Hawlin — Roleplayer Guild

"Like pariahs...eh, pale-born?" Ahnciel grumbled, their voice coming slightly muffled from behind their mask. With crossed arms under their cloak and crossed legs propped up on the barding of the Yunik, he leaned back against Azark at the reigns. Frankly, the Aylv would have stuck a knife in his gut and made off with his supplies if they hadn't been confiscated. Likely bundled up in one of the packs on their injured mount, even getting to it would prove to be troublesome since he was convinced the leash he was on wasn't long enough to reach the ground. Hesitant to incur his keeper's wrath from an attempt to escape, possible strangulation was a less than ideal result of failure...but remaining essentially a prisoner wasn't much better, in his opinion.
 
It certainly didn't help how Ahnciel could occasionally catch a few looks out of the corner of his eye, especially from children who, against better instruction, often stared. It must have been like a mythical creature out of a fairy tale come to life...though probably not one many would hope to ever see. Ahnci turned his head to meet the eyes of one, ears in the pockets in the hood of the cloak stood up as he slowly reached to flip the bloodshot-lens into place. 'Getting a closer look', the child gasped before looking forward, getting the message.
Though it may have been good for morale to see the creature collared like an animal, it didn't detract much from his mere presence - a constant reminder of the horrors this desert had to offer.
 
"Iz say, keeper. Haf you ever tried veal?" Ahnciel darkly mused in his strange accent and manner of speech, still watching the child as a mitten'd ear flicked. Although he was merely talking as to break the silence, it likely wasn't a good idea for the Aylv to get bored...lest his mind wander. A hissing chuckle slipped through the mangled grin of the mask before he muttered, "I haf..."
The child couldn't help but try to sneak another glance, swiftly turning away as they noticed Ahnci's continued stare in an effort specifically to make them uneasy. "It stares at me..." he growled, ears folding back as he uncrossed his arms and legs to lean forward in the saddle which he held the edge of while tilting his head. Keenly interested for no exact reason other than for the sport of spooking kids, the depth of his twisted morals showed as he turned to look back at Azak.
"Loose me, if you vill? I vahnt its eyes~" Ahnci chirped, thumbing the magnified lens back up. "give zeh parasites someszink to look at, it vould..." he continued with a small laugh as he looked back, mostly joking as he imagined there was no way his keeper would let him mutilate children on a whim.

Wrought with boredom, Ahnci, at the very least still had his spite and a slurry of memories. He would probably be catching scorpions or lazing about in the family yurt trimming his antlers. Anything sounded better than riding the poor limping beast in tow with his sworn enemy. It was all ridiculous and demeaning.

Name: Ahnciel R. Nyvaal (Heir Black of 'No Sky to Dark')
The Chimeric Aylvs

Back before the sands, a small group of humanoid chimera were made through ritualistic druidic alchemy. The point was to combine otherwise docile animals with humans as to create essentially small dolled-up humans which would serve as servants to nobles rich enough to pay for the components. It began as a means to find a loophole in the ban on slavery which had become popular, since it wasn't illegal to own a 'construct' (an entity created through artificial means).

These creatures were usually something like rabbits, deer, cats and dogs to give them alluring features while still remaining human enough for the tastes of those who sought to own them. They often stand between 4-5ft tall and usually sport features like rabbit ears/tails, antlers, cat eyes and fangs though bits of dog can sometimes be found in their ranks. Time passed and the sands occurred.
By their design, these 'aylvs' (also known as Sand-Rats, Jackals or 'The Lost Boys') had resilience to abuse which went so far as a tolerance to starvation and dehydration, making them suitable to the changing conditions.

These days, the aylvs form a type of bandit monarchy in the sands and are...begrudging...of their previous lot in life. They have a passionate dislike for most other humanoid races (especially humans), though they compose themselves almost like aristocrats from their origin of having etiquette beaten into them. However, the times had changed since then, and many who know of the 'aylves' hear of them mostly through stories of their ruthlessness and cannibalism. Regally as they carry themselves, they're not above taking a bite out of those who once took a bit out of them...so to speak.

"They'll kill you, sew your skin into clothing and eat your flesh...and if you're very very lucky, they'll do it in that order"

In all honesty, Aylvs are mostly fickle and territorial. They mostly prefer to be left alone, though this is aggressively stated by the 'scarecrows' left to denote their hunting ground; poles stuck in the ground from which flayed human skin flaps in the wind as a haunting omen. Likely, even seeing these markers means you're already deep in Jackal lands.

Age: 37  (appears 15-18ish)

Boyish and fairly androgynous, Ahnciel stands at 4'6 with a slim, lithe physique. Dark tan complexion. Poking out from under wavy black hair are three-point antlers that that are probably due to be trimmed. Pointed rabbit ears and tail matching their hair save for white areas making up inner ear fuzz and under-tale fluff. Chocolate brown eyes with slit, cat-like pupils. Sharp k9 fangs.

Usually clad in a large section of what was either a tent or a section of the hood of a wagon which he repurposed as a cloak, sun-bleached beige-white. The hood of this cloak is modified with sections for Ahnciel's ears to be covered while standing up and even buttoned slits for their antlers to poke through while holding the hood in place. For the sake of desert winds, his face is covered by goggles mounted to a dust mask. The mask has a design of a jagged grin over the mouth, intimidating details depict broken, decaying teeth and large savage fangs. The goggles have a third lens which flips down over the left eye, adding a level of magnification for long-shots while giving the side of the goggle the look of a bloodshot eye.
Truly, the intent was to come off as imposing as possible. 

