[CHAR] A Wild Hunt (a Witcher RP) - [High-Casual]

[Sini]

Still WIP

Appearance:


Name: Cregan of Yspaden
Age: 98 (35 equivalent)
Race: Witcher (mutated human)
Nationality: Adopted Skellige, originally from Kaedwen

Personality & Biography: As presumably the last of the Bear School witchers, Cregan is a loner by nature. One of the few boys from the mainland trained at the witcher school in Skellige, his sense of being on his own developed already in his early boyhood. This outlook was affirmed upon losing his one and only friend during the vigorous training regime that turned boys into professional monster-slayers. Only three in ten survive the Trial of Grasses, and Cregan’s friend was not one of those. The lesson to not become too attached to someone driven home most cruelly, caused the witcher to shore up walls around him.

On the trail Cregan elected to return to the mainland, travelling the throughout the Northern Kingdoms, and occasionally Nilfgaard. He has seen the interior of a troll cave or nekker den as often as a king’s palace or a queen’s garden. Like other witchers, he earned his keep by pursuing and slaying monsters of all kinds, lifting curses and solving magic-related mysteries. Though not actively seeking violence, Cregan has no issue with killing humans or other sentient races if they mean him harm. Scales or fur are not solely indicative of a monstrous nature after all.

Venturing to and fro in his capacity as monster hunter, Cregan met Liselotte Eksterveer, a southern sorceress. The two engaged in a turbulent relationship. Something burning that bright, burns the hand and cannot last. So too in this case, Cregan’s straying off the monogamous path after a particularly venomous row caused Liselotte to turn her ire to his roots: Skellige’s witcher school. The sorceress used what knowledge she had of the stronghold to lead the local populace in a pogrom against it, wielding her magic thus that it brought low its defences. When the smoke cleared, little but ruins were left of the Bear School. Small comfort it was that sifting through the ashes, Liselotte was unable to salvage the alchemic formulas and witcher secrets she was so keen on.

As the years went by and contempt for anything ‘non-human’ waxed, Cregan’s profession was increasingly seen as a dirty trade. Being treated as an outcast and a freak by the majority of his clients has nursed a grudge, and the more Creg sees of the world, the more cynical he becomes. His experience of nigh on a century make him a world-weary man, who when prompted expresses his disdain and scorn regarding those he considers ignorant, foolish and cruel.

Cregan is tired of being a walking solution in search of his next problem, tired of being a pariah, of being underpaid. Dijkstra’s offer was generous, and with the coin the spy-turned-crimelord promised him, Cregan is hoping to retire from the itinerant witcher lifestyle and start his own brewery.

Flaws/Weakness: Fond of the drink (bitter as a Kaedweni Stout), hates sorcerers and sorceresses and their meddling, only mastered the Quen-sign and some basic use of Ignii and Axii. Other signs are practically never used due to the difficulty he has with casting them.

Strengths & Powers: Strong constitution, durable, good tracker, level-headed in a fight, relatively agile but relies more on his defensive skills and heavy armour than dodging, excellent swordsman (basically close combat heavy hitter).

Other:
Sense of his outfit/armour (on the right)

Themesong:

[agentmanatee]

Merrick

Appearance(including armor)

Name: Merrick

Age: 87

Race: Human

Nationality: Mag Turgan

Personality: Merrick is not the most together or stable person. A student of the cat school of Witchers known for its flexible morals and Psychotic students Merrick is no exception. He is cruel, strange, and willing to do most anything for gold and whatever else he wants. He is often extremely unpredictable, having violent mood swings and tendecies. Particularly he seems to have violent tendencies towards whores and ashen haired women. He can turn on a dime, going from jovial and amiable to a possessed maniac in seconds, making him often hard too work with, though he can mostly reign in his tendencies unless dealing with a whore or woman with ashen hair.

