Visaera Komnenos

## Appearance

**Hair:** Dark Brown

**Skin:** Fair

**Eyes:** Green

**Height:** 6’1”

**Weight:** 173 lbs.

**Body Type:** Athletic

**Noticeable features:** Often clad in armor, Visaera's lofty 6'1" height only adds to the air of severity that surrounds her. She is a businesswoman, a soldier for pay, a bounty hunter, and everything about her screams that fact.

Dark hair and green eyes, an athletic build necessary for her lifestyle, and a scattering of weapons. No matter what she wears, it is not uncommon for her to be spattered with *some* shade of creature's blood. Her expression often hints at how easily it could be yours.

## Personality

Visaera could easily be described as a violent and brutal woman; with a lack of moral qualms about killing and with a fatalistic view of the world. She openly accepts the fact that she is by no means a decent individual, with this kind of self-awareness keeping at bay whatever feelings of guilt or disgust she may hold against her own character  -- but despite this, she is not beyond her own humanity.

Behind the veil of cynicism and bitterness, Visaera is a fiercely loyal woman towards those who have earned her trust and respect, with a willingness to be reasonably compassionate and empathetic. A credit to honest mercenaries, she will fight and die to protect her own.

## Abilities & Proficiencies

**Fighting Style:** Utilizing practicality and ferocity over the gallivanting dance that one might expect from a knight or nobleman, Visaera’s years of exposure to brutality and unsheltered fighting makes her a formidable force in combat. Contrary to her size and stature, she’s remarkably quick on her feet, which is complemented by a swift savagery delivered with each swing of the blade or mace.

**Weapon Proficiencies:** Her signature tool sits upon one hip - a steel mace, that’s seen more than its fair share of action by the looks of it.

On the other hip is a simple, steel longsword that rests in a scabbard on the opposite side of the mace; offering an alternative to cracking skulls.

**Magic:** No magic, magic is for chumps.

**Other Skills:** WiP

## History

Visaera's childhood was, in a word, rough. Her biological parents were lost early on, earlier than she can remember. They'd managed to get themselves caught in the middle of a battle, so she was later told, and her earliest memories ended up being with her new, adoptive family: the mercenaries that pulled her out of the midst of battle. Her life had been saved, whether or not that turned out to be a good thing.

Growing up on the fringes of the Northlands, she was initially little more than an errand girl around the camp. She'd help wash clothes, pitch tents when they moved, and care for the mounts. But in her mind she was every bit the mercenary as the rest of them; she wanted to contribute as much as any of them, and through sheer determination and fearsome will she badgered her caretakers into taking her under their wings as a warrior, not just as a child.

The years before were hard, and so were those after. She took to swordplay, to archery, to hiding in ditches and in copses, like a natural. The dullness in her life was gone, and she was kept active as a scout and skirmisher until she was old enough to join the main force on the battlefields. A betrayal changed that, stealing away the difficult future she'd envisioned made bearable by the people she considered her family. One of them had had a change of heart, or perhaps the pay was just too good.

The night before a pitched battle against a fortified keep, the mercenaries woke to fire. At first, they thought it was an ambush, the sentries having been carefully picked off, and enemies let loose within their camp. The truth was more confusing: fires had been started in the tents housing their supplies, their armaments, and their treasures. Their mounts had been cut free and were gone. Brother was killing brother, companions were slaughtering companions by the dozen.

When the dust cleared, it became apparent that it hadn't been an ambush, not really. A few of their number had turned on them, causing untold destruction and devastating the mercenary band. They were still out there somewhere, having completed their job and fled. Their supplies were gone and their hopes dashed and defeated, their family disbanded.

Visaera was not so easily demoralized. She swore not to find a new life, for this was the only one she'd ever known, but to hunt down those who had turned on her *family* and to butcher them all. Years of hunting, years of taking on whatever jobs she could to stay alive. She was a survivalist, she was a bounty hunter, she was a mercenary in this battle or that, she was whatever she needed to be to make her way to her enemies.

Eventually, it paid off. The first one, hunted into old mines left abandoned in the face of endless night. Then a second; chased like prey through foreboding woods. Then the third, the last survivor of a band of murderers and thieves who'd dwindled by their own indiscretion before she ever found them. She found him in a tavern, half out of his mind on spirits, and what she did to him was the foundation of her grim reputation.