Vertigo

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

Oop, assumed it was my go after Shieldwing. Will edit and post at some point tonight then, gotta run rn!

Edit: Alpin is with us, right?

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

So thinking of a character whose childhood beliefs ended up shaping their view/logic of the world at an early age, and therefore granting them "magic", but haven't settled on specifics yet. Like someone who believed in their imaginary friends so much they stayed "real" via magic, or someone who was told they were a demonspawn or something as an insult and they believed in it so much they grew horns and got some related magic, someone who believed themselves invisible to others so they can turn invisible, or something with seeing ghosts etc. etc.

Would something like that work in general?

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Leifur Guðmundsson, the Gunbreaker

"I'm here to save you. Now move. Or die; the choice is yours."

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name:

Leifur Guðmundsson

Age:

Almost 100, but he's not counting. Appears around 30.

Gender:

Male

Race:

Viera

Origin:

Due to the nomadic nature of his people, Leifur isn't sure where exactly he was born, nor does he feel more at home in one place over another. He spent a sizeable portion of his life in Skael however, and would likely say he's from there if pressed.

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class:

Gunbreaker.

Weapon:

Eldgos, a long gunblade geared towards mid-range combat. It's capable of firing rounds as a rifle would, as well as cutting down enemies that manage to get too close. Not particularly sturdy, Leifur likes to keep his distance when able, only dipping into melee range for a moment, then triggering an explosion mid-slash to send himself backwards with the recoil.

Inventory:

➻ Potions [2] | Standard issue for any self-respecting Seed, ex or not. He used to have more, but a few were used recently to tend to injured civilians.

➻ Cockatrice claw [1] | A reward from the Garden for a past job well done, Leifur holds onto it for emergencies.

➻ Spare bullets | For Eldgos. Enough to last him a while; who knows when he's able to restock.

➻ Basic travel supplies | Contains rations, a tent, a waterskin, a sleeping bag, and so on. Though if it doesn't rain, he much prefers sleeping under the stars. Old habit.

➻ Assorted junk | Broken pieces of technology he's picked up along the way. He doesn't know what they do, or did when functional. He just likes to tinker with them.

Materia:

Speed plus | Needing to weave between melee and ranged combat requires speed, and though Leifur's long legs provide him with plenty, there's no such thing as going too fast. This materia helps him avoid attacks, be where he needs to, and catch enemies by surprise while at it.

Destruct | In lieu of - or in combination with - bullets, this materia allows Leifur to fire particularly heavy-hitting shots, or to imbue his slashes with destructive might. Particularly useful when faced with heavily armoured enemies, or those protected by barriers that regular shots have trouble piercing.

Limit Breaks:

The Hurrier I Go | Leifur moves fast enough to become a blur for a moment, quickly slashing a number of close by enemies, each hit triggering an explosion at point-blank range.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details:

Standing at 6'3'' without accounting for his ears, Leifur is tall even for a viera. Most of his height can be attributed to his long legs, and if one were to count the ears, they'd add another ten inches to his frame. The fur on his ears is short and rough, matching his hair in colour; jet black, though the latter also features red highlights. He typically wears his hair in a high ponytail to keep it from getting in his way.

Leifur is more muscular than many other viera men due to needing to survive on his own for so long, and can wield his weapon at ease even when in full armour. Granted, his armour isn't very heavy so as to not hinder his mobility or legwork.

He has often been told that his face isn't very expressive, and it is no exaggeration; you'd be hard pressed to try and read Leifur's mood from his face, which seems to be permanently stuck in a scowl. His voice is low, and he tends to mumble.

Personality:

Leifur is a man of few words, typically preferring to express himself through actions. A wise choice in most cases, as he tends to be blunt to a fault and often comes across as meaner than he intends to. Far be it from him to try and clear such misconceptions either. He knows well enough he'd just make matters worse, and it's hardly worth the trouble. He isn't that concerned with the opinions of others, anyhow.

