[hider=The Red Knife of Kendles][center][img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/213c2496-5915-4e4c-bb46-1268d6c80468/dd73oi2-66166147-b98d-49ce-a0b3-15ddc8f5b1cd.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzIxM2MyNDk2LTU5MTUtNGU0Yy1iYjQ2LTEyNjhkNmM4MDQ2OFwvZGQ3M29pMi02NjE2NjE0Ny1iOThkLTQ5Y2UtYTBiMy0xNWRkYzhmNWIxY2QucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.njnmtypgYGoDPZWG8OGcguyGIg5DxrgNs4OdjrqGdU4[/img][/center]
[center][i]A charcoal sketch of Isolda drawn by the artist Sylessae "Smiling Sylessae" Alban, a known associate of the Friends of Foy. Three years ago, this image adorned countless wanted posters scattered throughout Kendles. Most of these posters have either rotted away or been repurposed by now.[/i][/center] 
[/hider]
[hider=The Kinslayer]
[b][color=red]Name:[/color][/b] Isolda Foy, Currently calling herself Ingrid Feldspar 

[b][color=red]Title:[/color][/b] The Kinslayer, The Red Knife of Kendles, Friendly

[b][color=red]Age:[/color][/b] 25

[b][color=red]Appearance:[/color][/b] Isolda is roughly 5'5” and has pale skin that looks slightly sunburnt. Her hair, which used to be a dark brownish-blonde, is now black thanks to various natural dyes. Considering the Friends of Foy may still be looking for her, Isolda is less concerned with preserving her original hair color and more interested in not getting killed. The former thief has the same pale blue eyes as her late mother, Angrboda Seidr, and the same heart-shaped face. However, due to spending the last three years living off the land, Isolda's visage has become gaunt and her high cheekbones are quite prominent. This is also reflected in her physique. The dark-haired young woman has the wiry musculature of an athlete or someone that spends most of their time outdoors. Her current hardships notwithstanding, Isolda has a warm, welcoming smile that makes her eyes crinkle in a manner some might consider childlike. However, one need only look into those blue, strangely sad eyes to see this "child" has witnessed a fair amount of pain and suffering.

Isolda generally wears undyed homespun garments, though she occasionally makes a point of speaking with traveling merchants in hopes of bartering for new clothes. At the moment, she's wearing a beautifully dyed, dark blue hooded cloak of Jornish wool. This fine cloak is draped over a ragged breastplate of cured leather and a long-sleeved homespun tunic. Breeches of undyed homespun as well as black-dyed calfskin boots and gloves complete Isolda's eclectic ensemble. The young woman rarely goes anywhere without her travel-stained leather knapsack, and she always has at least two or three daggers tucked into the wide leather belt around her waist. Truth be told, she looks like the average traveler you might encounter on Pertovia's dangerous roads.

One thing that does make her stand out is the silver chain she wears around her pale, slender neck. A wooden medallion that has been carved to resemble the face of a snarling wolf dangles from this chain. Isolda keeps the necklace tucked into her tunic to avoid drawing undue attention to herself, but, when she's alone, she'll often glance at it with a look of profound melancholy. It's one of the few things that can dislodge the former thief's perpetual grin.

[b][color=red]Personality:[/color][/b] Isolda is a kind-hearted, generous woman that will not hesitate to help others. Of course, she's no fool. Due to her upbringing and the circumstances surrounding her departure from Kendles, Isolda approaches most situations with a great deal of caution. If a traveler on the road is behaving oddly for no apparent reason, Isolda will find a place to hide so she can discern if she's about to walk into a trap. Once her paranoia has been quelled, the former thief is always ready with a smile and an offer of food or drink, which she'll trade for news of the goings-on in Pertovia. The moment violence threatens, however, the dark-haired woman will either try to flee or, if escape isn't possible, draw her daggers and set to work. Unlike many of the bandits that wander the wilds, Isolda derives no joy from killing. In fact, her normally cheerful expression becomes almost sickly when she fights. She also never strikes first if she can help it. There's a hesitance, perhaps even a hint of fear, to Isolda when she fights that makes her graceful, swift movements jerky and spastic. While she's able to dart around slower, heavier blows, it's clear the dark-haired woman is weighed down by something beyond the physical. In any event, she has no compunctions about looting those that have attacked her.

