Post by Lorryn on Mar 25, 2012 20:56:06 GMT -6
**********
GENERAL-
Name:[/b][/color] Lorryn (Raenn Talier)
Title:
Rank: Vagabond (Promoted 5/3/12 by Beast Master)
Profession: Rogue Huntswoman
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
PHYSICAL-[/b]
Race: Human / Imperian
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 135 lbs.
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue-grey
Voice Description: Much to her annoyance, Lorryn’s voice is soft and extremely feminine, almost childlike. While she may speak freely around those whom she has established herself with, around all others she is a woman of few words, if only due to how her voice fails to suit her (in her opinion.) While many may find it’s tone very pleasing, it also leads some to assuming she’s of weaker stock than she appears. However, if angered or challenged, it takes a sharper, somewhat deeper tone more befitting a larger Winterborn woman, that certainly commands attention.
Clothing: When traveling Lorryn wears either a dark red or green dress over a linen shift, covered by a mail tunic and leather corset armor. She wears simple leather boots that come half way up her calves, sometimes a thin grey cloak, and a heavy brown wool cloak when weather deems it necessary. Occasionally when in a town or the even rarer city, she may swap her traveling clothes for a simple blue layered gown, made of a pale blue-grey underdress with long sleeves slit to the elbow and darker muted blue cap sleeved overdress that clasps closed just under her bust, the rest hanging free. While simple and unadorned, it hints at a higher station than would be associated with the rogue, but it makes slipping unnoticed in a crowd that much easier.
Build / Complexion: While rather short, Lorryn is of a sturdier frame than is perhaps considered ideal by some, but with it comes more curves than many of the thin ‘frailer’ feminine forms. Neither fat nor thin, it’s clear she doesn’t want for food as her toned muscles display both nourishing and exercise. Some of the habits of her upbringing are hard to break as she’s not nearly as tanned by the sun on her travels as one would expect. Whenever possible she keeps to wooded areas and the cooler shade they offer, and at other times either uses her light cloak to shield her from the suns’ rays or does the majority of her travel at night. Despite these efforts, there is a healthy color to her complexion that only accentuates the natural blush to her cheeks.
Physical Description: Nearly the mirror image of her mother, a high-spirited noble woman saddled with a much older husband, Lorryn is forever grateful to not have inherited the taller and leaner build of the Taliers. Her face is ovular with high cheek bones, a nose slightly wider than average, with fuller lips and deep set eyes. Upon sight of her there is no question as to her race, and while use to utilizing the Common language, overhearing her speak to herself in Archaic Miniscule serves to cement the assessment. On her back right shoulder she bears a thumb sized birthmark, brown and reminiscent of a hawk, not that anyone’s had the opportunity to see it. Nor has anyone seen the gold amulet around her neck, forever tucked away against her breast under her clothes. It’s circular with intricate knot work etched around a central smooth polished sapphire, the back bearing the crest of the Taliers.
Though only standing just a little over five feet, her presence in whatever she wears is confident, even commanding, as if she were someone of position, despite the fact her face carries a youthfulness that suits a girl of fifteen rather than twenty-four. Her hands are small and soft outside of the few calluses caused by her use of the bow. Her mail and leather corset are visibly broken in, well worn and in places, repaired. When traveling, she hides a dagger down the front of her corset, her bow, quiver, and wood staff strapped to her back while a leather armguard is strapped to her left forearm. It’s not unusual to see her entering a new town or inn along the road with her face hidden under a cloak due to her cautious nature. Under it her expression is calculating, her sharp eyes taking in the surroundings like a scout and her lips slightly pressed together, but with it off, when her guard is down, her eyes are bright and amused, her face brightened by a rosy flush to her cheeks, her lips parted and inviting. Lorryn fails to realize this is often the reason she’s approached by a variety of males for one thing… or another.
