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Atherton's origins are mostly unknown beyond the past few years. A few whisperings of offering his services to the Abandoned linger. In the more recent past he's been seen doing mundane work such as escorting merchants about, intimidating young bandits off farmers' property, and the like.

It's clear that the man before you has seen his fair share of violence. Dark red hair well-streaked with gray is tousled over his head, long to nearly his shoulders and cut jaggedly. His face wavers between stubble and a very short beard, depending on the day. His skin is tan and leathery, hands as calloused as a poor farmer's. Scars abound in numerous places but none of them vital; he still has both hardened hazel eyes that tend to squint and furrow as a natural state of rest.

Atherton is not what you might call the life of the party. He's generally gruff, relatively humorless, and a touch paranoid. A little booze will help two of those but he generally stays sober for that exact reason. More positively, he's slow to real anger, calculating, and deliberate in his actions. There's a reason he's lived this long in his line of work.