Flaws/Weaknesses: Unpredictable, Psychotic, does not hit with as much raw strength as other witchers, unprincipalled and prone to cruelty and antagonism

Strengths and Powers: Quick and agile agile, adept at finding and exploiting an opponents weaknesses, Witcher training(Cat Style focused on hitting Vital areas as well as combat agility over strength or durability), a good tracker as most witchers are Supernatural strength and speed, Well trained and talennted with Aard and Igni Witcher signs, knowledge of mutagenic potions

Bio: Merrick was born in Mag Turga to an extremely poor family. His father was a minor cut throat, and his mother was a whore. Neither parent was certain if Merrick was his fathers son or one of the many customers who his mother serviced. His father hardly seemed to care and was cruel to both of them regardless, leading Merrick to have a strong dislike for not inly his father, but fathers in general who were cowardly enough to beat and abuse their own family. Merrick was a lightfingered young lad, and at the behest of his mother picked the pockets of the many patrons of the broothel in which she worked, earning a very small amount of etra money which Merrick hid from his father. It was not long after Merrick was born that he had a sister, a mere 3 years younger than he was. As they grew, Merrick grew fed up with their father, and one night, while he abused Merricks mother, the boy took the coin he had been saving and his sister and ran. They were aimless for a year or so, Merrick stealing whatever they needed, be it food and water or coin for clothing. At one point, he stole from the wrong person... a Witcher. Merrick marveled at the amount of coin he had managed to steal, but the young boy was tracked down by his victim. The Witcher very nearly killed the boy who even as he fought back was hopeless, far to young and weak to even have a hope of wounding the Witcher, who had to admire the young boy for how hard he tried to desperately fight the Witcher.

As Merrick sat bleeding, possibly near death, the Witcher offered him and his sister a choice. Come with him to the Witcher school of the Cat, or die here to his blade. Merrick and his sister understandably chose the former and accompanied the Witcher to the School. Throughout the training Merrick persevered, believing being a talented Witcher woould mean plenty of coin and the school provided free food and shelter. Then, he began the more supernatural Witcher enhancements by starting the trial of grasses. During this time, his sister had become a whore in the nearby town for her own coin, unwilling or unable to become a Witcher. Until now Merrick had visited her to ensure her safety and happiness, despite refusing to simply wait for the completion of his training to make them coin rather than becoming a whore. During the trial of the grasses, as was not uncommon amongst those in the cat schooll, something about thee process... changed Merrick. His protective instincts revolving around his sister chaged into an infatuation and obsession with the ashen haired girl, and after his trials were complete and he was a true Witcher he went to the whorehouse to see his sister for a new purpose. He found her gone, and flew into an insensate rage, cutting up three whores in the process. In order to ensure the owner held no ill will Merrick payed him and moved on to his new life as a Witcher, always hunting for his sister.

For many decades he was a wandering Witcher, slaying beast for coin only at first, but as many of the Cat school had done before him he began to take contracts on men as well. It was in this way an associate of Dijsktra contacted Merrick, hiring him for both a monster and a human contract, both of which were fulfilled. For his skill as a Witcher, his moral flexibility and willingness to do most anything for coin he was given a new offer by Dijsktra, to investigate the Wild hunt and do whatever needst be done... perhaps this will be the contract to lead him to his sister.

Other: Hs both Witcher swords, steel and silver, in the form of the farthest two blades to the right(Closer to the left is steel, furthest blade is his silver)

Far two right Blade(Steel, then silver)

Themesong: Dance with the Devil, by breaking Benjamin

[Eisenhorn]

Ingar

Appearance:

Name: Ingar Tuirseach of Skellige
Age: 37
Race: Human
Nationality: Formerly Skellige, banished unjustly

Personality:
Ingar of Clan Tuirseach tries to be a decent person when possible, which fate has given him little chance to be. He prefers the quiet solitude of a library or reliquary, delving into the past exploits of both heroes and legends, and the unsung men, women, even supernatural beings that shaped the world of today. Eager to share his findings and theories of both the past and present, he sometimes comes across as a bit excitable when it comes to such scholastic pursuits, and his sometimes unusual or unpopular theories might create friction between others and himself. Outside of such places of learning and knowledge, Ingar generally remains quiet, near the back of any group he might find himself with and reading or even writing in his journals, whichever is more feasible given the mode of transportation being used. He seems almost cowardly, shirking at the idea of fighting anything, seemingly unwillingly dragged into whatever trouble their might be, usually at the appeal of exploration overruling the sensibility of avoiding violence.

