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Post by sandcastles on Mar 12, 2011 19:06:15 GMT -5
// General information for ease of access. Story / insight posts to follow in time. Physical- Small elven female : 5 feet tall, 90 - 100 lbs. - Slender lithe build, a small bust, narrow waist, strong arms and shapely legs. - Skin is a dusky chestnut shade. - Light brownish, dirty blond hair. - A continual Tattoo of vines in natural shades of dark brown and vivid greens coil along her entire body, fading off to blend into her skin at end points. - Mismatched eyes (Heterochromia): Left eye bright emerald green. Right eye deep sapphire blue. - Finely pointed ears, thin curved eyebrows, long eyelashes, high cheekbones, button nose, small mouth, slender face with a rounded chin. Other- Speaks with a Sylvan accent. - Usually has dirty hands. - Always has a bow and stuffed quiver. - Her clothes are all simple, rough, made of leathers and hides, bound with sinews. Historical- Half wood elf, Half wild elf. Wild Elves : "The very rare wild elves are rearely seen by others, because they live in the heart of thick forests and they have incredible skill at keeping hidden. Also called green elves, their skin tends to be dark brown, and their hair ranges from black to light brown, lightening to silvery white with age." - FRCS pg 15
Wood Elves: "Wood elves are reclusive, but less so than the almost feral wild elves. Also called copper elves, they have coppery skin tinged with green, and brown, green, or hazel eyes. Their hair is usually brown or black, with blond and coppery-red occasionally found." - FRCS pg 15 - Hails from the Misty Forest. (Western Heartlands) "Wood elves, hybsils, druids and rangers move comfortably through the fogs of this evergreen forest. Others have the uncomfortable sense that they don't truly belong on its wooded slopes, particularly not the savage orcs and other barbarians that occasionally sneak through the forest from the High Moor to strike at the neighboring Trade Way. Though the Misty Forest's wood elves are loath to admit it, they perform a valuable service for caravans and other travelers headed to Daggerford, Secomber, or Boareskyr Bridge, providing temporary respite from the constant vigilance required to survive the attention of the creatures that infest the High Moor." - FRCS pg 224 Wild Shapes- Eyes remain mismatched blue/green even when in various animal forms. - source states True sight does see through wildshape.
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Post by sandcastles on Mar 13, 2011 6:21:25 GMT -5
It is the way of life.
Risi, like most things hunted by a pack dangerous predators, ran. There was little else to do, no more could she defend her territory, even after the years done so successfully. It was time to relinquish what had been hers or die in the attempt to keep it. She did no mourn the loss but rather went in acceptance. The strong would take from those weaker and the weak, if they did not prove cunning, would often perish.
She had left countless treasures behind, collected over the centuries that her pack had dwelt in the small grove. They had faced many threats over the years and had sought to make some use of the odd trinkets that came to them, even if they seemed entirely without practical function. Now those things were guarded by the walking dead that had overwhelmed her when they shambling out of the reaches of the high moor after being disturbed by ever wanting adventurers.
Her bow was with her, and her crude tools for shaping wood and hides. She had a full quiver. Risi's legs, well muscled from her long days spent running through the deep forest, carried her far with these things, and she went freely in search of new territory. It had been thirty four years since she had lost her pack, and though she yearned somewhat for the joy of family, she moved easily alone across the swaths of land.
She began meeting people, made curious by them when her trails brought her across their paths and slowly her common became better, starting with scant few words and increasing her vocabulary with her ever continuous questions. Curiosity sometimes drove her further than her instinct, often against better judgment. The troubles of people were insurmountable. Founded in a deep set belief that they needed things they wanted, from small hard disks of shiny metal to thin cloths made bright and covered in extravagant patterns. Many of them didn't seem to know how to hunt, or to make things for themselves. It confounded her entirely, for it seemed that while they were surely alive, they did not know how to live.
It was people and their troubles that brought her travel to a standstill outside of a small village called Orlbar. The forest to the north beckoned her yet her course was stayed. They would come to her fire as she rested, saving energy for her next hunt, and speak. Sometimes they answered her questions, sometimes they left with haste. Other times they posed questions or asked her to help them in the mountains. It seemed they at least instinctively knew she would be able to guide them through the trees. It didn't take her long to become familiar with the goblin infested mountains this way, and she often walked alone, seeking prey and safe places to rest. Yet still she resolved, soon it would be time to continue the way, to the great forest where she could again make den.
Or so it was until the day he came.
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Post by sandcastles on Mar 15, 2011 8:49:08 GMT -5
Why?
"You need a thing?" she would ask curiously.
"You question my motives?" he would return with a frown.
It was an innocent enough start. He was a massive man with a gruff manner. Pulled back hair framed his intent and often wild seeming eyes lending him a fierce look. His clothes and armor were simple leaving his limbs bare to displays firm muscle. Tattoos covered his flesh in reds and blacks, further lending to his brutal appearance. He was a looming presence, tall, strong, and sure. She found him both perplexing and interesting almost immediately. More would join them over time as they traded halting words over the fire, and she would listen to them all, yet pay attention mostly to him.
The two barbarians would go into the hills to escape disquieting company. She followed their path, glad for it, enjoying the game he made of it by suggesting she might be too slow. Arrow to string, string pulled back, her mind saw only the target, drawing it closer with focus, and releasing the arrow as she felt the time right. Most of the time her instinct proved correct, arrows slamming into exposed flesh with precision. She would watch him too, as he battled with his massive axe, and marveling at his strength. His companion sheathed in armor was not such an impressive sight, though the man fought with skill, the adornments he wore robbed his body of fluidity.
It seemed to her that this, Crowwne as she managed to call him, was some removed from the troubles of people. And as they shared more she came to recall the joys of having companionship. Yet there was something more that tickled her senses as she urged him to play, snatching strawberries from his hand and fleeing across the field for the simple joy of running and knowing he ran after. Risi found that despite her instinctive competitive nature, she wanted him to catch her.
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