[Hider=Ulfar]
Name/Aliases: Ulfar
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Age: 19
Appearance:
[img] http://oi57.tinypic.com/anj8u9.jpg [/img]
(The armor Ulfar wears is a lot lighter and less impressive than what is shown in the image)
 
Ulfar’s body is the product of years of pain and toil. He is a very large man, as not only does he tower over most, but he also has the physique of a warrior. His dark hair is usually messy, and his black eyes look as though they haven’t had enough sleep. Urfan’s skin is a tan colour now, since he has spent the past few years under the sun in Trayig’s Soul, where there was a lot of work for a mercenary in recent times. Most of his body is covered in scars, both large and small. All but the heaviest of them have healed to a point where they are hard to spot at a first glance. His face, for instance, has a few that are only visible from up close.

Personality:
There’s not much to Ulfar in terms of patience or wisdom. He’s not very diplomatic, and any intelligence he has goes as far as street knowledge. Never has he had any he could call a friend, though the blade on his back has been an unfaltering companion. The mercenary life hasn’t been kind to him, but neither has the other parts of his life. Ulfar has a close relationship with anger and fear, but what he holds with pain is something far beyond that.

Currently, life feels meaningless for the drifter. Falling in and out of mercenary groups, joining whichever battle needed the most men. This is the life he has lead, the days and months have blended in with the years. Ulfar wants some sort of purpose to his life, even though the only calling he has is of the sword...

History:
“Fuckin’ brat! Useless lil’ pest!”

And so his father would berate him as he lashed, again and again, with the buckle of his belt. The kid learned to endure his father’s bare hand; he had hardly made a sound whenever that had been the case. But the belt, especially on the buckle end, always hurt. This was the way things were. For as long as he could remember, his father would come home, drunk, and take his gambling anger out at him. About once a month, he would beat him until one of them fell asleep. It was usually the father.

There was no mother, and the old man never spoke about it. Sometimes the kid wondered if he was related to this man at all. Only one trait was common between them: both of them ended up growing into strong men. His father was a miner who threw his money away on gambling, beating his son the hardest when he lost a lot of money at the tables.

The kid didn’t have any friends, there was no one around that was his age. He and his father lived in a mining encampment on the side of a tall mountain. The altitude was so high that there was harsh snow for most of the year. Most miners only worked there for a year or two, made their money, and returned to their families. The kid and his father had been there for at least six years, and there was no other family. His father was hanged sometime after the kid’s seventh birthday. The old man had been caught cheating at cards one too many times.

There wasn’t anywhere for the kid to go to, and no one really wanted to take care of him. But that ended up being the least of his worries. Just a few days after his father was hanged, the encampment was attacked. The attackers were a group of opportunists who saw the mines as a way to set up a steady income. With them, they brought slaves, and turned the old habitants of the encampment into slaves as well. For the first time, the kid saw other children: some of the slaves brought by the attackers were around his age.

He was forced to work the mines, and he didn’t stay in the same division as his age group for long. Despite being younger, at the sheer age of nine the kid was able to do the same heavy lifting as many fourteen or fifteen year olds. He mined with them, slept in the same quarters as them, and routinely got into fights with them. Everyone knew he was younger. No one liked having a younger kid with the same strength as they did. If he won a fistfight (which was mostly the case), his reward would be twenty lashings from his overlord. These overlords often waited until the fight was over, and had a habit of “losing count” with their whips. Still, none of them could hold a candle to the kid’s old man. As far as he was concerned, life was actually better than it used to be. 

When he was ten, yet another group attacked the quarry. This group just wanted to take as much as they could and bail, rather than trying to set up a permanent base of operations. During the fight, the kid threw a rock at one of his old masters, saving a mercenary’s life. The soldier was glad, and kind of impressed with the kid. He took him in. It was better than becoming yet another child slave.

The soldier, although a little old, was one of the experienced and more respected men among the mercenary band. It was common for soldiers to get little kids to carry around their spare weapons and boss them around, but this man would often toss the kid a sword and spar with him. The old mercenary was just like his father, but he gave the kid a chance to defend himself, and he was wise in the way of fighting. Although lessons came at the price of blood, they were pure gold from a learning point. 

At the age of eleven, the kid watched his mentor get tackled to the ground during a battle. He was carrying a sword over to the old man, and he was almost too late. He used the sword to save the mercenary, and ended up killing his first man. The man yelled at the kid for hours after battle, telling him to be faster next time.

Three years after that, the old man was poisoned in his sleep by a prostitute who had her eye on his money. The kid avenged him swiftly, and left the band of mercenaries on the same night to avoid the confusion the following morning. He had already prepared for the time his mentor would pass. Mercenaries hardly lived as long as that.

The kid spent the rest of his time traveling as a freelancer, joining and leaving groups as he went. Mercenary clans were always open to new recruits, although it paid a lot more if one stuck with a single group. But he wasn’t in it for the money. Sticking with one group meant waiting around after a large battle. In that time, he could easily travel to another place where the fighting was heavy, and join another clan.

By the time he was 19, Ulfar and his blade became a real force to be reckoned with. He never became a legend, mostly because no one saw him enough times in battle to notice his talent. He had a habit of signing up, fighting, and walking off, and it kept him off of people’s attention.

Equipment:
-Large, two-handed greatsword. Pretty worn out, but it’s clear that it won’t break anytime soon.
-Typical mercenary armor.
-Three throwing knives.
-Small survival kit. Bandages, flint, water, ect.

