K i l l i n g
M O N S T E R S
Name: Kazimierz Bilski "Casimir"
Sex: Male
Age: 27
In the humble village of White Orchard, a peasant couple welcomed a baby boy named Casimir into the world. Like all newborns, he was completely dependent on his parents. Though young and unready for the challenges of parenthood, they did their best to provide for him. Casimir's mother was frail and sickly, while his father ventured into the forest to hunt for their survival.
Tragedy struck when Casimir was just six months old. His mother's illness took a turn for the worse, leaving her unable to nurse him. Desperate and frantic, his father tried to find another woman in the village to care for his son. But they were all equally impoverished, unable to spare food or resources for another mouth to feed.
As fate would have it, a band of Witchers came to pass through the town after completing a nearby contract. For reasons unknown, they took an interest in the young Casimir. The Witchers declared that the boy had the potential to become one of them, or would die in the attempt. If he remained in the village, his fate was all but sealed. With a heavy heart, his father made the difficult decision to give his son over to the Witchers.
The School of the Viper: They spirited him away to Gorthur Gvaed, the fortress shrouded in mystery, where the infamous School of the Viper honed its deadly craft. Here, Casimir grew up with other children. He quickly grew close to one particular child - a boy named Leon, who was of similar age. He became Casimir's best friend.
Marked by his piercing green eyes and jet-black hair, even as a child he stood out among his peers. At the tender age of six, his training commenced. A prodigy with a blade and a mind ravenous for knowledge, Casimir's potential was evident.
But fate, as it often does, dealt a cruel blow. Six years later, the Nilfgaardian Army descended upon the keep, its once-impenetrable walls breached, its halls echoing with the clash of steel. In the heart of the carnage, Casimir lost the boy who was like a brother to him. The School of the Viper lay in ruins, its surviving members forced to disperse like venomous seeds on the wind.
The School of the Griffin: After the destruction of Gorthur Gvaed, Casimir continued training under a different school; the School of the Griffin, located in Kaer Seren. Everything was different here. They didn't train using blades, poisons, and secrecy. They spoke of honor in these halls, of righteousness forged in steel and conviction. Once, Casimir might have been swayed by such ideals. But his friend's life had been the price of that schooling and bitterness now burned in his veins like a festering wound. He trained with a savage intensity that made even the battle-hardened Griffins take a step back, his every strike a scream of rage, his body a weapon honed on the whetstone of vengeance.
The Trials: At thirteen, Casimir was thrust into the Trials, a merciless crucible where even the most rigorous training could be for naught if he failed to endure the monstrous transformations. His resolve burned brighter than any fear: he would survive, no matter the cost.
Strapped down to prevent his thrashing, he felt the icy sting of elixirs, mutagens, and unknown horrors injected into his veins. The agony that followed was beyond words, a never-ending torment that shredded his mind and body. Three days passed, an eternity of seizures, drenching sweats, and madness-inducing convulsions. Yet he clung to life, even as more elixirs and viruses were forced upon him, his body screaming in protest as it battled the foreign invaders.
By the seventh day, he still drew breath, his eyes now forever changed. The golden, cat-like irises of a Witcher stared blankly at the ceiling. Yet the trials did not end. The mutations had proven so successful, so potent, that the experimenters saw fit to push him further, to test the limits of his altered flesh.
More mutagens, more agony, more battles for survival. And still he endured, his young body wracked with pain as it adapted, evolved, became something more. When at last he awoke, he was a stranger to himself. His hair, once dark, was now a stark white, his form lean and deadly, even for a child. His movements held a feral grace, a predatory power that belied his years.
The remainder of the Trials were but a formality. He completed each challenge with inhuman precision, his changed body obeying his will with unwavering loyalty. And when the final test was passed, he rose, not as a boy, but as a Witcher. A monster, forged in suffering and strengthened by the very horrors that would have destroyed any ordinary soul.
He was one of four to have survived the Trials.
Early Life: He left the Griffon School and set out on his own at age twenty. He traversed the world on his horse, taking up contracts to earn a living. His Witcher mutations granted him heightened reflexes, night vision, and the potential to master the Signs – all tools of his newfound trade.
Survival meant taking contracts, and Casimir had a knack for negotiating top coin for his monster-hunting services. Townsfolk would part with gold willingly enough when a griffin harassed their flocks or a wyvern made a meal of their children. He was no charity, this young Witcher, and his prices reflected the deadliness of his craft.
Inns and taverns became his intermittent homes, the hearthfire and ale a fleeting comfort. The road, though, was his true domain. He and and his mare roamed, a lone pair tracing the circuit of villages and towns through mountains and valleys. Casimir grew familiar with the itch of saddle sores and the tang of sweat and leather that clung to his skin.
News of monsters traveled, and so did Casimir. Each beast felled put more coins in his belt and brought a moment's respite, a warm meal and a roof, however short-lived. Yet the road beckoned, a siren's call. For a Witcher, there was always another monster, another contract, another dangerous mile. And Casimir rode on, ready as any of his mutagen-warped brethren to face whatever horrors the Continent saw fit to throw his way. Out here, he was more free than he had ever been, able to forget his long-lost parents and his childhood loss.
Temperament: Casimir isn't just a little rough around the edges – the man is a battle-hardened asshole, tempered in the fire of countless trials. His words cut like daggers, not from malice, but from a learned disregard for tact. His mentors from the School would be gravely disappointment by him. However, in a world that's only ever taken as much as it's given, Casimir learned early to rely solely on himself. He kills, not for pleasure, but for survival. A price on a monster's head, a bounty on a man... it's all just business.