Ingar has a scathing hatred for Witchers, which he desperately tries to contain when in their presence, completely aware of the fact that they are not all the same but still wanting to submit to the ever so human concept of blaming the whole for the actions of the few. It is not for what they are that he hates them, but what their kind had done to him, a common misconception that most seem to get when they become aware of his feelings towards the aberrant humans. It takes considerable effort to not constantly remark, in negative light, towards such humans, loath as he is to call them as such, and it would not take much for him to lash out against them, using all his accumulated knowledge on them against them, as best as he could against such fearsome fighters. It would not take much to see his hatred of such beings, tempered and desperately reigned in by his otherwise quiet, even kind nature, a painful dichotomy for any party involved.

Ingar feels a natural rapport with outcasts, despite his clan birth, due to his banishment from the isles he had so fondly called home, and continues to do so. Perhaps because of this banishment, but the point stands he feels more comfortable talking and spending time with those outcast by the world, whether they be the sorcerer and sorceress kind that are burned at the stake, or the other sentient, but non human, races that band together to fight for their freedom. He often times spends his travels in their company over the company of other humans or, Gods forbid, Witchers, sharing stories of homes lost and better times, helping them with whatever he can, although this free aid often extends to other humans when they do not conflict with the well being of the other races that he often accompanies when possible, despite any peril to himself.

Flaws/Weakness:
Loathes fighting and combat, near pathological hatred of the Witchers and their ilk,

Strengths:
Near inhumanly quick and dexterous, well trained duelist (from his younger years prior to banishment) focused on ending a fight as fast as possible, incredibly knowledgeable in history, alchemy, medicine, and throwing knives (Learned on his travels for "sport")

Bio: Ingar was one of several sons born into the Clan Tuirseach, and while not in line for any noble station, did not have too harsh a childhood. Allowed to pursue his scholastic desires with little interference, other than his father's heavy insistence on his swordsmanship and dueling, since warrior or no, he would learn to defend himself at least. His early years were happy memories of his father's stern, yet fair, training, his mother spending time in the library with him, and the time with scholars and travelers visiting his father's humble, but fair, estate. His elder sons would march off to serve in the Clan's standing forces, leaving the youngest son to help his family at the estate, more equipped for the mental aspect of managing land then fighting a war. All this changed when their land was plagued by an Ulfhedin, servants and guards turning up dead after every full moon.

That was when a Witcher came to the town that hosted their estate, word of the beast spreading to his ears. He was, unbeknownst to Ingar or his family, a surviving graduate of the Cat School, and was there for other reasons, having taken a job to kill Ingar's father from a rival clan. He saw the chance to kill multiple birds with one stone, and collect quite the tidy sum in the process. He was hired on the spot, and not a moon later Ingar's mother vanished, a victim of the Ulfhedin. The Cat School Witcher was involved, the young man, barely an adult, was certain of it. Because he noticed one detail no one else had, or would listen to. He had arrived with a pair of iron shackles, and they were missing now. He explained it off as a lost item, something the mourning husband turned widow was quick to believe from the seemingly sympathetic Witcher. Ingar would find them planning and scheming like old friends, and he was forced to accompany the two out once the Witcher had found the den where the Ulfhedin had taken residence.

The Witcher claimed he needed the aid of them to hold off the lesser beasts it would summon while he fought the Ulfhedin itself. Ingar had been reading what books he could find on the mutant humans, and was convinced this was blatant lies, something his father, too lost in the honeyed words of the Cat School Witcher. But it was a fierce, long fight, the wolves almost overwhelming father and son as they put their training as soldiers to the test, something his father was proud to see had stuck in his son. The sound of the Ulfhedin finally dying was supposed to bring relief, and as Ingar's father turned the bag of gold over, hinting at him staying longer, the wounded, tired Witcher completed his other contract, lopping the head of Ingar's father off. Coupled with seeing the skeletal, half eaten remains of his mother, with a pair of all too familiar iron shackles still attached, during the fighting, pushed him over the edge and he threw himself in maddened combat against the Witcher.

