Country Affiliation: Wanderer
Race: Fanalis-Human
Tier: D
Specialization: Stealth
Age + Birthdate: 16, 16th Nov
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Personality: Ashtver prefers to be alone, as that's the only way he can get his own things done. When put in a group, he tends to rely on everyone else, and can't think for himself, and also hates having to rely on others. He prefers to be practical when learning, finding it easier to learn as he goes, although he does seem to find patterns and links while doing so. When making decisions in combat and other situations, he makes sure that he considers the best for the most part of population, while thinking about what he could waste to get things done. He initially made choices for himself, not thinking about others in the process, however he now takes into consideration the feelings and thoughts of others before making choices on his behalf, as well as group choices. However, this is usually only seen with people close to him, not random people. Ashtver tends to be honest most of the time, but when keeping a secret, he keeps the secret well hidden. When put in a situation where he needs to trust or not trust, he will usually end up trusting a person, unless their story is too far fetched. If he does end up having that trust broken, though, he makes sure they get what they deserve. He tries to make as good a first impression as possible. Along that line, Ashtver is what you would call a "Tragic Romantic". He likes to try and be romantic and get girls to like him, but ends up screwing up, one way or another. However the few he does manage to entice keep him in their sights for a long time. Due to his dislike of crowds, he prefers to work in small groups, if not alone. He values those close to him more than anything, including his own life. When a competition occurs, Ashtver is as serious as you could get. Whether it's practice or the real thing, he stays as serious as possible, and hates it when other's don't play by the rules. Sure, people would expect a delinquent like himself to play dirty, but he's as trustworthy as ever when it comes to playing clean. He's kind to many people, especially people he's just met, and is loyal to those he looks up to. However, he can never refrain from causing a bit of a hustle with random people, and usually ends up apologizing if he's caught. He has a natural sense of direction, too. You may not be able to throw him in a deep, dark river and get him to tell which way is up and down, but if the group gets lost you can trust him to find the way back, a helpful skill when it comes to being a Wanderer. However, his sense of trust and honesty would be the most likely cause of his demise.
Likes: Being alone: Ashtver has always had a dislike of crowds, and thus prefers to work alone. It also means he doesn't have to worry about other people. Reading: Being a Wanderer, Ashtver doesn't have many things to do apart from reading, which he uses to pass the time, or to help him in creating the master prank. Fighting: An adrenaline junkie, this one. Ashtver loves the thrill of battle, and will stop at nothing to get his heart rate up in a fight.
Causing trouble: Another favourite past-time of the young Wanderer. When he gets the chance, he likes to cause trouble with the citizens of nearby cities, and sometimes fellow Wanderers.
Dislikes: Crowds: Ever since a horrid event in his childhood, Ashtver has stayed away from crowds, and thus does not have any plans to join any alliances or cities.
Getting caught: When causing trouble, the last thing a delinquent wants is to get caught doing so, so this is a no-brainer for Ashtver.
Aspirations: Ashtver has always dreamed of becoming an assassin, preferably a hired one, ever since he was young, watching men fight and draw blood. The adrenaline was like a drug to him. When his sister was killed, however, it gave him more of a reason to become an assassin: to avenge his sister's death. When the time comes, however, and he's finally achieved his goal, he wants to look death in the eye as he's taken away.
Phobias/fears: Ever since his sister was murdered, he has always dreaded the thought of seeing someone close to him get injured or, for that matter, die. His dislike of crowds also can become a fear if the crowd grows larger and larger, impeding his breathing and increasing his heart rate. He fears letting people down when they have high hopes for him, again caused by his past. After failing to protect his sister, he has beat himself up over it, failing his parents after they left. He always tried his hardest to live up to peoples' expectations afterwards. Then again life made that easy, as peoples' expectations of him were low as it was.
Face-Claim: Original. Pic at top.
Hair Color: Reddish brown.
Eye Color: Sea blue.
Height: 169 cm.
Weight: 66.6 kg.
Appearance: Ashtver has wild but smooth brown hair that dips low towards his right eye. His skin is fair to pale. He's fairly well built, good enough for running and jumping. His legs are quite powerful, able to cross large gaps that some others may not. He is average in height, not too tall and not too short. His eyes are fairly squinted, due to working in the dark so often. He prefers to wear black attire, but will occasionally wear small parts of white to accent his black wear. You will usually find his clothing to be long and quite skin-concealing. He really can't tell the difference between formal and casual occasions, so wears whatever he sees fit, which works in his favor, being a Wanderer. Ashtver walks in a lazy but laid-back and care-free way. People see him as dark and sinister at times, but in actual fact he is happy and (usually) polite. He will usually be found wearing his black cloak and white scarf, believing it would help him be more stealthy. By the amount of times he got caught by citizens and other Wanderers while causing trouble slightly disproved that theory, but he still wears them anyway. Along his back he has a large scar, received when his home was attacked by rogues. His canines also seem to be slightly longer and sharper than normal, giving his teeth a slightly animalistic look.
