Post by Lindethiel on Apr 1, 2006 1:28:11 GMT -5
Your Name: Zoe
Character's Name: Lindethiel
Race: elf
(history's too long and i need to fix it anyway.)
History: Born in the place of a much desired son, Lindethiel's childhood was a troubled one. One of her older brothers died in battle the year she was born. The other was exiled for reasons she never understood, nor had anyone bothered to explain.
Her father held her in distain for being who she was; a girl, useless for she could never be the heir he dreamed of. No matter how well the blades hilt fit her hands, strong for a womans, no matter how swiftly she could ride a horse no man could not tame, even though no arrow flew straighter than Lindethiel's, she could ony serve him and her purpose by marrying a nobleman of their sheltered city and gift ehr family with strong sons.
Though in her earlier years she had mastered these prominantly masculine talents in attempts to please her father, as if in return for being born his daughter, but as she later learned that the sight of her reminded him of all she was not, she did not abandon her unorthodox skills.
She was dangerously beautiful, like her mother, and her door would have been broken down regularly by hopeful suitors of noble parents as hers were, if it werent for her other skill of avioding her father's expectations of her to marry well. Many she had chased off and the rest she had always kept at arms length.
This carried on for some time. Her father would introduce her to a rich nobleman of Rivendell or some other elven city, usually at some party of banquet, far to elaborate for its own good, and she would find some way out danger of having to ever seeing the overly hopeful suitor.
She soon tired of her father's blindness. What was marriage without love? What was a father if he loathed a child for her being a girl? What was an army if it chose a weak man over a strong woman? The answer was nothing. Hate made everything nothing. And for this she left. Her friend was cast in metal, slender, ever by her side or at hand, ever strong and unwavering. What better friend or husband than a sword?
Personality: Lindethiel is cold to most and usually untrusting to those she has just met. She is most often mild tempered, yet quick to take command and fast to take a stand.
Though she is not readily trusting, she is a loyal friend to those she does trust and there is no one better to have on your side in times of trouble. Lindethiel enjoys the quiet of nature, yet she also lives for the rage of battle.
Appearance: Her hair is dark auburn, nearly a rich brown with eyes sometimes forest green, usually when she is calm, but can easily turn a royal or cobalt blue when she was excited or angry. Her skin is the moon's surface aglow in an iradecent sheen. Her beauty is clouded by her distasted mind, however, and she hides the beauty of her ancestors behind the clothes of a ranger.
SAMPLE POST:
A sun rose behind the clouds of mid afternoon, so thick and menacing that the sun may as well have not have risen at all. Her eyes had faded to a thin grey along with the expectant world awaiting the inevitable rains. Many miles Lindethiel had crossed as her feet grew numb from the chill and fategue yet no slower was her pace. Behind her was a city that had no love left in it. It turned dull like the sky that once shone blue and vibrant and had reflected in her once hopeful heart. She left behind all she could not change and all that had changed against her, expectations she could only reach through being somethign she simply was not. She was no son, but to her father she was barely a daughter either. Her mother grew sorrowful and dull like the grey heavens above, a part of her lay in the grave yards with her son that knew not of such worldy troubles now. Lindethiel was not her brothers. NOr could she remain on one her family. So on the wings of a day as dead and the night, she forged a path her father could not understand or follow after.
Character's Name: Lindethiel
Race: elf
(history's too long and i need to fix it anyway.)
History: Born in the place of a much desired son, Lindethiel's childhood was a troubled one. One of her older brothers died in battle the year she was born. The other was exiled for reasons she never understood, nor had anyone bothered to explain.
Her father held her in distain for being who she was; a girl, useless for she could never be the heir he dreamed of. No matter how well the blades hilt fit her hands, strong for a womans, no matter how swiftly she could ride a horse no man could not tame, even though no arrow flew straighter than Lindethiel's, she could ony serve him and her purpose by marrying a nobleman of their sheltered city and gift ehr family with strong sons.
Though in her earlier years she had mastered these prominantly masculine talents in attempts to please her father, as if in return for being born his daughter, but as she later learned that the sight of her reminded him of all she was not, she did not abandon her unorthodox skills.
She was dangerously beautiful, like her mother, and her door would have been broken down regularly by hopeful suitors of noble parents as hers were, if it werent for her other skill of avioding her father's expectations of her to marry well. Many she had chased off and the rest she had always kept at arms length.
This carried on for some time. Her father would introduce her to a rich nobleman of Rivendell or some other elven city, usually at some party of banquet, far to elaborate for its own good, and she would find some way out danger of having to ever seeing the overly hopeful suitor.
She soon tired of her father's blindness. What was marriage without love? What was a father if he loathed a child for her being a girl? What was an army if it chose a weak man over a strong woman? The answer was nothing. Hate made everything nothing. And for this she left. Her friend was cast in metal, slender, ever by her side or at hand, ever strong and unwavering. What better friend or husband than a sword?
Personality: Lindethiel is cold to most and usually untrusting to those she has just met. She is most often mild tempered, yet quick to take command and fast to take a stand.
Though she is not readily trusting, she is a loyal friend to those she does trust and there is no one better to have on your side in times of trouble. Lindethiel enjoys the quiet of nature, yet she also lives for the rage of battle.
Appearance: Her hair is dark auburn, nearly a rich brown with eyes sometimes forest green, usually when she is calm, but can easily turn a royal or cobalt blue when she was excited or angry. Her skin is the moon's surface aglow in an iradecent sheen. Her beauty is clouded by her distasted mind, however, and she hides the beauty of her ancestors behind the clothes of a ranger.
SAMPLE POST:
A sun rose behind the clouds of mid afternoon, so thick and menacing that the sun may as well have not have risen at all. Her eyes had faded to a thin grey along with the expectant world awaiting the inevitable rains. Many miles Lindethiel had crossed as her feet grew numb from the chill and fategue yet no slower was her pace. Behind her was a city that had no love left in it. It turned dull like the sky that once shone blue and vibrant and had reflected in her once hopeful heart. She left behind all she could not change and all that had changed against her, expectations she could only reach through being somethign she simply was not. She was no son, but to her father she was barely a daughter either. Her mother grew sorrowful and dull like the grey heavens above, a part of her lay in the grave yards with her son that knew not of such worldy troubles now. Lindethiel was not her brothers. NOr could she remain on one her family. So on the wings of a day as dead and the night, she forged a path her father could not understand or follow after.