Aylvic nobility that Ahnciel was, his left ear has three silver studs set wish a chain linking them. The stubs of antlers have polished steel spikes capping them with vine-like designs etched around the base.
With mostly stolen clothing, Ahnci typically wears a white buttoned shirt with folded sleeves at the elbows covered by a faded plaid vest. Over this is a layered leather cuirass crafted surprisingly masterfully from elven hide, indistinguishable from common leather. Also adorned with a twice-looped black-gray-white plaid scarf. Its significance is unknown.
Wears fairly meager shorts as well as mid-thigh socks with garters running up the shorts legs. Wears Knee-high boots with the heels broken off.

Reason for joining the Outcasts: Due to a shift in management through uprising against Ahnci's father, he was driven out of his tribe with meager supplies in order to make it far enough to be found. Begrudgingly found new purpose with those who took him in, still true to his ways.

Marksmanship - Through occupation as an Aylvic hunter, Ahnciel is talented with crossbows and most other projectile weaponry. Ears to sense sound and wind currents, eyes to see in minimal light, a nose with the scent of blood on the mind, little gets past an Aylvic hunter in their element.

Keen - Understanding the anatomy of most humanoid's physiology through practiced butchering, picking out weaknesses and vital points comes with ease. A strike from Ahnciel is likely to be aimed for such points with efficient results. Alternatively, picking out projectiles or stitching wounds comes with the territory, allowing Ahnci to be fairly reliable at first aid...assuming he cares for the individual's life.

Nimble - Basic anatomy grants Ahnci that much of a dexterous edge, mostly in the way of dodging and jumping as long as the ground hes on is solid enough for his feet to dig in. The soles of his boots help to meet the difference, but only so much.

Survivalist - From knowing how to milk a cactus to hunting, prepping and cooking and even to building rudimentary sand-ovens, Ahnciel spent his life in the desert in a state some would call 'savage'. Those who could not provide for themselves were not worth keeping. Nobility hasn't been spared, and his eloquent proficiency in the culinary arts is certainly worth being noted...assuming he's willing to share.

Composed - As uncouth as Ahnci is at heart, he comes off as almost inappropriately polite and linguistic...if only to tell someone in as many words as possible how lovely their teeth would be as a necklace rather than flapping about saying things he doesn't care about. With this comes a strange proficiency with string instruments; a steady hand and sensitive hearing, from voices on the wind to a subtle ripple in a string, this bandit's taste for music is almost as discerning as their eye for loot.

Weak - 4.5ft tall, without an opportunity to 'ankle-bite', Ahnciel suffers in hand-to-hand combat with his basic understanding of swordplay ("Stick them with the pointy end") and lack of physical strength. This isn't to say he couldn't defend himself in close quarters, but that hes far better sticking to range. Considering physical stature, hes not going to be wrestling a box of cereal off the top shelf any time in his life without a stool to stand on.

Untrusting/Untrustworthy - Simply based on basic resemblances to Humans and elves, most other humanoid races are likely to meet Ahnci's ire. Because of his origins and disposition, Ahnciel is more likely to rob you than come back with extra provisions while on watch.

An array of small knives - Serrated, smooth blades, hooked, sharpeners and weighted. A small bandolier of sheathed knives contains the intimidating cooking armaments that many would mistake as torture devices. Arguably so, if you're on their receiving end, as Ahnci knows how to use each one of them with brutal efficiency.
Dinner will be lean...

Hex and Cross - Supposedly, 'Cross' is a crossbow with arms forged from the melted holy symbols of priests that wandered into Aylvic hunting grounds. It is a family heirloom which Ahnciel fled with. Vainly, he hopes it carries the strength of ancestors and the luck of their successful hunts. The stock is filed from ebony likely found by Aylvic Dwellers specifically for such purposes. Though it may be a simple crossbow, it is masterwork in its creation and one of a kind.
'Hex' is the short blade forged from the leftover material from making 'Cross'. Made from Silver alloy, it serves poorly against armor, though its ritualistic intent is apparent as its handle is fit with a sharpening block slid into the back for finely honing the serrated edges. Each cut comes out jagged like a swipe from a keen saw, certain to cause intense bleeding from an otherwise messy wound.

Game bag - Mostly intended for small game such as scorpions and lizards, side pouches hold flint&steel as well as a tapping kit and two canteens for water as well as a third which seems already filled (a messy mix of alcohol found on tresspassers. It smells of something between red wine and heavily spiced rum. The smell alone is enough to make the stomach churn, though its surprisingly sweet...if not blindingly strong)

Tent poles - The folded mess that Ahnciel calls a cloak is designed to be undone and propped up as a tent lavishly bigger than he needs as well as enough to fold under himself like a cocoon. Two bipod-telescoping poles are used to accomplish this and the tent can hold three small humanoids or a bit more than one standard-sized one...needless to say, Ahnci prefers to keep this luxury to himself.

Motto/Catchphrase: "Like sands in zee hourglass, zeez ah zeh days ouf our lives..."

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The Jaded

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