Reinhardt Ingold

Reinhardt Ingold is an ascetic, a sage who once sought martial might. Despite his profession, he has an easygoing personality that belies his asceticism. Reinhardt is a cavalier individual with a love of intriguing stories, who will often go out of his way to find and sample such tales, even to the detriment of his other objectives. Once pious and selfless to a fault, his experiences with countless humans across the centuries and their lamentable transience have inexplicably transformed him into a convivial person who tries to take pleasure in the simple things in life.

## History

> My story? That's quite a long tale, and one you may not enjoy listening to.
>
> - Reinhardt, to a curious innkeeper

### Origins

From youth, Reinhardt Ingold roamed the lands, filled with wanderlust. For as early as he could remember, he had never remained in one place and had always been on the move; whether from an esoteric disposition or necessitated by circumstance, he did not know. However, despite spending beyond a mortal lifetime almost compulsively seeking new experiences and places, Reinhardt neither grew old nor died. Years would pass, yet he would remain the same, unchanging in all aspects; his experiences would enrich him, but none of them could ultimately transform him, for the numerous oaths he had sworn bound and restricted his ideals from change, leaving him almost euthymic throughout his experiences.

### The Stars Beckon

At some point on his journey, he stopped by a nondescript town, auxiliary to a larger city a few miles away. It was supposed to be a quick stop, a short rest before a long leg of his journey to another land, yet it was not to be. Reinhardt espied an aged woman utilizing a sort of magic he had never seen before, a brand of celestial magic that drew upon the astral for power. Enthralled by its practical elegance, he sought her guidance in magic, a field in which he had proved inept in the eyes of all teachers before. Although Reinhardt had to offer quite the fair sum from his traveling expenses for her to acquiesce, she relented in the end. The woman, whose name he learned was Elena, brought out his potential and showed him how to manifest his power through martial techniques over traditional spellcasting, a method he adapted exceedingly well to his trained body. Elena also trained him in various magical skills and assisted him in forging his latent electro-kinesis into a well-honed blade. Nearly a decade passed under her tuition, Reinhardt having grown tremendously for it.

Eventually, however, Rein knew it was time to depart. He was already growing isolated within the town, his wanderlust pervading him and clamoring for fulfillment. Bidding his farewell was as hard as usual, perhaps more so due to how long he had stayed there. Despite his wayfaring tendencies, leaving precious things behind was never his strong suit. The kind old lady, now at death's door, regretfully bid Reinhardt adieu, alongside one of her former pupils.

### A Life Adrift

After his departure, Rein began training in the arts he had been taught. His nomadic nature often led him to isolated regions infested with myriad aggressive creatures. When he came upon such a locale, he thanked his lucky stars and set out to practice his techniques on them.

Immersed in his training and sating his wanderlust simultaneously, Reinhardt passed over a century in relative solitude. That was a long time, even for him; his desire for social interaction grew stronger day after day, and ultimately rose to overpower his wish to roam forever.

This fundamental shift in his disposition was something he had not thought could happen to himself, not after a century of invariance. The proverbial final blow was dealt when he happened upon a remote hamlet isolated within a scenic grove.

Drawn in by the tranquility, he settled there and began to live as one of their own. He came to know the villagers there. He befriended the people, and they shared good times and weathered bad ones together.

### Transience of the Timeless Sage

A generation passed.

Reinhardt stood over the deathbed of the last of those of their time in the village. The aged keeper of the village's only inn, who had provided him with a meal on his first day there. His immense sorrow was manifest as he pondered their demise, himself not having aged a day since he had become a part of the village. As he looked over the young ones that had grown up into adults and supplanted their predecessors, he consoled himself with the fact that he could come to know the new generation like he did the old. He helped them in all walks of life, akin to the pillar of support he was for their forebears. He became their dear friend and guided them through thick and thin.

So they lived, and so they died.

Once more, he was wrought with sorrow, but not as prominently as the first time he lost everyone. Their ailing health in old age had forewarned him of their demise, and he had had more time to come to terms with it.

Once more, he alone remained, sustained by his devotion to his vows of austerity.

After that, the people of the village changed constantly. Old-timers left and new people entered. Time and time again, he would look over the people and wonder if there was anybody he truly knew there. Sometimes he would approach somebody he believed he had known for years, only to find out they were a scant two decades old and had never spoken to him in their life.