MENTAL-
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths / Skills:
Weaknesses:
Fears:
Personality Description: Since she was a child, Lorryn has been more keen on running with the boys than being the traditional young lady. However, given her noble birth, some training she had no choice in and so she’s almost lived a double life for as long as she can remember. More at ease in male company, her sense of humor reflects their more bawdy tastes, she prefers a good bout of ‘practice’ with her staff with any willing to join her, and rarely does she ever back down from an argument no matter how heated. Her ‘feminine’ sensitivities are reserved solely for carnal matters, it being the one area she is perhaps least knowledgeable, not that it bothers her, she’d sooner concuss a man than give him a ‘peek’.
Primarily having taken up the life she has at the spur of the moment, she’s perhaps overly cautious when encountering anyone or anything new. Discovery is her worst fear and it drives her to near paranoia at times. Even so, while cautious, her manner is inviting and congenial, unless met with anger or aggression in which case her temper simmers under the surface and if provoked, will lash out in both verbal and physical form. When it suits her needs she can put on the charm of her upbringing and use a man’s weakness for a pretty face against him.
On her own, she’s quiet, contemplative, and perfectly happy in the forest with only her book for entertainment. Sometimes her love of the natural beauty of the untouched parts of the world slow her down as she’ll find herself staying in prime spots longer than expected. When accompanied, she’s comfortable with an amiable silence as well as deep thought provoking discussions. Curious and ever wishing to learn, she shows a great interest in both a region and person’s history, and has at times bordered on prying. Overall, she has found several friends on her travels, some closer and more memorable than others.
HISTORICAL-[/b]
Place of Birth: Tradantum, Imperia
Current Residence: None
Known Family:
Chosen Pantheon: Human Pantheon of Godlings
Preferred Deity: Ishana
Past History: Born Raenn Talier, the youngest child of House Talier, Lorryn only knew her mother for five short years before she, and a younger brother, died in childbirth. Even before her mother’s passing, Raenn spent as much time in the company of the servants’ sons, running through fields, playing at wood swords, learning to clean an animal, all the activities and skills not suited for a girl meant to become a lady. Her mother felt she had time enough to be taught ‘proper pursuits’, but never got the opportunity to them. For a few years, her father overlooked his daughter’s tomboy ways, even when she began serious training with the bow and arrow.
At the age of thirteen, the reality that he needed a young lady to marry off forced her father to send her to her uncle’s estate in Liosut to be reformed and trained for her presentation at court years later. At first it seemed a prison sentence, lessons in needlepoint, music, and dance, about drove her mad. As fate would have it, the captain of her uncle’s guard caught her sneaking into the armory to find a bow to practice with in the middle of the night. Using her angelic face and sweet voice, she convinced him to turn his cheek, but she hadn’t expected him to secretly watch her that night. It was his idea to train her in secret, adding to her skills the use of the staff given her weakness in close combat.
While living at her uncle’s her father fell ill, never to recover, leaving her brother Braden to take his place. Unfortunately, the young man had gone out to see the world, with his father’s blessing a year prior, and had not been heard from in months. Their uncle Malik left for the estate to watch over it until his return, leaving Raenn with her aunt until he summoned her on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Through her aunt she learned Malik had arranged her marriage in her brother’s stead, to an old widowed noble with a moderate fortune and better political connections. Thankfully, her prayers to escape such a fate were answered, just not in the way she expected.
Enroute to meet her betrothed, escorted by three guardsmen, bandits seeking treasure attacked her carriage. Little did they know her entire dowry in gold sat in a coin purse under the seat. As the fight ensued, she sat in the carriage wishing she had a bow, or staff, or anything of use for that matter. The noise began to diminish in volume and she looked out to see only two left, one of her guards and a burly bandit bleeding badly from the side of the head. Soon the bandit fell and the guard limped over, holding his side that was covered and dripping with blood. He urged her to go, quickly, in case there were more and died as she stood thinking… her eyes on the body of the lone female in the band just across from the open door on the road. Her chance had come. It took some time, but soon she was riding off in the female’s clothes, on one of their horses, the coin purse in her pocket, her mother’s amulet tucked into her shirt, and a short sword on her hip. Behind her she left the female in her gown in the carriage she set on fire. So Raenn Talier was dead…
Using her gold sparingly she traded and bought supplies and weapons, outfitting herself more appropriately and starting out on her own. Her hunting skills kept her fed and gave her furs to trade with, but mostly she lived by her wits, keeping to herself the first few months. Another rogue, Traven, soon became her companion, giving her the name she now goes by when she refused to give him one. “Who do you think I am?” she had asked haughtily. After a moment’s contemplation he decided, “Lorryn.” She never denied it. The pair traveled together for several years before a drunken brawl outside a tavern took Traven from her. It was the first man to enter and exit her new life.
