One day, a woman arrived from the Cascades, accompanying the caringly covered remains of her deceased lover. She was with child, but never looked back – she had cut ties with nobility and their games, even if it meant having to adapt to a humbler, harsher life. She dedicated herself to Bellua, seeking solace in faith. The Shepherds responded to her effort to learn their ways, and welcomed her into the fold. And so, the child was raised as their own.

When Kaelan was but one year old, his mother came to the decision to make a sacrifice for the sake of his future. Beseeching the gods, she entered into a contract, coming to a Compromise; in exchange for never being able to hear her child’s voice again, her son would gain the ability to study magic. To communicate, she learned to enunciate with care, to read lips and interpret gestures, or to ask for the written word. Her sorrow was profound, and when Kaelan was old enough to notice, he asked after the reason.

When he learned the answer to that, he asked again: “Why?”

With a delicate smile, she confidently declared, “Because I love you, son.” Even as she still mourned her husband, whom Kaelan often heard of from her, and was burdened by her hearing loss, he saw her cherish their lives with such reverence, he couldn’t help but respond. So, he was driven to honour her and the gods, and endeavored to become the most reliable Shepherd he could.

His life followed a simple routine: studying, training, hunting, sharing stories by the fire before sleep, burying and guarding the dead, chasing off beasts, monsters, and interlopers.

Yet a time came when things changed. His mother was supposed to have gone only to gather some wild plants in the vicinity of Thall. When she didn’t return in time, they sprung a search. However, as they would discover, she hadn’t succumbed to the natural elements, nor had a stray predator felled her. When Kaelan and one of his friends led a pair of dogs off the beaten path, they found a stray scrap of her attire caught in a branch. The dogs led them to a cliff, but that’s as far as they could go.

“Kaelan, we’ll find her in time,” his friend Boel reassured. But the ylva wouldn’t have it. She’d been missing only a day, so what if she was still alive somewhere down there?

He wasn’t thinking rationally; in his desperation, he knelt there and beseeched the gods to help him find her. So, his own Compromise was born, and in that moment, he became able to cast a spell he would come to understand later. The world became colourless, and a dull light emanated from Boel, the dogs, the trees and shrubbery. The piece of cloth he held was tarnished with gray stains, and a darkening trail led down the cliff. Kaelan descended, climbing until he came to a narrow crevice. Squeezing in, he proceeded into the cave, pursuing the trail – until a large black taint stopped him in his tracks.

The spell receded and he saw her: his mother, deathly pale, signs of a struggle on her arms, her neck snapped. He cried out, so loud his shout carried far and wide.

Kaelan had seen others grieve, had thought he understood what it meant. The loss of his mother proved him wrong. It was a test of his faith, but ultimately, this experience provided insight. First hand he tasted what it was like to lose, and to hold onto belief and love – not in spite of the loss, but in its honour.

He believed his master when it was said his mother’s murder would be investigated.

Adapting was difficult, but in the following years, his struggle inspired growth. When Memory Crow-Bell was trained there, he sparred with her often. Information of his new ability had been passed to trusted sources, and he tackled several requests where a lost or missing body had to be found.

His patience and faith bore fruit: it had taken some time, but agents and investigators friendly to the Shepherds had compiled their findings. Three months before his mother’s murder, a large procession had arrived to Lune’s Shelf. One of them had recognized his mother, and used that information to their benefit in the Cascades. As her noble relatives had been in the midst of waging a feud with her husband’s family over succession rights, both had cause to see her dead. There was no proof, but rumours abound that an assassin from the Silent Hand had been hired.

Kaelan discussed these findings with their people’s leaders. A small group was sent into the Cascades, he along with it. They worked to the bone to gain damning intel and see the culprits face justice. Kaelan was showed off as an heir of Aurelle to gain them advantage – mostly, this meant he was present in meetings and at the court. The rest, he left to his more cunning compatriots. With plenty of free time, he visited many a root village, as he felt more comfortable there than in any manor or palace. He took up freelancing work, and provided to the poor in exchange for intel on any missing bodies or signs of corruption in the land.