This is Pertovia, after all, where death lurks around every corner.

[b][color=red]Background Information:[/color][/b] Isolda Foy was born in an isolated hovel near the western edge of Kendles during a terrible thunderstorm. Her mother, a stoic, pale woman with fiery reddish-orange hair and blue tattoos adorning her body, was named Angrboda Seidr and claimed to hail from some frozen hellscape on the mainland. Her father, on the other hand, was none other than Waldemar "The Wolf" Foy, the charismatic and ruthless leader of the Friends of Foy. The Friends of Foy, which were known by most as the Friends, happened to be one of the most powerful bands of thieves, cut-throats, and assassins in the village. In any case, nobody is entirely sure what transpired during the night of Isolda's birth. The only people in the ramshackle hovel were Waldemar, Angrboda, and a midwife Waldemar trusted. As the rain petered out and the last echoes of thunder boomed across Kendles, only the Wolf and the midwife emerged. Waldemar was clutching a small, pale infant with hair as dark as his own as he made his way back to the manor house that served as the Friends of Foy's headquarters. Anybody with half a brain assumed Angrboda died in childbirth, but others weren’t so sure. Waldemar had many enemies, and it was no secret that this soft-spoken, foreign woman held a special place in the gang leader’s heart. Perhaps the Wolf was simply tying up a loose end?

Regardless, Waldemar Foy had what he'd wanted for several years. He had an heir, someone he could pass his teachings, and the Friends of Foy, onto before he passed. He wasn't a young man anymore, and, between the endless Filth attacks and the dangers posed by Kendles' other gangs, Waldemar knew it was only a matter of time before death claimed him. The Wolf was nothing if not pragmatic. Why else would he have his heavily pregnant beloved give birth in a shack, away from the prying eyes and listening ears of his adversaries? 

Despite the volatile and unpredictable nature of Kendles, Waldemar was able to give his daughter a surprisingly stable upbringing. His first priority, of course, was to teach her how to defend herself, and nobody in the village knew more about knifework than the Wolf. He also spent a great deal of time instructing her on how to move swiftly, confidently, and most importantly, quietly. By the age of six, Isolda, who quickly earned herself the nickname "Friendly" because of her bright smile, was spending hours on end with stilettos in her hands while she darted across the rooftops of Kendles alongside her father.

During these training sessions, Waldemar would also lecture his daughter about the other groups that struggled to eke out some kind of existence in the village. Most of them were little more than roving bands of thugs, but a few were dangerous enough to challenge the Friends. The Coterie Reborn. The Silver Lane Bullyboys. The Pariahs. The One-Eyes. And, of course, the Filth Eaters, the most deranged and terrifying gaggle of madmen in the entire settlement. This gang was the greatest threat to the Friends of Foy, and Waldemar made a point to teach Isolda how to recognize the signs of an imminent attack by these crazed worshippers of the Filth. He also took great pains to ensure his daughter learned to read and write, though he was shocked by how quickly she mastered reading. Isolda struggled with writing for several years, and still writes much slower than she reads, but she was already reading Hamlin's theses on Filth incursions by the time she was twelve.

Waldemar, despite his better judgment, doted on Isolda while impressing upon her the importance of what was expected of her. The Friends of Foy needed to be her first and only priority.
 
And then, not long after her eighteenth name day, something unexpected happened.

