". . . I don't regret leaving domum, but I do regret coming around here."

𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊

"Trypo" Harrows

Trie-poh Hah-rows

Harrows is the given surname, ed down from her father. However, she seems to have completely dropped her birth given name, and instead calls herself "Trypo," a word meaning "holes" in Latin. Ex. "Trypophobia," the fear of many holes.

"Quare-- you questioning my name? Ita, strange, sed. . . Quare?"

𝖆𝖌𝖊

She appears rather young. Not a child, but somewhere between the elder teens, or early adulthood. This appearance falls right in line with her actual age-- only 19. One of the youngest hunters to ever roam Yharnam.

"Call me a child again, see what this 'child' can do- I'll put the other venatores to shame with what's going to happen to you--"

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗

Trypo is both biologically and mentally female. There are also instances where she acts very much like a lady- however, she's also known to crossdress often, and can appear to be male at first glance. This disguise is quickly shattered the moment she speaks.

". . . How much must mater hate her child to be willing to torment them? Did the child do something wrong? An unforgivable sin? . . . Was the child's existence a sin?"

𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒

Neeko : LoL : French

Do keep in mind, this link is to the closest fit of her voice. It is not exact- simply the closest representation.

Trypo's voice is very clearly a female's, holding a higher . It's rather difficult for her to use a lower , and often results in her voice breaking. Her voice can generally be described as weak, due to it wavering a bit when she speaks-- a nervous tone. Alongside this, she has an accent with some verbal quirks. These quirks are as follows:

•Sh is "tss" ex. "Tsow" (show)

•T is dentalized (more of a D than a T)

•Rolled R's ex. "Rrailrroad" (railroad)

These verbal quirks are due to English not being her first language. Her first language is actually Latin-- which would explain some of the quirks in her speech, and the accent she carries. It is worth noting that she struggles to say particular words, or will struggle to speak in English if she speaks too quickly. She often mixes Latin with her English. Ex. "Ita (yes), I made it to the ecclesia (church.)"

"Hm? Eh, nulla- I don't- . . . I am not from within Yharnam walls. I'm an outsider brought in."

𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

A huntress of Yharnam. Young, inexperienced, and highly cautious, but a huntress all the same. It's a long, long road ahead for Trypo. A long, painful, difficult road. She doesn't really know what her goal in this occupation is- if she's honest with herself, she only took this occupation because at the time, declining it meant going back home. She couldn't bear the thought of going back, thus, taking the contract, and throwing herself into the hunter's dream. In this time though, she's taken up the role of one of the crows-- a hunter of hunters.

"The other venatores, they don't see me as an equal. . . If anything, they see me as a child. Just another thing to target. Am I that much of a burden?"

𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

When it comes to her face, Trypo appears youthful, with no lasting wrinkles, and no visible scarring on her face. With her young age comes smooth skin, and rather soft to the touch. Her hair is black, and long enough to fully cover the top half of her face. Her hair is also quite soft to the touch, and clean, unless she's yet to bathe after a battle, in which there may be a bit of blood in her hair. Hiding under all that dark hair is eyes of bright green, with an. . . Unnatural metallic sheen. Her skin is tanned, both by her ethnicity and by exposure to the outdoors.

When it comes to her general body appearance, Trypo stands at about 5'06 feet tall, weighing in around 155 pounds, give or take a few. Her body is rather slender, with an hourglass shaped frame. Curious enough, when one looks at her bare arms, her forearms have darker patches of skin on the outer side of the arm. According to Trypo, this is also on her upper legs and torso as well.

Her attire consists of the dress blues of a crow hunter, with the feathered cloak draped over her shoulders. The cloak, though looking bulky, is quite light, but warm- perfect for Yharnam's cold air. She's used to the heat, after all. Over the dark blue coat is a few straps, used to carry her saw cleaver when not in use. For her lower half, she dons boots hiked up to the knees, with a metal bracer on her left leg. The tros are a brown tone, the boots being made of leather. To polish off the attire, a hunter's hood she'd quite literally stolen, and a small bag beneath the feathered cloak, tied to her belt. This bag holds blood vials, bandaging, and other small items she carries with her on her travels.

". . . The other venatores, they come back? Ah. . . I just-- I hope a particular one doesn't come back."

