[centre][i]Name: Nathimys Bayias [/i]
[i] Age: 19 [/i]
 [i]Appearance: [/i] (I did this one last. It was the hardest. u_u)
 Nathimys stands slightly taller the average height, and is under the average weight. He is a lean man, travelling many miles on foot just to get to the next inn, twice or three times a week sometimes- it shaves a lot of weight off of a man. He is almost always seen in a white cloak, generally unbuttoned with the hood down, with incomplete magic symbols sewn into it in several places. He wore simple black trousers, and a black leather vest over a white, cotton shirt. It was thin with ruffles at the end of the sleeves, and had wooden buttons from the middle of the shirt up. His face was worn from wind and weather, his joking, teal eyes occasionally straying away from the person he may be having a conversation with. He wore leather sandals, and even in the coldest season, is seen with the same sandals on.
	 
[i] Style/Levels: [/i] 
Healing/Support Magics: 5 Weaponry: 4 Strength: 3.
	[i]Current abilities: 
Support/Healing Magics - Level 1
	Etra One: 
Mending Flow.[/i] This Etra calls upon a vial of water Nathimys keeps in his jacket, using it as a way to channel magic into the wound without the risk of infection or damage from the outside world. The water creates a film over the wound's surface, allowing the immune system to clot blood at a much increased rate. This also works on minor injuries, rendering them healed back to normal. Cool down of several minutes.
	[i]Etra Two: 
Rejuvenation.[/i] Nathimys's magic heals not only the body and physical pains- but the spiritual and mental pains, as well. When this magic is used, the target feels refreshed, despite being tired before hand. However, after it wears off, the target is left twice as fatigued as they would have been. Cool down of fifteen minutes. 
	[i]Etra Three:
Purge[/i] Nathimys can stop medium-strength poisons altogether, and stop strong poisons from spreading around the body of the poisoned for up to thirty minutes, depending on the strength of the poison. Cooldown of thirty minutes. 
 [i]Etra Four:
Thorny Presence. [/i] Nathimys can lay a spell on an ally, causing anything to do physical damage to his target to take equal amounts of damage, if not less than.
 [i]Etra Five:
Panic![/i] Nathimys casts this on a nearby ally, making them move visibly faster if an attack has hit them, or is coming towards them.
[i] Weapons: [/i]
	
Nathimys is modest about his skill with weapons, commonly telling people he can hardly work his way around a knife. Truth to be told, he is experienced with his weapons- lacking proper training, but still showing potential and skill with them. None of his weapons are very visible at all times, except for the one bow he carries across his back, the quiver tucked neatly behind it. The quiver is filled with black-shafted arrows with white feathers, and steel tips meant for piercing it's way into any target present. The bow itself isn't all too amazing, being simply a dependable, sturdy bow whenever Nathimys needs it. Which is rather often, since trouble always seems to find a way to get to him. 
 
Nathimys's most used weapons are the two claws he has on either side of his waist, clipped onto a belt hand-made for carrying the two claws. these claws are completely different from each other, one being a glove with a handle just before the tips of the fingers, allowing them to curl easily around the smooth, steel bar. this is for extra grip when holding the claw specialized for stabbing. The blades are doubled-edged, flat, and extend from holes just above every knuckle in the leather. Each blade extends into a sharp point, the base of each blade connected to a sturdy steel bar which is connected to the finger bar, allowing for the claws to not simply slip out of the glove. This glove sits on top of a chainmail glove with cotton underneath, and underneath that a layer of thin cloth which is wrapped around the hand from the wrist. 
	
The other claw is a strange, foreign looking weapon. More foreign than the idea of claws being used for weapons. In this claw, Nathimys's arm lays sideways, gripping on to a leather-bound handle which connects to the top of the claw, which covers the top of the hand. (Think of the grip on a gun, except the arm holding it is sideways.) A metal blade extends from the left side of the claw, longer than the average dagger, slightly shorter than the average short sword. The top of this blade is serrated, the top sharpened to a razor-sharp point and side, the blade alone made for slicing and sawing. The outlandish blade only got more strange- the right side of the blade sporting four, wickedly curved blades. The blades were straight, curving at the end, almost into a circle. It was made for latching on to a target, so that the other hand could stab freely. The curved portion of these blades is roughly 270 degrees, the curls facing away from the hand. 