At his prime, without having just come off fighting so deadly a foe as a Ulfhedin, he would have handily dispatched the devastated young adult. But, even a Witcher's wounds took some small amount of time to heal, and for her stamina to return. Coupled with the mad strength of adrenaline and grief, Ignar was able to lay low the, albeit badly injured and worn out, Cat School Witcher. He took his medallion, as a memento of what happened in that place, and was taken into custody shortly thereafter. Luckily, with only his word left, it was a hard case for the head of Clan Tuirseach to decide what to do with the orphaned boy. But, due to the publicity the event now had, and the obvious, scathing words from Ignar on the case, pressure from outside the Clan left no choice. He was banished, sent away from Skellige forever, only to return upon pain of death or circumstances dire enough to risk such a death. Ignar was devastated, alienated from all he knew, and forever banned from the land he loved. He fell into the company of, upon arriving on the shores of the mainland, exiled Elves that took pity on the mourning human after capturing him and hearing his tale.

Ignar's fascination, however juvenile it might have been, was oddly welcomed as he spoke fondly of his time spent learning and studying, hating the fighting his family so eagerly engaged in for glory and other such things. This step into the door, as it were, would blossom as they crossed with other bands, Ignar's name and face more known among the roving bands of Elves, his company eventually shifting to Dwarves and other races as well. A particularly roguish elf taught him knife throwing, claiming it was merely for sport, but wanting her friend to be able to protect himself from a distance. Ignar still keeps an eye out for her when crossing with bands of Elves, in the hopes of catching up like they do every time they meet. Ignar would not spend all his time in the company of non humans, though, and would spend quite some time working in cities and with humans, avoiding Witchers when word was they were about.

Ignar would seek out knowledge on their kind, though, learning more and more about everything that was known about them, when possible. Ignar would gather an impressive, for a non Witcher, amount of knowledge on their kind and how to best defeat one, hard as that was, and while he hoped it would never be needed, he was ashamed to admit part of him was eager to test that. His sheer knowledge and drive to find more would bring him to the attention of certain figures, one such being Dijkstra who sent his agents to recruit the banished Tuirseach man, far more wizened in his long years of study and survival after his banishment than the wide eyed young man being thrown to the world and its wolves, in some cases literally, and he agreed with little convincing needed. It was another chance to learn of the world, and something as legendarily unknown as the Wild Hunt, well, how could he turn that down, despite the danger?

Other:
Banishment from Skellige weighs heavily on his conscious most nights, keeps the Witcher Medallion of the Cat School Witcher he killed. Really, really does not like wolves and their kind.

Themesong: Die - RWBY Vol. 2

[Yennefer]

The sheet is very bare bones due to the fact that much about Liselotte is supposed to be unknown. She will shine during the RP, do not worry.

Liselotte

Appearance:
Name: Liselotte Eksterveer (nickname: Magpie)
Age: 96
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Race: Human (Mage)
Nationality: Nilfgaardian
Personality: Haughty, arrogant, though she can be humble when it’s time. Liselotte usually has her own goals and motives which she keeps to herself, though she will make whatever sacrifices necessary to achieve those goals, which makes her ruthless and efficient. She is jaded towards relationships after a sour one with a witcher years before, though she did achieve some of her ends regardless of that. With the jaded nature came her need to focus on other things, so she has become driven for power, and to take revenge upon those who have scorned her.
Flaws/Weakness: With her jaded nature she is rather untrusting, she also has a tendency to betray others, a lack of friends to watch her back. On top of that she is not the most physically intimidating relying on her magic for almost everything, so when not able to cast spells she is very vunerable and weak.
Strengths: Powerful magics, specifically in the areas of elements and youth, as well as Compression spells. She has a silver tongue able to manipulate others rather easily.
Powers: Mage powers, such as teleportation, youth spells, elemental spells.
Bio: Knowledge will be released throughout the RP.
Other:
Themesong:

[Inertia]

Areir

Name: Areir of Velen
(or Aderyngolau, roughly translating to Light Eagle)
Age: 73 (28~ equivalent)
Race: Witcher
Nationality: Nilfgaardian

Personality:
Areir, on first impressions, can be seen as droll, silent and withdrawn. Usually staying out of a conversation and instead silently listening, and observing the body language of the individuals who are conversing with him. This odd habitual behavior of his had led him to be observant to a degree. That is not to say Areir is asocial, he does converse with people as he finds it enjoyable, with many finding his raspy voice odd whenever he does so. Many would find a small smile strewn across his face, but if you observe long enough, you may find that it is sad and melancholic one. Majority of the time you would find Areir staring off into the distance, but would soon notice that he's actually not staring at anything, rather, solemnly recalling his past.