Though it's difficult to believe, neither guilt, age nor years spent rigorously training and fighting have managed to rid Leifur of his natural curiosity. He will be the first one to scoff at any new piece of technology that's presented to him, but also the first one to listen in when such things are discussed, or to try and sneak a closer look when no one's looking. New things excite him, and to this day they drive him to wander. He's a surprisingly good listener even if everything about him might signal otherwise, and has an impressive memory - so be careful what secrets you might spill with Leifur as a witness. Not that he has anyone to tell them, mind.

To this day, Leifur feels guilt over the consequences of his reckless actions back home, but he's run too far and too long to turn around and check up on his tribe now, so tries to relieve his guilt in other ways instead. He's not the first one to jump into the fray to save another, but he is the one to do it if no one else seems willing, and he will accept no objections. He's not one to linger after his job has been done however. Leifur is a free spirit who feels no particular connection to any person or place, having joined the Garden more for the access to training and work than any sense of patriotism.

Biography:

Nothing of particular note happened during Leifur's first few decades of life - and that was precisely what started his downward spiral into vagabondry.

When young, he didn't think to mind the role assigned to him at birth. Like the rest of his tribe's men, he was content with following behind the women of their kin, only ever witnessing new lands once they'd already been deemed safe and hospitable for their stay. They were the second to face danger in the great unknown, the second to claim the spoils of unmarked territories, the second to everything. New discoveries only came in the form of tales told by the pioneers; the strongest and bravest of viera women, and that was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Leifur was always the curious sort, and as years dragged on, the lack of danger, excitement and discovery started to eat at him more and more each time news reached their half of the tribe - until, one day, the man could no longer bear it. Around twenty summers old, he was still young as a sprout by viera standards, and his recklessness was proof enough of that. With no real plan, he snuck away from his peers with the hopes of shadowing the women leading the expedition to new lands. He didn't manage to hide for long however, not from eyes and ears trained to spot hidden dangers. He was sent back to his peers with a scolding and told in no uncertain terms not to try such a thing again; his life could have been in danger, had the warriors shot before realizing who was tailing them.

But though Leifur had managed to see little of interest during his short stint as a wannabe scout, the exhilarating feeling he felt when sneaking about in forbidden territory stayed with him for a long while. So much so that he dreamt of doing it again, even if it was dangerous.

Then, one day, the tribe happened upon a sight that Leifur was told was common: a lone mystrel man, out and about fishing in a nearby river. He was no threat to the tribe nor the tribe to him, and so they let each other be for the most part. Leifur was fascinated by this strange new creature however, and the two soon ended up talking. Leifur was told that it was common for his kind to travel the world alone, and by the time the two parted ways as the tribe begun their trek anew, Leifur was smitten by the man's way of life. He wanted nothing more than to imitate it, but was told time and time again that viera were not meant to be alone.

Leifur left the tribe for the first time only a few months later. He didn't dare venture far, and he returned before sunrise, but the feeling of traversing a dark forest all alone, though scary at first, was enough to keep him awake for days on end. So he did it again. Each time he ventured further and further away, not towards the viera women who'd no doubt spot him, but towards the vast, expansive everything else. There were so many other directions to walk.

Then, one fateful night, he didn't return alone. He'd been followed. Worse, those that followed him meant his little tribe harm, and harm they inflicted indeed. To what extent, Leifur doesn't know. Like many others, he ran into the night and didn't look back. Ever since, he wandered the world alone, just as he'd wanted. It was more difficult than he'd ever imagined, but no less exciting. For the first time in his life, he felt free, if aimless and guilty for the way he'd earned such freedom.

Years later, jaded and penniless, Leifur ended up enrolling to the Garden. Backed by an instructor he'd saved during his travels and a made up backstory, there were nevertheless those suspicious of him and his intentions, and so tabs were kept on him at all times. He was trained in the ways of combat and espionage and became a sellsword, earning his coin by fighting whatever he was told to for years on end. He even took part in the war, even if he had no allegiances to either side. The things he saw - and did - there left him a changed man, however. Leifur always felt guilty for enjoying a freedom he got through a mistake that likely cost lives, and continuing to exist through the suffering of others felt altogether wrong. Not to mention the academy's attempts at limiting his freedom, always wanting to know where he was. So, once again, he left, becoming an independent bodyguard for hire instead.

