Name: Cherise
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Nation/Allegiance: Tuscana, Lycian Empire
Appearance/Description:
(Basic approximation)
Cherise is everything you’d expect from a consummate mercenary and outlaw: lean, wiry, and practical. Her armor is scuffed and scratched, but otherwise solid, and her blade, while neither new nor particularly fancy or special, is wicked sharp. She is neither tall nor short, standing at perhaps five and a half feet tall, and bears herself with a mix of confident swagger and eerie alertness, something emphasized by her very grey, nearly white irises. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair is usually tied back for convenience’s sake.
She tends not to speak much around people she doesn’t know, for professional reasons, but around friends she’s actually quite jovial.
Bio/Backstory: Raised in the shadow of the Taliver Mountains, Cherise’s childhood was much like many other children in Tuscana in the years leading up to the war: cut short by bandits. Her family was one of three households burned to the ground during a raid when she was eleven years old. Cherise and her brother escaped, barely, but since he had only been six at the time, the smoke and burns had quickly taken him, too. Alone and crying, she wandered, barely aware of the world around her. However, her fortunes took a turn for the better.
A passing mercenary band, having heard of the bandit activity, happened upon her. Their leader, a Sacaen swordswoman, decided to take Cherise in and raise her as her own. The rigorous schedule of traveling with the band and working in their camp provided the girl with a distraction from the past, a strategy that would stick with her in the years to come.
To the mercenary commander’s dismay, Cherise showed little skill with the precision techniques and razor-sharp katti of the myrmidon. The control necessary simply wasn’t present in a Tuscanese strip of a girl barely past her twelfth summer. One day, during another futile day of training, the second-in-command interrupted the training, handing the girl a broad, heavy blade instead. After only a few minutes of acclimating to the weapon, it was clear that this was a much better fit.
After that day, Cherise started work for the mercenary outfit in earnest. They moved from Lycia, establishing a small base of operations just over the Bernese border. Clad in medium armor and hefting her sword, Cherise cut a bizarre figure with her young and lanky appearance. Still, as the years went on, and she grew more experienced, her skill made itself apparent.
Then came Day Zero. One of the sellswords, on a mission to Etruria, came riding into camp one day, battered and bloodied and nearly delirious. When he recovered, the news that Lycia, now not only an Empire, but one that had conquered Etruria, set the camp in an uproar. Some called for the band to join the growing resistance cells in Bern and the nearby mountains, while others simply wanted to run and go to ground, since Bern was likely the next target. After a week of argument and strife, the aging commander finally made his decision. They would neither strike openly against Lycia, nor run with their tails between their legs. Rather, they would act in the background, smuggling refugees, mages, and items of interest from Etruria, through the Taliver Mountains, and into Bern. It would be dangerous work, but less likely to get everyone killed.
Now, six months into the Lycian Occupation, Cherise is one of the most skilled guides along what her ‘family’ affectionately calls the “Imperial Highroad.” She and the rest of her sellsword band have bounties on their heads, some of which have been collected, but somehow this girl has managed to keep one step ahead of the Imperial Army. For now.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Nation/Allegiance: Tuscana, Lycian Empire
Appearance/Description:
(Basic approximation)
Cherise is everything you’d expect from a consummate mercenary and outlaw: lean, wiry, and practical. Her armor is scuffed and scratched, but otherwise solid, and her blade, while neither new nor particularly fancy or special, is wicked sharp. She is neither tall nor short, standing at perhaps five and a half feet tall, and bears herself with a mix of confident swagger and eerie alertness, something emphasized by her very grey, nearly white irises. Her shoulder-length jet-black hair is usually tied back for convenience’s sake.
She tends not to speak much around people she doesn’t know, for professional reasons, but around friends she’s actually quite jovial.
Bio/Backstory: Raised in the shadow of the Taliver Mountains, Cherise’s childhood was much like many other children in Tuscana in the years leading up to the war: cut short by bandits. Her family was one of three households burned to the ground during a raid when she was eleven years old. Cherise and her brother escaped, barely, but since he had only been six at the time, the smoke and burns had quickly taken him, too. Alone and crying, she wandered, barely aware of the world around her. However, her fortunes took a turn for the better.
A passing mercenary band, having heard of the bandit activity, happened upon her. Their leader, a Sacaen swordswoman, decided to take Cherise in and raise her as her own. The rigorous schedule of traveling with the band and working in their camp provided the girl with a distraction from the past, a strategy that would stick with her in the years to come.
To the mercenary commander’s dismay, Cherise showed little skill with the precision techniques and razor-sharp katti of the myrmidon. The control necessary simply wasn’t present in a Tuscanese strip of a girl barely past her twelfth summer. One day, during another futile day of training, the second-in-command interrupted the training, handing the girl a broad, heavy blade instead. After only a few minutes of acclimating to the weapon, it was clear that this was a much better fit.
After that day, Cherise started work for the mercenary outfit in earnest. They moved from Lycia, establishing a small base of operations just over the Bernese border. Clad in medium armor and hefting her sword, Cherise cut a bizarre figure with her young and lanky appearance. Still, as the years went on, and she grew more experienced, her skill made itself apparent.
Then came Day Zero. One of the sellswords, on a mission to Etruria, came riding into camp one day, battered and bloodied and nearly delirious. When he recovered, the news that Lycia, now not only an Empire, but one that had conquered Etruria, set the camp in an uproar. Some called for the band to join the growing resistance cells in Bern and the nearby mountains, while others simply wanted to run and go to ground, since Bern was likely the next target. After a week of argument and strife, the aging commander finally made his decision. They would neither strike openly against Lycia, nor run with their tails between their legs. Rather, they would act in the background, smuggling refugees, mages, and items of interest from Etruria, through the Taliver Mountains, and into Bern. It would be dangerous work, but less likely to get everyone killed.
Now, six months into the Lycian Occupation, Cherise is one of the most skilled guides along what her ‘family’ affectionately calls the “Imperial Highroad.” She and the rest of her sellsword band have bounties on their heads, some of which have been collected, but somehow this girl has managed to keep one step ahead of the Imperial Army. For now.