[hider=The Huntress]
[b]Name:[/b] Sarah Gallagander
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[img]https://static.zerochan.net/Lady.Maria.of.the.Astral.Clocktower.full.2212388.jpg[/img]
[b]Age:[/b] 29

[b]Personality:[/b] 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.

[b]History:[/b] 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. 

[b]Signature Weapon:[/b] 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.

[b]Things they look for in a partner:[/b] 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.

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

[b]Experience:[/b] Disciple
[/hider]

[hider=The Warlock]
[b]Name:[/b] Ryleth
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/236x/77/29/fc/7729fc50bb96c521cd5f991bd39cf494--necromancer.jpg[/img]
He has series of scars, quite evidentially of a whip, on his back. He also has scores more pale, fresh scars on his chest. Though they seem to have come many different weapons. He never told anyone at the Bloodrose Coven how he got either of the set of scars.[/center]

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

[b]Personality:[/b] 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.

[b]History:[/b] 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.

[b]Special Power:[/b] 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.

[b]Things they look for in a partner:[/b] 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.

[b]Pets/Familiars:[/b] 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.

[b]Experience:[/b] High-end Disciple
[/hider]