On her face, Neriah Parringer is a simple excavator, a freelancer who wanders parts of Ignas in search of adventure parties to accompany on their delves into old ruins and caverns, putting her skills to work in search of answers. If only things were that simple in the private confines of her heart, where endless questions have lived since childhood. She could define herself by her job, but beyond it, Neriah seeks answers to more fundamental questions of the self - who she is, why she's here, and why the world has conspired to make her what she is. While she's quiet, withdrawn and a little salty, prone to opening up to her friends and acquaintances with a little time but keeping part of herself forever guarded, what's clear enough is that she rarely seems to find satisfaction - as if something is always just outside her grasp.
Marilyn: Neriah's trusty pistol, a glossy-looking pistol with a curious firing mechanism. Rather than a conventional hammer, there's a steam-powered firing coil buried inside, and it fires the bullets at a significantly higher penetrating power than a conventional revolver could, venting steam out the 'nostrils' behind the magazine in the process.
Trusty Shovel: It's a simple excavator's spade. With this, she can dig into the turf, or into piles of rocks, or even use it to pry open doors or smash locks. It's a big help to the team, too - when Neriah digs in, it gives the entire team a helping hand by opening up handholds or giving them something to use for leverage.
Magic: Neriah seems capable of channeling some form of dark magic. The spells may manifest as immensely powerful blasts of dark energy with an intensely unnerving spiritual aura, or as eldritch spheres with similar properties, among other manifestations. Whatever it is, the magic not only seems to manifest through her right hand, it also seems to cause her intense levels of pain, verging on the near-fatal.
Layna Manydays: "Where's she from? She seems like she's from a time long past... but I'm glad she stood up for me. It's nice."
Lunata Croze: "She's a nice girl... she's really sensitive. She's not afraid of me like the others, I don't think. I'm... I'm kind of glad."
Mikaia: "...I never thought I'd have a little buddy. I'm... I'm okay with it. I want to be there to protect her... I wouldn't ever want anything bad to happen to someone so kind."
Riesenlied: "At first I thought she was really saccharine and just this big obnoxious super-pure saint, but she's actually really nice and treated me like I'm a person and not just someone's boot scrapings. But I don't know if she'll accept me, considering how I feel about the Guardians. Am I just an outcast even from the outcasts now...?"
whisper something to me, all it is is a qu̥̟̦e̷s̠͎̮tion
Iskandra Grendorre: "She's a butthead. Seems nice at first, but feels like the kind of person who'd use and abuse you."
Seraph Ragnell: "Oh man, so is she really the dead? That's awesome! She's my new pal, the dead! I wish I could ask the dead more questions, though. Like why she seems to see through me as easily as I can see through her."
Yarobeleedt: "I'm sorry I scared him. I always scare people. I hate it. I wish I didn't have to."
all of you will̕ ͜b̶urn i̴ņ ̡y̵o͝ur own well-deserved little fires
Ethius Hesiod: "It's OK if Mr. Ethius hates me. I un̕d̻͚̮̝e̩͔rsta͝n̰d his feel͓͠i͉͝ng̖̠͖̜͓̠̀s. Yes, I understand his ͎̬̦͓́h̨̳̹̫̩̬a̭te. I even understand why he tried to murder me. I would try to murder me too. So you see, I can't be ma̜͈d͍̪ͅͅ ̧a̖̣t him. Not at all. No no no. No no no no no no no no no. Ahahahahahahaha. He's a good man. A nice man. A very nic̤̀e̥͉̺ ̼̭̱̙͘m̛a̺̰͙̟̜̠n. Yep yep yep. Ahaha. Ha. Ha."
Fenrir: "Oh, please. Glare away. I don't mind. Ha ha̙̞. ͏̭̬̙͈̝H̹̟̪̭́a̬.̦́ ͇H̪̭̤a̮͖̲̪̻̼ ̢̬h̦á͉ ͇h̳̦͓̰͡ḁ̺̫̦̝̻͝h͇̜́́͡a̷̠̰͔̠̠̻͙̣͞h̗̣̤͉̯̻͝͠á͔̬̱̟͕͖̩͇͉͞h҉̙̤̣̲͍͔a̩̹̗̰̣͢h̝a̞͝͡h̶̶̻̱̗̫̯̭͕̤͘a̧̰̺͜"
Ida Everstead-Rey: "What a hateful person. Her despa̛ír śu̶its her. I hope I get to compound it by ta͏ki͏n͜g ̛awáy̸ e҉ve͟r͠yt̵hi̷n͞g̛ she ͢ĺove̛s ͡so̧me͘d̵a͜y̸."
Josephine Lovelace: "It must be easy to lecture people when you're normal. But she won't be lecturing for much longer. N̮̩̻̞͞o͙͚̟̝͔͓p̗̼͇̩̹͓͞e̫̞̦͢.̬̲͈̥͍"
Margaret: "I'll teach you to short me on tips, even if that cigarette holder thing is awesome."