As people passed by like the ephemeral flashes of a fleeting shadow, he grew more inured to the loss that accompanied each succession of roles. Reinhardt even began to revel in the changes they brought; the new people he could get acquainted with, and the older ones transforming as they grew and matured. The unique nature of each individual highlighted from the perspective of an ageless observer. He drank in the sights and their stories like a parched man in the desert.

Time passed, and his nature became more and more incomprehensible to the villagers who spoke to him frequently.

### Departure to Babel

"You're leaving?"

"Correct."

"...After all the years you've been here?"

He shrugged. "Why would that stop me?"

The innkeeper frowned. Then he sighed. "Why tell me, of all people?"

A corner of Reinhardt's lips twitched upward. He rose from his seat and tossed a few coins on the counter. "Who knows? I certainly don't. You *do* remind me of her, though."

"Huh?"

Reinhardt strode out of the empty inn, feeling refreshed as he hadn't in ages. Nobody passed by him as he made his way to the outskirts of the village.

*Too many people moved out into other towns, and they don't visit this place very often. It's getting a little dull.*

He looked towards the path leading out of the village, and the smile on his face became more pronounced.

*A new city with many fascinating people to meet and even more great stories to hear. Who wouldn't look forward to that?*

## Appearance

Reinhardt bears the appearance of a young man in his early thirties. He is slender and quite tall, brown shoulder-length hair complementing his amber eyes. He usually wears light traveling clothes, though rarely wearing more flamboyant clothing when the occasion demands it.

## Personality

> His being an ascetic seemed preposterous to me when I first met him.
>
> - Unnamed village elder

Reinhardt possesses a languid, almost apathetic demeanor, punctuated only by his ardent passion for fables and adventures. His intelligence is average, but his intuition is almost always on-point, although he often disregards it because he feels that would be more entertaining.

In spite of his carefree disposition, underneath this veneer is a strong foundation built from the ideals behind his countless oaths. Those vows weren't just for show.

He is relatively patient with others despite his temperament. Even though he cares little for the designs of ordinary humans on each other, he sometimes indulges in observing or interfering with their schemes just for his amusement.

Despite his abundance of un-sagely qualities, Reinhardt occasionally does things befitting an ascetic of his age - introspective meditation is quite common, especially after a series of battles, to properly incorporate the experience into his combat techniques. Honing one's techniques and skills holds a special place in his heart; his fervor in battle is second only to his zeal for tales and stories.

## Abilities

> Practice makes perfect. I'm still a long way from perfect, but I hope it'll suffice.
>
> - Reinhardt

Reinhardt's abilities have been honed and tempered from over a century of practice and training. He wields powerful lightning to attack and disable foes in increasingly creative ways.

A flexible fighter in combat, Reinhardt utilizes his honed electrokinetic capabilities. Depending on his opponent, he forms a different weapon to face them; a naginata made of crackling lightning or a tachi condensed from pure elemental energy. In battle, Reinhardt weaves around opponents with practiced ease and strikes them down with conviction borne of endless repetition. If an enemy is abnormally resilient, he employs his own sword arts in battle, cleaving apart his opponent with slashes that sever space itself.

His magical capabilities aside, his physical competence is not to be underestimated; his weapon arts and techniques place immense strain on the body and require volant movements that ordinary people cannot endure.

## Legends:

### Leviathan Slayer

Reinhardt stood under the twilight of the afternoon sun.

The chaos of battle reigned as far as the eye could see.

Battalions of warriors clashed with droves of malignant fey, man against beast, though Rein thought the term 'vermin' more appropriate. That was all they were; feckless pests crawling out of their holes for the advent of a behemoth.

Said behemoth, appellated 'Leviathan', was now hovering over the masses and blocking out the sun's daylight.

The mountainous creature - there was no other way to describe it - towered over the battlefield like a floating hill. Its grim, forbidding appearance allowed none of the combatants to forget their primary opponent, even in the heat of battle.

Innumerable siege weapons on the ground fired at its resilient hide. The unending hail of artillery struck the titan like a storm of metal. Despite the beast being hardly daunted by the shower of attacks, several fighters directly engaging the fell beast used the opportunity to exploit incisions in its scaly armor.

Reinhardt's gaze roamed the battleground as if searching for something.

At the same time, a group of fey noticed his cloaked silhouette, standing apart from the combat.

The creatures chattered excitedly at having found hapless prey. Approaching as one, they drew close to the man. They were about to attack when-

Reinhardt smiled.