Today, having long since graduated from the Garden, he only maintains a loose - and not always pleasant - connection to them. Every now and again he takes on a few particularly difficult missions for the good of the people, and for the past few years, most of them have had to do with keeping monsters at bay. Needless to say, he did not hesitate for long once he caught wind of Leonhart's plea, and neither did the Garden; they ushered him to travel to Edren posthaste.

Traits:

- Used to have overly sensitive ears, but due to being subjected to the noise of his gunblade for years on end, has learnt to tolerate loud sounds. High pitched ones still give him headaches, though.

- Is wary and distant (more so than usual) around other viera, but still addresses viera women politely out of habit. They're the only ones he extends this courtesy to.

- Should not be let near any sort of technology, as he has a habit of breaking whatever device he touches.

- Surprisingly fussy about his hair, and wishes he knew how to braid it - but is too embarrassed to learn, let alone have others see him do such a thing.

- Bad with money. Is probably in debt right now.

Relationships:

The Skógfæddur | Leifur's old tribe, whose whereabouts and status are unknown to him now. He likes to keep it that way; it means there's always a chance they managed to recuperate and prosper. The thought keeps the guilt at bay.

Tadej | A rival he met at the Garden, Tadej is a mystrel lacking both manners and caution, and the sole reason why Leifur's once undying respect for mystrel men has all but vanished. Their kind's freedom and bravery were wasted on this one, he reckons.

Isadora Sunsworn | Sollan weaponsmith responsible for Eldgos's maintenance, who treats the weapon as her baby. But then, that's what she does with just about any modern weapon. Leifur is exasperated by her boundless energy and annoyed by her insistence on the superiority of modern technology, but she's good at what she does, and he never leaves her workshop without learning at least something new.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Yup, planning to cover those topics in the backstory, just haven't gotten there yet.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Hey listen, I got a WIP for you.

Nadijah

( will try to find another pic later, I know that's fanart of Urbosa ): )

Name:

Nadijah of the Razordancers; second daughter of Farajah, the One-Eyed Watcher of the Sands. Or Nadi for short.

Race:

Gerudo

Gender:

Female

Appearance:

Nadijah is a striking sight to behold - literally, because she's liable to thrust a weapon your way before offering a hello. Dark skinned and built with lean muscle, she stands at an imposing 6 feet and then some, tall among her people, taller yet in the eyes of foreigners. As is expected of a proud Gerudo, Nadijah carries herself with the poise and pride befitting a warrior - most of the time, anyway. It doesn't take much to make her drop into a battle pose when startled, or down into a squat to pet whatever strange fluffy creature she comes across.

Nadijah's hair is a fiery red as is common for her kind, tied back in a messy ponytail. The deep bronze of her skin is contrasted by the green of her eyes; light, like saplings. Or so she's been told; saplings are a rare sight in the desert. She doesn't carry much in the way of clothes, her heritage ensuring that she needs little protection even in the hot summer sun of the desert. She does have a cloak on her person for when she needs to keep a lower profile or shield herself from the cold (or her understanding of cold, anyway - please don't let her ever see snow) but in general she finds armour and heavy clothing too restrictive. Anything that makes her movement less fluid must go. This does mean that the signs of battles past lay bare to the naked eye; burns from fire magic, cuts from claws and blades.

One would think that the many weapons she carries around would be more a hindrance than another layer of leather, but her priorities are rather set in stone. Her twin scimitars, bow, and dagger mean the world to her, and if she could have strapped her warhorse to her back to carry it around on her journey, she would have. No, really. She would have.

Personality:

Nadijah is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, duty-bound to protecting her land and people come what may. She's prideful and matriotic, and has been known to react badly to any perceived insult towards her country or kin. Xenophobic and mistrustful of 'outsiders' - particularly those of voe variety - she is difficult to approach and even more difficult to befriend. Not that you'd want to befriend her based on first impressions anyway; she's stubborn, hot-headed and lacks the common courtesy not to voice unpleasant opinions out loud in polite company.