Jericho was the second. Unlike Traven who was exactly as he seemed, Jericho was much more complex and she found herself more than a little intrigued by him. His company she never tired of, his strength and prowess rather a sight to see, and much to her surprise, the sellsword was the first to make her feel a heat she hadn’t before. However tempted she was, he did have a reputation (for good reason she had noted first hand), and she didn’t think she wanted to cross that line. After all, she really had taken a true liking to him. Then there was that business in the Serpan Mountains and Jericho relieving a particularly ‘touchy’ fellow of his hand- she didn’t disagree with parting ways, she felt the two had both sensed a change and Lorryn wasn’t ready to deal with more of that just yet.
Until now…
Site History: WIP
**********[/b]
GENERAL-
Name:[/b][/color] Lorryn (Raenn Talier)
Title:
Rank: Vagabond (Promoted 5/3/12 by Beast Master)
Profession: Rogue Huntswoman
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
PHYSICAL-[/b]
Race: Human / Imperian
- The best schools in all of human controlled Solabren has bred the Imperians to be smarter than almost any human's (+5 to Intelligence, +5 Social, +5 Cunning). Because they start wielding magic at an early age, it is not uncommon for almost all Imperians to have some sort of magical skill (+20 XP to Magical Prowess to be used on either Innate Abilities, Magical Abilities, or both.) Their almost total reliance on education and magic has left them physically weaker than most human classes (-5 Strength, -5 Hand to Hand, -5 Close-Armed).
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 135 lbs.
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue-grey
Voice Description: Much to her annoyance, Lorryn’s voice is soft and extremely feminine, almost childlike. While she may speak freely around those whom she has established herself with, around all others she is a woman of few words, if only due to how her voice fails to suit her (in her opinion.) While many may find it’s tone very pleasing, it also leads some to assuming she’s of weaker stock than she appears. However, if angered or challenged, it takes a sharper, somewhat deeper tone more befitting a larger Winterborn woman, that certainly commands attention.
Clothing: When traveling Lorryn wears either a dark red or green dress over a linen shift, covered by a mail tunic and leather corset armor. She wears simple leather boots that come half way up her calves, sometimes a thin grey cloak, and a heavy brown wool cloak when weather deems it necessary. Occasionally when in a town or the even rarer city, she may swap her traveling clothes for a simple blue layered gown, made of a pale blue-grey underdress with long sleeves slit to the elbow and darker muted blue cap sleeved overdress that clasps closed just under her bust, the rest hanging free. While simple and unadorned, it hints at a higher station than would be associated with the rogue, but it makes slipping unnoticed in a crowd that much easier.
Build / Complexion: While rather short, Lorryn is of a sturdier frame than is perhaps considered ideal by some, but with it comes more curves than many of the thin ‘frailer’ feminine forms. Neither fat nor thin, it’s clear she doesn’t want for food as her toned muscles display both nourishing and exercise. Some of the habits of her upbringing are hard to break as she’s not nearly as tanned by the sun on her travels as one would expect. Whenever possible she keeps to wooded areas and the cooler shade they offer, and at other times either uses her light cloak to shield her from the suns’ rays or does the majority of her travel at night. Despite these efforts, there is a healthy color to her complexion that only accentuates the natural blush to her cheeks.
Physical Description: Nearly the mirror image of her mother, a high-spirited noble woman saddled with a much older husband, Lorryn is forever grateful to not have inherited the taller and leaner build of the Taliers. Her face is ovular with high cheek bones, a nose slightly wider than average, with fuller lips and deep set eyes. Upon sight of her there is no question as to her race, and while use to utilizing the Common language, overhearing her speak to herself in Archaic Miniscule serves to cement the assessment. On her back right shoulder she bears a thumb sized birthmark, brown and reminiscent of a hawk, not that anyone’s had the opportunity to see it. Nor has anyone seen the gold amulet around her neck, forever tucked away against her breast under her clothes. It’s circular with intricate knot work etched around a central smooth polished sapphire, the back bearing the crest of the Taliers.