In his time in the Cascades, he had a few opportunities to visit Thuata, and he was impressed by the knowledge contained in the city. Not so much that he’d be compelled to stay, but it did spark a sense of wanderlust in him.

So, when they finally pressed the nobles of the Aurelle and Arvelen families for a concession – which was the best they could get without resorting to drastic measures – Kalean knew what he would do next. If his estranged relatives had faced some form of punishment (a paltry one, but at least the matter was settled), his mother’s killer was still out there somewhere. Not only that, but he had seen that there were many others in the world left to recover to be interred in the Saltlands.

Intent to do his calling as a Shepherd in the wider world, as well as to seek to unravel the workings of the Silent Hand, Kaelan’s next destination is Redmire. With a looming coronation, it just may be his best opportunity to uncover more about his mother’s killer.

And if not?

At the very least he will have access to Siliach, and he’ll be able to inspect at his leisure how well they take care of their dead.

Spear & Hand-to-hand – Adept
His body is a weapon forged and molded from childhood, his chosen armament its extension. Kaelan is graceful, agile, swift, his movements calculated yet fluid, his strikes precise and lethal. His combat style relies on speed, flexibility, and deflection, using his opponent’s strength against them as he applies his own power in quick bursts meant to stun, destabilize, or finish off. He favours a spear, his long limbs extending his reach even further.

Self-enhancement – Proficient
His mother, bless her, had gifted him the ability to learn magic as a youth. He spent some time developing the capabilities granted by his physique, then begun to carefully interweave magic into his efforts. While Kaelan ever strives to surpass his natural limits mundanely, magic enables him to do so in a moment of need: a greater leap, an enhanced attack, a speedier sprint. He can temporarily make his skin sturdier, becoming more resilient. To a limited extent, he can mend his injuries, shortening recovery time.

Archery – Competent
As an archer he’s about what you’d expect from an ylva, trained due to racial proficiency. Kaelan prefers a longbow, which he uses to hunt, and to deal with ranged opponents. He’s well attuned to others’ movements and positioning, and can pinpoint his target from quite a distance. His shots are well-measured and powerful, capable of penetrating plate armour if fired from the right angle.

Death Sight – Burgeoning
A utility necromantic spell. When activated, he sees the world differently: colours dull, but every living thing is filled with a faint white light. A more skilled user could estimate their life expectancy. At his level, Kaelan can find and detect those who are dying as well as the deceased. These traces of death range from outlines of gray to a stark black stain in the world. That which is touched by necromancy is apparent in a similar manner. He has been refining the spell to extend its duration as well as to obtain greater detail.

Air Manipulation – Minor
An elemental type of magic he was initially taught for its utility: clearing fresh snow, guiding the harshest currents to pass by, carrying sounds and scents farther, aiding the propulsion of sleds and boats. He can slow down his fall, and lighten his step, improving his mobility even further. He can increase the reach of his arrows – though accuracy might decrease in exchange – and disrupt enemy projectiles. Nowadays, he circulates air around himself if he needs help cooling down.

Strength & Constitution – Lacking
Kaelan has a wiry form of corded muscle, but he is not built for feats of strength. Carrying heavy loads, pushing, pulling, and the like are tiring activities. He is not one to overpower a bulkier opponent by sheer might. With his soft ylvan skin and a propensity for a light attire, he possesses little in the way of shielding him from harm. Overcome his evasiveness, and he is easy to injure. He is not tough, so an opponent who bypasses his defenses can fell him with relative ease. While he does sweat, he is more prone to overheating than the average person.

Crowd control – Poor
In single combat, he excels, but the more enemies he must face alone, the harder pressed he is. He has few means to deal with a group of attackers at once besides speed and wit.

Stealth – Unpracticed
Soft though his footfalls may be, and patient as he is, Kaelan is not learned in the art of camouflage, deception, or infiltration. Tall and pale, he’s not easy to miss, and he doesn’t generally try to hide. In Lune’s Shelf, hunting was a skill reliant on ingenuity and cooperation, while trespassers knew very well the guardians were present. So, he learned to face them head on, and make them rue the day they underestimated the caretakers.

