long as they don't go silently into the night. She has zero tolerance for people who disgrace the title of hunter in anyway. Emiliah tends to be very direct and to the point with everyone. She does have a sense of humor, but isn't one to 'relax'...ever.

History:

The Haze's are one of the oldest families of hunters. Known for their effectiveness, brutality, and black and white view of good and bad. They were also known to have more than a few heads to spare, the males being particularly fertile and loyal to the 'family'. Every member spent their childhood training to be a hunter, whether they chose to pursue it after their 16th birthday was up to them. But, over the dead body of her father, would any Haze face the darkness of the world completely unprepared.

Emiliah is the youngest of seven and the only daughter. She was also the only one of her siblings to follow in the foot steps of her father. While female hunters have never been exactly common, the Haze's have more than a few to their name. That, along with several instances that proved she didn't have a domestic bone in her body, allowed her out in the field.

For the early years, it was a lot of practice and little action. Observing and learning, rather than being in the thick of it. Eventually it came to the point where she would be fight with her father or fight without his knowledge. For a few years, they made duo that might have challenged the warrior of legion. But they were only human and humans fall. One poorly planned attack and her father nearly lost his life. He was lucky to be able to walk, but he would never be able to fight again.

Signature Weapon: Net and spear.

Things they look for in a partner: Someone hardworking and caring, like her father. They do not have to be a hunter in order to strike her fancy, but they do have to have passion and fire with what ever they are doing.

Rank: Disciple

Family:
Mother: Elenora Haze: wife/mother.
Father: Edgar Haze: Father/ Former Hunter.
Siblings: An extended amount.

Name: Taran Fisherson

Appearance:


Taran still holds an image of youth, hardly looking a day over 18. He is slightly taller than most of the witches of the coven. His lanky figure has started to fill out from the laborious tasks that often fall to him. He is often seen wearing layers of clothing, paying little heed for the season. His hair is dark brown and his eyes are hazel.


Age: Between 17-19, it is a little unclear. He has the sneaking suspicion that he might not be aging properly.

Personality: Three years ago, when Taran stumbled upon the coven, he was an exceptionally shy, non-violent and naive boy, who hated and feared himself above all things. His time among the witches brought about some self acceptance, although he always carries an aura of guilt. Despite Medusa's best efforts, Taran remains mostly a nonviolent, non-confrontational person, who will only fight back as a last resort. There are still traces of the naivety and side effects of his sheltered upbringing he had not so long ago. The most unfortunate of which lays in his inability to lie and the terrible curse of being unable to recognize bad intent. He often misses some of the worlds more intricate social cues and interactions.

History:

Hidden in the valley between two unremarkable mountains there is village. Small enough that noone every really bothered giving it a name. Filled with unremarkable people who chose to hide themselves away from the rest of the world. Following a long forgotten religion that valued humility, unity, hard work, kindness and truthfulness above all else. To the point that children were forcefully taught these traits and adult were banished for not following them.

Taran was found at the edge of the village while still young enough to require the care of a wet nurse yet almost to old to be allowed in. He was given to the village 'carers'. A husband and wife who, for whatever reason, were unable to have children of their own. It fell to them to raise the children who lost their parents for one reason or another (although Taran was the only one whose birth family was a true mystery). He, along with the three girls that were place along side him, were raised in the way of the people.

It was clear from a young age that he was peculiar. It started off with little things here and there. Small fires springing up out of nowhere. Taran never getting injured, even after grabbing a hot coal from the fire place. Instead of improving with age, it seemed to spiral more and more out of control

And in a place where sameness is valued, differences are more than dangerous. Taran would have rather died than leave his village, but eventually his parents decided it was no longer safe for him to stay. They would be lying to themselves, the greatest sin of all, to pretend any longer that they were able to cope with his strangeness.

He was sent away just shy of 17, with zero knowledge of the world beyond the peaks of the mountains. The only guide given, was to follow the trail made by all the banished who came before him. He was nearly dead by the time he stumbled upon Alexina in the forest, who recognized him for what he was. She save him by brining him to the Coven.

For a year he trained under Medusa while she made every effort to break him of his naive and non-violent ways. But then...Medusa was gone and he was left in the chaos that followed.

As Alexina rose from the wreckage, he alined himself with her.