Despite being trained in school of griffin, he very much resembles the school of the wolf. He tends to try and help individuals when they need so. Usually in such a way that the individual would not recognize his help, and will only help a person if they are willing to help themselves as he doesn't like when people depend on others too much, rather than themselves. He also, like many witchers, have a distrust towards 'Witchers' who have traveled down the path of the school of Cat. He personally thinks they aren't really 'Witchers' anymore, referring to the school as a den of thieves and murderers.

Flaws/Weakness:
Areir is one of the more younger Witchers, being one of the few under the tutelage of George of Kagen, a renowned and legendary Witcher who was rumored to have slain a dragon with a broken silver weapon. He is not as experienced as the more venerated and seasoned witchers you find around as his training wasn't fully complete. Areir also has a tendency to help individuals even at the cost of his own health.

Strengths & Powers: As a patron of the school of Griffin, he has a solid grasp over majority of signs, having a notable expertise in Yrden, Igni and Aard while still having experience in using Axii and Aard. He also has the normal skillset and powers that Witchers have.

Bio:
Areir was born in Nilfgaard, but was quickly found to be travelling. His parents had died at the hands of war, prevalent in Nilfgaard. He never knew his parents figures, nor did he come to know them. All he knows was that he had to keep moving or perish. It was only through his own instinct and luck that he managed to survive from city to city, scrounging up the barest of food to keep himself going day after day. It was through trickery and stealing that he managed to survive, usually being chased out of the town or city. However this luck didn't last forever, Areir found himself collapsed onto the floor of a dirt road, being chased out by the townsfolk after being caught multiple times.

Was he going to die there, on an insignificant road, where no one would remember him? Well his desires really didn't matter as he didn't have any energy to even lift up a single finger. As even his eyelids began to close, a stream of water entered his mouth and a strong hand was holding his head up so he could drink a water. Areir weakly opened his eyes, to see a person with odd eyes- cat like almost, the pale yellow of the iris grasping at the pupils. It was a Witcher.

Areir has heard of Witchers before, but with most of it being hearsay about the cruelty and 'evil', greedy nature of them. However, this Witcher was actually letting him drink water and even had a slight look of worry about him. The Witcher had a griffin crested necklace, which at the time Areir didn't know to be the sign of the school of Griffin.

He was taken under the direct wing of George, who was now past his prime after slaying a dragon. He taught Areir directly for many decades and millenia. After the gruelling process that Witchers normally endure, George directly taught him signs, the combat style of the Griffin which was to be fleet footed and be able to handle different and many opponents at once without faltering. He also taught Areir to be kind, and helpful towards people in need, but only giving a helping hand so as to make them self dependent rather than relying on others.

Everything was peaceful and serene until that one night, during a night much like others.
Areir was awoken by screaming and clashing of steel, fire illuminating the darkened village. The village was under siege, by an unknown group at the time. Areir was caught unprepared and a man entered his room, weapon unsheathed and pointed directly at him. The man charged, Areir flinched and closed his eyes, only to find that he didn't die. George had come in and deflected the blow, stabbing the unknown man through the chest.

"Quickly Areir, you must escape, you are one of the few Witchers left under the school of Griffin, you must live!"
In a blur of weapons and shouting Areir once again found himself running through the forests, he stopped and looked back at the burning village, and for the first time tears welled down his cheeks. Memories of the people in the village came flooding in as the fire crackled against the silent and dark night. He turned around once more and ran away, his two weapons at his hand, and the knowledge of Griffin in his head.

A few more decades had passed, and Areir had self trained himself, visiting different schools and trying to incorporate their styles into his own personal combat style.

There was a rumor being whispered in hushed tones around him, something about the wild hunt. And an odd inidivudal by the name of Dijkstra, who somehow knew of his past offered him a deal. A deal that Areir didn't even think a single second for.

Other:

This is his armour set, minus the helmet.

He has a crest of a griffin on his left shoulderpad.
Keeps the necklace of his mentor, as it was given to him before his escape.

Theme song:
Hymn for the weekend.

