Post by winged on Dec 12, 2010 12:21:43 GMT -8
Name: Diana {D’ana}
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Undetermined
Rank: Candidate, assistant blacksmith
Location: Sayaie
Personality:
Diana’s mind is a tough thing to read. Outwardly she keeps a friendly veneer, her words generous if not always eloquent – and always honest. Praise is a difficult thing to pry from the woman, flattery is nigh obsolete. The frugality of her upbringing scorns such considerations: everything is worth something, nothing is worth everything. She tries to keep everything in her life balanced – never too much dawdling, and no pushing herself past her limits to rush on a project that could be done with greater proficiency over a longer span of time. That being said, Diana prefers not to idle for longer than a cup of tea, or a bite to eat. Keeping busy makes the day go by faster, with a great deal more satisfaction. On the same note, she does her best to keep an even keel – she works while stressed in silence, often with great aggression or enthusiasm for whatever it is that feels her wrath. A messy room will be made spotless; a tangled harness untangled and oiled to an almost glossy sheen once more. When forced to communicate under duress, she’ll laugh boisterously, or gesticulate with her hands with far greater emphasis than necessary. She never resorts to violence, just the thought sickens her.
Beneath her simple, outward existence dwells a far stranger beast, however. This is easily acknowledged with prolonged exposure or company kept with men. Her words are much more clipped, her temper strains much more easily, and her limits are reached that much quicker. It’s partly resentment, partly assumption that men simply can’t do a damned thing right without guidance – the older the man, the greater the brunt of her distrust; younger men she affords some leeway, as simply a byproduct of their youth. A very queer, backwards way of thinking, and a direct product of her childhood. With her father absent from early years, and her mother’s scorn to fuel and feed her own presumptions, young Diana has developed a greater intolerance than is clearly healthy. She still refuses to resort to violence, and she’ll do her duty regardless, but it’ll be an unpleasant experience for all involved.
Appearance:
Diana bears a strong resemblance to the environment to which she has adapted. The solid strength of the forge is recreated through rippling muscle that adds bulk to her middling sized frame. Her stringy hair is the color of molten copper, tied back with a bit of twine into a sloppy runner’s tail, the end of which is usually trickling over one shoulder as she’s bent to one task or another. Her cheeks are continuously flush as if faced with the heat of stoked flames – an unfortunate case of rosacea makes her otherwise pale complexion a ruddy mess, complete with an odd freckle here or there. By comparison, her eyes are an easily forgettable shade of brown, nestled beneath thick, dark eyebrows. Paired with a spark of mischief or, forbid it, anger they become a formidable tool, or provide illumination for some inner machination.
Her features are otherwise suitably plain. A nose slightly too large for her small face, eyes spaced an acceptable length apart, and ears that stick out a shade farther than the norm. Nothing else remarkable and it suits her just fine. Diana doesn’t care all too much for beauty conjured from face paint and rouge, functionality does it for her. Her hands are rough and callused, her skin dry and her lips often chapped from the constant heat of the forge. She dresses in comfortable, durable clothes. Heavy breeches to protect her legs from stray embers, in a boring palette of browns and grays, with whatever clean tunic can be spared, often a size too large and pock-marked with holes where sparks have seared through the coarse material. She keeps her shirt tucked into her pants, for the sake of looking somewhat orderly. Her boots are time-worn but sturdy, crafted to endure and last, dyed black to hide the smears of ash and char.
Family:
Gregor – Father, location currently unknown, presumed dead (42)
Lyza – Mother (39)
Oliver – Younger Brother (17)
Pets:
None
History:
Lyza and Gregor were married young, their marriage arranged between two parties of concerned parents that worried for the livelihood of both children. While not a particularly adequate couple, the two were willing to gamely pursue a co-existence in a town a sufficient distance from their shared childhood home of Sayaie. The threat of koxi was ever-present, and their decision to move to a far less populated area questionable, but they were determined to make their own way.
Gregor, skilled with his hands and previously apprenticed to a capable blacksmith, took ownership of a tiny forge recently vacated by the death of its previous owner. Lyza was soon pregnant, and thus relegated to the far less strenuous ‘work’ of the housewife, which the lively woman resented to some extent. Nine months and a few odd weeks later, a squalling baby girl was born, and Lyza wasted no time in saddling the child with the name Diana, rejecting Gregor’s suggestions with great relish, and further driving a wedge in a relationship already grown lukewarm.
A few years passed, Diana proving a strong and sturdy child with few qualms, and remarkably a second child was born to the now almost distant couple, a much frailer boy, one that required much more attention than their first. Still young, Diana resented her brother for taking all of their mother’s attention, and feeding off of her mother, whom she adored, she fussed whenever Gregor attempted to intervene. It was a stressful time, and a breeding ground for dissent.
It was at that untimely point that koxi began attacking the slightly larger settlement. The first attacks were devastating – Diana and her family lost their home, and nearly lost their lives to the ravenous beasts. A great number of familiar faces were dragged off and presumed koxi food. Still, they had their forge, and they had the opportunity to rebuild. They could at least be grateful for that, and the remaining survivors labored to rebuild a home from the ruins, stubborn as ever. Women struggled alongside their men, rallied by an incensed Lyza, who no longer needed to dwell by Oliver’s side constantly as the boy grew older, and stronger. She was set to prove her worth, whether she trampled on her husband’s wishes or not.
