Post by Guest on Jun 21, 2014 20:10:52 GMT 1
Player Info
Name/Alias: Elyabeth/Gracie
Age: 23
Gender : Female
Tumblr: N/A
Timezone: Mountain time
How did you find Palandri?: Referred by another player (Oni)
Character Info
Full Name: Cristiana “Anna” Quakenbush
Race: Mundane
Class (optional): Herbalist
Age: 17
Sexuality: Heterosexual (but really not interested at the current moment).
Bio:
Cristiana had no memories of her parents, or the night that had made her an orphan, only stories. Old Talla, the bee keeper’s widow, had been the one to take them in after the attack. The old woman would spin daisies into Anna’s long, coarse hair as the hearth glowed bright with coals, murmuring through a mouth that had nearly lost all of its teeth. “’Yer pa’ents were ‘ood to us, my ‘eet. Earth mo’esr, both of ‘em. A shame, such a shame…”
The story was different every time, but Anna knew the broad strokes. Her parents had been Terramentalists. Her father had served on the village council but, as so many reminded her, he often went sticking his large nose into other people’s business. “To high and mighty, that one,” the blacksmith had told her once, spitting at her as he spoke between nails clamped in his teeth as he shod a rich man’s horse. “Should have listened to that fool woman of his and stayed in the capital.” But of course, they hadn't. Her parents had settled in the village, though no one was quite sure why. Some said her mother’s great-grandfather owned the land somehow, that it had been given to them after one of the great battles. Others thought it was a bit more simple than that. Living on the fridge of the South woods, feline raiders and highwayman were a part of life. Some thought her parents had been sent to help protect the village, or scout the area for any weak points for the Quakerion army to break through feline forces and take back the areas that had been stolen from them. “Either way,” the blacksmith had grumbled, spitting on the ground as he pulled another long nail from his teeth “it was an ill wind that brought them to our land.”
The vampires came when her brother Thomas was barely eight years. Or at least, vampires were what he claimed them to be. Most figured they were felines cutting the army to the quick, killing off spies before they could do any damage. But in the middle of the night, when Tommy would stare wide-eyed at the wall and hold onto her wrists, Anna would listen as he whispered about the monsters that had killed their parents. “They ripped them open, Annie. They ripped them open and drank them dry…”
Her brother had taken her and ran off into the night, mad enough in his terror to go straight into the woods. When the morning light broke over the village, Talla had found him stumbling past her home, holding a shrieking baby. His once dark hair had turned a shark shade of white. From then on, most of the village assumed it was some kind of spell a feline that had been put on him. A hex. Talla always told the young girl that it had been fright, pure and simple, that had drained his color. But no matter the cause, Tommy had never been the same after that night. He mind had left him, still running in the woods somewhere as the rest of him was left terrified and empty.
As a child, Anna had always been the one person her brother could trust. His eyes, which always were wide with fright, would look softly on her. Tommy could even be sane at times, and would tell her the bits and pieces he remembered about living in Boul. When the other boys his age would throw stones, a young Anna would chase after them, biting them if she needed to. She would hold his hand, barely coming up past his knee, and lead him through crowds when they jeered at him. Anna would always be her brother’s keeper, since no one else cared to be.
But not everyone in the village was cruel to them. Talla taught Anna to bake and care for the bees, while some of the other women were good enough to give them the clothes their own children had grown out of. One man had even tried to give Thomas a trade, but her brother’s madness had him lapsing into fits. And so he took to following after her as she did her daily chores, holding the washing or picking flowers for Talla to put in her hair. It was a peaceful sort of time, and the happiest.
Anna was fourteen years when the raiders came. Attacks on the road, or threats from the woods were always to be expected but the bandits had never come in such a force. Homes were burned, whole families slaughtered, and meager riches plundered. Talla had tried to hide them the best she could, but Tommy’s shrieking had given them away. The old woman had taken an axe to her brains, and the sight of her leaking skull on the floor made her brother swoon. Anna had been left alone, surrounded by a crowd of bloody men. The biggest pulled his heavy axe from Talla’s head, moving to kill her brother next. Anna dived in front of him, shielding Thomas as she begged. She would do anything, give them anything, if they would only they would spare him. The man had considered her then, and his smile at that moment still remains a part of her nightmares. He liked what he saw in the short, boyish girl with the long, black hair and the mud brown eyes. And so they made a deal.