[POOHEAD189]

Rausen Halovirg

Appearance:
Name: Rausen Halovirg
Age: 34
Race: Human
Nationality: Temarian
Personality: Raus is pragmatic and logical, seeing life as a game worth playing. Ever in thought, he is surprisingly quick to act with deed as well. Due to his past and the responsibility of his powers, he often finds himself being very untrusting and wary of others, though he'll attempt to look personable. Being charismatic makes for good contracts and more business opportunities after all. Oddly enough, Raus does have some decency. He won't murder or harm without proper cause, and tries to leave those who hire him satisfied (unless he feels particularly wronged).
Flaws/Weakness:

• Arrogance, such as not changing his name.
• Lack of intuition, preferring to think things through not using his gut. If he is presented with a problem that he cannot find a solution to, he stammers.
• A fair swordsman, enough to defend himself. But by no means a Witcher.
• Has a lack of endurance and stamina.

Strengths:

• Adept magician
• Intelligent
• Quick with his hands and blade. Fair swordsman
• Years of alchemic/magical knowledge in his mind
• Dashing looks

Powers: Magic, specifically adept at ice, lightning, teleportation, and conjuration spells. Knows Alzur's Shield and various others as well.
Bio: Born in Vizima by wealthy merchants, Raus was the first son of their household. Many things in his life happened quickly, even from the start. He found himself the leader of a small group of boyhood friends, before he nearly killed one with a flourish of his hand. His parents quickly discovered he had an untapped source of magical power. They sent him to the Library of Vizima to be trained in the arts by an accomplished sorcerer, a friend of a friend who owed his parents a favor. Raus grew up divided between duties at his home and his studies at the Library, until he came of age and hit puberty. He was taken to the sorcerer's tower to learn under him indefinitely. He was also taught basic swordplay and alchemy, learning to be truly intelligent was to taste many other forms of learning. During his later teen years, he would go into Vizima and beglamour women with his powers, wooing them into his bed, which led to him being discovered as a wielder of magic by the general populace. Rumors spread and he was punished for showing off his abilities too hastily. There were eventually talks between his master and the new King Foltest on Raus being one of his advisors, and as Raus studied in the tower, he wasn't told of his parents and siblings deaths at the hands of rival merchants. Learning of the news from a friend in town had him confront his master. There was a heated argument that night that ended in blood. Raus left the tower with knowledge he did not wish to keep...that his teacher was a survivor of the Thanedd coup, and had been attempting to assassinate Foltest and reinstate a magocracy in Temeria with the help of more than few sorceresses. If they were connected with the Lodge, Raus wasn't privvy to such information. This knowledge of the failed attempt on his life did little to save Foltest from a similar plot by Letho the Witcher and the Nilfgaardians. It was just as Temeria fell into chaos that Ruas went into hiding, selling his sword and magic for almost any service that required it. Dijkstra and him meeting not a year later seemed like the gods timing.
Other:

Hider

Hider

Wears leather armor over cloth. Has various bottles of alchemical potions and materials strapped to his belt, as well as a coin purse.
Themesong: 10 years - Wasteland

[CloseEnough]

Anath

Appearance:

Hider

Binds her chest, has a belt covered in pouches. Wears thick padded elk hide boots and a messenger boy hat. Stands in at 5,2 and her cloths are actually rather patchy and worn. Hair short and red, with hazel eyes.

Name:
Anath (birth name, Namina)
Age:
has no idea, but thinks shes in her 30s
Race:
elf
Nationality:
No idea
Personality:
Anath is someone who enjoys playing games. A need for knowledge she is quick to adapt to environment, and act on what would be the best for her personal interests. She's never been one to sugar coat things. She will call people out, so long as she knows she can make a quick escape. Breaking through locked doors, stealing jewels and exploring the cities are her pass times. Often climbing to the roof tops to enjoy her time alone, a book open on her lap, and a stick of charcoal bringing out her thoughts.

Though she is actually far more intelligent with mathematics and history. She never lets it on, instead to save her own skin she dresses herself as a young boy. Finding that there are many people who treat her better because of appearance alone. "Folk tend to take a boy more seriously than a woman when in this line of work."
She's not someone to loath or love someone based on race. If a witcher came through her doors offering help. She would take it, she knows she can't afford to turn down a hand that she can trust. She treats any lord or lady the same as she would a peasant, if your useful than your a friend. If not, than you won't even gain a second glance.