Special Power: Taran is a fire bug. He has the potential to be a great one, but doesn't trust his powers enough. He is mostly fire proof and can create huge vortexes of flames.

Rank: Acolyte

Things they look for in a partner: He doesn't really see himself as someone worthy of love, but would do anything to make someone else feel better.

Pets/Familiars:

None.

Angharad Seher

Appearance:

Age: 27

Personality:
Angharad has always been very free about life. She always chooses to do as she pleases, when she pleases, if only to stick it to fate a little bit more. However, when she is going after something, a rare creature to combine, a love interest, an object, she is always very intense about it and is rarely derailed until she has reached her goal. However, once she’s had her fun, she is more than willing to jump to the next thing (and, this is also the reason for people reporting strange and unusual animals in her wake)

History:
Angharad is the soon to be last, and thus the leader of the Seher Clan. A once large and powerful clan of Seer specialized witches. Known far and wide for their love of making the future a little fuzzier than it had to be for prospective heroes. They were one of the only clans to activity work with hunters as most hunters just saw them as a group with the gift of ‘helpful God-sight’.

The price of future sight comes with a cost. While the training takes years and years, the gift comes to a seer in a single night. The price of it being forced to look into the future and see the day that they would die. Knowing that nothing they did would ever change that fate. It was sad when a witch would see a short life in front of her, but it was the way of the clan.

Grethu Seher, Angharad’s great, great, great grandmother, lead the clan for nearly 300 years, before transferring leadership to her youngest granddaughter during a time of great suffering in the clan. While the clan stood strong for nearly 500 years, over the last fifty years, every new seer saw her death occurring at a young age, some only days from their initiation. Most of them were suicides, brought on by knowing they had only a short life in front of them. Angharad, being the only one whose fate was unknown, was the only choice to lead so that her Grandmother could focus on trying to fix the seer’s curse.

Angharad had grown up knowing that she’d never take the gift, even if fate was set in stone, she’d rather take it as a surprise then face it head on. Although she did go through the training, her passion lay in creating of something new. Her wonderful, horrific animal hybrids, forced together by darkest magic.

Ang lays in waiting for her grandmother's passing, said to be brought upon her by one Flint Digard.

Special Power:
A chimera creator: The art of taking two creatures, who were never meant to be together, and creating a new breed of animal out of it. Usually, created by putting two animals together, thus, giving the animal a conscious per head. If an animals has only one, then the creator chooses what lives and what dies. Chimera's can also exist if two chimera's breed, thus eliminating the problem of conscious, as only one soul will inhabit it.

Basically a F-you to fate.

Things they look for in a partner: They have to be interesting.

Rank:Master
Pets/Familiars: So many….

Appearance:
John has quite the charming masculine face, pale complexion aside from his darkened eye bags, with hair that is just wild enough to make it look unkempt, but not messy. He's always wearing the same shirt with that same vest day in and day out, making people wonder if he's just a slob blessed with good looks, or if he's actively gunning for the bad boy look.

Age: 36

Personality:
To put it politely, John is what you would call an "acquired taste". He keeps to himself for most of the time, and on the rare occasions that he felt like talking, he would carefully pick his words to be as scathing as possible to the people receiving it. Some says it's his unique way of showing his love. Others said it's his way to cope with the pain of losing someone who is dear to him a few years ago. But in truth? He might as well be just an ass pretending to be a tragic soul. Nobody knows for sure but the man himself.



Signature Weapon:
A flintlock with silver pellets, and a one-handed long sword.

Things they look for in a partner:
Relationship is nothing bud bad news, pal.

Rank: Disciple

Age
21

Appearance
Andvari's not exactly a beanpole, but he isn't exceptionally muscular either. What's notable though is that he is no less than seven feet, eight inches of it due to the same condition his father had exhibited. He arrived at Seren's Folly in mere traveling clothes, but has brought his training equipment along with him.

Personality
While his life so far technically has been one half at the very bottom of things and the other half being close to the top of them, the former half appears to be the dominating one. He is by no means arrogant, but if allowed to speak he has a tendency to tell people very openly what he thinks, including curses and shit. His mind seems too calculating though to leave the border of the objective often. Education is a thing he could definitely improve in, but intelligence is there for sure. His approach to life is a rather light-hearted one that involves indulging himself in too much alcohol and stuff happily as long as he doesn't run out of money. Risks ? Bring 'em here, but not too many at a time!

History
Andvari, originally born under the surname Hymir, is the only son of his father Andri and his mother Oriel. The night was warm and calm, but the coming together of the two was anything but. Oriel was an incredibly rich noble living in a palace surrounded by gardens very well up to her standards. So was the number of guards, but still the lady later claimed that Andri had just 'appeared' in her bedroom and 'stabbed Rénard with a dagger right away' before disappearing again, none of her guards able to catch up to him. Half of the bed had been soaked with her poor husband's blood as his attacker had known very well where the heart is located at.

The truth she never told for her own sake is quite different though. Oriel had been increasingly unhappy with her relationship. Rénard had become old, a humble shadow of his former attractiveness and male glory. Also he had developed a bad temper, probably due to alcohol playing a more and more important role in his life. In short: She had been all too eager to get rid of him, but just divorcing was not an option since that would have exposed all of this to the public, creating a scandal other nobilities would feast upon with pleasure.

Yet there was a solution to this -- it came in at somewhere over seven feet and a surprising price tag: To spend a night with her in her bed. Whatever must have driven the man that was Andvari's father to the point that he'd ask for this instead of some coins was of very secondary concern to Oriel at that moment. She was very determined and honestly found himself rather charming to begin with. It couldn't be worse than yet another night with Rénard, could it ?

Things went according to plan, the only but no less important exception being that Andri actually knocked her up that night. He didn't notice it and neither could she until she could feel her belly grow. By the time Andvari was born Rénard had already rotten in his grave and the assassin hired for his disposal had traveled elsewhere. Now she had a child to deal with. Hardly a monetary issue for her, but very much so a societal. Not only was he a bastard child, but even more so could revealing his existence allow others to ask very unfortunate questions and to start backtracking things.

Oriel made him move away to another place, a village so poor nobody would think about any noble stepping a foot into. She indeed only did very few times so not to expose herself and allow him to accidentally tell somebody whom he was related to. Also she arranged for a name that was not related to any person really existing: 'Markat' is a product of fantasy, nothing else. Andvari became used to growing up to the servants she had dispatched in order to deal with him. In secrecy he spent his childhood in a golden cage with a few beams broken loose. Him growing up in an imporverished environment and not being able to enjoy her luxury made her heart ache a little, but on the other hand it could only help make people never believe that he had anything to do with her.

Nothing could prepare her carefully laid out plan for the sheer power of randomness though. One day Andri returned. He had no interest in meeting an old client of his, but was merely on his way through the area. Once they saw each other Andvari had no idea that this was his father, but Andri didn't take long to figure out that two giants in the same spot was a little too much for some random coincidence. With Andri having become aware of a mistake made over a decade earlier and being infuriated about how his old client had decided to handle things, Oriel was in for an unpleasant surprise.

He waited for the next event of high-society to happen in her extensive gardens, then dragged Andvari along with himself right to her doorstep. While everyone could see the obvious similarity between the two men and come to his or her own conclusions Oriel knew that just ordering her guards to drive them out would be a very dangerous move: At least the elderly of the two had a particular talent for coming back seemingly out of nowhere and to let go of his aggression. So she decided to deal with the situation otherwise before her reputation would be destroyed in a matter of minutes or even her very life would be at stake.

The solution was to hire both of them as servants, thereby effectively granting Andvari permanent access to both her and his father in a comparably privileged environment while still not telling the truth to anybody. Unfortunately that also exposed Andvari to his father's influence, the latter being all too glad to be able to tell stories about his past and to propagate his knowledge before he'd pass away some day. As Andri grew old and ultimately became ill it seemed that a great burden slowly let go of him. He never told his son what it was, but he warned him never to go to Seren's Folly.

Now what kind of a young adult being Andvari would be if he'd listen to each and every advice given ? It had been time to take a leave from the palace...

Signature weapon
A crossbow that seems to be worth more than the entire remainder of his equipment, if not even vastly exceeding that amount. It appears to be custom-made for him, at least a person smaller than him would encounter some difficulties in handling and rearming efficiently even though weight wouldn't be the issue. The shiny metal parts of it are definitely not gold, but aren't brass or steel either. It is unclear what it is truly comprised off. All he knows is that it's a piece left over by his father and that it is excellent at piercing into or just outright ripping through stuff, perferably organic.