[i] Personality: [/i] "As far as I'm concerned, one does not have a skill as long as no one else recognizes it." Nathimys muttered to himself, beating back the part of his brain that was telling him to gloat about his recent successes to his client in front of him. "What was that?" His client asked, looking back at him. "Nothing. Let's keep moving. What do you need for service, again?" Nathimys asked, walking down the dirt road, jogging for a few steps to catch up to his client and then walking beside him. "My son is in great pain. I need you to help." He repeated for almost the fifth time, furrowing his brow. "Ah, yes, that's right..." Nathimys said, having forgotten already. "What are his symptoms?" Nathimys asked. "As I just said-" The client said through gritted teeth. "He has a fever, he has been throwing up almost twice every few hours, and his body is covered in rashes." He said, unlocking the door to his house with a key, gesturing Nathimys inside, and closing the door behind them. Instantly, the repugnant smell hit them like a hard blow, and Nathimys stumbled back a bit as he smelled it. It was truly awful. Nathimys followed the man up the stairs, where several lanterns were. On the bed was a boy, no more than his own age- who was violently scratching his body. "Stop that!" His father yelled, and the scratching ceased. Nathimys stepped forwards, not touching the victim. He had no need to see if it was contagious or not. "Don't worry, there's only a high chance of you dying." Nathimys said with a grin, which was hidden, as his back was to the father of the son. "How long has your son been like this?" Nathimys asked. "Weeks." The father responded. Just as he said this, the boy suddenly stopped moving, and his head drooped to the side. Deciding to take his chances, Nathimys checked the boy's pulse. Dead. "Right then, forget the payment- I'll be off." Nathimys said. "Oh- and burn the body. We don't need a plague spreading." He said heartlessly, closing the door to the house behind him before the man could object. Or take his money back. 

	Adventurous at times, Nathimys is able to make jokes out of any situation. And turn it into a positive light- at least for him. He is overly modest, and is a wild card at times, getting a bloodlust when in battle, almost losing his sanity as he violently rips through anything in his path, regardless of personal harm. However, when having not been in a battle for many days, he calms down, and becomes an entirely different person. He sounds wiser, and is more easy to give your trust to, taking on a kinder persona. Of course, would you want yourself to trust him?

[i] History: [/i] Nathimys only knew one thing about his father, living under a lie to this very day. As his mother had always told him- "Your father was a great man." His mother had died at an early age, sharing with him many of the medicinal discoveries she had made during her lifetime. He willed himself to study the books religiously, day in and day out. He created medicinal cures for common colds and diseases, selling them, barely scraping by on the money he could make. He made a few advances in medicine, soon studying healing magic. He continued to save money, buying weapons to protect himself as he became the age to travel. He travelled from town to town, looking at exotic diseases and trying to cure them. He succeeded in some cases, but in most of them, the patient died- just like his mother. Whenever he failed, the memory would resurface, and he occasionally drank his sorrows away. He continued travelling for the exotic diseases, knowing that, despite the pain he had been through, and the irony of his mother's death, he would recognize the disease when he saw it, and would create a cure for it, no matter what. Even if there was no one left to receive it, he would hold it as a great achievement- a great personal goal.

[i] Why are you on this journey?: To travel and see the world, just for the slight chance he may find someone inflicted with the disease his mother had contracted and make a cure for them. [/i] 
[hider=Relationsheeps.]

Celosia: "Celosia just seems to be.. Brilliant. Always giving off her own personal glow- like a lantern. I like lanterns. It's also nice to have another healer around, but hey, lanterns. Ailikit."
Sin: "Why so serious? He seems so.. Detached, from the world. He trusts no one.. Much like my claws. They do not trust you. They just want hugs, yess."
Zico: "I can often hear the sarcasm dripping from his words, like a vile poison. His composure during any situation is nice, however. I can't say I like people who fall apart in problematic situations."
Tyrell: "This.. Manpersonthingisitawomandecidedlymalethingummywhat has decidedly sticky fingers.. I'll have to watch my claws more, around this crowd."
Joscelin: "She seems quite obsessed with justice. Why would anyone need justice for themselves, anyways? It's not as if life is fair."
Freya: "The looter of many bodies, I can respect this, yess. That mask is very intruiging, yess..."
Jythrel: "This mountain of a man, to say the least, is decidedly who I wouldn't trust with my lunch. Just look at that bag! He shoves frikin' decaying arms in there!"
Leon: "This person.. Very friendly. Always reaching out for friends. Like my claws! They simply want a hug, that's all. They reach out towards you for hugs, yess."
Mayaquen: "He seems interesting...ish. He definitely isn't the one I want to be starting a conversation. Much like my claws, yess. They don't start many conversations."
Jitters: "What even is.. How? What?! This is what happens when you don't burn the body..."
Ava: "Well, I hate you too, quite frankly. You're a furry ball of hate, now, aren't you?" 
[/hider]
[i] Miscellaneous: Nathimys is fond of mushrooms, and can be seen talking to them frequently. Always wears sandals. [/i] [/centre]