"Found one."

A flash of purple light, followed by a roar akin to thunder.

The approaching vermin were thrown back by a violent fulmination.

Reinhardt emerged from the smoke and dust, arcs of violet lightning dancing around his body. He raised his arm to one side, the sparks of electricity condensing in his palm. The fistful of lightning elongated and coalesced into an elegant naginata, crackling with small bolts.

Still recovering from the electrified explosion, the frenetic beasts snarled and ran at him haphazardly.

Rein crouched down slightly before leaping forward into the fray.

He swung his weapon several times, drawing large arcs and cleaving apart the incoming fey before striking them with condensed fulmination.

Surrounded by lightning, he streaked forward through the battlefield, slashing apart any fell creature in his way. Several moments later, he reached his goal; a cliff on a ledge that stood above the Leviathan, positioned advantageously over an exceptionally exposed area on the beast's back.

Leaping up the sheer face of the cliff, using footholds and crevices even a mountain goat would shy away from, he reached the top of the cliff and stood on the edge of its precipice.

His naginata of crackling lightning shined with bright light and transformed into a sublime amethyst tachi. Propelled by explosive fulmination, he leaped above the Leviathan and, with great force, brought down his sword on the exposed vulnerability.

Lightning struck from the clear sky and illuminated the gloaming beneath the beast.

Leaping backward, he landed back on the cliff.

*That hardly injured it.*

Reinhardt was impressed.

*It is a stalwart target, suitable for refining my five-way sword slash...*

He looked over at the people fighting and losing their lives to the Leviathan's entourage.

*…though perhaps it would be better if it ended quickly.*

Settling into a stance once more, sparks of lightning materialized around him, and as he readied his sword, his lips curved into a smile.

### Remembrance

Reinhardt pushed open the gate, entering an area enclosed by a metal fence. It was grassy, save for patches of dirt and weathered stone, and was nearly deserted, at least of the living; the place was a cemetery, where a hundred people long passed lay in tranquil repose.

He pushed the old, rusty gate shut behind him and strode down the paved path.

His steps rang out as he proceeded down the worn road, passing by several crumbling tombstones. There were mounds of dirt beside the graves closer to the entrance, indicia of graverobbers plundering any riches on the more recently deceased.

Reinhardt headed further inside.

The further he walked from the entrance, the sparser the carved stones of the path grew, as did the number of graves that had not collapsed into rubble. The dates inscribed on those that remained intact grew older as well.

Soon, he arrived at almost the end of the graveyard - the original patch of land that later had extended into its current state. The dirt path ended there, just before a single perfectly preserved headstone. In the dim sunlight from an overcast sky, the words on the plaque were barely visible.

*Elena*

*??? -> ???*

'*A guiding light for others in their darkest times.'*

Reinhardt stood over it in silence, alone in the otherwise empty cemetery. Or so it seemed.

"Not very polite to hide from friends, is it now?" he said, eyes still on the words on the plaque.

A voice came from the shadows cast over the corners of the walls.

"Most people wouldn't dare call you a friend. They're not insane enough to do that."

A person emerged, their figure cloaked in a robe and wearing a hood. Long silvery-white hair flowed down her shoulders, and her face was almost entirely hidden, except for a slight frown.

Seeing her expression, Reinhardt smiled brightly.

"But you are, I hope?" He nods towards the tombstone. "She would have wanted us to get along, after all."

The woman paused. "It's not easy talking to you, knowing you were alive in her time." She hesitated. "I'm surprised you even escaped those-"

"That's enough."

He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Startled, she glanced at him. Not a hint of the previous mirth with which he had spoken remained on his face.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, the deep frown she wore lessening. "...I'm sorry."

A brief pause.

"Did you just apologize to me?" He exclaimed in mock surprise. "I don't think you've apologized to anyone, ever!"

She sighed in exasperation. "Shut it, you."

Reinhardt laughed. "Speaking of which, I heard old Vera was looking for you earlier."

The woman paused for a moment, then shuddered.

"Something about splurging all of their funds for the week? He was quite unhappy, and last I checked, he was coming the same way I was-"

Faster than the eye could see, she leaped up and landed on the metal fence.

"I gotta run quick-  *Ahem,* I meant that I have to be going, sage. We will meet again."

A moment later, she had vanished into thin air.

He stared at the place she had been and chuckled. *It's nice to be young.*

He turned to the plaque on the tombstone once more, and the smile on his face disappeared.