Combat
Acolyte

Name: Sarah Gallagander
Appearance:

Age: 29

Personality: In the safety of a bar or a church she might appear almost chatty and carefree. If not a little bit rude and indecent. She’ll drink too much and laugh too loud as if she was living the good life. The truth is that she does it all just for some temporary relief. On a hunt though, she changes. She’s quiet and uncaring. Against monsters and witches she’s downright cruel. Against those that aid and abed she’s without mercy. In a battle Sarah throws herself at the enemy with reckless abandon. Then, the second she’s warming herself at some tavern’s hearth she’ll smile and make her crude jokes.

History: Born in a small cottage under the watchful eye of an experienced wet nurse, Sarah’s birth held no omens towards her future. When she grew up, Sarah became an exceptionally beautiful woman despite being born from two very normal, peasant parents. In fact, someone had first spread a rumor that her beauty was so strange amid the fields of Chestshire that she had to be some princess hidden away. Of course, the realm was a subject was ruled by a benevolent king that would never send away a child of his. So the rumor was quickly quelled but not the name. “Hidden princess.” When she got older, her beauty did not vanish. Many men asked for her hand in marriage. Promising wealth and protection. But Sarah never settled. Nor did she take a consort for her own pleasure. Instead, she kept herself pure for someone God would send to her. Sarah was devout and believed that someday someone would walk into her tiny little village and he’d be the one.

She was right. A mysterious gentleman arrived at her cottage begging food and drinks. He was gravely wounded. Sarah spent her nights nursing him back to health. When he was healthy enough, they realized their love. Her god had heard her prayers. Until the man was fully healed.

She found her cottage eerily quiet as she stepped in that one fateful night. Candles were lit everywhere yet the shadows remained long and dark. Outside not a bird was singing. Only a crow was cawing. She still remembers what he said. “Finally, you’re here.” The next thing she knew she was suspended mid-air. Unable to move, unable to talk. Terror flooded her mind but the man just continued his work.

When everything was said and done he left her, bleeding to death in her won cottage surrounded by extinguished candles in a cold, winter night. Sarah, however, refused to die. Still bleeding she lit her hearth and threw in an iron poke. When the metal was red-hot she pressed it against the wounds in her belly and screamed out. The day after she woke up from the shock. The wound was sealed, for now. She went to a physician immediately. Who gave her the worst news you could give a woman. She would never bear children.

Sarah turned into a broken, hollow woman. She toiled her fields with empty eyes for a year. Her will to live slipping ever further away. She stopped praying. No god would answer her. Until a group of hunters entered her village. Dragging a witch behind them in chains. She was a beautiful woman, like Sarah. But a witch and the hunters would burn her. They requested a pyre to be built on the town square. It was the first witch burning the town had had in decades so the eager plebs swiftly dumped any firewood they had in a big pile in the middle of the square. When done, the witch was bound to the pole and the pyre was lit. With it, Sarah’s fire ignited as well. She asked to join the group of hunters and as it turned out, they could use some help tending to their equipment and cooking for them. They treated her with respect and she dutifully carried out her chores as a camp follower.

It didn’t take long before Sarah uncovered her gift. She was ruthless and uncaring. Where other hunters, even the boldest, may have doubted themselves she marched on. Where other hunters, the most vicious, would have contemplated mercy she was merciless. Sarah’s talent for killing witches gained her fame. It didn’t take long before she struck out on her own.

Since then Sarah has become a bane of witches. Be they father or mother, grandmother or child she has burned and killed them all with ruthlessness. Why does she do it? Many have theorized it is because she is seeking revenge upon witches as a whole. Others believe she is merely on a path of self-destruction.

Signature Weapon: Her blade, a weapon that is close and personal. A weapon that makes her see the fear in the eyes of any witch. The weapon that makes the vile blood flow.

Things they look for in a partner: It’s a fact that Sarah doesn’t really want a permanent partner. The only thing she wants is some fun and someone that can take care of him/herself in battle. Because she really doesn’t want to babysit anyone. Of course, having the same nihilistic outlook on the world is a boon. Still, don’t expect Sarah to stick for long. One morning you might wake up and she’s gone without as much as a note.