Though only standing just a little over five feet, her presence in whatever she wears is confident, even commanding, as if she were someone of position, despite the fact her face carries a youthfulness that suits a girl of fifteen rather than twenty-four. Her hands are small and soft outside of the few calluses caused by her use of the bow. Her mail and leather corset are visibly broken in, well worn and in places, repaired. When traveling, she hides a dagger down the front of her corset, her bow, quiver, and wood staff strapped to her back while a leather armguard is strapped to her left forearm. It’s not unusual to see her entering a new town or inn along the road with her face hidden under a cloak due to her cautious nature. Under it her expression is calculating, her sharp eyes taking in the surroundings like a scout and her lips slightly pressed together, but with it off, when her guard is down, her eyes are bright and amused, her face brightened by a rosy flush to her cheeks, her lips parted and inviting. Lorryn fails to realize this is often the reason she’s approached by a variety of males for one thing… or another.
MENTAL-
Likes:
- Warm days & cool nights
- The crackle of a campfire
- Venison stew
- Wine & ale
- Traveling
- A good sense of humor
- Witty banter
- Furthering her abilities
- Living life on her terms
- The company of men who don’t see her as just another skirt.
Dislikes:
- Sweltering sunlight and blizzards
- River rapids
- Lamb
- Court, any court
- Carriages
- Men who grope (and soon learn to regret it…)
- Catty females
- Her uncle
Strengths / Skills:
- Quick witted
- Resourceful
- Diplomatic, able to smooth over some dangerously rough spots
- Light on her feet and if kept at a distance, hard to catch.
- Fast learner and quick study, picking up tricks and skills along her travels from those willing to share them
- A personality that often makes it easy for people to trust her
Weaknesses:
- A quick tongue and hot temper when set off just right
- A decided lack of any skill for hand to hand combat, let alone defense despite numerous efforts to develop it
- Wine- she can drink some men under the table but it loosens her tongue, makes her more open to suggestion, and eventually makes her incredibly sleepy.
- Her posture, however practiced to not do so, her heritage can still be gleaned from it
- Stubborn, very stubborn
- Slow to forgive or forget
Fears:
- Being recognized as who she once was
- Falling into the trap of marriage and becoming nothing more than a trophy or work horse
- The day she can no longer wield a bow or staff
- A slow and painful death (quick would be nice)
Personality Description: Since she was a child, Lorryn has been more keen on running with the boys than being the traditional young lady. However, given her noble birth, some training she had no choice in and so she’s almost lived a double life for as long as she can remember. More at ease in male company, her sense of humor reflects their more bawdy tastes, she prefers a good bout of ‘practice’ with her staff with any willing to join her, and rarely does she ever back down from an argument no matter how heated. Her ‘feminine’ sensitivities are reserved solely for carnal matters, it being the one area she is perhaps least knowledgeable, not that it bothers her, she’d sooner concuss a man than give him a ‘peek’.
Primarily having taken up the life she has at the spur of the moment, she’s perhaps overly cautious when encountering anyone or anything new. Discovery is her worst fear and it drives her to near paranoia at times. Even so, while cautious, her manner is inviting and congenial, unless met with anger or aggression in which case her temper simmers under the surface and if provoked, will lash out in both verbal and physical form. When it suits her needs she can put on the charm of her upbringing and use a man’s weakness for a pretty face against him.
On her own, she’s quiet, contemplative, and perfectly happy in the forest with only her book for entertainment. Sometimes her love of the natural beauty of the untouched parts of the world slow her down as she’ll find herself staying in prime spots longer than expected. When accompanied, she’s comfortable with an amiable silence as well as deep thought provoking discussions. Curious and ever wishing to learn, she shows a great interest in both a region and person’s history, and has at times bordered on prying. Overall, she has found several friends on her travels, some closer and more memorable than others.