Many long, hard months of labor and a great sum of debt later, and their town began to resemble a proper, established settlement once more. The men formed a brigade intended to patrol for koxi, caution exchanged for productivity. That was adamantly resolved yet again by Lyza’s ingenuity. Those women who were not yet too feeble or frail began filling in for the men whose lives were now consumed by drill and patrol – she refused to see her new home go belly up because one necessity was chosen over another. Zealous, she labored to fill the spot vacated by her now routinely absent husband. Where she lacked skill, she made up for it with determination. Her work was nowhere near as fine as Gregor’s, but it suited the town’s needs just fine. Similarly, other women began filling positions previously assumed by their husbands or fathers, everyone chipping in to make ends meet.
For Gregor and Lyza, it was an acceptable replacement for a relationship gone stone cold. They were together by law, but whatever kindling of love they once shared had been shattered. It was kept a secret from the children – Oliver remained oblivious, and while Diana suspected, she did not overly care. In her mind, her mother was right, her father had always been wrong. Once she reached fifteen, she apprenticed directly under her mother, learning what tricks of the trade she could glean, and proving as adept with her hands as her now nearly estranged father.
Three years later, and the unthinkable struck again. Another koxi attack, briefly held at bay by the tiny militia force before overwhelming the town. The damage was heart wrenching. Families that had slowly begun to blossom were torn asunder, houses that had once again become homes were reduced to wreckage – it seemed a vicious cycle.
One from which Gregor seemed unlikely to return. Caught in the fray, he was considered an unfortunate casualty, and his divided family mourned for the loss, even hard-headed Lyza. They mourned far longer for the other innocents, before giving in to what seemed inevitable, and began the exodus back to nearby Sayaie. Uprooted from their birthplace, Diana and Oliver regardless bore the burden as well as, and better than, some of the adults. There was no sense in whining, they had no choice but to adjust. The family has since settled back within close proximity to Lyza’s parents, Lyza and Oliver finding work where they can, and Diana re-apprenticed to a more capable blacksmith and family friend, encouraged to work with what talent she possesses while supporting her family.
Desired Color: None
Undesired Color: None
Reasoning: She has a strong work ethic, but she also has intolerance issues. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for for her, if anything. So give it your best shot, and I’ll be happy.
Injury/Mauling:Scarring, a limp. Preferably no rending of limbs.
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Undetermined
Rank: Candidate, assistant blacksmith
Location: Sayaie
Personality:
Diana’s mind is a tough thing to read. Outwardly she keeps a friendly veneer, her words generous if not always eloquent – and always honest. Praise is a difficult thing to pry from the woman, flattery is nigh obsolete. The frugality of her upbringing scorns such considerations: everything is worth something, nothing is worth everything. She tries to keep everything in her life balanced – never too much dawdling, and no pushing herself past her limits to rush on a project that could be done with greater proficiency over a longer span of time. That being said, Diana prefers not to idle for longer than a cup of tea, or a bite to eat. Keeping busy makes the day go by faster, with a great deal more satisfaction. On the same note, she does her best to keep an even keel – she works while stressed in silence, often with great aggression or enthusiasm for whatever it is that feels her wrath. A messy room will be made spotless; a tangled harness untangled and oiled to an almost glossy sheen once more. When forced to communicate under duress, she’ll laugh boisterously, or gesticulate with her hands with far greater emphasis than necessary. She never resorts to violence, just the thought sickens her.
Beneath her simple, outward existence dwells a far stranger beast, however. This is easily acknowledged with prolonged exposure or company kept with men. Her words are much more clipped, her temper strains much more easily, and her limits are reached that much quicker. It’s partly resentment, partly assumption that men simply can’t do a damned thing right without guidance – the older the man, the greater the brunt of her distrust; younger men she affords some leeway, as simply a byproduct of their youth. A very queer, backwards way of thinking, and a direct product of her childhood. With her father absent from early years, and her mother’s scorn to fuel and feed her own presumptions, young Diana has developed a greater intolerance than is clearly healthy. She still refuses to resort to violence, and she’ll do her duty regardless, but it’ll be an unpleasant experience for all involved.
Appearance:
Diana bears a strong resemblance to the environment to which she has adapted. The solid strength of the forge is recreated through rippling muscle that adds bulk to her middling sized frame. Her stringy hair is the color of molten copper, tied back with a bit of twine into a sloppy runner’s tail, the end of which is usually trickling over one shoulder as she’s bent to one task or another. Her cheeks are continuously flush as if faced with the heat of stoked flames – an unfortunate case of rosacea makes her otherwise pale complexion a ruddy mess, complete with an odd freckle here or there. By comparison, her eyes are an easily forgettable shade of brown, nestled beneath thick, dark eyebrows. Paired with a spark of mischief or, forbid it, anger they become a formidable tool, or provide illumination for some inner machination.