Pets/Familiars: Strangely enough the crow that cawed outside her cottage began accompanying Sarah.

Experience: Disciple

Name: Ryleth
Appearance:


Age: He's about 64 though he doesn't look a day older than 25.

Personality: Cold, calculating, cruel, manipulative. All those words are often used by people to describe Ryleth. They’re not wrong. In his quest for power he has been cruel. Nobody was too big to sacrifice. Towards many he acts extremely cold. Ryleth would not care if the average person must die. To anyone with power it is readily apparent that he’s a viciously cunning person. Willing to snake himself through the many trappings to attain status. As for manipulative. He has a serpent’s tongue for sure.

Yet he is so much more than just all that. He has few real friends yet for those he is willing to walk through fire. He cares about the coven, even though many may doubt that. Ryleth seeks power to protect. To make sure that no witch has to grow up in fear of what they are. He wants to make sure that no witch has to grow up the way he had to. When it comes down to it, Ryleth will do whatever is necessary to defend the coven.

History: Ryleth did not descend from any great line. He was not born to magnificent witches. In fact he wasn’t even born into wealth. He held no great family’s name. Grand blood did not course through his veins. Everything before his birth seemed to point to a miserable, downtrodden, lonely life. His mother did not know who the father was. In fact she barely cared for her son when he was born. Every time the sun fell below the horizon she vanished. Only to come back home when dawn broke. Drunk, angry and broken once more. As a child he had to steal to eat. Ryleth became a good thief. His mother though, she got worse. With every passing year she became angrier, drunker and more broken. Ryleth first tried to love her but that love was answered with venom and hate. If he received any attention, it was in the forms of curses and rage. She blamed him for her misfortune more and more. To the point that Ryleth began to return the hate in silence. As a talented thief he withheld his coins. He got to eat, she was starving more and more. Finally she got sick when Ryleth was but 15. He watched her squirm on the floor. Waiting for her to die. Wanting her to die. When she finally passed away, he left the house.

After that Ryleth began to search for his father. The kid was not a fool. He could do things no other human could. Impossible things. He told himself his father was responsible for it. It took the boy two years to track the man down. He was a drunken fisherman. Every day he set sail and every night he tried to drown himself in a tankard. Still, Ryleth was over joyed to meet him. He pestered his father with questions about his ancestor. Until the old man finally snapped. He explained the boy that yes, he was a warlock. Though it was a random curse of fate. Something he should not heed or cultivate. He was better off without it. Ryleth, until this point, had been able to survive through magic. The child fell back in his chair and realized both of his parents were useless. He left the old man and never returned.

Finally, to find a glimpse of destiny, he approached a seer and begged her to tell his future. She told him he had no destiny. No greatness was awaiting him. He was a child of a harlot and a walking drowned man. Nothing waited for him but death at the end of his very short road. Something snapped within Ryleth. Who had always heard the same things said about him. He could not bear for that to be his reality. So instead he decided, then and there, to forge his own. In a rage he jumped the soothsayer and strangled her in her own caravan. Little did he know that she was a real, wandering witch. He explored her caravan and plundered it for her books. After that he burned it to the ground. It was the first time he had killed someone.

What followed was a descend into madness. He felt guilty over his act yet he still wanted to gather the power he got from his actions. As his own consciousness was consuming him he began to blackmail librarians into teaching him how to read and write. Though he never stayed long enough in one place so he could grow close to a single teacher. Even though some had tried. He was still a boy at heart and kept running away from the horrible things he did. But one can only run so far and so long until reality and consequences catch up. He killed someone and he felt terrible for it. Driven by terrible guilt he went back to the city where he had once found the seer and commissioned a grave for her. This attracted the attention of another witch. One night she cornered him and forced the truth out of the novice warlock.

Ryleth admitted every wrongdoing he had done in his life. In a bout of hopelessness and self-loathing he confessed everything. Down to the pettiest crime while this grand witch was listening. Fully expecting to be sentenced to death by her. Instead of that, she took him under her wing. Eleanore was her name and Ryleth loved her like the mother he never had. She taught him the basics of magic but also responsibility. For years he stayed with her and her little coven. It was nothing grand, nothing spectacular. A bunch of healers and seers. People who charmed flowers into growing and warded off diseases. They didn’t have much but they shared it all. For the first time in Ryleth’s life he felt loved and safe.