The Highway slut; that’s what they started to call her after that night. What else should they call a girl who opened her legs for such a man, year after year? No longer welcome in the village, Anna took her brother and worked to build a one room hut out of twigs and straw a few miles away. Keeping to the fringe areas, but never quite daring to go into the woods, she started to learn about the ways of plants and how they could heal the body. Selling the herbs she dried, or the salves she manufactured, were the only thing that kept them from starving, and going to the chief raider when he called was the only thing that kept them alive.
Now at the age of seventeen, Anna continues to pull the two of them along, too stubborn and jaded ask for help. A fiery young girl, almost a woman, she saves the little she can and works harder than ever to try and perfect her skills as an herbalist. Anna dreams of one day having enough to take them away to the capital, where no one will know of her brother’s madness or look down their noses at her for being such a flagrant whore.
RP sample:
Anna carefully slide open the door of the hut, slipping out into the cool morning air before the pale, clear light could disturb her brother. Thomas was curled tight in a ball, his thin, white hair barely visible beneath the heap of furs and straw that protected them from the cold that seeped out of the matted, dirt floor. As she tied the door shut, Anna couldn't help but marvel. They had gone the entire night without his usual terrors or high, piercing screams. Perhaps the lavender salve she had been rubbing into his neck and shoulders was finally starting to take hold. Oh Goddess, she prayed it could be so. Anna brushed her rough fingertips against the deep, mulberry colored bags that hung beneath her muddy eyes. Thomas was growing too strong for her to pin down as he thrashed in his sleep, and her brother had nearly bitten through his tongue the week before.
“Enough nonsense, there is work that needs doing.” she sighed, giving herself a good and proper shake before lending back, her hands firmly against her hips as she stretched her aching shoulders. Anna let out a sharp gasp as her joints crackled and popped, sounding a bit like stones that were being pounded against each other. Perhaps she should be saving some of that lavender for herself. She was going to be as knobby as an old man before she was even properly a woman.
Rolling her shoulders in tight circles, the short girl waddled over towards the little bucket that caught their rain water. Her feet were swollen and hard, still aching from the day of picking she had done, just a few miles south of the village. The herbs she had found were still pinning against the straw wall of the hut, the white-purple petals of the eyebright already curling in on themselves. If they dried nicely enough, she might be able to tell them at the market.
Sitting down on her knees, Anna dipped her hands into the chilly water and leaned down. Splashing it up against her face, goose flesh broke up against her neck and trailed all the way down her lumpy spine. She scrubbed hard against her skin, minding the back of her ears and the curve of her elbows. Her wet finger fingers then went to work on her hair, diving in and out of the tangled curls in a vain attempted to pick them apart. Even after rubbing countless oils through them week after week, her hair was still as thick and coarse as a cow’s tail. The only good it did was to leave her smelling faintly of rosemary and sage.
Shaking the water from her curls, Anna began the business of trying to braid it, wincing as it tangled and pulled against itself even more. Why she hadn't taken a knife to it after all these years was still a mystery. No… Not a mystery. The girl let out a long sigh, hooking her finger into a particularly long curl and ripping it in two. Perhaps , what with her small bust and boyish hips, it was the one thing that made her feel a woman. Made her feel she could, with some tender work and care, be made to look beautiful. Old bruises and all.
“Utter nonsense,” she muttered, laughing a bit at herself. Beautiful women didn't have hands that were scared from thorns and bee stings, or skin that was dark and freckled from long days in the skin. But for a hard working woman, a real woman, those were the standards she hoisted for all the world to see. Now if only she could convince the village of that. Maybe then they would be allowed to return, and sleep on a floor that would refuse to melt into mud in the summer, or be coated with a fine, sheet of frost in the winter. At least keep them from being eaten alive by the cats, for a little while longer.
Other: Anna is a small young woman, barely reaching above five feet tall, and is as skinny as s rail. With almost square hips and a small bust, she’s learned to ignore the jeers of older women. Her skin is a dark tan and freckly from long days picking herbs near the edge of the forest, with curly, coarse hair that comes down almost to her waist. Her eyes are a dark, and an almost muddy shade of brown. Thomas, her brother, as the same look about him only he is tall with grayish-white hair and black eyes. While Anna is seventeen, he is currently twenty-five.
