Catfolk Lavian

Lavian

Race: Catfolk
Age: 23
Sex: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship: Single

Height: 5’7”
Build: Womanly

Personality

As one might expect of an individual who lived with uncertainty hounding her for the most of her childhood, Lavian isn't the most friendly of individuals. She is slow to trust and quick to anger. She has a no-nonsense attitude when it comes to work and doesn't care for weakness. Those who match her strength or surpass her however, can expect her to be more cordial towards them. The weak however, she is largely dismissive towards, not because she cannot understand where they come from - having been poor once herself - but she believes there is no point in coddling them, though she would not be against giving firm advice.

While a patient and calm individual, Lavian will not tolerate foolishness. She will mercilessly and without hesitation, point out a person's mistakes, offer constructive criticism and give them but once chance to better themselves before they lose her consideration, possibly forever.

Hunting, is the one thing that seems to set her at ease. Perhaps it has something to do with her biology, as felines tend to be sated after securing their prey. Fortunately, this is a known weakness of hers and most people in her familia do know how to win her respect by joining her in one of her hunts - provided they don't only serve to be a burden to her.

Positive: Athletic, Capable, Flexible, Perceptive, Realistic, Adaptable
Negative: Blunt, Amoral, Devious, Fickle, Aloof, Distrustful

Biography

Lavian couldn't remember much about her childhood, much of it had been spent with her father moving from town to town every other month or so, not because of his occupation or any nomadic streak, but because he was a con-artist and a heavy gambler. One month, she would be living in luxury, enjoying a feast of sweet meats in the finest tavern, the next, they might be barely making ends meet by sleeping in someone's shed and living off stale bread and water. It was a difficult life, but one that she adapted to after her own fashion.

But it would not last.

Though a capable conman, Lavian's father would inevitably cross someone who he had no means to oppose, nor should have in the first place. Borrowing money from a loan shark and simply vanishing was something he was good at, but he'd also stolen something from the merchant, something valuable - a ring, a gold, yes - but low karat, something one could replace after a month's hard work. But it's price to it's owner was not in it's weight in gold, but the sentimental value it held.

It was not long before the man found himself in the gutter, dying from multiple stab wounds.

Orphaned, but far hardier than most children her age, Lavian did not mourn - something had already died inside her long before her father's passing - instead she immediately set out to seek help from other catfolk in the neighborhood, but while they might shelter her a night, none were interested in picking up the burden.

Eventually, cold and hungry, she was forced to rely on thievery, earning herself a bad enough reputation that she was chased out of the town she had come to call her own.

It was on the road however, between one backwater town to another, that she would find the man who would change her life.

How odd, that she would find her salvation not in her own kind, but a human.

A man with graying hair would greet her on the road, he looked like a fisherman, with a net filled with fish flung over his back and a spear-turned cane in the other hand. It was at that moment that her stomach grumbled and that the man laughed, suggesting she dine with him.

Ravenous, a young Lavian would finish off the poorly prepared, if overly well done trout and somewhere along the way, tell the man her life-story. Perhaps it was naivety, or loneliness, but something moved the man and he decided to take her in. Not as a child, perhaps, but an assistant.

The man was once a mercenary, a warrior who'd prided himself in his skills with the spear, only to come to an epiphany that forced him off the path of bloodshed. He'd found his God, among the many that roamed this realm. Religion changed him and to an extent, it would temper some of Lavian's own tendencies too. Growing up from a girl into a young woman, being educated by him would transform her. Though she would never truly shrug off those dark days she spent with her father, this gray-haired gentleman was a far better father to her than her own blood ever was. She learned many things from him, hunting, fishing and self-defense. Lavian owed a great deal to him and truth be told, by the time she had hit her sixteenth birthday, she had come to love him as a father.

But she wouldn't have the opportunity to express those feelings. When she returned from the hunt, she would find him dead in his bed, with his eyes closed and his face, a tranquil mask. Sorrow, unlike any that she had ever known overwhelmed her then and there. She couldn't remember how long she cried that day, but by the time it was over her voice was hoarse and her eyes red and puffy. Her father, her true father by her reckoning, was dead. All she had of him now were memories of quiet days spent working alongside each other.

She would inevitably take over his business, if his stall could be called that. Her life would be a reduced to a cycle of fishing, hunting beasts for pelt and selling them at the nearest market. But then things would change, while she was cleaning the cupboard, she would shatter a jar - her foster father's favorite - and within find a letter. It spoke to her of his old life, of old friends... and oddly enough Lavian herself. They were instructions on what to do when he passed away. Apparently her father had once known a goddess, not the same one he worshiped, but the letter said that if anything should happen to him, that Lavian ought to at least see the woman.

Wishing to honor her father's last request, she set off towards Orario with little expectations but held the small hope of finding something that might give her direction anew.

Status

Familia: Ishtar

Occupation: Warrior, Hunter
Archetype: Hybrid

Floor Achieved: None
Current Level:1

Strength: I - 40
Vitality: I - 040
Dexterity: I - 040
Agility: I - 040
Magic: I - 040

Skill:

• Feline Senses: Lavian's senses are like those of a predator's. Her extra-sensitivity allows her to detect things that many others cannot. Her forte lies in detecting and easily dissecting the source and quality of sounds and scents, as well as her sense of touch that is especially heightened while she's concentrating in a fight. This allows her to react to things much faster than one might expected her to.

Magic:

• Ventus [Wind, Single-Target, Utility, Short Chant]: Magic wind surrounds the target to enhance their swiftness, either by negating some of their weight by blowing them off the ground, pushing them in the direction they're moving towards or a combination of both. It has extra utility in allowing Lavian to leap further or break her fall from a height with a gust of wind upon her own person. This spell only lasts for some time and Lavian must recover from the burden of using it before being able to cast it again.
  
  "Blessed wind, hearken to me and make my footsteps feather-light! Ventus!"

Equipment

Weapons:

• Reliable Spear: A simple spear, with a steel blade and a shaft crafted from a crimson-colored wood with impressive flexibility and durability. It was only recently bought from a shop, which explains why Lavian sees it as nothing more than a tool.

Armors:

• Limb Armor: A set of light metal protective gear to safeguard her limbs as well as shoulders without compromising her mobility and range of motion. It offers some defense, but it cannot take sever punishment for long unlike plate armor might.
• Huntress' Garb: An outfit that emphasizes mobility and range of motion. One might say that the outfit could be a little too flattering, due to how it exposes her back, but Lavian is confident in her looks and unperturbed by the attention it gets her.

Property:

• To be acquired

Played by Magic

Posting Pace: Every other day.
Comfortable Post Length: 400 - 1000
Face-claim: (Granblue Fantasy) Heles