Isolda was accompanying a small group of Friends as they visited the Last Stop Tavern, one of Kendles’ more permanent and well-known structures, to collect “protection money.” As the thieves were making their way back to the sprawling, fortified manor house the Friends had claimed as their own not long after their founding, they were attacked by twenty Filth Eaters. While the gangs of Kendles fought each other all the time, everyone knew Isolda Foy was the Wolf’s daughter. She was well-liked by many due to her affable nature and willingness to help others. Her kindness notwithstanding, Waldemar’s wrath would be cataclysmic if he learned his daughter had been hurt or worse. Isolda put her knives to good use that day, but, in the end, there were too many Filth Eaters and too few Friends of Foy. As a hulking, heavily scarred thug with a pock-marked face knocked her to the ground, however, something changed. Isolda heard what sounded like drums pounding in the back of her head. Her friends, her father’s men, lay bleeding and shitting themselves in their death throes around her. And now, this whoreson was going to kill her.

And Isolda erupted.

Consumed by a blinding rage unlike anything she’d experienced, the eighteen-year old woman rolled away from her assailant’s killing blow. She started cackling, laughing as if this whole scenario was a joke as she hamstrung the brute and slit his throat. The remaining Filth Eaters tried to circle Isolda, but she never stopped moving. Her iron stilettos danced through her pale, slender fingers, opening throats and spilling blood in a way that seemed so achingly beautiful, so sweet, so magical. For some reason, her throat hurt. It ached. It burned. It wasn’t until Isolda stood, alone and surrounded by corpses, in front of the Last Stop Tavern, that she realized it was because she’d been screaming the entire time. Blinking and looking down at her slender, toned frame, Isolda Foy saw she was drenched in blood and the Filth Eaters were dead. The people of Kendles that had come to watch the spectacle, many hoping to see the arrogant Friends of Foy knocked down a few pegs, just stared. Slowly, Isolda painfully limped back to the manor house and called for someone to find a healer. Waldemar heard whispers and rumors of what had happened, but, in truth, he was just glad his successor hadn't been killed. 

Time marched on as it always does. The Friends of Foy continued to grow in strength and power, eventually absorbing the One-Eyes and the Silver Lane Bullyboys, though there were still enough lesser gangs, not to mention the Filth Easters, to keep them from completely controlling Kendles. Isolda flourished, becoming wiry and slender despite her love of fine drink and rich food, and started assuming more control over the Friends’ day-to-day activities. Her father was proud beyond words. And she hadn’t had another incident since the battle with the Filth Eaters, but memories of that conflict still haunted Isolda. She had no idea that kind of rage lurked within her. 

Still, there was so much to do and never enough hours in the day. Isolda enjoyed spending time amongst the rough, uncouth people of Kendles even though her interactions with some of them ended violently. In truth, she often wondered what the village could become if it weren’t for the constant infighting and Filth incursions. She also marveled at how resilient and determined the few families that had made the settlement their home were. Isolda admired them, and, over time, many of them came to know her as a decent, altruistic woman with a good head on her shoulders.

A week before her twenty-second name day, Isolda was counting the day's take in her father’s office within the Friends of Foy's manor stronghold. She dropped one of the Illistair ration stamps she’d been inspecting, and it fell under the desk. As she bent down to retrieve it, however, the blonde-haired woman noticed something odd. There was a small iron lockbox beneath her father's desk. After a brief moment of hesitation, Isolda’s curiosity got the better of her so she grabbed the lockbox and managed to jimmy it open.

Inside were a few random objects. A lock of reddish-orange hair. A silver chain with a wooden medallion carved to look like a snarling wolf’s face dangling from it. And a letter written by Isolda’s father that was addressed to her mother. The words were unspeakably sweet and tender, but Isolda felt her heart drop into her stomach when she read that Waldemar regretted killing Angrboda but believed it had to be done. He couldn’t afford to have weaknesses his enemies could exploit. 

Her mother, a woman that Isolda had never known, had been murdered by her father. 

Now, the young Kend knew Waldemar had his reasons for doing what he’d done. And yet, the more she read through the letter, the more frantic the drums beating in the back of her skull became. Without even bothering to put the lockbox back, the young woman rose from her father’s desk and made her way to his bedchamber. The two men guarding his room were dozing at their posts so it was a simple matter for her to sneak up and cut their throats as rage consumed her. 

This wasn't right. She had to stop. She needed to stop and think about what she was doing.