Name/Alias: Elyabeth/Gracie
Age: 23
Gender : Female
Tumblr: N/A
Timezone: Mountain time
How did you find Palandri?: Referred by another player (Oni)
Character Info
Full Name: Cristiana “Anna” Quakenbush
Race: Mundane
Class (optional): Herbalist
Age: 17
Sexuality: Heterosexual (but really not interested at the current moment).
Bio:
Cristiana had no memories of her parents, or the night that had made her an orphan, only stories. Old Talla, the bee keeper’s widow, had been the one to take them in after the attack. The old woman would spin daisies into Anna’s long, coarse hair as the hearth glowed bright with coals, murmuring through a mouth that had nearly lost all of its teeth. “’Yer pa’ents were ‘ood to us, my ‘eet. Earth mo’esr, both of ‘em. A shame, such a shame…”
The story was different every time, but Anna knew the broad strokes. Her parents had been Terramentalists. Her father had served on the village council but, as so many reminded her, he often went sticking his large nose into other people’s business. “To high and mighty, that one,” the blacksmith had told her once, spitting at her as he spoke between nails clamped in his teeth as he shod a rich man’s horse. “Should have listened to that fool woman of his and stayed in the capital.” But of course, they hadn't. Her parents had settled in the village, though no one was quite sure why. Some said her mother’s great-grandfather owned the land somehow, that it had been given to them after one of the great battles. Others thought it was a bit more simple than that. Living on the fridge of the South woods, feline raiders and highwayman were a part of life. Some thought her parents had been sent to help protect the village, or scout the area for any weak points for the Quakerion army to break through feline forces and take back the areas that had been stolen from them. “Either way,” the blacksmith had grumbled, spitting on the ground as he pulled another long nail from his teeth “it was an ill wind that brought them to our land.”
The vampires came when her brother Thomas was barely eight years. Or at least, vampires were what he claimed them to be. Most figured they were felines cutting the army to the quick, killing off spies before they could do any damage. But in the middle of the night, when Tommy would stare wide-eyed at the wall and hold onto her wrists, Anna would listen as he whispered about the monsters that had killed their parents. “They ripped them open, Annie. They ripped them open and drank them dry…”
Her brother had taken her and ran off into the night, mad enough in his terror to go straight into the woods. When the morning light broke over the village, Talla had found him stumbling past her home, holding a shrieking baby. His once dark hair had turned a shark shade of white. From then on, most of the village assumed it was some kind of spell a feline that had been put on him. A hex. Talla always told the young girl that it had been fright, pure and simple, that had drained his color. But no matter the cause, Tommy had never been the same after that night. He mind had left him, still running in the woods somewhere as the rest of him was left terrified and empty.
As a child, Anna had always been the one person her brother could trust. His eyes, which always were wide with fright, would look softly on her. Tommy could even be sane at times, and would tell her the bits and pieces he remembered about living in Boul. When the other boys his age would throw stones, a young Anna would chase after them, biting them if she needed to. She would hold his hand, barely coming up past his knee, and lead him through crowds when they jeered at him. Anna would always be her brother’s keeper, since no one else cared to be.
But not everyone in the village was cruel to them. Talla taught Anna to bake and care for the bees, while some of the other women were good enough to give them the clothes their own children had grown out of. One man had even tried to give Thomas a trade, but her brother’s madness had him lapsing into fits. And so he took to following after her as she did her daily chores, holding the washing or picking flowers for Talla to put in her hair. It was a peaceful sort of time, and the happiest.
Anna was fourteen years when the raiders came. Attacks on the road, or threats from the woods were always to be expected but the bandits had never come in such a force. Homes were burned, whole families slaughtered, and meager riches plundered. Talla had tried to hide them the best she could, but Tommy’s shrieking had given them away. The old woman had taken an axe to her brains, and the sight of her leaking skull on the floor made her brother swoon. Anna had been left alone, surrounded by a crowd of bloody men. The biggest pulled his heavy axe from Talla’s head, moving to kill her brother next. Anna dived in front of him, shielding Thomas as she begged. She would do anything, give them anything, if they would only they would spare him. The man had considered her then, and his smile at that moment still remains a part of her nightmares. He liked what he saw in the short, boyish girl with the long, black hair and the mud brown eyes. And so they made a deal.