To Casimir, people are tools, means to an end. Allies for a job, bodies to watch his back. Affection is a weakness he can't afford. Yet, beneath the gruff exterior, a spark remains. A spark of the boy he once was, the boy who lost too much, too young. A boy who would have given anything for someone to protect him and who would give so much to protect his friends.
Casimir may not know how to be friends, how to love without condition, but those he lets in... he'll walk through the depths of Hell and back to keep them whole. He'll be the protector he never had, the friend he always needed. He's still that broken boy, just in a man's body, with a man's weapons and a man's scars. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to start healing the damage done so long ago.
Romance: Ah, if there's anything he loves more than getting paid, it's getting laid. He's an open lover, willing to tangle in the sheets with no strings attached. In fact, he prefers it that way. He is the very definition of a flirt, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his smile a dare just begging to be accepted. Love is a game to him, one he plays with reckless abandon. But amongst the countless faces that blurred together, one stood out. Celina. A golden goddess with eyes the color of a midnight sky, she was wild, untamed, and absolutely captivating. For a year, he was ensnared in her web of passion and magic, his libido leading him deeper into a world of trouble. But even Casimir had his limits. Celina's darkness seeped into her sorcery, her curses striking fear into the hearts of the villagers, and when her wrath claimed the life of a child who reminded him of his own past, he knew it had to end. He left her, and in doing so, unleashed a fury he never could have imagined.
Celina was a woman scorned, and she would not be forgotten.
Banishment: Casimir's memories of that day still burned vividly in his mind. The rush of wind, his own anguished cries, and the jarring thud as he crashed to the ground. He had no idea how Celina had managed it, but she had ripped him from his world, tearing him through the fabric of reality itself.
When he finally came to, groggy and disoriented, everything felt...off. The air was different here, somehow. Gone were the familiar flora and fauna he had spent twenty six years traversing. It wasn't until he stumbled into a bustling town that the true horror hit him. He wasn't on the Continent anymore. These people spoke a different language, their clothes and buildings unlike anything he had ever seen. They called this place "Earth."
Celina's magic had created a portal, a doorway between his world and this one. And through that doorway, monsters poured. Casimir recognized them, the very creatures he had spent his life battling, now unleashed into a helpless world.
Luckily, this new world held its own dangers. Vampires, werewolves, witches...all the terrors of legend. They moved unseen, hiding their existence from the unaware humans. Casimir was quickly captured by a counsel of these beings, all who demanded answers he could not give them. He could only promise to eradicate the monsters, hopefully before the mundane take notice.
But they could not remain hidden for long.
And of course, his contracts still had a price. This wasn't his fault, after all. He was just a victim, forced to make the best of the card he'd been dealt.
Until he can learn of a way to seal it, he'll continue slaying monsters. He's been living in this world for about a year now.
Appearance: Casimir stands tall, his lean yet muscular frame commanding attention. His hair, a striking white, sometimes cropped short to accentuate his sharp cheekbones and powerful jawline, other times grown longer to frame his face with an air of mystery. His eyes gleam with a feline intensity, their golden color piercing against his pale skin. Ever the Witcher, he wears his medallion with pride. His attire varies with his mood - sometimes the functional leather of his Witcher's gear, other times the unfamiliar comfort of jeans and a t-shirt, a nod to his adventures beyond the Continent.
Relationship: Single
Orientation: Demisexual
Abilities:
× Enhanced eyesight and sense of smell
× Superhuman strength, speed, agility, and reflexes
× Gifted in alchemy
× Resistant to injury and diseases
× Fast healing. Fully heals after meditation
× Fast metabolism
× Able to cure curses (including lycanthropy, in certain cases)
× Vastly longer lifespan than of a human
Weapons: Casimir uses the weapons of the trade; a silver longsword, a steel longsword, and a steel dagger. He also uses a crossbow. Likewise, he can use a form of magic known as Signs; Axii, Yrden, Igni, Aard, and Quen. Applied oils can be used to increase damage input.
Quick Facts:
• Casimir likes animals, but they usually hate him. Especially cats
• Casimir eats a lot. His fast metabolism demands it. Likewise, he can eat raw meat. Eating heals him over time
• As a Witcher, he is sterile and can never bear children
• He can't get drunk
• Witcher potions can acceletate his healing and boost his combat, as well as give additional abilities
Noble Steed: In the forgotten corners of Casimir's homeland, horses were the only means of traversing the unforgiving terrain. Yet, when Celina saw fit to cast him out, her cruel hand didn't grant him the mercy of his loyal steed's companionship. He kinda misses that old horse, Silver.
While it took a while to find his footing and earn some cash, Casimir can confidently say that the best purchase he's made since arriving in this land is Kiva, his stunning paint mare. Her gleaming coat
is a mesmerizing mix of pinto colors with a face as white as freshly fallen snow. And who could miss those striking light blue eyes? Certainly, traveling around on the back of a horse garners some lingering glances in his direction. Casimir likes to think it's because he's such a dashing figure atop his noble beast. His chiseled features and commanding presence in the saddle make him a sight to behold, after all.
This world, unfortunately, is not geared towards those traveling on horseback. The roads are crowded, the cities are sprawling, and world is so vast. So Casimir had to compromise. He found a sorceress who was able to etch a glyph into Kiva's side. He uses this to essentially teleport It has it's limits; he has to be able to visualize the area before it will work. A glance at a map is usually all it takes.
Evil is Evil
Lesser, greater, middling
Makes no difference.
The degree is arbitrary.
If I'm to choose between one evil and another
I'd rather not choose at all.
Comments
Very interesting page and character! Thank you for the request. If you'd ever like to write let me know.