she is nothing less than a valkyrie
she is nothing less than human

First, a rowdy young girl living on her mother's horse farm in Serendia, picking fights in town with the other children and begrudgingly helping train war horses. Then, a Valkyrie in Calpheon thanks to her father's connections in his homeland, rising to become a defense instructor lauded for her odd style of teaching. She was strict, albeit fair, and her efforts led to a (admittedly marginal) decline in Valkyrie death rates on missions. She taught students to fight dirty and not die needlessly with honor in mind.Then, an injury. She was found in the care of Booker Cain, a pirate captain in Epheria at the time, recovering from a particularly dangerous wound to her neck - she'd been attacked in an alleyway, he throat slit, but not enough to kill her. She returned home after that, pressured to retire from the Holy College and facing further stress after hearing of her mother's deteriorating health.She'd spend her mother's final months by her side at home in Serendia, and from then she'd begin wearing the mask she's come to be known by. She spent months mourning, picking fights with her peers like she used to, starting brawls in the taverns, and generally lashing out.Then, finally, she'd find a job as a personal guard for the leader of a settlement in Drieghan. A lumber camp turned little town it seemed. She'd spend years working there, eventually marrying the man she'd been hired to protect and forming a mercenary group within his company.While she'd never been the face of the company, she'd become known once more for her strict yet fair rulings and how much she cared for the people of the settlement, despite attempts to act aloof.

Sentinel to some, harbinger to others. Friend to a valuable few

notable skills | combat, intimidation, tactics, matters of the undead, cavalry, bar fightspreferred rp themes | dark, occult, intrigue, adventure, combat

I cannot die in any way of substance
I cannot rest in any way that matters

WARNING: DIFFICULT THEMES INCLUDED

wylen deals in themes of PTSD, depression, violence, war, mild psychosis and loss of loved ones. in-depth rp with her may delve into these extensively.

Wylen had never felt anything so... Quiet and empty. Like a cloud of smoke that, until now, had only known the small confines of a sealed bottle. Now, she felt the smoke slip out, the glass shattered and the walls far from encroaching. Like there was nothing, and yet there was freedom. There was peace. For once in her life, Wylen knew peace.She felt the sorrows of the people who came to visit her grave. She felt their feet atop her, and at first the weight felt heavy. Then, it got lighter as the weeks went on and people forgot that they missed her. She didn't mind. She'd hoped they'd forget sooner, she never meant to bring them sorrow. She never meant to cause them this pain.Eventually, all she seemed to have left were a handful of visitors. Flowers were nice, but she found that as they wilted, so did her spirit. At least until the next visit. But, as the months went on, she began to find herself... Forgetting.She didn't recognize these people like she should. She didn't remember their names, didn't know why she cared for them so deeply. As time went on, the memories were left behind. The visits helped to remind her, but only to a certain degree. Eventually, she didn't know any of them at all. But she still felt grateful for the occasional company.Then, the peace was taken from her. The cold seeped into the air, into the dirt, into what was left of her. The ringing in her ears demanded she rise, and the emptiness in them that followed demanded the same. Her body was lifted, pulled into a pair of arms and lugged up onto the dewy grass. The ringing stopped, but the demands didn't.She knew only anger and pain and suffocation as air ripped through her lungs for the first time in so many months. Forced back into that pained, cold body, she only felt it stick when the blood splattered into her eyes. The blood of the man she was holding down, an unfamiliar dagger in her hand as it plunged time and time again into him.

a weapon will never find peace,
a harbinger will never rest soundly

age | 34
gender | female
alignment | neutral good
sexuality | who knows anymore
romance | hesitant but possible
ethnicity | serendian / calpheonean

the sound of water

common hook | ghosts, hauntings, rumors

The rhythmic white noise of a current, the ripples dancing on the surface, the refreshing chill as it runs over one's hands and washes away whatever was there. The gentle sound of small waves lapping against stone. Many find the water to be relaxing, a comforting thing. And yet, Wylen holds no such belief. The water has taken loved ones, and nearly her, years ago. Why would she ever trust it?And yet, in death, it would seem Wylen had gotten over her fear of the water. Or, rather, found peace in knowing it's there. Many claim they see the ghost of the woman wandering alongside the Demi River where her mother's ashes had been scattered. Of all the places people have seen Wylen's ghost, the riverside seems to be among the most common.