Faction (If any): None

Marital Status: Single

Magic (Mundane or Arcane): None

Skills: 
-Talented with the Greatsword. He still develops and builds on his skill every day, and has the potential to one day achieve mastery.
-Decent with throwing knives.
-He can identify basic fighting techniques, giving him an edge over the average fighter in battle.
-Pain resistance. He can always feel it, but most of it rarely bothers him anymore. His body can take a serious beating.
-Large, intimidating guy. This sometimes attracts the wrong kind of attention.

[/Hider]

[Hider=Eila]
Name/Aliases: Eila, The (new) Blue Witch
Sex: Female
Race: Human
Age: 16
Appearance: 
[img]http://img2.ruliweb.daum.net/mypi/gup/62/288_1.jpg[/img]

Eila is of average height for a human female, although her black hair is long enough to reach her calves. Her eyes are pale blue, and the default state of her face makes it seem as if she is lost in thought, concentrating deeply on some subject. Because of this nature, she has a habit of staring coldly at others and even inanimate objects, although she doesn't realize it, or mean it.

Similar to this is her monotone voice. She often speaks with little emotion, and it takes a great amount of distress for her to raise her voice. This display of lifelessness is, yet again, something that she does not mean to do. Despite her outward appearance and sound, Eila feels just as much emotion as others. But she has a hard time conveying her feelings because of her lack of experience with human contact.

There are tattoos on each of her shoulders, and one on her back. The ones on her shoulders give her resistance to traditional magical attacks, while the large one on her back gives her protection from curses, hexes, and other forms of dark magic. These tattoos look similar to ritualistic circles drawn by mages and sorcerers. Eila's mistress, the Blue Witch, is the one who inked these tattoos with great care, as the slightest mistake could ruin their magical effects if not drawn properly.

Personality:
For her whole life, Eila has only known one person other than herself: Her mistress, the Blue Witch. This mysterious old woman had acted less as a mother to her, and more as a strict mentor. Having had no friends in childhood, and knowing only an elderly woman who made few attempts to connect to her emotionally, Eila was left in a peculiar state of mind as she grew up. What the young teen feels, she cannot show... for her body and spirit feel disconnected. She has had a childhood in which she was tested by her abilities alone, never congratulated, always scorned, especially so for showing anger, sadness, or pride.
 
She has been conditioned to keep her feelings down for so long that she can no longer show them, even when she tries to. Only fear escapes this shell of hers. 

But this is not who Eila wants to be. Despite her lifeless demeanor, she is alive on the inside, and feels pain for herself. She wants to be a good person, and she does want to excel in magic. But, above all else, she just wants someone who she can open up to.

History:
The Blue Witch is an enigma to the people of Barhem Village. She is said to be an old woman who helps lost travelers and merchants, and yet there are ill rumours of her abducting children. Both sides of these stories have some truth to them. The witch does, from time to time, help the lost wanderer find the road again, but she had, in fact, stolen an orphaned baby from Barhem Village. In truth, the witch was neither truly evil nor truly good. She did not take this baby for to perform rituals on her, or sacrifice her to demons, and she did not steal this baby to provide her a comfortable life, either. The road ahead of this baby girl was to be long and harsh, especially on the mind and soul. 

The Old Witch knew she was in her final stage of life. Even sorceresses could not evade death forever, although they could run away from it for longer than the regular human. The woman knew that she had, at most, 20 years to live. She felt the urge to leave something behind. It was her intention to pass on her art, so that it would survive in the hands of another.

This baby girl, whom she named Eila, was to be her protégé. The witch trained her very well, and the young girl had a promising future as a sorceress.

But the Blue Witch failed Eila in one aspect. The old woman herself was cold, calculating, and devoted to the magical arts with complete, unbreakable focus. This was the Blue Witch, and this was who she tried to shape Eila into. She did not succeed completely, much to her own frustration, but she did not fail, either. 

In one of her final months, the old woman had a vision of Eila setting out to journey towards The Great Plains. This was to be Eila's destiny, and the Blue Witch spent the final months of her life making preparations for her successor to step out into the world. The young girl had never been in combat before, so unlocking her full potential would take longer than the Blue Witch had to live. Instead, she devised another plan to keep Eila safe on her journey...

Equipment:
-The Blue Witch has left Eila some of her adventuring armor. This armor has been enchanted to weight as light as a feather while providing her protection. It was mainly designed to resist magic, but can absorb some physical impact (see image above).
-Comprehensive tome of traditional combat magic: Holds a vast array of useful spells, although Eila has memorized most of them.
-Blue Witch's Grimoire: Contains the secrets and wisdom of Eila's late mistress.
-Book of Herbalism and Alchemy: Self explanatory
-Herbalism and Alchemy kit.
-Blank scrolls and ink, chalk, candles, hourglass, and other ritualistic necessities.
-Other items, including a small cooking pot, flint, and some bandages.

Faction (If any): None.

Marital Status: Single.

Magic (Mundane or Arcane): Sorcery, Herbalism and Alchemy (Potions/Elixirs)

Skills:
-Offensive and defensive arsenal of spells. 
-Can create brews, potions and elixirs (really enjoys making tea)
-Able to identify most types of magic and monsters.
-Complete focus when out of combat. She can do tedious tasks for hours on end without getting bored, and she can undertake careful tasks without making the slightest error.
-Eats very little. Prefers to sleep for most of the day and is naturally more active during the night, but she has the discipline to adapt to more normal sleeping schedules.

Combat related flaws:
-Finds it very hard to concentrate during combat.
-Easily frightened into a catatonic state
-Fatally slow reaction time during combat.
[/hider]