Post by Joukai on Aug 5, 2009 13:09:13 GMT -5
Name: Arvin
Age: 107
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: From her large head, short neck, broad shoulders, thick body and powerful arms and legs, Arvin fits the dwarven standard.
Her hooded eyes are a fierce, bright green. Her nose is broad and flat, almost to large for her face, while her lips are thin and small, making her face seem out of balance. Her hair is a bright red, cut at neck length, save for two braids on either side of her face that go down to her mid chest.
Her chest is nothing fancy. While her mid section is thick and muscular, her breasts are small. Her hips, wider then a male dwarfs, still doesn't shout appealing.
The skin around her eyes are tanned deeper then the rest of her.
Arvin's outfit consists of a ratty long-sleeve shirt and pants, once black but know slightly brownish from dirt, with a few slpatters of dried blood here and there. Her mouth is covered by a piece of cloth, while her hands are gloved. When above ground she sometimes wears a hood to cover her eyes.
On her pack she carries a large pack with a wineskin hanging off. In the pack is chain mail and traditional dwarven armor. The helmet inside carries her clan's symbol, along with the shield strapped to the pack.
Her weapon if choice is a large pick axe, almost tall and large enough to be a scythe. Opposite the gleaming blade is a blunt end for smashing in heads- I mean crushing rocks. A tattered flag is tied to it, wearing her clan symbol.
Personality: Arvin come across as gruff. She just wants to get the job done right and quick, the first time. She has little patience for dawdling, and can be pretty harsh on those who do. She isn't much of a thinker, more of a doer. That's not to say she isn't smart, she just doesn't like waiting for people to plan things out. Tell her what to do and she'll do it, giving it her best effort.
When it comes to getting to be her friend, well, it's difficult. She doesn't like strangers. She has her little knot of friends, and everyone else is simply some one she can ignore. Unless they have authority, that is. Then she will carry out their orders and go on with her life as if they never existed. She can seem cold that way, but it's just who she is. She doesn't go out of her way to be mean to strangers, she just doesn't give a care about them.
History: Arvin was raised in a small clan in the Hadarac. They where kept aware of the times via tunnels leading to and from Farthen Dur. Other then that, they kept to themselves. Due to the rather harsh climate of the dessert, the dwarves choose to stay above ground.
Arvin chose to work on the tunnels, against her fathers wishes. She was the youngest of three children, and the only daughter. Her father wanted to see her married, while she wanted to dig.
But a small band of urgals discovered an entrance to the cave while seeking Farthen Dur, and instead found the clan. Arvin volunteered to alert the dwarves of Farthen Dur, hoping to help save her clan. She was denied the request, and instead a small band of men where sent out.
Arvin, disobeying her leaders orders, snuck out. She found a way to the surface, a place she hardly knew. From there she wandered, trying to find the great dwarven mountain. After a month of wandering aimlessly, she found an old dwarven tunnel. In there she found the bloodies axe of one of the men who had been sent out. This was a hard blow to her, the axe not only belonged to a dwarf of her tribe, but a dear friend. To this day she doesn't know quiet what happened to him and the others.
Finally, after getting lost and side tracked many a time, Arvin found herself at Farthen Dur, or what was left of it. She was quickly sent away, told that no help could be offered. Arvin still doesn't know quiet what happened. She's only really concerned about her tribe at the moment.
Roleplaying example:
How did you find us? I've been with you since Lethr was still in diapers!
Age: 107
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: From her large head, short neck, broad shoulders, thick body and powerful arms and legs, Arvin fits the dwarven standard.
Her hooded eyes are a fierce, bright green. Her nose is broad and flat, almost to large for her face, while her lips are thin and small, making her face seem out of balance. Her hair is a bright red, cut at neck length, save for two braids on either side of her face that go down to her mid chest.
Her chest is nothing fancy. While her mid section is thick and muscular, her breasts are small. Her hips, wider then a male dwarfs, still doesn't shout appealing.
The skin around her eyes are tanned deeper then the rest of her.
Arvin's outfit consists of a ratty long-sleeve shirt and pants, once black but know slightly brownish from dirt, with a few slpatters of dried blood here and there. Her mouth is covered by a piece of cloth, while her hands are gloved. When above ground she sometimes wears a hood to cover her eyes.
On her pack she carries a large pack with a wineskin hanging off. In the pack is chain mail and traditional dwarven armor. The helmet inside carries her clan's symbol, along with the shield strapped to the pack.
Her weapon if choice is a large pick axe, almost tall and large enough to be a scythe. Opposite the gleaming blade is a blunt end for smashing in heads- I mean crushing rocks. A tattered flag is tied to it, wearing her clan symbol.