But she couldn’t. 

The drums were like thunder in her head. Isolda heard someone let out a wet gargle and felt something warm splatter across her face. And then she blinked, wiping gore off her pale, heart-shaped visage, and looked down at her father’s corpse. It looked like he’d been mauled by a dog. Isolda tasted blood in her mouth and spat something leathery out onto the bed. It was her father’s left ear. Breathing heavily and hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, Isolda immediately opened one of the windows in her father’s chamber and dove out into the darkness. The silver chain with the wooden wolf medallion hanging from it was clutched tightly in her right hand. 

And so it was, with screams of outrage and horror following her, that Isolda Foy abandoned her childhood home.

She was confused, scared, and full of regret. Why had she done this? The last time this had happened was nearly two years ago, and now her father was gone. Slain by her own hand. Shuddering and vomiting on the roots of a nearby tree, Isolda continued to run, putting as much distance between her and Kendles as possible. Unbeknownst to her, the remains of her father so horrified the Friends of Foy they started referring to her as the Red Knife of Kendles. And as the Kinslayer.

Over the next three years, Isolda Foy, who often went by the name Ingrid Feldspar to avoid recognition, wandered Pertovia, doing her best to interact with people as little as possible. She was a monster. She had to be. She’d killed her own father. No man or woman is more hated than the kinslayer. This guilt ate at her, gnawing at her constantly, and yet, she forced herself to keep smiling. Yes, she’d done a terrible thing, a monstrous thing, but what was done was done. She still needed to eat and find clean drinking water and the wilds of Pertovia were far from safe. She could wallow in her guilt and shame after she found what she needed to survive.

Recently, after seeking refuge from a violent rainstorm inside a crumbling ruin carved from white marble, Isolda found something unusual. It was a simple ivory circlet with a large, oval-shaped onyx set into the front. It was a crown. The young woman picked up the crown and stowed it in her knapsack, trying not to think of all the stories she’d read about crowns and the terrible fate that oft befell those that wore them, before setting off into the darkness once more. 

After all, the darkness is where monsters belong, isn’t it?

[b][color=red]Favorite Food:[/color][/b] Isolda's favorite dish is roasted pheasant smothered in gravy along with as much red wine as she can drink. Preferably more red wine than she can drink.

[u][b][color=red]Physical[/color][/b][/u]
[b]Might:[/b] 2 ([i]A Man among Men[/i]) 
[b]Coordination:[/b] 3 ([i]Reflexes of a Cat[/i])
[b]Fortitude:[/b] 2 ([i]Skin of Skin[/i])

[u][b][color=red]Psycho[/color][/b][/u]
[b]Intellect:[/b] 3 ([i]The Quick[/i])
[b]Wisdom:[/b] 2 ([i]Straightforward[/i])
[b]Willpower:[/b] 3 ([i]Plenty of Will[/i])

[b][color=red]Skills and Training[/color][/b]
-[i]Knifework[/i]: Thanks to her father's rigorous training regimen, Isolda can turn almost anything with an edge into a lethal weapon. As Waldemar always used to say, "You can never have too many knives."

-[i]Quiet as Death[/i]: Another part of Waldemar's tutelage involved teaching his daughter the finer points of sneaking around places she shouldn't be. Unfortunately, this particular skill would ultimately result in the Wolf's demise.

-[i]I Know People[/i]: Despite being away from Kendles for nearly three years, most people passing through the settlement have either met or spent time with Isolda at some point. She’s befriended many of them, and some may be willing to help her in the future.

-[i]Survival at any Cost[/i]: Spending three years in the wilds of Pertovia has bred a certain toughness into Isolda. While she’s still willing to help others, the young woman has no intention of dying for anyone without cause.

-[i]Quick Hands[/i]: As a former member of the Friends of Foy, Isolda knows how to relieve people of their belongings through trickery and stealth. She does tend to be cautious when picking her targets, however.