Her features are otherwise suitably plain. A nose slightly too large for her small face, eyes spaced an acceptable length apart, and ears that stick out a shade farther than the norm. Nothing else remarkable and it suits her just fine. Diana doesn’t care all too much for beauty conjured from face paint and rouge, functionality does it for her. Her hands are rough and callused, her skin dry and her lips often chapped from the constant heat of the forge. She dresses in comfortable, durable clothes. Heavy breeches to protect her legs from stray embers, in a boring palette of browns and grays, with whatever clean tunic can be spared, often a size too large and pock-marked with holes where sparks have seared through the coarse material. She keeps her shirt tucked into her pants, for the sake of looking somewhat orderly. Her boots are time-worn but sturdy, crafted to endure and last, dyed black to hide the smears of ash and char.
Family:
Gregor – Father, location currently unknown, presumed dead (42)
Lyza – Mother (39)
Oliver – Younger Brother (17)
Pets:
None
History:
Lyza and Gregor were married young, their marriage arranged between two parties of concerned parents that worried for the livelihood of both children. While not a particularly adequate couple, the two were willing to gamely pursue a co-existence in a town a sufficient distance from their shared childhood home of Sayaie. The threat of koxi was ever-present, and their decision to move to a far less populated area questionable, but they were determined to make their own way.
Gregor, skilled with his hands and previously apprenticed to a capable blacksmith, took ownership of a tiny forge recently vacated by the death of its previous owner. Lyza was soon pregnant, and thus relegated to the far less strenuous ‘work’ of the housewife, which the lively woman resented to some extent. Nine months and a few odd weeks later, a squalling baby girl was born, and Lyza wasted no time in saddling the child with the name Diana, rejecting Gregor’s suggestions with great relish, and further driving a wedge in a relationship already grown lukewarm.
A few years passed, Diana proving a strong and sturdy child with few qualms, and remarkably a second child was born to the now almost distant couple, a much frailer boy, one that required much more attention than their first. Still young, Diana resented her brother for taking all of their mother’s attention, and feeding off of her mother, whom she adored, she fussed whenever Gregor attempted to intervene. It was a stressful time, and a breeding ground for dissent.
It was at that untimely point that koxi began attacking the slightly larger settlement. The first attacks were devastating – Diana and her family lost their home, and nearly lost their lives to the ravenous beasts. A great number of familiar faces were dragged off and presumed koxi food. Still, they had their forge, and they had the opportunity to rebuild. They could at least be grateful for that, and the remaining survivors labored to rebuild a home from the ruins, stubborn as ever. Women struggled alongside their men, rallied by an incensed Lyza, who no longer needed to dwell by Oliver’s side constantly as the boy grew older, and stronger. She was set to prove her worth, whether she trampled on her husband’s wishes or not.
Many long, hard months of labor and a great sum of debt later, and their town began to resemble a proper, established settlement once more. The men formed a brigade intended to patrol for koxi, caution exchanged for productivity. That was adamantly resolved yet again by Lyza’s ingenuity. Those women who were not yet too feeble or frail began filling in for the men whose lives were now consumed by drill and patrol – she refused to see her new home go belly up because one necessity was chosen over another. Zealous, she labored to fill the spot vacated by her now routinely absent husband. Where she lacked skill, she made up for it with determination. Her work was nowhere near as fine as Gregor’s, but it suited the town’s needs just fine. Similarly, other women began filling positions previously assumed by their husbands or fathers, everyone chipping in to make ends meet.
For Gregor and Lyza, it was an acceptable replacement for a relationship gone stone cold. They were together by law, but whatever kindling of love they once shared had been shattered. It was kept a secret from the children – Oliver remained oblivious, and while Diana suspected, she did not overly care. In her mind, her mother was right, her father had always been wrong. Once she reached fifteen, she apprenticed directly under her mother, learning what tricks of the trade she could glean, and proving as adept with her hands as her now nearly estranged father.
Three years later, and the unthinkable struck again. Another koxi attack, briefly held at bay by the tiny militia force before overwhelming the town. The damage was heart wrenching. Families that had slowly begun to blossom were torn asunder, houses that had once again become homes were reduced to wreckage – it seemed a vicious cycle.
One from which Gregor seemed unlikely to return. Caught in the fray, he was considered an unfortunate casualty, and his divided family mourned for the loss, even hard-headed Lyza. They mourned far longer for the other innocents, before giving in to what seemed inevitable, and began the exodus back to nearby Sayaie. Uprooted from their birthplace, Diana and Oliver regardless bore the burden as well as, and better than, some of the adults. There was no sense in whining, they had no choice but to adjust. The family has since settled back within close proximity to Lyza’s parents, Lyza and Oliver finding work where they can, and Diana re-apprenticed to a more capable blacksmith and family friend, encouraged to work with what talent she possesses while supporting her family.
Desired Color: None
Undesired Color: None
Reasoning: She has a strong work ethic, but she also has intolerance issues. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for for her, if anything. So give it your best shot, and I’ll be happy.
Injury/Mauling:Scarring, a limp. Preferably no rending of limbs.
