I don't really cast my characters for those reasons. I do so because of a mental weakness. I am not as imaginative as I used to be. I can still picture characters from other people's books in my head, but the truth is, they are never very clear. Some people, I know, if they possessed the talent, could draw an exact picture of the characters that they read about, and occasionally you run across the writer who can depict them almost perfectly. I am neither of the aforementioned. I struggle with imagining things and people with any sense of consistency. Because of this, I compensate. I MineCraft with the Wombat and create the world I am writing in, in order to create for myself a framework to keep the book accurate to itself. And I cast my characters to give me a grounding image to mentally attach their particular attributes and quirks to.
Now that I have over expounded on my thoughts - here are the goods:
With the blood of the last of his opposition still wet on his boots, Emerick was sure his path could not but give way ahead of him. It is in the midst of this triumph that he is confronted by a strange man in white who ends Emerick's life of crime and sets him on a path of redemption that he had held no interest in attaining. Trapped by the man in a cave with no windows or doors, Emerick must learn, not how to survive but what it means to truly live. (Unbanded, book one)
remain fed and cared for. He was a strange one though, taken with unsettling nightmares and hallucinations. He grew to become somewhat of an outcast, the town turning their looks askance. Trained in the skills of carpentry, Curiel kept his head low, his opinions quiet, and his friends few and held at a distance. Determined his life would be one of obscurity he spent his young adult years minding his own business, until one turbulent night of rain and thunder brought to town a lost human of unknown repute. Distrusting of the man's intent, Curiel unknowingly placed himself within the influence of man who did not merely see hallucinations, but believed them. The man's acts would turn Curiel into a criminal and lead him into a life he could not have even dreamed of.
Donji's grandfather remembered the old days. He'd died ancient, even by Fae standards, and Donji had never forgotten the pride and glory of his race. His grandfather had taught him the strength of discipline, of rule, of law. Donji would help his race ride again to their proper recognition and renown. He would do so by any means possible.