the call of crows

common hook | wildlife, beware the birds

Crows are common among cities and even beyond, a staple of the soundscape around almost anyone. And yet, they seem all too present when Wylen's ghost wanders through - be that along the Demi River, the mountain ranges between Serendia and Balenos, or even the rare amble through town. No matter where, Wylen's wayward ghost is often preceded by the sound of a small murder of crows nearby.While the crows are fairly well behaved, they act akin to wild crows - they let out warning calls when frightened, they perch together, and they remember faces. Above all though, they seem willing to take food from others so long as they are not threatening to them. Just a bunch of birds, and just a ghost. But perhaps these birds can lead a kind hearted individual to said ghost?

the gentle mourning

common hook | intrigue, multi-character ties

Wylen did not go unmourned when she died. But, after the majority ceased to leave flowers, one group did not. Wildflowers one week, a proper bouquet the next, but there always seems to be moderately fresh flowers atop her grave. Locals have speculated the tie between the flowers land there and when a handful of people arrive into town from Balenos - Captain Booker, Khavir al Mifsud, and a child accompanied by one of the two.Given Wylen had been close with Booker and had left her estate to her in death, some wonder if Booker knows more than she lets on, or why the new unspeaking, helmet-bearing mercenary they've hired seems to have Wylen's trusty shield. Thieved? Or given?this hook may involve Booker and/or Khavir. Find their carrds linked.

the welcoming trill of a small cat

moderate hook | animals, ser milo, random encounters

In life, Wylen had taken to a particular cat she'd found as a kitten. A small gray and white cat who'd grown to be a rather noble little feline. He'd come to be appreciated by all who met him during their time in Drieghan, but when Wylen passed, the lovable Milo was brought to Olvia alongside her horse Fjerda and the rest of her destriers.They found comfort in the home Booker provided them. Plenty of time to rest and relax, though her crew took particularly well to Milo. The cat was a good mouser, after all. Like a constant reminder, that cat chirped his way through every step as he'd run after the crew to board the ship as if it were his own, but in recent months the cat's been largely absent from their shadows.Instead, they find Milo wandering through the area surrounding Heidel and Velia both, but most of all, within the mountains between the two. The cat is often seen taking walks, and occasionally even alongside that horse of Wylen's.And yet oddest of all, the cat is sometimes found wandering his way into either town with a small bag tied to him and a small note asking for various small ingredients. Potatoes here, flour there, but always small amounts. Only enough for the little guy to carry comfortably.The cat remains overly friendly, happy to say hello with a curl of the tail and a bright trill, in fact he looks happier than ever. Where he had lost some confidence when Wylen died, struggling to recover it even with Booker and her crew taking care of him, he seems as if it's returned twofold.As if the cat was returned what was lost and now has a newfound appreciation for what he never knew could be taken away.But then again, how many people would bat an eye at a seemingly stray cat unless they were to have known him?

the rattle of bones and steel

rare hook | necromancy, intrigue, multi-character ties

Wylen died to the poison of an assassin's blade, and none had doubted her passing. Until recently. Despite there being numerous eye witnesses of her dying, there were only a few who ever saw her body - those closest to her, but primarily old friends who had swooped in to take over her estate and legacy, disenfranchising others in the process. The funeral was small, a private affair - it's what she would've wanted. Never the one for public eye, the woman deserved to rest in relative solitude.And yet, over a year after her death, there are reports suggesting the late Wylen Gallagher has returned as a spirit of sorts, discontented with the state of her home and hoping to keep her promise of looking after her younger sister. Some even say she's here against her will. A thrall. A revenant. The woman had found no rest in death, restlessly patrolling the streets in the witching hours. But who is she a slave to? A necromancer? Lich? Or to her own sense of duty?Some say this was done to her. Some say those who'd allegedly altered her will before her death were the ones involved. There are occasional stories reporting an eerie silence at the darkest point of the night, then the odd way the grass crunched underfoot or the way the crows mimicked the clattering of bones and enraged screams of a hoarse-voiced woman come dawn and the screeching of names that have lost their meaning. Something happened that night... And ever since then, the leaves never quite fell in the same way around her grave. Perhaps an occultist or even a necromancer could find the answers to this disturbance of natural order.Those who mourned her surely hope for her to find peace in death. Yet something, or someone, is keeping her from that. And in doing so has disrupted her grave beyond repair.this hook may involve Niles - find his carrd here