𝖌𝖊𝖆𝖗

•Saw cleaver: The trusty saw cleaver- Trypo's one and only weapon. Compacted, it's great for swift, quick attacks in succession, and easier to carry. Extended, it gives her more range, though the weight is all in the blade, and cancbe awkward to handle sometimes. She much prefers the compacted form of this weapon, as it's easier for her to handle, and allows her to retain her quick footed nature. A sturdy, trusted weapon. She'd have it no other way.

•Healing items: As every hunter should have, she carries an array of healing and replenishing items, to restore her physical well being, and to restore her ability to use her arcane. She's been known to carry blood vials, but also bandaging as the most common item on her. A bit unprepared for most serious battles, but, this would be due to her lack of experience. Just run in and fight. . . Right?

"So fill to me, the parting glass~. . . Goodnight, and joy be with you all~. . ."

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

Trypo is generally an approachable figure. Due to her age, some of the older hunters may see her as naive, or desperately hopeful. Trypo is often seen as this quiet figure, keeping to herself in most cases. She's cautious around others, and will often humor others and play along, regardless of if she knows it to be a trap or not. It is worth serious note that Trypo has not gone mad off the blood, or the thrill of the hunt. She still has her sanity, her humanity to her-- there's no desire to seek out other hunters to steal their blood echoes, no desire to exterminate every beast to walk Yharnam. In her mind, she's just trying to survive. It's safe to say she's akin to the troublesome child, though. A bit of a thief, quick with her words, and even quicker with bargains. A mere petty thief, really. The most she's stolen was but a hat and food. Not even money or items-- food. Timid, quick witted, though she's rather sweet to those she grows close to, and would lay down her life to keep those she trusts alive.

The poor, young, foolish huntress.

". . . What is safety? I hear so many speak of it, and yet. . . I don't think I've ever felt it. Am I supposed to feel something?"

𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘

Her arcane is a dangerous one. Fire. A living ember. Pyromancy. This etherial ability of hers has marked her as unnatural in the eyes of quite a few. Dangerous as it may be, it does have the downsides of its presence in her body. On the positive side though, with flame alive in her veins, Trypo cannot get frostbite, nor can she get hypothermia. This pyromancy of her allows her to lace her saw cleaver in flame, and allows her to throw flame, though this doesn't generally last for very long. If she doesn't grow tired from doing so, then it's because she's coughing up smoke.

𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘

There are no outstanding abilities that Trypo can physically do. The only notable 'ability' she has going for her on a physical level would be her speed and reaction timing. She moves rather quickly, being able to outrun quite a few hunters- though, even then, there are those who are faster than her. To tie in with this speed of hers, she is equally as quick in battle, able to land a few hits before there's an opening for her foe to counter her attack. This is mostly thanks to her light frame-- however, there is a downside to that. It's difficult to keep herself grounded, and it's not too difficult for larger enemies to simply pick her up and throw her.

"Nulla, nulla! We can talk, I-- nulla! Nolo tibi nocere! Posuit telum descendit!"

𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘

•Arcane: Although she can wield magic herself, that doesn't mean she's strong to it. When hit with particular types of arcane, it can cause critical damage. It's worth noting though that fire based magic is virtually useless against her- fire essentially flows in her veins, to use it against her is foolish.

•Physical: Trypo is not physically very strong. She also isn't all that big, and certainly doesn't hold a very intimidating stature yet. It's rather easy for another hunter to knock her over, and it spells her doom if she gets ganged up on. No amount of struggle can save her from two or more hunters at once. The same can apply for beasts-- though, she can outsmart a feral beast. A hunter? They're more experienced, they can read her every twitch. A beast is just looking for the next meal.

•Emotional: Trypo hasn't been a huntress for very long. Because of that, her emotional walls haven't been fully built yet, and to make matters worse, there are emotional wounds that have yet to be healed. Her uprising, it was a rough one, and the wounds are still there. To show her basic acknowledgement that isn't striving to hurt her, showing her comion of most forms, it's enough to break her into tears. Though, this also has a much more serious side. A mask of formality, one of no apparent emotion. She struggles to convey emotions properly.

𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖍𝖘

•Arcane: For as problematic as her pyromancy is for her right now, eventually, that magic will fully awaken and be part of her like it's her own blood. When that day finally rolls around, she'll be able to start properly sharpening her skills with her living ember. For now though, this strength lays hidden away, buried within those fiery veins. They'll awaken one day. But for now, patience is all she can do about it. Wait, and endure.

