Asher
Gravedigger of The Wilds
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Roach is a very frail-looking man. Having spent much of his life struggling just to survive, he's thin and pale, and his health is somewhat poor, so he gets sick easily. His clothes are old and worn, and he tends towards thick sweaters and dark trousers, as he's particularly intolerant of the cold. He rarely wears his hair out, preferring to keep it tied up, but it's long and fine, reaching well past his small shoulders. As unlikely as it is for him to smile, some might find themselves lucky enough to witness a twitch in his chapped lips or a gleam in his dull blue eyes. He isn't very expressive, otherwise, and doesn't enjoy lengthy conversations (because he hates the thin, reedy sound of his voice), but he tries his best to be kind and polite to others. He's uncomfortable around large groups of people, however, and won't usually speak unless first spoken to. Born in Kaisermont, Roach was forced to fend for himself when he lost both his mother and father to a terrible illness. For years, he haunted the streets like a ghost, begging for coin and stealing scraps of food when peoples' generosity seemed to run thin. Out of fear of getting caught, however, he stopped once he was old and strong enough to work, and he took all sorts of odd jobs to keep himself afloat, no matter how dangerous, difficult, or demeaning. Then came the day when he crossed paths with a rogue were-beast, seemingly whipped into a frenzy. It very nearly killed him, embedding its curse into his flesh. He remembers running and hiding, hands clasped in prayer until the sun rose... then sickness took him, and the days that followed bled together as he fell in and out of consciousness. The night that he finally awoke, it was under the light of a full moon, revealing atrocities he'd committed while in the curse's thrall. He couldn't bear the weight of such sins, so before he could spill even more blood, he fled to the wilds outside Kaisermont. There, he resolved to live out the rest of his life in solitude, well away from any innocents he could unknowingly hurt. Shortly after settling in an old hunting shack, Roach began tending to what graves he could find scattered throughout the Wilds. He's since made it his duty to bury those who've fallen in their travels, to honor their memories and, perhaps, atone for his sins; to those who merely pass through the rougher mountain trails, he'll offer a warm meal or a place to stay the night, not minding sharing his roof with strangers. Despite feeling a sort of kinship with the dead, he cherishes the rare but precious moments he gets to share with the living. |