With that said, she's well aware that it's one of her own who's responsible for the world's current, sorry state, and the guilt has dulled her sharp tongue somewhat. After all, when outside the valley, she indirectly represents her people, and should strive to contrast Ganondorf's actions. She's-- just not always successful at it. Impatience is her greatest sin, and she wasn't blessed with much forethought; if she wishes something to happen, it ought to happen now. Consequences be damned.

But though she's ridden with faults, she is no monster. Nadijah's bluntness ensures that you will get an honest opinion should you ask for it, and it also makes her a poor liar. She fiercely cares for her own, and is willing to risk life and limb for a cause she believes in. And though she holds no love for foreigners, she at least holds an immense amount of curiosity towards them, being both willing and eager to learn about them and theirs. True, this willingness stems from the thought that one should know their enemy to best fell them, but could eventually, perhaps, lead to grudging respect-- maybe even friend-acquaintanceship.

Of course, as often is the case with Nadijah, she takes this curiosity a tad too far. Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon of her, and neither is downright poking, prodding or snatching things that she wishes to examine closer. So keep your fancy gadgets and especially unique weapons far away from her. She will get aggressively giddy over the latter and pelt you with questions until her curiosity is sated. This also goes for critters of the grasslands. Many of them she's only seen in storybooks, so don't worry if she tries to precariously pet a wolf. It's the latter that's in danger.

Background:

Nadijah was born among her fellow Gerudo, and up until recently, they were all she knew. Her mother was a renowned warrior, her father a mere flicker of a presence within a society not meant for his kind. Come with the dusk, gone with the dawn, Nadi never asked for his name - and her mother never offered it.

As far as Nadijah can remember, her early years were spent in normalcy. She played with others her age, practiced swordplay with wooden blades, shot dulled arrows at immobile targets and learnt to sit atop a horse without fear of falling. It never occurred to her to wonder why such things were important for children to learn, or for adults to master. At least, until she was old enough to understand what "war" meant - and that the tensions leading up to it had been brewing for a while. Nadijah did not fight in it herself, all too young to be sent to the frontlines at least among the first few, but she did experience its horrors second-hand.

Farajah had always been the xenophobic sort, and the war did nothing to make her talk of outsiders more fondly. As such, Nadijah learnt to resent and mistrust people she'd never met, and to believe that nothing good came out of associating with them. They hated the Gerudo, and the Gerudo ought to hate them in turn. Notably, her mother was also an avid supported of Ganondorf, believing that with his lead, they would reign supreme and claim more hospitable lands for their children and children's children.

They did not. When the war came to an end a little over a decade ago, its terms were anything but favourable to the Gerudo. Seeing Ganondorf bend the knee to a king that confined the Gerudo within a valley bordering a dangerous, haunted desert, was too much for many Gerudo to bear, and their opinions on him seemed to split. Some were disappointed, furious, claiming they would've preferred to fight to the death rather than surrender, yet others claimed he was wise to save what he could of their kind, and that he had other plans to rise to power yet. Farajah, and by extension Nadijah, seemed to go back and forth between the two extremes. Angry at what happened, hopeful that it wasn't the end.

The end of the war did not mean the end of Nadijah's training. If anything, Farajah became even stricter, determined to make her a fine warrior the next time a war broke out - which she hoped, believed, was soon.

But when Ganondorf finally took over, as he'd promised, the Gerudo soon learnt exactly what they meant to the man. Even with him at the throne, their life had hardly improved - on the contrary, they now had even more monsters to worry about, with no more land or food at their disposal than before. But though it was the final straw to many, and they were quick to denounce Ganondorf, only few rose against him - with no success.

Of late, Nadijah's mother fell ill. Exhaustion and hunger did her in, and it was then Nadijah's own anger and frustration reached a fever pitch. She was done just twiddling her thumbs. Her whole life she'd done nothing but trained. It was time to actually put it all to use. If no one else did anything, she'd go and meet Ganondorf herself and demand from him the aid the Gerudo deserved. They were his people! Gerudo had no one else - surely he'd understand. And if not-- she'd make him understand.