It couldn’t last. Zealous church-hunters entered the town a decade after he joined Eleanore’s coven. As a proclamation they had dragged a woman behind her whom they excused of being a witch. Neither Eleanore nor Ryleth believed that to be true but she burned at the stake none the less. When the pyres began to rise around the city, Ryleth begged his adoptive mother to run with the coven. She refused to leave the people that needed her the most. After a year of begging and half the coven fled Eleanore’s resolve finally broke and agreed to flee.

Later that very same night the hunters came knocking on her door. They had found the head of the coven. That same night she was thrown on the pyre. Ryleth stood amid the crowd. From atop the grand, burning pyre she spotted his hooded form and smiled like only a proud mother could smile. It broke Ryleth. He stayed there, until dawn. Until everyone, even the hunters were gone and only ash remained. He knew he should fee hatred, sadness, pain. Instead, he felt nothing. Nothing at all. He was numb.

He vanished after that morning. No-one of his former coven heard from him again. In the village, they mostly tried to forget the witch burnings and the hunters. Life continued in its mundane way. For three decades they thought they were safe. But as the thirstiest anniversary approached of the burning, strange things began to happen. Ethereal lights were seen at night. Strange howls could be heard deep within the forests. In the graveyard, tombstones began to sink into the ground. The villagers pooled money to pay for some hunters.

Ryleth has never told anyone what happened that night. Though there are stories told by human bards. When the moon rose, a strange fog gripped the streets of the village. Suddenly creatures of the nights and undead monsters began to appear in the streets. They broke down doors and dragged people towards the main square. The hunters began to cut their way through the evil minions until they found the witch in the middle of it all. At the church's square. A massive pyre made from church pew's was raging. People, alive, were thrown into the grand pyre. The hunters fought the witch and pushed him back into the empty church. Where they said they could finally beat him down and destroy him on the altar.

A year later Ryleth appeared in the forests near Castle Bloodrose.

Special Power: Ancient Necromancy - While gifted in the arts of necromancy, in the far southern desserts he gained new insight. While still capable of raising the average zombies from their graves, Ryleth prefers more complicated methods. He maintains the bones he uses and carefully engraves glyphs upon them. Some are even gilded or reinforced with bands of iron. He raises the dead upon a special, strange altar and uses intricate phylacteries. The result speaks for itself: these skeletons are vastly more difficult to destroy and they are worth two score of zombies. They are also far from mindless. As a forsaken soul inhabits the bone construct. Ryleth’s masterwork creations will offer a challenge to most. However not all bones are made equal. The resources aren’t bountifully found within shallow graves and charnel pits. Nor does power like that come cheap. The caster’s blood is demanded. Creating a link between the Master and his Slaves. While his wights enjoy their greater strength and intelligence, Ryleth’s physically weakened. His powers don’t stop there though. He knows he’s at the cups of a breakthrough towards something much greater.

Things they look for in a partner: Ryleth never thought about having a partner. He usually just wants some fun. Still, deep down the idea of a relationship hasn’t escaped him. He knows he’s not ready though. There is still too much to be done in this world before he can set it all aside. Still, if he had to chose a partner he would prefer a gentle girl. Someone who was spared from the atrocities of mankind.

Pets/Familiars: Ryleth’s familiar is a large vulture bird. It came with him from his travels south. The carrion is fond of the corpse meat Ryleth feeds her.

Experience: High-end Disciple

Appearance: Sheffield is a young-looking man cutting a slender figure, as tall as 5’7” or so, muscles more on the lean but not-so-apparent side. He has short, oak brown hair at the roots that fade into burgundy tips just at his neck, as well as bright brown eyes. He wears tight-fitted pieces of iron armor that primarily cover his joints, a small, patched, grey tabard with splatters of dark red on it, a black tunic and chainmail underneath, brown, studded leather gloves, black trousers, and worn leather boots. He carries little hemp packs attached to his two belts around his waist, as well as a single-strap satchel.