Matilda Whitehead: "I used to like you, Matilda. But that's okay. That's okay. Now you're my enemy, too. I can't wait to summar̛̳i̴̖̩͖l͏y̷̗̟̳ ̠e͇̫͈̻̯xe̢̗̝̬̳̭c̮u҉͕͉t̸̶̝̦̮̰̮͚̟͕͉͚̦͈͢͜ͅͅe̛̛͙̝͍̼̤̫̺̰ ̡̖̠̼̬͇̟̻̲̼̜͇̠̣́͢͟ý̵̖̳͙͍̻̭ó̞̗͍͎͠͡͡u̧͈̭̱̱̯̩̪͉̰̕͞ ̶̵͔̦̬̖̼̘̣̗̮̣̩͡t̷̸̡̟̬̳̬͍̥̲̹̹̤͔̭̺̱̺̕o̴̱͚̦̜̩͉͘͜o̟̝͚͍̗̠̪̱͜ ҉̢̛̼̳͇̩̗̭͍̦̫h҉̷̢̛̟̖̠̟̦͙͚̣̞̖̖̲̦͘a̶̡̻̦̥̟̤̝̣̭̗̗͠͝ͅh̶̴̞̳̥a̤̖̮̮͠͠h̵̵͍̲̞̹̥̹̥̱͇̤̺̺̜͖̺͈͎́͞á̠̮̞̝̟͜͡h̸̞̘̫͖̕H̸̵͜҉̰̹̞͎̱̝̻͉̺͍̮̻À̶̧̡̺̥̩͍͕͙̘́ͅḨ̶̰͔̗̪͉̭̙̱̺̗̥͝Ạ̴̶̡̪͔̩̫̙̼̠̪̱͕̭͕̞̲̜̟́͟ͅH̴͍̙͙͓̙̱͈͇̹̜͙̫̘͕́͠A̢͏̸̗̥̠́H̷̨̢̩̻͈̪̦͜ͅA̙̬̱͔͕̘̲̥̯̘͉̯̬͍͘͠ͅH͏̸͟҉͍̘͔̼͔̰̱͔̭̝͓͍̲̲͎̀A̡҉̦̣͎͇͖̲̜̻̦͉͚̻͚̭͝"
Thomas the Medical Student: "i͈̭͢t̯͢ͅ'̷͖̝s ̤͙̹̠̻̹̠͝o̼̙͚̪k ͈̥̼̼̤̬ͅi͠f̵͙̣͇̳̮͈ ͎̻̼͇̯̞̦͘y͎̥̭͍͔̺̩͝o̶u̳ ̘̙ͅh̢̬̘̬̪͖̫a͖̯ț̵̱͚̲̘̰è̲̲͓̗̜͔̭ ̫͕͉̼m̶e̗̣̠̙͕.̱̬̻̦̱͚͜ ̨̮i̞̩̪͕ ̜̘̣̣͔͇̦͜h̞̬̳a̩̥t͔͈̻͍͎e̳̦͔͉͇ ̸͈͍̥͍̯̙m̸̮e̻̮̪̙̙̥̪ ̢̳̤͈t̮̦͎̣̖oo̟̦͎͓͖͉.̱̙̙̬̙ i̢̛̗͕̝̮̰d̸̷̗̖̗͙ͅi̶̢̧̩͓͇͉o͔͙̕ͅt̸̠̞͘.̖̯̥ ̢̠̼͕̘͝͝i̙̜̼͓͓̭̦̖͇͞d̺̯̳̜̲͉͔̼í̮̹̮͙͙o͙̥̕t͏̴͏͔̫͔̦͎͍̟͈ ̮̗̘͘i̷̱̰̲d͚͎̱́͘i̭̠͡͡ò͇̼̤ͅͅt̟͔͎̣̗̟͉.̵̱̭͠ i̡҉̙̪̬͍͉̟͇͙̩͖͓̞̙̪͟͜d̸̦̠̻͓̭̯̙̰̻̤̲̣̩͘͝͠͠ͅi̵̺̼̯̗̬̭̟̼̦͓̩̻̘̮̹͡͞ͅo̵̧͙̣̲̜͜t̸̵̸̥̺̞͍̬̖͈̳̯͙̣̻̻͜͞ͅ ̢͓̙̱̝̩͙̭͎̮̙̩͖̟͈͢i̧̛̝̥̮͉̩̱̳̪̪̼͙̝͎̘̤ͅd̯̼̥̕͡i҉̢̲̩͎̤̖̲̜̕͜͝ó̡̡̪̗̬̰̜̣t̵͍̥̦̠͎̼̰͎͙̠̮͍͉̩͖̝͜͟ͅ ͏̭̺̠̠̬̟̣̱̻͚̫̣͙̝̥̹̥̖͡͠ͅì҉̷͖͕̣͉̭̤̻̟̦̻͖̻̻d̴̴͎̰͙͚̰̬̟͙̮́̕í̸̡̜̗̰̳̱o͍̙̻̥͕̲͓̜͘͡ͅt҉̶̫͚̤̯͎̤̰̟͙̯̫͖̬̳͔̱̖́͡ ̸̡̗͖̰͍̩͕̮͢i҉̡̨̛̬̼͎̞̗͓̖̺̱̦̼͍̪͇ḑ̛͏̷͍͎̣ͅi̶̢͉͉̭̘̱̦̙͓̰̥͖̟͙̠̫̟̕͟ǫ̶̵̡͇̬̞͕̗̟͈̕ṱ̴̠̳̱̥͖̠̮̗̻̱̣̰̗̫̠͠͡͝ ̸̵̣͈͇̻̹̤͍͓͡͝i̛̭̗͔͇̗̫̖̦̱̪̫̯̟̺̩̼͇̰͝d̛͚̟̩̟̠̼͈̳̤͕̠̪̟́ͅì̶͡҉̡̩̱̞͔ơ̴̭̻̹̺̰͈͙̞͉̲͔̹̘̙̰̜̱ͅt̷̴̛̻̮̱̪̣̠͔͍"
Rose: "I used to like her. She's just another one like all the rest. Another body on the pile."