With that, Nadijah left behind her desert home and set out into the world at large. Her intention was to head straight for the castle - but she quickly learnt that it was easier said than done, and the state of the world she saw shocked her. Was this truly the kind of a world their king wanted? But why? What good did it do to anyone.

Recently, she arrived to Kakariko village both to take a breather and to try a more indirect approach to the castle, navigating her way through the eastern mountain range. She did not expect to find others there.

Likes:

↑ Horseback riding, especially when combined with archery. Challenge her if you dare!
↑ Climbing; the higher the better.
↑ Food. Any food. Just. Food.
↑ Any small, cute, or fluffy animal, whether they return the sentiment or not.
↑ Weapons, especially unique or finely crafted ones will have her frothing at the mouth.

Dislikes:

↓ Waiting - for things, people, anything at all.
↓ Cold weather; she cannot deal.
↓ Losing, and will try to talk any loss into a win, or at the very least a draw.
↓ Politics, she doesn't get 'em.
↓ Swimming, because she can't, and will sink, and that's embarrassing.

Skill:

⚔ Gerudo Warrior | Fighting, fighting and-- hm, fighting? A one-trick pony as far as skills go, Nadijah excels at combat and little else - but when it comes to combat, she shines like the desert sun. She's adept at archery, both on horseback and off, and can wield two scimitars as if they were extensions of her own arms. She's extremely nimble for someone her size, displaying a fierce kind of grace when she dances with a blade or two in hand, and can pull out a hidden dagger faster than most eyes can follow. Like the rest of her tribe, she's also used to surviving in harsh weather conditions, and is thus quite hardy and difficult to wear down, both in combat and outside of it.

Strange Gospel: A Heavily Persona-Inspired Urban Fantasy RP

Open for one more by any chance?

Genshin Impact AU RP

So I keep imagining my character with some sort of a self-propelled board to get around the desert. I assume that might be doable, since there's already technology/vehicles to traverse the seas? Could be anemo-propelled if necessary too.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP) (2-3 Open Spots)

Started working on a sheet, but will wait until the OOC to finish.

Epyllion: Beyond Moonlight's Reach

^ Likewise, but ready to post when it's my turn. It's mostly Fellwing just trying to ask stuff again though :D

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Broody bunny man ahoy. Left what attacked his tribe vague, since I wasn't sure if monsters existed in smaller numbers before the Light vanished too. If they did, it was them - if not, probably bandits or someone mistaking them for enemy spies under a tense political situation or some such. I doubt he himself knows. Anyway, lmk if edits are needed!

Leifur, the Gunbreaker

"I'm here to save you. Now move. Or die; the choice is yours."

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name:

Leifur Guðmundsson

Age:

Almost 100, but he's not counting. Appears around 30.

Gender:

Male

Race:

Viera

Origin:

Due to the nomadic nature of his people, Leifur isn't sure where exactly he was born, nor does he feel more at home in one place over another. He spent a sizeable portion of his life in Skael however, and would likely say he's from there if pressed.

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class:

Gunbreaker.

Weapon:

Eldgos, a long gunblade geared towards mid-range combat. It's capable of firing rounds as a rifle would, as well as cutting down enemies that manage to get too close. Not particularly sturdy, Leifur likes to keep his distance when able, only dipping into melee range for a moment, then triggering an explosion mid-slash to send himself backwards with the recoil.

Inventory:

➻ Potions [2] | Standard issue for any self-respecting Seed, ex or not. He used to have more, but a few were used recently to tend to injured civilians.

➻ Cockatrice claw [1] | A reward from the Garden for a past job well done, Leifur holds onto it for emergencies.

➻ Spare bullets | For Eldgos. Enough to last him a while; who knows when he's able to restock.

➻ Basic travel supplies | Contains rations, a tent, a waterskin, a sleeping bag, and so on. Though if it doesn't rain, he much prefers sleeping under the stars. Old habit.