Rukh Alignment: Black, although his dark intentions don't go too far.
Special Traits: None.
History: Ashtver was born two years before his younger sister by his Human father and Fanalis mother in the Kou Empire. These two children had a bond that could not be described nor broken, a bond that kept them together for years. However, one day their parents left to try and get into Imuchakk, and Ashtver was left in charge...
All that went on were crashes and the sound of splitting and burning wood as a group of rogues attacked the house, tearing the whole place apart. They surrounded Ashtver and his sister, daggers and clubs in hand. The attacked and attacked, amazingly missing the two children... until one went to slash at his sister. He dived in the way, and the sleek, silver dagger opened a deep wound in his back, red liquid pouring out profanely. He used his limp body as a shield, taking blows from clubs over and over, until one of the rogues grabbed Ashtver's sister, pulled her up and drove a dagger through her back, causing her body to go limp and her eyes to close. Terrified and petrified, Ashtver couldn't help but watch as the men dropped the limp body of his sister and walked away, leaving the house to burn down...
He had awoken under a different ceiling than usual, one of shimmering, golden straw, his bed soft and woolly. The thought of his poor sister had arrived in his head, and he frantically sat up to look for her, only to be driven down by pain and a gentle hand. He let his head down on the bed and looked up to see the face of a beautiful woman with golden hair, possibly in her mid-20s. She stroked his brown hair with her long, slender fingers. She introduced herself as Meggan, then began to go on about how she had noticed the fire in the house and rushed in to save him, grabbing both of the children. Apparently Ashtver's sister was currently in a coffin, ready to be buried. This caused tears to erupt from his eyes, which Meggan dried with her own black, long-sleeved tunic. When Ashtver had healed a little, he was tenderly helped out of bed to bury his sister beside Meggan's small hut. He was made at home, Meggan making his meals, sewing his torn clothes, as well as tending to his wounds. She began to feel like a mother - or more so an older sister - to Ashtver. Nearly a week later, when his wounds had almost fully healed and he was no longer in pain, Meggan brought him outside and taught him some basic combat maneuvers. Over time, he learned more and more combat, eventually learning to wield weaponry, and rather skilfully, too. Finally the time had come for him to leave, and he was sent away with a small whistle that would alert the nearby creatures and cause them to alert Meggan herself if he was ever in desperate need of her help.
Finally his adventure had started.
Role-Play Sample: The brown robed figure bolted across the stone pavings, their thin shoes kicking up the dust and a lush, red apple in hand. Their breath could be heard easily as the wind rushed past them, a large-bodied and furious shop-owner plodding along, not even half keeping up with the thief.
He shook his fist and ranted at the young delinquent, "Hey! Ratbag! Bring that apple back!" but his voice was lost in the wind. A smirk curled on the thief's face as they leaped upwards onto the canopy of a nearby store and used it as a trampoline to bounce onto the stone roof of a home. They continued to run, making sure to lose any followers, until they arrived on a high, large balcony. The thief slid off their hood to reveal the face of a young woman, her short hair gleaming white.
"Ah, the life of a delinquent is full of thrills and spills, don't you think, Reid?" she asked what seemed to be thin air before she pulled out a small, white mouse from her robe pocket, the creature squeaking happily in agreement. The girl took a piece of the apple off with her teeth, then offered it to the mouse whom she placed upon the stone balcony. Reid, seemingly famished, rushed to eat the generous amount of food he received.
"Jeez, the most we can have as food every day is an apple and a near-raw steak? We really are poor, my friend. But as long as I've got you by my side, I'm all good," she complained. She heard a couple of footsteps behind her, and she turned to face a man in a black trench coat with hair that stuck up, making him look somewhat like a wolf.
"Really, Sher? Stealing again? When will you learn to not go stealing stuff without me?" he playfully complained, and came over to the girl, now known as Sher. He sat down beside her and held his hand out for the apple. Not hesitating, Sher handed him the apple, which he took a bite out of.
"Funny seeing you up here, Amos," Sher joked, petting the little creature by her side.
"Well, you see," Amos began, a chunk of apple in his mouth, "I happened to get chased myself after stealing something slightly more valuable then this ripe apple you got. Nice choice by the way," he complimented her as he handed the apple back. He reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a small, brown ferret, to which Sher squeaked in delight.
"Where did you get that?!" Sher asked, interested, as she stroked the small, curious head of the ferret.
"It's a long story, Sher. Let's just say that one of the guards are a little... pissed, now," he informed her, forcing a giggle from the young girl. She took another bite out of the apple, before she felt a light tap on her shoulder. The two thieves turn around to see a massive guard looming above their small, slim figures.
"Oh, crap," they cursed in unison.