•Physical: She may be easy to knock down and throw around, but she makes up for it by being hard to keep up with. Spry, quick on her feet, and quick to swing that saw cleaver. Her reaction time and speed makes up for her faults. The faster the attacks, the sooner the enemy goes down, right? In addition, she may not be physically strong, but she can take a lot of blunt force trauma before she starts to suffer. Ex. Fist fights- punch all you want, but she won't feel it much unless it's her face, neck, or directly to the stomach.

•Emotional: Her greatest downfall, yet also a quality to her other hunters seem to lack. Empathy, sympathy. She's rarely seen a face that doesn't want to kill her, one that doesn't have an ill intention toward her. As much as her past may hurt, it's those very same emotions that allow her to keep pushing forward. She can't fall, not now, not after all that's happened. She has to keep herself up, the only thing to save her is herself. . . Somehow.

"Ambulant nocte. Non timor umbras, is est amicus."

𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘

•Dreams: A hunter needs to rest, even if they are in the dream of someone else. The body can't go on without sleep. With Trypo, even this can be a bit of a dangerous game, as every dream she has is a lucid dream. However, she does not recognize the fact that those are simply dreams. The lines between 'reality' and her dreams are so blurred that, to her, they're the same thing. In her time in the hunter's dream, she is under the assumption that odd occurrences happen. One moment, she is awake, the next, others may see her asleep in the alley, but she would be dreaming, believing she's off somewhere else doing something entirely different. There is a sense of frustration as she slowly starts to realize her dreams and reality are blurred, and trying to sort the two apart seems hopeless. The dreams, they seem all too real. . .

•Arcane: Magic has setbacks. Consequences. You can't expect to use magic without studying your own, and you can't use it properly until your body gets used to it. Because Trypo uses pyromancy, the retaliation she gets from it revolves around fire based things. There are times where she will cough up smoke, or vomit a burning fluid. In severe instances of this retaliation, the fire burning in her blood will burn too hot, and can leave her writhing on the ground in a pain she can't calm. The most notable location of this burning torment is in her left arm, and in her chest. If one were to put their hand on her arm, or check for her pulse during these fits of burning retaliation, Trypo would feel feverish to them-- dangerously so. A way to combat this is for Trypo to consume cold fluid, such as water- or quite simply just have her eat ice. Until her body is fully adapted to the fire in her veins though, this torment is hers to suffer.

"Me? The ecclesia hates me, they call me a 'godless animal.' I find it strange- I'm no animal. I'm not frenzied in blood like other venatores- All I've got to me is flame."

". . . If I see mater in these Yharnam walls, I will make her feel the pain I did. She's the reason I'm here. . . I don't want to see her face, I don't want to hear her voice. But if that's my wish, why do I still call her that. . ? It angers me- I don't understand."

𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖞𝖑𝖊

Trypo has a rather flashy battle style, for lack of better words. She uses her speed to her advantage, getting in as many hits as she can, before distancing herself, and trying to keep out of the line of fire. For beasts particularly larger than herself, she's been known to jump up onto the beast itself and land a few hits before getting thrown off. She dares not try this tactic with another hunter-- she would rather stay out of grabbing range of them. With her pyromancy, she generally uses it to lace the edge of her saw cleaver's blade in embers. If one watches closely, there's a rhythm to her attack patterns, akin to a dance. If one can 'dance' with her, one can outwit her. A battle style she severely struggles with is a distance attacker. Firearms and ranged magical attacks are her quickest killer. She can take a few hits, but not a human soul survives a well placed bullet.

"I'll wager seven thousand blood echoes. If I win this duel, you owe me. . . I lose this duel, I owe you. Ita?"

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

Trypo's early childhood was rather neglectful. Her early years of life consisted of her father being off to work most days, and her mother remaining at home, though hardly paying any attention to her. At this time in her life, she went by her birth given name, and only knew Latin. It was the language spoken in her household- and because she never went to any proper school, it remained like this for a number of years. This neglect she faced, she suffered from it since about the time she could walk. Her days, from the ages of two and six, mostly consisted of her father being at work, her mother either sleeping or in the kitchen, and Trypo being left to her own devices. Her father was the only one to pay attention to her, the one to teach her how to speak, read, and even write a little bit. It was a quiet, lonely life most days. It's the reason she suffers socially. During this time, she should have been developing standard social cues, such as eye , but the neglect lead her to not develop such things. Eye is difficult to hold now as a result.