➻ Assorted junk | Broken pieces of technology he's picked up along the way. He doesn't know what they do, or did when functional. He just likes to tinker with them.

Materia:

Speed plus | Needing to weave between melee and ranged combat requires speed, and though Leifur's long legs provide him with plenty, there's no such thing as going too fast. This materia helps him avoid attacks, be where he needs to, and catch enemies by surprise while at it.

Destruct | In lieu of - or in combination with - bullets, this materia allows Leifur to fire particularly heavy-hitting shots, or to imbue his slashes with destructive might. Particularly useful when faced with heavily armoured enemies, or those protected by barriers that regular shots have trouble piercing.

Limit Breaks:

The Hurrier I Go | Leifur moves fast enough to become a blur for a moment, quickly slashing a number of close by enemies, each hit triggering an explosion at point-blank range.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details:

Standing at 6'3'' without accounting for his ears, Leifur is tall even for a viera. Most of his height can be attributed to his long legs, and if one were to count the ears, they'd add another ten inches to his frame. The fur on his ears is short and rough, matching his hair in colour; jet black, though the latter also features red highlights. He typically wears his hair in a high ponytail to keep it from getting in his way.

Leifur is more muscular than many other viera men due to needing to survive on his own for so long, and can wield his weapon at ease even when in full armour. Granted, his armour isn't very heavy so as to not hinder his mobility or legwork.

He has often been told that his face isn't very expressive, and it is no exaggeration; you'd be hard pressed to try and read Leifur's mood from his face, which seems to be permanently stuck in a scowl. His voice is low, and he tends to mumble.

Personality:

Leifur is a man of few words, typically preferring to express himself through actions. A wise choice in most cases, as he tends to be blunt to a fault and often comes across as meaner than he intends to. Far be it from him to try and clear such misconceptions either. He knows well enough he'd just make matters worse, and it's hardly worth the trouble. He isn't that concerned with the opinions of others, anyhow.

Though it's difficult to believe, neither guilt, age nor years spent rigorously training and fighting have managed to rid Leifur of his natural curiosity. He will be the first one to scoff at any new piece of technology that's presented to him, but also the first one to listen in when such things are discussed, or to try and sneak a closer look when no one's looking. New things excite him, and to this day they drive him to wander. He's a surprisingly good listener even if everything about him might signal otherwise, and has an impressive memory - so be careful what secrets you might spill with Leifur as a witness. Not that he has anyone to tell them, mind.

To this day, Leifur feels guilt over the consequences of his reckless actions back home, but he's run too far and too long to turn around and check up on his tribe now, so tries to relieve his guilt in other ways instead. He's not the first one to jump into the fray to save another, but he is the one to do it if no one else seems willing, and he will accept no objections. He's not one to linger after his job has been done however. Leifur is a free spirit who feels no particular connection to any person or place, having joined the Garden more for the access to training and work than any sense of patriotism.

Biography:

Nothing of particular note happened during Leifur's first few decades of life - and that was precisely what started his downward spiral into vagabondry.

When young, he didn't think to mind the role assigned to him at birth. Like the rest of his tribe's men, he was content with following behind the women of their kin, only ever witnessing new lands once they'd already been deemed safe and hospitable for their stay. They were the second to face danger in the great unknown, the second to claim the spoils of unmarked territories, the second to everything. New discoveries only came in the form of tales told by the pioneers; the strongest and bravest of viera women, and that was fine.

Until it wasn't.

Leifur was always the curious sort, and as years dragged on, the lack of danger, excitement and discovery started to eat at him more and more each time news reached their half of the tribe - until, one day, the man could no longer bear it. Around twenty summers old, he was still young as a sprout by viera standards, and his recklessness was proof enough of that. With no real plan, he snuck away from his peers with the hopes of shadowing the women leading the expedition to new lands. He didn't manage to hide for long however, not from eyes and ears trained to spot hidden dangers. He was sent back to his peers with a scolding and told in no uncertain terms not to try such a thing again; his life could have been in danger, had the warriors shot before realizing who was tailing them.