Support – Variable
In his homeland, battles were waged shoulder to shoulder, back to back. Coordination was paramount, and he was as in sync with his brethren as they were with him. In the wider world, however, Kaelan lacks that companionship. Philosophically, he is inclined to teamwork, but practically, there are many little things that may throw him off.

Paid the price
In exchange for obtaining the ability to cast a singular spell, Kaelan gave away his ability to feel warmth. Lost to him are the satisfaction of a hot meal, cozy lounging bundled up by a fire, the soft caress of the sun’s rays upon his skin. Never again will he experience the joy of sharing the heat of another’s body – a loss he mourns most deeply. Even something as simple as a hug reminds him of that lack, now. This is potentially dangerous, too; while he experiences pain from a burn, his senses do not warn him what is too hot, so he works from memory and observation alone. Thankfully, he does benefit from heat even if he only ever feels it as an absence of cold; else he’d already be dead.

Content warning: Mentions of torture and rape.

As a child, Louis was born with a silver spoon in his mouth to a noble family of middling repute known as House Evermoore, to Lord Louis Evermoore II and Lady Marianne Demaar as firstborn. Being the eldest, he had ingrained into him early that he was going to be a leader, and that he needed to embody the virtues of a good leader. Fortunately, he took to it naturally, and as he grew he sought to be the example everyone looked up to. His father educated him on statecraft and swordsmanship while his mother taught him politics. However, with few coping mechanisms in his life, he ended up suffering from a nervous breakdown after a particularly aggressive meeting between a number of noble houses that narrowly avoided bloodshed. For his safety, the family servants brought him into the kitchens at their lord’s order, and taught him a skill to help him cope and relax; cooking. By age of 14, he was a model noble scion, with four siblings, a loving family, and hobby he was both good at and enjoyed.

He couldn’t have known how it all went so wrong.

Within the cutthroat politics of the Siliach nobility, his family were thought of as a threat. Loyal to the crown above all else, paragons of virtue, seemingly incorruptible, yet humble in court. All the while, amassing political capital and quietly taking lands and businesses from nobles seen as less deserving by the crown, who thus didn’t act to stop them. However, this made many powerful enemies for the Evermoore family, leading to an event known as the Crimson Gala.

The Crimson Gala was a party, throne by the noble House Ferron, supposedly in an attempt to smooth over some issues between them and other noble houses, and to introduce Louis to his bride-to-be, Elanore Ferron. This would not be, however, as it actuality it was a trap laid by House Ferron and a number of other noble families who had been affected by the actions of House Evermoore. It quickly turned from a party to an ambush, resulting in the death of the Evermoore family’s bodyguards, and the capture of a family.

They spent long, harsh weeks in those dungeons, initially together, then separated. Lord Ferron wanted Lord Evermoore to sign over his family’s holding to the Ferron dynasty, which Evermoore refused. He withstood the lord’s torturers for three months, until Ferron brought his wrath down onto Evemoore’s children. Louis was dragged before his father, as Lord Evermoore was forced to watch as Louis was tortured before him. It took mere minutes to make Lord Evermoore break. Minutes that would cost the young lord-to-be his boyish good looks, reward him with severe scarring across his face, lose him the use of his left eye, and gave young Louis a fear of fire that would never leave him.

With no further use for them, and not wanting the family to report back to the crown, Lord Ferron ordered them to be executed in whatever ways his torturers saw fit. As a result, under the blades, brands, and devices of those sadists, they suffered for another two months. Louis’ youngest brother was starved to death. His second brother was burned alive. His third, drawn and quartered. His only sister, raped to death. Louis had accepted his fate, overhearing how they planned to drown him. Then, he remembered something. The only chance he had. He prayed to every god that would hear him, until he got his chance. At the age of fifteen, he swore into a compromise, and sacrificed one of the few things that used to bring him comfort and help him relax. He traded his sense of taste for magical potential. When he was dragged out to a lake just beyond the city with a piece of iron around his neck and thrown in, he called upon what limited power he had. He channeled lightning, turning the entire lake into a deathtrap, barely surviving with even more scars seared into his flesh. The light and sound, however, attracted attention from some passersby, who offered him the first kindness he’d had the entire year, and saved his life.