When Trypo was around the age of six, things in her household began to change- and not for the better. It started out as her family moving quite frequently- yearly, or even twice or thrice yearly. She never held any close relations to anyone outside her parents because of this. Though, with all this moving around also came the beginning of the worst. Her mother and father started to bicker more, starting to get into more heated arguments with one another. These arguments drove Trypo to get as far from the yelling as she could- the result being her ending up outside. On these little outdoor adventures, a priest, whom also spoke the Latin language, had found her on a morning out wandering from home. This man, she never got his name, but he was teaching her how to speak english. She was lucky enough to find him early on in her family's stay at the area-- a year and about four months, she learned from this man, learning english. This unnamed man had also given her a sense of safety from the troubles she faced at home. And yet, one day, her family was off and gone again. She never did get to say goodbye to him.

Around the age of eight, disaster struck, and more than once for her. Her mother was growing more angry, and it was no longer being fully directed toward her father. While her father was away to work, her mother would direct the rage to Trypo instead- every reason she could find. The room isn't clean, your face and hands are dirty, you spoke too loud, you didn't answer me right away, look at me when I speak to you, quit going outside, don't feed the birds, you'll attract the cats! No, don't read, go do the dishes instead. No, don't write, you're not allowed to. What is that language you're speaking? Speak your native tongue, child! You spoke out of line, go to the room and don't come out until supper. . . There were nights where she never ate. This rage, it only grew, and Trypo started to hear things no child should hear. Her mother's words of not having wanted a child. Words of Trypo being unwelcome under their roof, words of her being unnatural, being something of a bad omen. This, however, was not the worst to come.

Within the span of but a single year, Trypo witnessed the worst side of man. On a late evening, while out to avoid the noisy turmoil of home, she witnessed a man take three bullets to the chest. She had witnessed a murder that evening. An act that she never spoke of, out of fear she'd be the one to blame. That very same fear became a reality not three months later, when she encountered her father while out to evade her mother's rage. She had begun walking home with her father, unaware they were being followed. This was the early evening she witnessed her father die, mere inches away from herself. She had fled the scene of the crime, though she didn't return home right away. Grief stricken, she had returned to her father's body, and made hopeless, yet desperate attempts to awaken him. As the night drew near, she had taken the cloak from his shoulders, and put it on herself in an effort to keep herself warm. She didn't move from his side that night, and wound up falling asleep against him for the last time.

Her and her mother remained in that house for the rest of her childhood. The afternoon after she had come home without her father, she recieved the worst of it from her mother. The blame for his death, the blunt force of her rage, and the words she feared most being said to her face. "You don't deserve to live." And yet, she was but a child. She couldn't just leave. She was stuck coming back to that god forsaken house, day after day, carrying the weight of her father on her heart, and having to endure the ever growing rage of her mother. Words were no longer just words. With these hateful words, physical harm came to her from her mother as well. Verbal, mental, and physical trauma-- and her hatred toward her mother only grew.

As the years ed, Trypo grew to despise her own birth given name. She hated it about as much as she hated her mother. This hatred toward her own name, she did away with it by disassociating with the name altogether. For awhile, she went by "Nameless," as she held no name she responded to. "Little Ms. Harrows" was generally the name given to her by elder folk who knew her mother or father. She grew older, and eventually came up with the name of "Trypo" to introduce herself as when asked. This name was one her mother never learned of, for fear it may also turn into a name she loathed as much as she did her former name. In her last few years of remaining at home with her mother, a few ideas started to circulate in her mind. A few options of how to free herself of her current life. . . Run, endure, or become the thing that destroyed her father, by destroying her mother.

She took it upon herself to run. At the age of eighteen, she took the cloak she'd gotten off her father, threw it on, took a satchel, and ran. She left to evade her mother's wrath again, and quite simply just never came home. She ran through the town she grew to know, and ran from her past as if her very life depended on it. Like if she didn't make it out now, she'd never get the chance again. She didn't know where she was going, never thought about what she would do once she was free, and never once thought about the consequences of leaving. She only knew that if she stayed, her mother may be the death of her. She didn't have a clue what direction she was going. She just went, and never turned back. This aimless wandering lead her to a short lived life of being on the run from an enemy she never knew. Had her mother called someone to find her? Did they even care? She didn't want to know the answer.

She found herself under the temporary care of an old man, whom she never got the name of. He had questioned where she had come from, what she was doing. Her answer? A place she wanted to never return to, and she was on the run, with no intention to return home. A question sparked; "You just need some Yharnam blood in you. . . But are you willing to make a contract?" She took it, blindly. She was desperate for a way out. She didn't know what she was after, but if it meant going to a place where her mother wouldn't ever find her, she was going to risk it. This risk however, it resulted in her g a contract. This contract, it was a trap, in a way. A way out for her from her past, yes, but behind the dotted line was a fate of bloodshed, death, and yet more faces that would wish her dead. She had signed a contract to become a huntress.