The Highway slut; that’s what they started to call her after that night. What else should they call a girl who opened her legs for such a man, year after year? No longer welcome in the village, Anna took her brother and worked to build a one room hut out of twigs and straw a few miles away. Keeping to the fringe areas, but never quite daring to go into the woods, she started to learn about the ways of plants and how they could heal the body. Selling the herbs she dried, or the salves she manufactured, were the only thing that kept them from starving, and going to the chief raider when he called was the only thing that kept them alive.
Now at the age of seventeen, Anna continues to pull the two of them along, too stubborn and jaded ask for help. A fiery young girl, almost a woman, she saves the little she can and works harder than ever to try and perfect her skills as an herbalist. Anna dreams of one day having enough to take them away to the capital, where no one will know of her brother’s madness or look down their noses at her for being such a flagrant whore.
RP sample:
Anna carefully slide open the door of the hut, slipping out into the cool morning air before the pale, clear light could disturb her brother. Thomas was curled tight in a ball, his thin, white hair barely visible beneath the heap of furs and straw that protected them from the cold that seeped out of the matted, dirt floor. As she tied the door shut, Anna couldn't help but marvel. They had gone the entire night without his usual terrors or high, piercing screams. Perhaps the lavender salve she had been rubbing into his neck and shoulders was finally starting to take hold. Oh Goddess, she prayed it could be so. Anna brushed her rough fingertips against the deep, mulberry colored bags that hung beneath her muddy eyes. Thomas was growing too strong for her to pin down as he thrashed in his sleep, and her brother had nearly bitten through his tongue the week before.
“Enough nonsense, there is work that needs doing.” she sighed, giving herself a good and proper shake before lending back, her hands firmly against her hips as she stretched her aching shoulders. Anna let out a sharp gasp as her joints crackled and popped, sounding a bit like stones that were being pounded against each other. Perhaps she should be saving some of that lavender for herself. She was going to be as knobby as an old man before she was even properly a woman.
Rolling her shoulders in tight circles, the short girl waddled over towards the little bucket that caught their rain water. Her feet were swollen and hard, still aching from the day of picking she had done, just a few miles south of the village. The herbs she had found were still pinning against the straw wall of the hut, the white-purple petals of the eyebright already curling in on themselves. If they dried nicely enough, she might be able to tell them at the market.
Sitting down on her knees, Anna dipped her hands into the chilly water and leaned down. Splashing it up against her face, goose flesh broke up against her neck and trailed all the way down her lumpy spine. She scrubbed hard against her skin, minding the back of her ears and the curve of her elbows. Her wet finger fingers then went to work on her hair, diving in and out of the tangled curls in a vain attempted to pick them apart. Even after rubbing countless oils through them week after week, her hair was still as thick and coarse as a cow’s tail. The only good it did was to leave her smelling faintly of rosemary and sage.
Shaking the water from her curls, Anna began the business of trying to braid it, wincing as it tangled and pulled against itself even more. Why she hadn't taken a knife to it after all these years was still a mystery. No… Not a mystery. The girl let out a long sigh, hooking her finger into a particularly long curl and ripping it in two. Perhaps , what with her small bust and boyish hips, it was the one thing that made her feel a woman. Made her feel she could, with some tender work and care, be made to look beautiful. Old bruises and all.
“Utter nonsense,” she muttered, laughing a bit at herself. Beautiful women didn't have hands that were scared from thorns and bee stings, or skin that was dark and freckled from long days in the skin. But for a hard working woman, a real woman, those were the standards she hoisted for all the world to see. Now if only she could convince the village of that. Maybe then they would be allowed to return, and sleep on a floor that would refuse to melt into mud in the summer, or be coated with a fine, sheet of frost in the winter. At least keep them from being eaten alive by the cats, for a little while longer.
Other: Anna is a small young woman, barely reaching above five feet tall, and is as skinny as s rail. With almost square hips and a small bust, she’s learned to ignore the jeers of older women. Her skin is a dark tan and freckly from long days picking herbs near the edge of the forest, with curly, coarse hair that comes down almost to her waist. Her eyes are a dark, and an almost muddy shade of brown. Thomas, her brother, as the same look about him only he is tall with grayish-white hair and black eyes. While Anna is seventeen, he is currently twenty-five.