But though Leifur had managed to see little of interest during his short stint as a wannabe scout, the exhilarating feeling he felt when sneaking about in forbidden territory stayed with him for a long while. So much so that he dreamt of doing it again, even if it was dangerous.

Then, one day, the tribe happened upon a sight that Leifur was told was common: a lone mystrel man, out and about fishing in a nearby river. He was no threat to the tribe nor the tribe to him, and so they let each other be for the most part. Leifur was fascinated by this strange new creature however, and the two soon ended up talking. Leifur was told that it was common for his kind to travel the world alone, and by the time the two parted ways as the tribe begun their trek anew, Leifur was smitten by the man's way of life. He wanted nothing more than to imitate it, but was told time and time again that viera were not meant to be alone.

Leifur left the tribe for the first time only a few months later. He didn't dare venture far, and he returned before sunrise, but the feeling of traversing a dark forest all alone, though scary at first, was enough to keep him awake for days on end. So he did it again. Each time he ventured further and further away, not towards the viera women who'd no doubt spot him, but towards the vast, expansive everything else. There were so many other directions to walk.

Then, one fateful night, he didn't return alone. He'd been followed. Worse, those that followed him meant his little tribe harm, and harm they inflicted indeed. To what extent, Leifur doesn't know. Like many others, he ran into the night and didn't look back. Ever since, he wandered the world alone, just as he'd wanted. It was more difficult than he'd ever imagined, but no less exciting. For the first time in his life, he felt free, if aimless and guilty for the way he'd earned such freedom.

Years later, jaded and penniless, Leifur ended up enrolling to the Garden. Backed by an instructor he'd saved during his travels and a made up backstory, there were nevertheless those suspicious of him and his intentions, and so tabs were kept on him at all times. He was trained in the ways of combat and espionage and became a sellsword, earning his coin by fighting whatever he was told to for years on end. He even took part in the war, even if he had no allegiances to either side. The things he saw - and did - there left him a changed man, however. Leifur always felt guilty for enjoying a freedom he got through a mistake that likely cost lives, and continuing to exist through the suffering of others felt altogether wrong. Not to mention the academy's attempts at limiting his freedom, always wanting to know where he was. So, once again, he left, becoming an independent bodyguard for hire instead.

Today, having long since graduated from the Garden, he only maintains a loose - and not always pleasant - connection to them. Every now and again he takes on a few particularly difficult missions for the good of the people, and for the past few years, most of them have had to do with keeping monsters at bay. Needless to say, he did not hesitate for long once he caught wind of Leonhart's plea, and neither did the Garden; they ushered him to travel to Edren posthaste.

Traits:

- Used to have overly sensitive ears, but due to being subjected to the noise of his gunblade for years on end, has learnt to tolerate loud sounds. High pitched ones still give him headaches, though.

- Is wary and distant (more so than usual) around other viera, but still addresses viera women politely out of habit. They're the only ones he extends this courtesy to.

- Should not be let near any sort of technology, as he has a habit of breaking whatever device he touches.

- Surprisingly fussy about his hair, and wishes he knew how to braid it - but is too embarrassed to learn, let alone have others see him do such a thing.

- Bad with money. Is probably in debt right now.

Relationships:

The Skógfæddur | Leifur's old tribe, whose whereabouts and status are unknown to him now. He likes to keep it that way; it means there's always a chance they managed to recuperate and prosper. The thought keeps the guilt at bay.

Tadej | A rival he met at the Garden, Tadej is a mystrel lacking both manners and caution, and the sole reason why Leifur's once undying respect for mystrel men has all but vanished. Their kind's freedom and bravery were wasted on this one, he reckons.

Isadora Sunsworn | Sollan weaponsmith responsible for Eldgos's maintenance, who treats the weapon as her baby. But then, that's what she does with just about any modern weapon. Leifur is exasperated by her boundless energy and annoyed by her insistence on the superiority of modern technology, but she's good at what she does, and he never leaves her workshop without learning at least something new.