HISTORICAL-[/b]
Place of Birth: Tradantum, Imperia
Current Residence: None
Known Family:
- Eoin Talier, father (deceased)
- Margot Brenn, Mother (deceased)
- Malik Talier, uncle
- Ariadne Folsoun, aunt
- Braden Talier, older brother (whereabouts unknown)
Chosen Pantheon: Human Pantheon of Godlings
Preferred Deity: Ishana
Past History: Born Raenn Talier, the youngest child of House Talier, Lorryn only knew her mother for five short years before she, and a younger brother, died in childbirth. Even before her mother’s passing, Raenn spent as much time in the company of the servants’ sons, running through fields, playing at wood swords, learning to clean an animal, all the activities and skills not suited for a girl meant to become a lady. Her mother felt she had time enough to be taught ‘proper pursuits’, but never got the opportunity to them. For a few years, her father overlooked his daughter’s tomboy ways, even when she began serious training with the bow and arrow.
At the age of thirteen, the reality that he needed a young lady to marry off forced her father to send her to her uncle’s estate in Liosut to be reformed and trained for her presentation at court years later. At first it seemed a prison sentence, lessons in needlepoint, music, and dance, about drove her mad. As fate would have it, the captain of her uncle’s guard caught her sneaking into the armory to find a bow to practice with in the middle of the night. Using her angelic face and sweet voice, she convinced him to turn his cheek, but she hadn’t expected him to secretly watch her that night. It was his idea to train her in secret, adding to her skills the use of the staff given her weakness in close combat.
While living at her uncle’s her father fell ill, never to recover, leaving her brother Braden to take his place. Unfortunately, the young man had gone out to see the world, with his father’s blessing a year prior, and had not been heard from in months. Their uncle Malik left for the estate to watch over it until his return, leaving Raenn with her aunt until he summoned her on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Through her aunt she learned Malik had arranged her marriage in her brother’s stead, to an old widowed noble with a moderate fortune and better political connections. Thankfully, her prayers to escape such a fate were answered, just not in the way she expected.
Enroute to meet her betrothed, escorted by three guardsmen, bandits seeking treasure attacked her carriage. Little did they know her entire dowry in gold sat in a coin purse under the seat. As the fight ensued, she sat in the carriage wishing she had a bow, or staff, or anything of use for that matter. The noise began to diminish in volume and she looked out to see only two left, one of her guards and a burly bandit bleeding badly from the side of the head. Soon the bandit fell and the guard limped over, holding his side that was covered and dripping with blood. He urged her to go, quickly, in case there were more and died as she stood thinking… her eyes on the body of the lone female in the band just across from the open door on the road. Her chance had come. It took some time, but soon she was riding off in the female’s clothes, on one of their horses, the coin purse in her pocket, her mother’s amulet tucked into her shirt, and a short sword on her hip. Behind her she left the female in her gown in the carriage she set on fire. So Raenn Talier was dead…
Using her gold sparingly she traded and bought supplies and weapons, outfitting herself more appropriately and starting out on her own. Her hunting skills kept her fed and gave her furs to trade with, but mostly she lived by her wits, keeping to herself the first few months. Another rogue, Traven, soon became her companion, giving her the name she now goes by when she refused to give him one. “Who do you think I am?” she had asked haughtily. After a moment’s contemplation he decided, “Lorryn.” She never denied it. The pair traveled together for several years before a drunken brawl outside a tavern took Traven from her. It was the first man to enter and exit her new life.
Jericho was the second. Unlike Traven who was exactly as he seemed, Jericho was much more complex and she found herself more than a little intrigued by him. His company she never tired of, his strength and prowess rather a sight to see, and much to her surprise, the sellsword was the first to make her feel a heat she hadn’t before. However tempted she was, he did have a reputation (for good reason she had noted first hand), and she didn’t think she wanted to cross that line. After all, she really had taken a true liking to him. Then there was that business in the Serpan Mountains and Jericho relieving a particularly ‘touchy’ fellow of his hand- she didn’t disagree with parting ways, she felt the two had both sensed a change and Lorryn wasn’t ready to deal with more of that just yet.
Until now…
Site History: WIP
**********[/b]
