Physical Description: Scarlet red, eyes of blood. The average sized man's gaze dominates his otherwise attractive face. A red crescent shaped scar adorns his forehead, though he refuses to say where it came from. Working in the sun leaves his skin an olive color, criss-crossed with the light delicate scars that form from magical healing make almost make intricate designs. Light brown hair, cut short, though it'd curl if allowed to grow.
Personality: Integra is a kind person at heart, but he tends to ignore that due to the fact that he's had to out of necessity. He has a soft spot for children and animals in particular, and tends to treat people who hurt them poorly. Though his dominating quality is his fanatical devotion to Cantata. He would gladly drown himself in a sea of children's blood he had just spilled if it would please her.
Equipment & Abilities: Integra's life has consisted of archery and swordplay, though not quite a master he is more than capable with both. In addition he dabbles in magic, using it to give him an edge in combat.
Historical Background: Blackhart, a small town in the Elkwood, or at it had been at some point. Hunting the local hart was the town's only export and Integra was a hunter by birthright. However he had not the time to eke out a living skinning deer and pissing in the wind. His mother disappeared immediately after giving birth to him, and left his father an angry drunk who refused to talk about her. Integra thought this left him little choice but to succeed at any cost and be gone from the shit-hole. His dad gave him a bow at eleven and sent him, alone, out to hunt deer. "It looks like it's going to break..." Integra held his tongue and did as he was told. A kindly older hunter found him, and took the time to teach him to hunt, though it was only a few short hours before the hunter was mauled by an attacking hart. Integra watched with grim eyes as the ground was stained crimson as the man stuggled, drawing a knife and stabbing the deer, again and again. From his position in a tree he loosed an arrow into the deer; it looked at him with, what seemed to the young boy, to be shock or perhaps even betrayal before finally exhaling and dying. The man continued to try and untangle his innards from the hart's horns but after a few more moments also exhaled and died. It was a few minutes before Integra climbed down to the hunter, tears streaming down his face. He hugged the old man, taking his knife and better made bow, cleaning the deer's horns on the man's shirt, and began dragging the deer by its horns back to town.
He went straight to the butcher, selling the deer for what little gold he could. "My, my, a hart this size would put up quite a fight, how'd a little lad like you manage it?" The bile rising in his mouth, he could only hold out his hand for the coins as they dropped into his hands. "Blood money." He thought to himself, as he bought strips of salted meat with the money. Then he left; it wasn't long before he heard of Darcoi, a place to sell his skills, though he lacked any skills. It was slow progress to the Capital, especially considering he would spent a majority of the day practicing with his bow. Then at night he would erect an elaborate fake camp with a decoy bed before stringing a hammock in the trees. Meticulously this routine continued for three years, he wasn't sure exactly, as he no longer kept track.
Three men ambushed him one winter night; he wasn't quite asleep when they started watching the camp and it set him on alert. He waited for four hours with his bow, and when they came pretended to make camp and began crawling over he greeted the first with an arrow through the neck. Integra never quite forgot the noise he made gulping for air that couldn't come. The others tried to flee, but one of them had a broadsword on him, intricately designed too. "The kind that costs money" sang through his head almost exactly like the arrow and the highwayman. The third escaped, though the boy barely noticed as he scrambled down to loot their bodies. The first man had a small book, that looked like it was gilded in gold. A greenish-blue lock held it fast shut. The sword was the real prize though, and the teenage boy began practicing with it every night.
The clattering of wood on stone, a caravan traveling to Darcoi, a perfect stroke of luck for the would be swordsman. Though he only meant to pay for a ride, they hire him on as a guard. It's a three day journey, but the caravan is heavily assaulted. When he runs out of arrows they start charging him to use theirs. "Killing up close is so different," anything else to think about, rather than the blood and viscera i'm covering myself in. Anything to not think about the murders....
Darcoi was nice, and before he was even paid and dismissed Integra had another job lined up. Guarding a nobleman, part of the Oligarchy apparently. It was easy enough work, though they demanded he torture someone. "Just don't think about it," sometimes he wondered if the thoughts were even his. In the spare-time he practiced magic. The book he had stolen off a dead man had been an introduction to magic, painstakingly explained and examined. When he had it appraised, the practitioner told him "This must have cost you a fortune!" He grimaced and took the book back. Practice made perfect, and it kept his bloodstained hands busy.
A waif from the mist, an ephemeral song to be heard and beloved while it lasts. He isn't sure when it happened; but the moment he heard he bought a horse and rode to see for himself. Smitten immediately, captivated by her very soul. "I see that you bleed black, my heart was also dyed black," he told her when he saw her. When the Red Ravens rose and her army was formed, Integra swore her unyielding allegiance in this life and the next.