The memory is hazy, between g the contract and waking up in that strange place. But she ed the feeling. The feeling of a deep burning in her veins. And when she had awoken, that same burning pain was destroying her from the inside out. A living ember had awoken, but how? She didn't understand. She lay on that stone roadway, in an unfamiliar place, in a pain she couldn't silence. Alone, afraid, but free from her mother's cold reach. She awoke beside two weapons, and a dozen vials of red. A saw cleaver, blunderbuss, and blood vials. It's all she was armed with-- not even knowledge of the world she'd been thrown into.

She had it rough in the first little while. Her first encounter with anything in this strange place was some form of creature, diseased with lycanthropy. The room this battle took place in was a disaster after she managed to take it down, though not without wounds to herself. She was on the edge of death, and within her first day in this strange world, she met her first human face. . . Whom killed her the moment he saw her. She thought she had just awoken from a nightmare when she had awoken-- only to find herself in the same place she had started in, before battling the beast. To her dismay, she had to duel it again. Her first few hours consisted of routine deaths, either by the beast, or by others not far beyond.

It was within her first few days that she realized death was not a permanent thing here, so it seemed. A death, yet all she lost seemed to be a form of currency, held by whatever had killed her. It took awhile to get used to. . . But eventually, she made progress in her travels. Kill what took the currency. Move on. Try not to die. Most of her early hunting days were spent running like hell from whatever lurked around each corner, like some deadly game of tag. This rhythm carried on, up until she found herself a lantern, and ignited it. A sense of safety washed over her, and next thing she knew, she was somewhere else entirely. A home up at the top of a hill. A stranger staring back at her. This figure spoke of aid, and Trypo listened.

Gradually, she was getting a handle on the mechanics of the world she found herself in. The lanterns are safety. The 'doll' is there to help her. She is a huntress, the currency is echoes, and other hunters lurk Yharnam. Her first encounter with another hunter, it ended quite poorly for Trypo. She encountered this hunter in a part of town with a lot of open space in the crossroads. Foolishly, she challenged this hunter- and died within the first two minutes of the encounter. When she had made her way back to the area again, she challenged them to a proper duel, under assumption she was better prepared for them. The bargain was her blunderbuss. . . She lost this duel, got her blunderbuss and blood echoes taken, and she was killed, again. The third encounter with this hunter resulted in Trypo fleeing through the city streets, not wishing to endure that humiliation again. No, she'd rather not he killed by the same hunter for a third time.

Time ed, and she gained more skill. She grew a bit stronger, she grew wiser when it came to how to approach certain foes- and how to approach other hunters. Some just couldn't be talked to, but others were willing to play a bargaining game. A few thousand blood echoes for a duel. However, one of these duels landed her against the old crow- Eileen. A foe she couldn't win against- and oh, how she tried, how frustrated she got over losing, again, and again, and again. At some point though, she would come crawling back to the old crow, which granted her another death or three, before a bit of a situation brought these two together as a mentor and. . . Something, of a student. Henryk- a hunter gone mad. She was warned, not to go back to the tomb of Oden. What did the young huntress do? The thing she wasn't supposed to, landing her in a brawl with the old hunter, and Eileen stepping into the fray to slay the man, leaving the young huntress to limp off to tend her wounds. The one to follow, being the old crow, deciding to take her under her wing, teach her the 'law of the land,' so to say.

Currently, Trypo roams Yharnam, surviving as a huntress. She still has much to learn about being a huntress, about the world she's stuck in. She remains oblivious to the fact she's inside a dream, all while battling her own growing pyromancy that sears her veins. The lonely life continues-- not a fate she wanted, but it was the fate that was given to her. One of the youngest hunters to roam, most others see her as easy prey. Others take pity, some humor her in her wagers with a duel for blood echoes. A select few humor her further by letting her take victory. On the other hand, some hunters are just an enemy to her, plain and simple. She has yet to find a travel partner, or anybody outside the 'doll' and the old crow she can trust to any degree. As it stands, she carries the title 'Little Crow,' eluding to the fact she's among the youngest, while marking her under the wing of the other crow hunters.

×

"I still have my humanity. . . Do you?"