Louis never did find out what happened to his parents, but given who was holding them, he's long since assumed they died. He became depressed over the loss of his parents and siblings, along with his loss of ability to do anything under his own power. He spent an entire year just trying to teach and train himself to walk again, and fighting seemed to be something he'd never again be capable of. Then, he swore something to himself that gave him the drive he needed. He swore he'd never again let someone else suffer as he had, to do whatever it took to protect others.

Louis used what little power and influence his could to ensure the family that saved him would be taken care of. House Evermoore, for all intents and purposes, had ceased to be. What few loyal servants of his house remained did what they could, managing to quietly commission a set of magical armor for the young lord and grant him the ability to move as he once did. Horribly mutilated and having seen the worst humanity could offer, he left, attempting to find a new direction in his life, now that he had a reason to hold on. Then, he met the Venators.

Taken in by their lofty ideals and kind hearts, and disconnected from what few allies he had left, he followed them for a while under the guise of mercenary work, providing protection with his sword arm for meagre pay, room, and board. Still, despite everything, he wanted to help people. He spent the next several years honing his abilities, relearning how to move and fight as he was, and helping people alongside the Venators as they helped show him that he need not give up hope. While he struggled to find meaning for his own life, now that everything he had was stripped away, he sees his only purpose being to aid and protect others, as any lord should to their people.

While physically ruined outside the armor, his armor boosts his strength in addition to aiding in his movement, making him capable of feats of strength that normally might not be possible for a huma.

Trained Warrior

Louis is a trained and rather skilled swordsman, and while he won't be going toe to toe with the Adjudicators anytime soon, he's defiantly not bad either. With formal combat training from a relatively young age, he's able to hold his own while keeping a sword in his hand.

Former Lordling

Louis is a capable bureaucrat who's had to develop the eye for detail and bookkeeping abilities in order to fulfil his role. He was also required to study politics and the major figures of both the nation and world, leaving him rather well-educated as to who the big players are, so to speak.

Never Back Down

He swore to himself to never leave people behind again, an oath he takes extremely seriously. Louis will gladly be the last man out in any situation, and will refuse to cut and run before impossible odds.

Skilled Cook

While his is unable to enjoy his skill himself, he is a talented and trained cook that can make a good meal out of just about anything edible, with enough preparation. Foods he is unfamiliar with may require the help of someone else, however, as per what he sacrificed in his compromise.

Magical Abilities

With his compromise, Louis was granted the wild might of lightning at his fingertips.

Furious Bolt - Louis throws a bolt of lighting like one would a javelin.

Might of the Divine - Louis channels lightning into his sword, causing it to glow blue and crackle with electricity. While doing so, naturally, his blade becomes even more dangerous.

Nature's Wrath - Louis summons bolts of lighting from the sky. As these bolts are not directly connected to him, he is capable of calling on far more magical power that normally possible due to the risk of injury to himself, making these bolts especially powerful. In exchange, these bolts require more time to prepare than any other attack in his arsenal.

Physically Ruined

Outside of his armor, Louis has been scarred in ways that make even just movement difficult. Should his armor ever be destroyed or somehow disabled, he would barely be able to walk under his own power, let alone fight.

The Ones Left Behind

Whenever he fails to save someone he believes he could have, he's reminded of his parents and siblings, and tends towards a depressive downward spiral. In addition, a fear of this happening and a genuine desire to do good will lead him to putting himself into extremely dangerous and even unwinnable situations in an attempt to save others.

Unfettered Rage

Having been on the receiving end of some of the world's worst, he swore to not allow others to suffer as he did. This led to him feeling an almost blinding rage upon seeing undue cruelty or injustice, that has more often than not gotten him into trouble.

