Jacklin's Description:

A countenance of velvety opalescent hue, high cheekbones are veiled beneath a subdued lacquer of scarlet. Within deep-set grottos a pair of flawless orbs allow her sight. A certain incandesce shrouds the pools, deep cobalt coloring, long ebon lashes seeming to float above the gaze. Lush lips adorn her features, ruby shade. Tresses cascade downward from atop her head, varying in length, a mixture of both chestnut and mahogany staining the locks. The human is of average height, 5”5 to be exact. A single inking mars her milky figure; the lower right-hand side of her back displays two simple letters “CR” Taut physique supplied by several years of training and warring.

Name: Jacklin Keshara Cheauvant Erristyn.

Title: Boreal Sentry of the Cateran, Executioner.


Mother – Lady Nyium (deceased)

Father – Lord Kanold (deceased)

Adopted FatherSlit (deceased)

Siblings – None

Race: Human

Class: Necromancer.

Exceptional Skills:

Pestilent cure – Allows the human to offer services akin to that of a healer, only in reverse.

Gydusem - Gift picked up while in Seekers. Not powerful enough to have much of an effect but with a flick of her wrist she can create, or extinguish, many small flames.

Blue Emblem - Never used unless under extreme circumstances. Bestows upon her both the strength and abilities of her father and Ethilrist.


Cateran-serpentine spear – Most always in her command. Usually strapped to her back or carried in her hand as a stave. Made of the strongest steel and laced in gold etchings of an arcane tongue. Passed down to her by her father, Slit

Status:With Thamior

Jacklin's Biography:

Journal of Ethilrist, noble of Caledorem, year of the King.


-Upon this day the child I am to guard picked up her first sword. A dagger to a grown man, but to this child it was a sword nonetheless. The forest was brilliant that morn, the dew dancing beneath the shimmering sun, and several small prey bounding across the paths. A single word silenced her movement, and in swift fashion a slender bow of oak drawn from my back. A doe is within my range and seems to be unaware of what is to follow. The bow is strung with a bronze tipped arrow, pulling back until it becomes taut; I send the intended arrow into the neck of the animal with deadly results. Jacklin followed behind me as I positioned the corpse up against a tree with a few yards of robe I had obtained. Stepping back I nodded toward the animal, “Tear it up lass.” Having heard this command from Lord Kanold several times, the child took flight and with the dagger she impaled that supple chest of the doe with ease. The sun held low in the sky, the child’s massacre of the carcass having continued for many hours, I directed her to back down so that I could show her the proper way to cook a meal. We made a fire, skinned the beast, and roasted the meat. These are the final moments of my time with Jacklin. So if another pair of eyes trace along these lines, know this. She’ll never be found nor will her feet settled on this soil again.-

The Cateran:

The man stood above me, shoving me into the corner of the abandoned shop. I’d only been in the land for a few days and already my time here hadn’t gone as planned. Slit was his name; his partner went by the name of GodofChaos, GoC for short. I had trusted these men for a reason unknown to even myself. Possibly because I knew no other people to trust. The man spoke in a rugged tone, “This corner will remain your home until you accept my offer.” Turning my eyes up I looked to GoC who only smiled. Who wouldn’t accept the offer? I was as naïve as a child could be. Only…I wasn’t a child. Without any other choice I accepted, I was now part of the clanCeteran Rebels.’ Upon my skin I was branded, the letters CR. From then on, I lived by the rules of Slit and the other leaders. My life and work was devoted to them alone. He taught me how to duel amidst the constant warring. Eventually, he adopted me as his own once I proved myself worthy to him. The wars we endured were always epic, brawls constantly breaking out before me, several clans were always involved. It was a time of great learning and also of sadness. Many of my clan mates, and also friends, lost their lives in battle. Eventually, like all great things, the era of glory came to an end. Both my father and mentor, GoC, were murdered. And for months after CR fell I knew not what to do with my life. It had no meaning to me anymore. I left my husband, Darkblade, for fear of him leaving me first. And the children I bore with him. I killed the three of them without mercy. I gave them life and I could take it away. And slowly, as time passed, I morphed into what I am this day.

…“Get the hell up!” the muffled voice broke with ease through the chaotic arena; a suede glove plunged from amongst thousands and attached itself upon the neck of one fallen soldier. Having been trampled by the boots of the onrush the fighter remains limp weight within the leaders grasp. Grunts, a few groans, and an extended moan is issued as he hoists the wilted body over his shoulder and turns, now facing the stream of fleeing soldiers as men bellow from the sides with a mixture of ire and agony, “We shall flee Slit! The faces of these men will not see another dawn unless we retreat. What say you master!” Woe, the same expression he had worn for many years now sat heavily on aged skin, lines curving along his eyes and lips but his voice still held with strength and command. And he knew what was to be done, “Take flight to you homes, and tread not on your grounded comrades!” Swiftly Slit began his own recoil, gaining speed within seconds he passed from sight and into the safety of the woods with a final few words, “..We head for home Jacklin.”

The List:

“I’ve a list a mile long!” the stranger exclaimed, “But not as long as yours ya tramp!” A hired assassin he was, we met in the quiet shops of Kelay a single day a week. This man got to those that didn’t let me close to them. Those I wanted dead but not fast enough to capture. From the point of CR disbanding, I had turned my life to that of murder. The list of peasants of Hollow, the ones I executed, was simply another tick on my list. I was slowly able to garner the attention of my peers in this method. And as the list grew, so did the whispers. At first I ignored them, having no reason to care what others said behind my back. Then people started to look upon me with disgust and others, with awe. I learned how to manipulate people with ease as thought it were a natural talent. So, I began to help others murder their foes. Train them in the art of dueling. This time in my life was wonderful and maybe just a little lonely. I again left the man I loved, Morvious. But I had more to worry about with my killings. This continued for many years until I retreated into hiding, having been beaten horribly in a duel and barley alive. Soon I recovered; the man who had beaten me was murdered a few days after out duel, thus letting me return to my duties as a slayer.


After many years of attack on random I decided to take a break. Befriending a monk he taught me patience and love for those around me. I became kind, as much as I could, and began to help others in ways I deemed worthy. I taught dueling without the result being that I kill my pupil. My once acidic tongue was toned down a lot. I had joined several clans in order to help them with whatever they needed. I never stayed in one clan for long. Usually because when my task is needed I feel that I have no purpose left. I even took up yet another relationship with a man called Durather. Of course, it ended just as all the others had. Kindness was never truly what I was about. But from that monk, I have learned certain things, things I can use to my advantage. And for many long nights I had sat in my home, upon the island of Rynvale, pipe in mouth, pouring over the many wars I had endured. All my strength had been put into curving my vicious tendencies. I brainwashed myself into believing that war was bad and I wanted no part in it. That I hated death, murder, and torture. That the teachings of benevolence bestowed upon me were the only way to go. And as I sat in that room…I realized something. That I cannot change how I truly feel. My alignment has always been that of darkness. So now I’ve rebelled against the teachings of that old monk, he’s long gone anyway. I’ve returned to my sharp tongued ways. Only now, I’ve learned when to speak and when to wait. For me, its worked out pretty damn well.

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