Personality: Arvin come across as gruff. She just wants to get the job done right and quick, the first time. She has little patience for dawdling, and can be pretty harsh on those who do. She isn't much of a thinker, more of a doer. That's not to say she isn't smart, she just doesn't like waiting for people to plan things out. Tell her what to do and she'll do it, giving it her best effort.
When it comes to getting to be her friend, well, it's difficult. She doesn't like strangers. She has her little knot of friends, and everyone else is simply some one she can ignore. Unless they have authority, that is. Then she will carry out their orders and go on with her life as if they never existed. She can seem cold that way, but it's just who she is. She doesn't go out of her way to be mean to strangers, she just doesn't give a care about them.
History: Arvin was raised in a small clan in the Hadarac. They where kept aware of the times via tunnels leading to and from Farthen Dur. Other then that, they kept to themselves. Due to the rather harsh climate of the dessert, the dwarves choose to stay above ground.
Arvin chose to work on the tunnels, against her fathers wishes. She was the youngest of three children, and the only daughter. Her father wanted to see her married, while she wanted to dig.
But a small band of urgals discovered an entrance to the cave while seeking Farthen Dur, and instead found the clan. Arvin volunteered to alert the dwarves of Farthen Dur, hoping to help save her clan. She was denied the request, and instead a small band of men where sent out.
Arvin, disobeying her leaders orders, snuck out. She found a way to the surface, a place she hardly knew. From there she wandered, trying to find the great dwarven mountain. After a month of wandering aimlessly, she found an old dwarven tunnel. In there she found the bloodies axe of one of the men who had been sent out. This was a hard blow to her, the axe not only belonged to a dwarf of her tribe, but a dear friend. To this day she doesn't know quiet what happened to him and the others.
Finally, after getting lost and side tracked many a time, Arvin found herself at Farthen Dur, or what was left of it. She was quickly sent away, told that no help could be offered. Arvin still doesn't know quiet what happened. She's only really concerned about her tribe at the moment.
Roleplaying example:
The sun beat down on the traveling Caravan, the wagons swinging to and fro as the white froth rolled from the horses' hide. Sweat trickled down, stinging eyes and salting lips as the travelers crawled across the shimmering earth. The breeze offered no comfort to the company.
Those who could walk did, while those who had collapsed in exhaustion had been hauled up onto the wagons. The heat distorted the vision of a young woman clinging to the side of one of the wagons. From head to toe she was wrapped in soiled white cloth, only her hands and eyes noticeable from under the folds. The sweat beaded on her face as she breathed heavily. Her joints ached and she wanted desperately to drink.
But the company had stopped not long ago to fill their various water skins and canteens, an unnecessary stop on their part. Leah had been foolish, drinking all her water the first time her throat had burned. She would not repeat her mistake again. But it was pointless to muse on these matters now. What was done was done. Instead she turned her attention to the small hand hanging over the wagon edge.
Unlike his sun kissed mother, Xavier was pale with fever. His small body was limp in the heat, green eyes caked closed with dried tears. His body ached, no matter how he lay. It was a deep ache, the kind that flowed through his very veins. He too was wrapped up like his mother, but the cloth only added to his discomfort.
The child felt his mother brush up against his hand.
"Mama." He moaned, his voice almost impossible to hear over the creaks of the wagons and murmurs of the people. "Mama. I want to walk. Please." Xavier pleaded.
Concern flashed across Leah's face. She squeezed her son's hand gently as he rose. The small child leaned over the wagon side, ready to leap into his mothers waiting arms. He landed, Leah bowing slightly at the impact. "Xav." She whispered, stroking his closed eyes with her hand.
"Mama. Don't worry." Xavier said, trying to open his eyes. "Not a burden."
Leah understood what he meant.
It pained her to know that her son was worried about her. He should not of been, the innocence of childhood had never been granted to him. A change in the air drew her from her thoughts, and she fought back lingering tears.
The others seemed to grow restless. What could of caused this sudden change? Other then the subtle change, nothing seemed different in the group.
"Mama." Xavier cried, tugging on her clothing. She had set him down, and now he refused to move.
"What is it Xav?" Leah asked, stopping now.
"Mama..."
Xavier had not the vision or mind of a dragon, nor a rider, but he felt something was wrong. A danger lurked ahead. He knew not what or when, but he felt it none the less. Leah glanced at him, then to the horizon. She saw nothing. But her son's look of horror sent a trill of fear through her system. The company was passing them now, a few people glancing back at them. Still Xavier stood rooted in spot.
Leah didn't want to keep up. Whatever scared Xavier must be dangerous. The only other time he had done this before was when Leah had almost been attacked by a drunk guard. Yet Leah knew the had to keep going. She had no weapon with her. If physical danger was to strike, they would be helpless save for the others that could fight. If it were some other form, Leah could do nothing. She forced herself to scoop up Xavier and keep moving.
How did you find us? I've been with you since Lethr was still in diapers!