Fear of the Flame

Louis suffers from pyrophobia, causing him to grow nervous even near something as simple as a campfire. More explicit reminders of his past, such as burning pain or flame-based attacks, might send him into full panic attacks at inopportune moments.

Half-Blind

Louis has completely lost all function out of his left eye, leaving him with a massive blind spot on his left side.

Zahra's family history can be traced back to the first great massacre the Eidola suffered under the hands of the Huma. Many Eidola chose to isolate themselves into the mountains, but Zahra's ancestors, doubting the Humas' greed wouldn't find a way to follow them there, chose a different path, taking refuge into the dangerous and conflict ridden lands of Verja. The first years were tough. Adapting to a completely different land and style of life wasn't easy for an Eidola. From the scorching heat to the lack of water, to brush was an almost daily occurrence for them. With time and thanks to the merchant caravans they worked for as helpers and sometimes scouts, they learned not only the tricks to navigate the scorching heat but how to navigate the land. From animals and creatures that could be hunted even in the scorching desert in an emergency and how accurately find oasis to replenish their supplies of water to even techniques to conserve as much water as possible when traveling, all this knowledge acquired via good connections and valuable, albeit passing, friends.

Years passed and through the generational knowledge left by her elders, Zahra has more than earned her place among the small community of Eidolas who made the harsh deserts their new home. With a reputation of one of the best guides of the region, she has earned the luxury of being selective with her contracts. Some of this is due to the connections her family built over the years with merchant caravans, who provide her with privileged information regarding safe routes, where bandits and raiders are least active. This relationship with the trading caravans also made it possible for both to plan their routes and specify a temporary 'checkpoint' of sorts, where the merchant caravans can sell their wares to the group Zahra is guiding and both of them can trade both resources and information. In the other hand, keeping neutrality regarding the ongoing conflict between the Aquus and Ceir clans allow her, much like most of the merchant caravans, to avoid the worst consequences of the civil war.

With that said, the bloodstained sands of Verja, while being considered by Zahra as her home, began feeling rather suffocating. With the civil war starting to become fiercer and the desert more dangerous, keeping neutrality has began to get increasingly harder, not only for Zahra, but even the merchant caravans. Her knowledge about the desert and the trade routes, shared with the merchant caravans began being considered as valuable knowledge... Both for each one of the clans, seeking to steal resources and hinder the other but also for the bandits and raiders, who also feel the relation between both clans getting more tenuous. In a short time, the Verja desert began feeling like a barrel of powder. Tense relations between both clans meaning a single spark was enough for an all-out war to break out and the silent, always present threat of the dormant Mount Atyunnata risking making the metaphor of a 'barrel of powder' more than just a metaphor.

With risks far beyond what Zahra could predict or prepare for, and a target slowly being painted on the back of anyone who refused to choose a side, leaving Verja became not a desire, but a necessity... even if only temporarily.

Zahra's fighting style is heavily based on agility and mobility. Her agility and speed, both in the air and the ground, allow her to excel in sudden attacks, ambushes or hit and run tactics. She also makes ample use of tactics such as using her wings to blow up sand or dust to either create openings for attack, disorient or even allow her to run or reposition. Her great stamina, thanks both to her light equipment and her physiology allow her to employ attrition tactics with great efficiency or at least makes it easier to run away if outnumbered or outmatched.

Natural Weapons

Being trained to use her claws, talons and sometimes even her beak in melee combat make her strikes unpredictable and quite dangerous against cloth or leather armor. While she can still aim to strike between the plates of an armor or use pure impact to try and deal damage, she has no means to 'pierce' any kind of heavy and metallic armor. Her kicks, even when not taking in consideration her talons, still are deceptively strong due to her long legs and can cause substantial blunt damage.

Thrown weapons

Besides being useful in a myriad of ways for survival, Zahra carries a number of throwing knives with her, hidden in many pockets and folds of her cloak and robes. While having nowhere near the range of a proper ranged weapon, their effective range is still enough to allow her to use them quite effectively at short to middle range.