Flaws/Weakness:
She's hopeless in close range combat, her small stature has made her rely on speed and reflexes. But if her opponent grabbed her she is done for. Telling the truth often gets her into trouble, saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.
Sometimes, too trusting, giving help to the wrong person. Is not the best with team work ever since her brother was killed. Lashes out when cornered. Will usually run from battle. Seen as a cowered.

Strengths:
Quick/agile she is as sure footed on the city roof tops as she is in the streets. A good sneak, and a good thief. knowledgeable in history, mathematics, and basic alchemy, she always has a thirst for knowledge, is good with animals. Weapon of choice is a dagger and cross bow and is a semi good shot.

Powers:
Closest thing she can call a power, is that she is still alive.

bio

Anath was given to an orphanage as a baby. Growing up with the other children she had to learn how to be tough and make her own way. No one was going to just take in a kid, not in these times. So she learned, and learned quick. She saw the adults and how they were beaten by guards, she saw how the older kids would pick pocket the nobles so they could feed themselves. Watching is what gave her the ability to survive, watching and a lot of trial and error.

It was not a pleasant learning experience. She has been beaten, she has been humiliated, she was thrown into prison more times than she could count. But each failure gained a lesson, every time someone locked the door behind her she perfected her craft in opening it. Each time someone reached out to hit her she had to learn how to run away.
She was only around 12 when she found herself a partner. Kind of an older brother by the name of Sam who worked with a group of theives. He was kind, a smile offered when she had tried her hardest. But slacking off had caused her to sleep in the cold streets, he helped her. He taught her the social standings that she had not known, he shown her how to read, how to shoot, and basic combat even with her small size. But was the reading that she really stuck to, she would break into the library almost every night just so she could sneak a book, read a message, decode documents to see the standings or alliances waning or plots of assassinations. She knew she was learning things that could get her killed. But she just could not stop the thrill, she actually liked the idea that someone was out to get her. It made her feel important, it made it feel as though she were a threat, that someone out there was listening and fearing.

It did not take many more years for her feminine side to show. And she began to realize that she was getting away with more, but she was also loosing respect. Sam coming up with the idea to dress her as a boy, she changed her name from Namina, to Anath, never answering to her old name again. It became apparent that less people paid attention to a young boy, she seemed to have nothing to offer. And to many people, she didn't, only the thieves that Sam worked with would be given information, and every piece she gave, she earned a bit of coin, making her look out for even more dirt that could be useful to someone. She was learning quick, and she was reaching out to anyone that would pay her, so with her skill set she became an information brooker. Sneaking into people’s houses to find letters, eavesdropping on meetings, even stealing documents, writing them out and putting them back so that no one would even notice. She was gaining a name for herself as she got older, she was becoming well known as someone who had something on everyone and everything. Elves, humans, witchers, witches, nobles and beggars, she had something on them.

And that is what caused her to get on someone's bad side. Giving away information on trading illegal goods between guards for a hefty price. She was given the warning to never do so again by coming home to be greeted by Sam, gutted out and laying like a butcherd lamb on her floor. A letter explaining how the others were after her. She had no where to turn to, with Sam gone the thieves would not take her in, and if one group lost interest in her, they all would soon follow.

And thats, when Dijkstra came into her life. She still hated that look on his face, how he knew he had her. He offered her safety, her name under his protection so long as she worked for him as one of his spies. She didn't have a choice, it was ether do what she already dose, under his name, or be burned at the stake or hung from the tree. Reluctantly she agreed, only to find that she was paid more, she was given better equipment, better housing. Her brother was dead, and in turn she gained a new life. It was a price in which she wish she did not have to pay, but she didn’t play her cards right so she ran with it. Dijkstra and others in the Redanian Intelligence becoming the new group to know that she was really a woman. She began to live comfortably, she gave her work in on time, and so she was never left hungry. Life was good, and she was trusted, feared by her enimes and protected by her friends. Just how she liked it.

But that had only caused her to be given a job that she could not refuse. The wild hunt, the unknown of the unknown. She could never find any information worth while from any book she read. And whenever someone offered, they charged far too much for her to afford. Now she could get it herself, it would not be easy, she always worked solo. But why not? She was always up for a challenge, there are places to see, things to steal and information to be gathered. A new chapter to be opened that she can not wait for.

Other:
The crossbow she uses was her Brother Sam's
Has a pet rat that she never named.

Themesong: