Il y a 12 ans
Octavian traversa les rues de Loralis, fuyant les passants et les étals du marché en explorant la structure labyrinthique des rues. Ses vêtements, sargués et sarcastiques avaient ramassé tant de poussières et de saletés tout au long de leur vie en sa possession, ils avaient tourné une nuance inesthétique de beige, un contraste frappant avec ses cheveux blancs purs qui drapé ses épaules et son dos.
Il fit monter une charrette de fruits vide, l'utilisant comme moyen de pression pour monter l'un des bâtiments plus courts de la ville. Quelques minutes plus tard, il avait finalement atteint sa destination au sommet de l'église locale. Il a regardé la ville en regardant les gens se moudre comme des fourmis dans un labyrinthe. Il leva la tête, regardant presque agapé ce qu'il était venu voir. Les nombreux beaux châteaux de Loralis. Ses yeux sont passés d'un regard d'admiration à un regard de détermination alors qu'il s'offrait un jour à l'un des châteaux et s'asseyait parmi la noblesse.
Aujourd'hui
Le cheval blanc pâle d'Octavian s'étendit sur la dune finale du voyage, tandis qu'Octavian ôtait le keffiyah qui l'avait protégé de la chaleur et du sable rudes des frontières écrosiennes. Plus tôt dans le voyage, il avait voyagé dans une tenue beaucoup plus légère, mais cela s'est révélé peu sage en raison des bandits qui traquaient le désert jour et nuit. Son armure rayonnait dans la lumière du soleil, devenant presque incandescente.
Il a établi son cheval à une auberge voisine après être arrivé à la ville, attraper beaucoup de regards des gens plus pauvres errant dans les rues en raison de son apparence noble. Sa chasse a commencé maintenant, pour une fois pas pour quelqu'un de tuer ou de capturer. Un de ses amis l'avait informé des bonnes possibilités d'emploi dans la ville et l'avait exhorté à y voyager dès que possible. Maintenant qu'il était arrivé, Octavian soupçonnait qu'il essayait juste de se débarrasser de lui.
Name: Octavian Perrin
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Solarian
Origin: Estiala
Profession: Witch hunter/Mercenary
Weapons: 
 A sabre made of fine steel and maintained on a regular basis.
 A small crossbow, capable of being held and fired with one hand, albeit with smaller bolts.
 If a witch is specifically tough or has a specific weakness, Octavian will often stock up in relation to this.


Appearance: With delicate, lithe features and long flowing white hair coupled with alabaster white skin, Octavian is often mistaken for an elf. He is definitely not the kind of person you'd expect to be any sort of real soldier, or even a commoner for that matter.
Personality: Gentle and delicate, one could mistake Octavian for someone classically raised within the nobility. He strives to maintain this image of himself, being that gaining nobility is one of his many life goals. His grace and mercy within battle could be described as a weakness by hardened soldiers, being that he favours ending his opponents life quickly rather than brutally lengthening their pain or butchering them on the field. His only exception to this style is in relation to those who have betrayed him or have done something in order to make him despise them. He has no prejudice based on religion, race or status, but only really respects those skillful in the art of war.
Short Biography: Born to a sailor and a whore in a brothel on the seafront, Octavian was quickly abandoned to one of the many orphanages in the town and had a cruel, poor childhood. Every day he would look up to the magnificent castles and vow to one day own one. He often spent as much time as possible away from the orphanage, exploring the city and following nobles around as much as possible, attempting to copy their demeanor and grace.
This led to many of the more common children around the city to take a disliking to him. Seeing him as someone who thought he was better than everyone else. A fight eventually broke out in which Octavian was heavily injured. He probably would have been beaten to death had it not been for a tall man garbed in a long black cloak breaking it up. The man later appeared at the orphanage, taking account of Octavian's resiliency in the fight and adopting him as more of an apprentice than a son.
However, as time went on the two began to grow into a father-son bond and to this day Octavian considers the man who saved him that day to be his true father. The man was a witch hunter, one of the few left in the kingdoms and one of the greatest to have ever lived, Aveneil Perrin. Aveneil taught Octavian everything he knew, and the two became more of a partnership as Octavian grew into his teenage years rather than that of an apprentice and master.
Aveneil retired to a life of farming and rest within a monastery around the time Octavian turned 20. Octavian continued to witch hunt, but expanded into mercenary work being that many of the evil hags cursing and hexing people in the woods had either died out or been hunted already. However, he remains ready to take on any witch if someone were to hire him to.
Other Notes:
Octavian doesn't believe in any of the gods, but keeps up an act of belief.