Niela Foxmantle

Name: Niela Foxmantle

Age: 28

Race: Bosmer/ Wood Elf

Flair: Bright red hair, cold sliver eyes. Strange scars, that if asked about them, she will get defensive right away. The scars include strange bite marks along her arms, and a few claw like marks in different places.

Rumors: People shouldn't be whispering about Niela, because they can find themselves dead quick. Those who know her, know she's a killer. Raised that way, and doesn't plan on changing that about her any time soon. It's all she knows after all. Niela tends to be cold, and unkind to strangers, but those who come under her line of sight as a friend, are well protected, that is, if she doesn't stab them in the back on a contract. Every assassin for herself after all.

Background: Niela was raised with money, and quite frankly, like a noble. She wasn't treated that way by many of her family. After all, she was the only child, but a bastard to Lord Foxmantle. Niela knew she could look to her father for support and comfort. Especially in dealing with their own 'business', and not like those chumps in the Dark Brotherhood. Her 'mother', daughter of the Briarborn clan, seemed to see Niela as her own failure in birthing a child for her father.

Niela's uncle, Tobias was even colder than anyone else, to Niela, he got colder after his sister ended her life in what seemed like an act of depression. Niela continued on honing her traded skills from her family, even after her father went on many jobs of his own to keep the gold flowing. His distance grew, till the moment the news came, that Chulainn Foxmantle, had fallen.

That news was a swift blow to Niela. She knew that with no one alive to protect her word, her Uncle would throw her out on the streets. However, with her grief, he let out his shame.

Tobias Briarborn's best friend, Chulainn had taken care of Niela and pretended to be her father, for the sake of the Briarborn name.

Niela did what only she could do. She ran. The man that she had come to hate in her life tried to change that with her sorrow. She responded by taking care of business herself. She left, ran as far as she could from her home. Practiced her skills for real, taking small contracts, and even joining groups for coin. She holds onto her grief, and anger so it fuels her, to not let silly pride change her choices in life. Most importantly, she chose to be the last Foxmantle. Not a Briarborn.

And to do that, she will do anything she needs to do, even if Skooma helps.