Age: 18 years old

Personality: Blunt, impulsive, but precise at times. Childish as he looks, headstrong like he headbutts, but willful through it all. Sheffield is not so much a prideful person as he is a responsible one. His travels have made him open-minded, independent, not to mention resourceful. People would not find much of the predatory nature expected of Hunters in one like Sheffield, but as a person, he is simply a good, if not stubborn lad. Just don't expect him to not kill; how else is he still a Hunter despite his good nature?

History: Sheffield was an ordinary village 7-year-old with a father, a mother, and two sisters until his Hunter uncle trained him to be one. His parents approved of the decision to allow their son a means of self-defense. Sheffield himself was fine with it, applying to be a talented Hunter at the age of 14 and travelling every now and then from his home region with a pack of Hunters. He was having a somewhat fine life when, not long after, Sheffield was suddenly ambushed by a werewolf. When he came to, he found a woman with brown hair that glowed with a heavenly light. A Witch. But this one was a friend, especially when he found ashes and fur nearby.

It turned out that Sheffield almost instantly died from a torn gut, just below the heart, but Teresia was fast enough to burn the werewolf and link his leaving soul back to his body. However, this being the first time the Witch tried such a strange ritual, Sheffield was something of a part-ghost, rest-is-human boy, in that his soul replaced the flesh where he was torn apart. This became what Sheffield called ‘not-flesh’: a slightly chilly part that was actually ghost, feels just like flesh to him and everyone else, but somewhere his body’s life force cannot circulate properly and would be similar to preserved zombie flesh. The soul that had tried to float away was suddenly bonded to the physical-turned-incorporeal flesh and grounded to the world; Teresia had captured this ‘specter’ for in hopes of a proper resurrection. Deciding to take responsibility, Teresia had the boy visit her now and then, if only to protect her unintended project from the sentient and mindless beings interested in Sheffield's new status as a ‘spectral’.

Four years later, Teresia went missing. With her were the alchemical paints and mixes meant to help Sheffield's control over his ghost part, forcing Sheffield to leave his hometown, leaving behind only a letter for limited explanation, and travel around for half a year. He did his work as a Hunter, faced many strange things of day and night, but he could not find his Witchcrafting friend until he heard of the Wonder Painter in somewhere... bad.

It is his 18th birthday when Sheffield arrives in Seren's Folly, having run afoul of some spirits. But there, in the distance! A little white-haired girl… with the face of Teresia? Walking into the chilling woods? Where he was aware Witches lived in?

His heart told him he had to follow his friend anyway.



(The long sword in the picture(s).)

Signature Weapon: Lorelei, a cruciform sword made of meteoric iron (as in from a fallen meteorite). It is sharp (physically and supernaturally) and durable (also physical and supernatural), partially in thanks to being consecrated in holy water repeatedly and drenched in various kinds of monster blood. However, the anti-supernatural nature of this weapon sparks the instincts of the supernaturally inclined, including Witches, to its presence, forcing Sheffield to keep it under a special sheath to hide its 'aura'; the longer it is kept unsheathed, the more monsters draw to it, way more than Sheffield’s ghost part would have done. In other words, it is a sword straight out of legends, and a big flare for "Kill or be killed."

...At the moment it is far away, being re-delivered due to circumstances. Furthermore, after a disastrous mission, all Sheffield has for weapons are two frying pans (one laced with silver, the other cast iron), knives, stink bombs, a breech-loading rifle with gold-silver alloy rounds, and a stick. More, if he roots around his pack.

Notable Effects as a Spectral: Sheffield has gained far more sensitivity to magical/supernatural effects, beings and such. However, his new nature has acted as a magnet for creatures and people sensitive enough; it was not as if he became a lighthouse for them, especially since he could focus on ‘dimming’ it down, but it still attracted things that went slaughtering in the night, even a psychotic Witch he was forced to kill.

Things they look for in a partner: "A partner... I might see myself laughing alongside them, sharing all the good times, and all the bad, and all those little things that seem so embarrassing and yet so important. But what with my life at the moment, it'll be long time before I start to see that fantasy come to life."

Pet: A sentient hummingbird with feathers like fire. Which can turn to actual pint-sized fire. It belonged to Teresia, but Sheffield coerced (threatened) it into a contract to follow him for a few years when the Witch went missing.

Tier of Power: Acolyte (close to Disciple)

Present (Young) Teresia


Late (Actual?) Teresia


Appearance: There are two versions of Teresia, according to her reputation and what Maxwell knows.