The sky above darkened further, deep gray clouds obscuring it entirely like the painting of an oncoming maelstrom.

*What she said had merit, however.*

He clenched his fists, eyes fixed on the words on the plaque.

*Even though she doesn't know the truth as I do.*

*Why? Why did you lie? Why did your words amount to nothing, Elena?*

He exhaled, anger turning to sorrow.

*Why did you leave me here with nothing?*

Thunder roared in the distance, a brief flash of lightning illuminating his face, twisted in distress.

*Unlike the others, I knew. You could've been here today with us.*

Raindrops began to fall from the sky.

*You could've lived forever as the best of both worlds; a scion of the star-bearers and an heir of the timeless Riven lords.*

Lightning flashed in the clouds and tore through the sky.

*Why did you* choose *death? Was there nothing in this world worth living for?*

The rain intensified, drenching the cemetery and miring it in gray fog.

*Or was there something you were waiting for after death? Was that another elaborate plan you had?*

Reinhardt stood, soaked through by the rain. The chill did not affect him, yet he felt cold and isolated.

His mind returned to the events of centuries ago.

*"Raise your sword and cry for help!" the unknown man jeered. He shoved Reinhardt to the ground, who stabbed at him with crackling lightning.*

*He deflected it before striking him hard with the pommel of his sword.*

*"But nobody's coming. Nobody's coming for you!"*

Reinhardt jerked as a clap of thunder startled him out of his reverie.

Looking around, he sighed. Bowing his head to the grave, he placed a single flower he had picked before it - a blue hyacinth.

*You did like your games, Elena, even if you took them too far sometimes.*

After a moment of reflection, Reinhardt turned and left.

As he walked away from her grave, a solitary tear made its way down his face.

### Incandelth Peninsula

Reinhardt sat on a ledge overseeing a valley swarmed by the dead.

Once again, he wondered why he was there of all places.

The moderate cliffs that oversaw the isthmi connecting the peninsula to the mainland were tactically ideal; the mindless creatures, although intelligent enough to take appropriate decisions in combat, were seemingly unable to scale a wall.

Even at that moment, several fell creatures stared at him, standing at a vantage point.

They could do naught but make aggressive movements in vain. Reinhardt waves at them, aggravating them further.

An explosion sounded in the distance, and the fallen turned away from him.

Several more blasts erupted, throwing dozens of the hollow into the sky, scattering them across the battlefield. Numerous warriors and mages stream into the valley, taking advantage of the chaos, inundating the horde with attacks and pushing them back.

At the same time, primal shrieks rang out from behind him. A small group of rogues and the roguelike dashed through the battlefield, slicing apart several of the creatures with rapid motions.

Reinhardt smirked. "A hammer and anvil, was it?"

Rising from his secure position, he sighs as his gaze roams the legion of monsters trapped between the dual offensives.

"I suppose it's my turn, then."

Reinhardt leaps into the air above them. Some of the fallen look up, a few even aiming their weapons at him.

Lightning falls from the clear sky, blowing apart the vermin below him. Reinhardt lands in the new clearing of corpses, clasping a bolt of fulmination in the form of a naginata.

The mindless Hollow, unheeding of the danger he posed them or unable to do so in their deathless torment, rushed at him in swarms.

*Let's see...my orders were to distract them for as long as possible.*

His spear flashed out, drawing arcs of lightning in midair. They exploded, throwing back the mob and blowing apart a few that were hit directly by the slashes.

They kept coming.

Once again, they were blown back by quick strokes of his lightning-clad weapon.

Some of them lost limbs, while others lost heads or entire torsos.

Still, they kept coming.

The unending horde of the mindless beasts trampled each other in a stampede to reach the new prey within their midst.

No amount of meager lightning could keep from their quarry, and they pushed Reinhardt back, inching closer to the slope whence he had come.

*Their mindlessness would make them less threatening if they were in fewer numbers, but not in a horde like this.*

A quick swipe of his weapon pushed back the oncoming monsters, and he retreated to a safer position. Taking a short breather from battle, he glanced up.

In the distance, he could see some of the horde's largest beasts falling, brought down by the flying wizards in the sky and the rogues on the ground.

*They're doing their job quite well.*

He raised his lance, holding it before him as the undead creatures shambled closer. His grip on its haft tightened.

*So should I.*

Readying his weapon and falling into an old stance by habit, he faced the monsters, a smile adorning his face.