[hider=Erwin]
[b]Full Name and Aliases (if any):[/b] Erwin Sauer

[b]Race:[/b] Human

[b]Homeland:[/b] Erwin hails from a village by the name of Basdahl in Middenland in the heart of the Empire of Man.

[b]Faith:[/b] Devout follower of Morr, the God of the Dead and Prophecy

[b]Sex:[/b] Male

[b]Appearance:[/b] Erwin is a nondescript male Human, an Imperial of 5’10” (177 cm) and with a thin, lithe build, weighing in at no more than 140 lbs. Despite his appearance, he does have some muscle, albeit without much mass and none of it toned. It seems to be more borne out of practicality and daily labor than any form of actual concerted effort to bulk up. His hair is a sandy blonde, kept in short style and shaved down on the sides, seemingly allowed to grow only on top of his head. He keeps a beard, darker in shade than his hair and well-trimmed at a middling length. His eyes are a pale greenish-hazel, notably changing between the two with the change of seasons. His face under the beard seems rather gaunt and long, but his absence of wrinkles puts his age as likely only in his mid-thirties at best.
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[b]The Bait:[/b] Erwin was born in the Grand Duchy of Middenland some years ago, the child of an undertaker and his wife, destined for mundane things such as carpentry of coffins and the burial of the dead. His father, close to the local Conclave of the Shroud in the city of Brockel-Guthugel, was an associate of the Cult of Morr and thus the spiritual and practical advisor of all things concerning the dead.

Erwin was a happy child, but once he was seven or eight, a malady struck him. He would often wake drenched in sweat, screaming and crying for mother about a bony face, nightmares of mist and cold, damp catacombs. His father assured him it was nothing, but still he prayed to Morr to keep his faith strong.

It was when a plague came into the village of Basdahl that the father’s faith was tested. He soon after perished burying bodies of the deceased, as did Erwin’s mother, who cared for his father in the final moments. Erwin was spared, yet three quarters of the village died out. It was when the Shroud’s representatives visited weeks later that they decided to take in the young orphan and give him a life in the Conclave.

Erwin was judged to be a good pick on the part of the representatives. From a young age he was stone-faced on the matters concerning the deceased, yet could show empathy and spiritual guidance when that too was required of him. But his one strongest trait: singular hatred for the Plague Lord. From the time he heard Nurgle’s name uttered, he felt a deep hatred for that which took his parents from him. In his time growing in the Conclave, he learned from its master fencers the way of the lange messer and shield, and from others the proper carpentry of a coffin, rites of cremation, and all the minor incantations a guardian of the Portal would need to dispel corruption in death, wherever it would be found.

It was on his twentieth birthday that he was given the opportunity to make the pilgrimage to Luccini on the Tilean Peninsula with the chosen representatives of the Conclave. On the nearly year-long trip south, Erwin was exposed to cultures from the decadent high nobles of Altdorf to the creative and progressive peoples of Tilea. Their domain was providing funerals wherever they could on their trek, giving Erwin a unique insight into the various Electorates and their constituents, and served to mellow his internal turmoil with the plague.

Their trip back took twice as long, and Erwin was nearly twenty-five by the time they set foot in the Conclave of Guthugel. He was changed from the quiet observer and the obedient guardian, he was inquisitive and more outspoken. He’d taken to hobbies foreign to the majority of the Conclave. While this rarely bothered his peers, the followers who singularly devoted themselves to worship, swordsmanship, and stewardship, those who strived for the Black Guard, felt that such a character would bring shame to their Conclave. The Abbot agreed, and Erwin was sent on a six-year exile.

During his exile, he basked in the difference of other cultures in the places to which he traveled. The years passed by without incident, the now-jovial man that was Erwin pursuing his calling with glee, even if he was cast out by his Conclave. This persisted until once again he clashed with his old enemy: Plague. An outbreak in Talabecland made his services required as he stayed there.

He fled in the night. His old enemy bested him not physically, as it had bested his parents, but on the field of the mind. An act which, if found out, could damn him eternally to never walk the Gardens of Morr, he strives to do penance for his crime, and as a renegade priest and now hunter of necromancers and Chaotic corruption, he has lobbied for membership to the Black Badges.

[b]The Catch:[/b] Erwin is a fully fledged member of the Cult of Morr and thus knows their incantations and a baseline of their divine lore. He can commune with the spirits of the deceased in a way others cannot, and his singular knowledge of the processes of death make him a shoe-in as an investigator of all things dead, whether it be homicides or deaths by other causes. He is not completely useless in combat, however. He is quick with a messer and shield, and sharp enough to take advantage of circumstances in combat.

As for why he was attracted to the Black Badges, it was part necessity, as he needed something to belong to else his communion with the God of the Dead would be impossible. The other part is his own vendetta. As a simple priest he was tired of sitting idly by as people died, especially from the plagues which had taken things dear to him. Now he can take out his anger on corruption everywhere.

[b]Initial Possessions:[/b] [list]
[*] [url=https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2080/1501/products/Circa_1500_messer_1.jpg?v=1518602089]A messer[/url], a small, broad-blade single-handed shortsword, carried in a leather sheathe on his left hip above his robes.
[*][url=https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2080/1501/products/23-14_15thC_Southern_French_quillon_dagger_3.jpg?v=1518561637]A Tilean dagger[/url] made of steel and in a leather sheathe on his right hip, just below his robes.
[*][url=https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/proxy/SsjDrJ3s8aY0TyGOaa3k2cIPFJlfOHJrSYTgw4MZ9yFbQ0FlRT2EnXAmU_R2QOZqhUyR45XJPGCGqJH8tKbUbd07vEMB_50TGX-VAfievOzU2SaPu9A9VcMJM5Wwuyw8wah6_2jHt73wJBZf]A square wrist-shield[/url] akin to a buckler in purpose, made for fighting paired with a messer and emblazoned with an effigy of a [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e2/6c/1e/e26c1e723fe87ddffd661ade46b9044d.jpg]raven[/url], the symbol of Morr. Fits over the grip and upper end of the sheathe of his messer and can be worn comfortably as such, but it often is left behind unless battle is expected.
[*]A set of street clothing, namely some hosen and bourgeois clothing such as a thigh-length tunic and a feathered brim hat.
[*]His normal black robes, worn over a set of leathers which offer a small amount of protection from cutting strikes (albeit not the kinetic impact).
[*]A bandolier of [url=https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0870/8326/products/safety_wooden_stakes_84__25__29918.jpeg?v=1524688509]finely sharpened wooden stakes[/url] worn around the waist under his robes.
[*]Tome of Morr, which is guarded with his life and never leaves the leather book case at his side.
[*]A canvas haversack with two nights’ provisions between stops, a bedroll, and a miniature wash-basin. [/list]

[b]Current Possessions:[/b] Mirrored above.
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