The young Teresia is a scrawny little girl nearly 4'5", has long white hair, narrow amethystine eyes, and dressed in a white and black dress with frills. A red ribbon is tied in her hair.

The past Teresia was a young woman in her twenties boasting a slim figure, with bronze brown hair tied into two braids and round, amethystine eyes. She wore a red cloak over white robes and a black gown, as well as ordinary sandals. She often had a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

Age: 10 years old (actually 64 years old, but looks in her 20s before 'change')

Personality:

(Prior to 'change') Teresia was known to be reserved but polite. She was kind and decisive when it came to certain situations, but she maintained her distance with most people, not because she did not want to feel the pain of losing anyone when she was practically immortal, but they did not pique her interest. However, she met Sheffield, who was living proof that someone can be close to her. She cares, but she doesn't always show it, much less like it.

(Current) The young-looking Teresia is a shy person, but she has a measured curiosity stemming from her apparent innocence. Her tone would sound much more eager, open to anyone. Otherwise, core aspects of her personality, such as being kind or being (somewhat) blunt is still there.

History: Born a Witch to a caring mother and a steadfast father, Teresia had lived decades after her mother died from another Witch who sought the family's powers, only to die in a duel when Teresia's father confronted the greedy Witch. He died of an inflicted curse not a moment after. She lived with the occasionnal hello to some strangers and wandered around, building up a reputation as the Wonder Painter that helped people every now and then, beating back even the best of Hunters through cleverness, and settled down for a boring, peaceful life until Sheffield.

She used to have friends, but not many sought her out anymore, especially when they died of old age. But this boy who just might live long? She found herself looking forward to Sheffield's visits and antics, even getting acquainted with other humans and strange beings more often (under the guise of a simple chemist). And perhaps... finally an end?

Then there was a promising ritual that would ensure Sheffield's ghost treatment would be 'fixed', complete, but a flash, an explosion--

A young-looking Teresia woke up in a cavern, beside a squiggle-filled circle of melted gemstone and definitely dead spirits. Then she heard an odd call.

It was months after that strange incident. She had wandered off with a pack she just knew were her essentials, got picked up by a friendly caravan, worked with a chemist to stay with it, and ended up in a strange town. But there was a castle, she heard, and knew she heard a much different call. No, something in her told her to go to Castle... Bloodrose. Blood. Rose. Like vampires the caravaneers told her about? But she was curious.

And so Teresia the Little walked into the forest.

Signature Power: At its core, her magic centers around fire. At its most basic, it is fireballs. At their best, they are used to 'burn' runes and ancient language across her targets to achieve certain effects, as long as she can touch them. The fires are a representation of her power at that point, which can be harmless depending on the spell invoked or the target’s resistance. She also makes use of tools and ingredients, creating quick rituals on the spot so long as she is not interrupted. Advanced techniques involve burning ingredients such as paint over any of her targets (effects may include super strength, healing, ignore pain, itches, etc.), incense to do the same if not at a slower rate through smell, and rituals that end in explosions. Her ‘best’ would include spiritualism like any of her spells, but tuned to their greatest.

The life magic (the soulbinding one Teresia used on Sheffield) in question is more of a modification of her fire magic. A new and extreme one at that, on top of her use of paint and tools. Doing it again would not bode well for her despite her experience in Witchcraft.

As for how Teresia uses her paint, think of tattoos and runes and tapestries and such. As long as it is something that makes sense, like turning a person into a walking canvas, it will have a certain effect as suggested by the art in question. For example, a volcano means the person would be set on fire and burn in agony until the paint is washed off or negated by magic, assuming there are no wards mixed with the paint in place. The writing kind she does is simply the most quickest way to channel her magic through. Of course, this takes time, and the target must preferably be stationary.

To anyone, it is like watching her use oil before setting it on fire.

But as a child now, she does not have much recollection of her nature as a Witch, and can only call upon extremely basic magic, like small fires. She struggles to remember.

Things they look for in a partner: "Ah, a man? A nice person, a kind one, I think. Like Sheffield. Maybe someone who's really reliable... and fun."

Familiar: A hummingbird that can set its feathers on fire named Hugol. She can draw power from him.

Tier of Power: Novice (she was supposed to be Adept-level before)