Name: Eriin Halden Age: 19 Nationality/Region: Vigrad, Northern Tempe Coast Role: Scout & Informal Support Class: Rogue / Scout -He reads people like wave patterns. -Trust comes slow, but it's absolute once earned. -Struggles with the shadow of his father’s violence. -Deep down, he wants to belong to something honest. Eriin was born on one of the jagged coastal isles west of Chryse Gulf, where clans build wooden longhouses between spruce groves and carve boats from crater-pine. His father, an Akhidal tribute raider, dragged him from one port to the next—collecting silver, threats, and grudges. Eriin was expected to become a tide-knight like the rest: hard-eyed, silent, and brutal. But he lacked the fire. He was nimble, yes—he could board a skiff or disappear into fog—but when blood was demanded, his hands froze. One night during a failed raid on a Marineer convoy, his hesitation cost the crew dearly. His father struck him and cast him overboard. He survived—barely. Days later, he caught sight of Ereno's party and followed from a distance, not with a blade, but with longing. Their unity, their care in battle, struck a nerve. Eventually, he slipped into camp—unarmed, barefoot, and silent. He never formally asked to stay. He simply did. And no one told him to leave. -Sleeps curled in boat-like fetal posture, a habit from tide nights. -Ties sea-glass beads to his belt, one for each town they pass. -Never kills animals unless starving, he believes it’s wasteful. -Stares at fire when nervous, mouth slightly open. -Trims his own hair with a hooked blade, unevenly.