Survivalist

While most of her knowledge about survival is specific to the arid and desert regions of Verja, Zahra still has enough knowledge to allow her to survive almost exclusively of the things the land can provide, given enough time to familiarize with the region. While graver wounds are still dangerous, her knowledge also allow her to quickly perform first-aid in order to treat minor to medium wounds and at least stabilize graver ones, allowing her to seek proper care.

Connections - Merchant caravans

Thanks to her and her family's close relation with the merchant caravans passing through Verja, they have come to respect and trust and respect her to quite some degree. Calling in a few favors or asking for assistance in times of need are much more likely when dealing with said caravans. Information and trust are the most valuable things a merchant can trade.

Sharp senses

Zahra's senses of hearing and vision are particularly keen. In the other hand, her sense of smell is relatively poor when compared to the other races.

Heat and cold resistance

Generations living in the Verjan deserts allowed Zahra and those of her lineage to physiologically adapt to live in such harsh environment, allowing her to more easily deal with both the scorching heat of the desert days and the freezing nights. She is also able to survive with reduced water intake when compared to normal Eidolas.

Agile Fighter

While her attacks, especially kicks, can have a surprising amount of strength behind them, Zahra's fighting style is still mainly based on speed and agility. She is not fit for direct contests of strength and if restrained, by any means, become quite vulnerable.

Code of honor

Nothing is forgotten. Favor or grievance, trust or betrayal.

Light traveler

Traveling light is more than just a preference. It is a necessity. Carrying more than necessary does more than just slow her down. It affects her traveling speed and even her fighting and flying.

Humid environment

Despite her resistance to cold and heat, Zahra is not suited to humid environments. A hot and humid environment can affect her stamina and movement as feathers retain humidity. Cold and wet environments risk hypothermia and freezing, despite her cold resistance.

Grace fails against steel

Zahra's inability to deal with heavy armor means that outside of relying on blunt damage with her kicks, she is not able to pierce heavy armor. Armored targets and especially shielded formations are especially dangerous and should not be engaged if there is a choice.

They tell a story in the Cascades of a young ylva woman, born to a noble house whose name changes with each telling. She was beautiful, as all ylva are, and foolish, as the young often are. She believed love could overcome anything: blood, tradition, even the Compromise itself. You can already see where this is going.

It started with a sob story. His, not hers.

An orphan, he said. His family stolen by people who still walked free, still breathed, still laughed while he had nothing. Her heart broke for him. She’d always been soft that way. Exactly the sort, some say, that a confidence man would prey on.

If the rumors are true, that’s what he was.

But she didn’t see him that way. She saw a man who made her laugh, who remembered the small things she said and asked questions no one else thought to ask. He made her feel like she mattered. Not her name, not her house. Just her. Whether he meant any of it, who can say. She introduced him to her friends, defended him when her family disapproved. They called him a huma with nothing to offer (they were right). She called him hers, and he was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Her family told her she was to be married. Another house. Another name. Another life.

She wept, and he held her, and when the tears stopped she knew what she wanted to do. If she couldn’t keep him, she would give him something.

She made the Compromise for him. Sacrificed her love so he could find his justice. It was already his, she thought. What did she need it for? Her marriage would never have what they had. This way, her love would stay with him forever. Maybe the gods would see how strong it was, and he would come back for her, return her heart. Maybe they would finally have their happy ending.

What she didn’t realize was that the Compromise would take all of it. Not just her love for him, but her capacity to love at all.

Some say he left the moment it was done, that he had what he wanted and saw no reason to stay. Others say he waited until morning. Slipped out with her jewelry. Does it matter?

The Compromise demands a sacrifice, but it has never cared whose. There have always been those who exploit that. He wasn’t the first. Won’t be the last.

So here’s your warning, for whatever it’s worth. If a stranger smiles at you too easy, remembers too much, makes you feel like you matter—walk away. If you find yourself wanting to help him, walk faster.

Don’t trust Locke.

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This character's strengths are currently unknown.
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This character's limitations are currently unknown.
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