-[i]Literate[/i]: Waldemar “The Wolf” Foy always intended for his daughter to take control of the Friends of Foy after his death. With this in mind, he taught her how to read and write, though she vastly prefers reading over writing.

-[i]The Beast Within[/i]: Isolda has no idea why there are moments when her anger becomes an all-consuming, overwhelming inferno. All she knows is these fits are usually presaged by the sound of drums thundering in the back of her skull. This berserker rage doesn’t make the young woman any stronger, but it does make her more willing to take risks in the heat of battle. It's also what ultimately earned her the monikers "Kinslayer" and the "Red Knife of Kendles."

[b][color=red]Most Memorable Moment:[/color][/b] One moment that will always stick with Isolda is the image of her father’s mangled, bloody visage staring up at her from his bed. That feeling of gut-wrenching, sickening horror and shame when she realized she'd killed the man that had taught her everything haunts the former thief to this day.[/hider]
[hider=The Friends of Foy]

[center][img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQRDFjDNtzRgyjl4tNpWoQxRMu5J6ja6yE4fvuOrktLJ-CivcwY[/img][/center]
[center][i]This symbol is often carved into the doors of businesses or buildings under the protection of the Friends of Foy. The citizens of Kendles refer to this sigil as the Black Dagger.[/i][/center]
[center][color=red][b]The Friends of Foy, also known as the Friends[/b][/color][/center]
When a young man named Waldemar Foy fled some unknown horror in Jornorston and claimed a crumbling lean-to as his own, nobody in Kendles paid much attention. The dark-haired Jornishman was ambitious, but so was everybody that hadn't experienced how dangerous life in the village could be. He'd learn soon enough. Surprisingly, after spending a year in Kendles, Waldemar's quick hands, wit, and willingness to do the most menial and thankless tasks earned him a place in the settlement’s most respectable gang. The Coterie. The leader of the Coterie at the time, a gorgeous woman named Celeste Kalten, eventually took Waldemar under her wing as a protégé, and, if rumors were to be believed, a lover. This gave Waldemar access to the meager resources the Coterie had at its disposal.

Including poisons like anthac root and lycia sap.

It was no surprise to anyone when Celeste was found dead in her bedroom a few years later, a puddle of spilled red wine spreading beneath her pallid corpse like blood. What was astonishing, however, was how effectively and swiftly Waldemar conducted the investigation to uncover the Coterie leader's murderers. In less than a week, he'd found the conspirators and had them drawn and quartered in Kendles' main square. Even the Coterie's eldest members were impressed. 

After a brief period of debate, these aged thieves unanimously chose Waldemar as the interim leader of the gang until a more suitable candidate could be found. They never managed to find one. It wasn't long before Waldemar was either "persuading" Kendles' smaller gangs and guilds to join the Coterie or outright destroying them. This period, which lasted nearly five years, would come to be known as the "Reign of the Wolf" by the Kends, and it is considered one of the most dangerous times in the village’s history. 

By the time Waldemar "The Wolf" Foy celebrated his twenty-fifth name day, the Coterie had been rechristened the Friends of Foy, and there were few factions within Kendles willing or able to defy them. Furthermore, they took over a fortified manor house that had once belonged to another band of thieves the Friends had conquered. Not long after this, Angrboda Seidr arrived in Kendles. Something about the stoic, foreign woman captivated Waldemar, and he wasted no time in courting this beautiful stranger. They would ultimately marry, but it took them several years to bear children. And the cost, unfortunately, was Angrboda's life.

Despite his beloved's death, Waldemar continued to lead the Friends of Foy for the next twenty-two years before he was slain, supposedly by his daughter, at the age of forty-seven. In the wake of their leader's demise, the Friends of Foy have been locked in a seemingly endless conflict with their greatest rival, the Filth Eaters. Of course, most of the village's inhabitants know it's only a matter of time before the Filth returns and batters these two warring gangs into submission.

[i]Current Leaders of the Friends of Foy[/i]: Baldric Kroppen and his two lieutenants, Tylo “Tiny Tylo” Schaffer and Claudia Wurtz[/hider]