Post by beryl on Dec 4, 2011 20:06:17 GMT -5
Name: Delwyn Hjördis.
Age: Nineteen.
Race: Human.
Occupation: An Envoy.
Allegiance: Her desert tribe.
Physical Description:There is nothing about Delwyn that truly merits any particular attention. She is average in every sense of the word - it would certainly be overcompensating to call her spectacular - and yet there is something about her - a wild, frantic energy almost - that tends to absorb attention in a crowd.
Delwyn holds herself with a graceful carelessness and with a height of five foot seven the posture almost suits her. Her figure is lanky and stringy, gangly, even, something one would expect from an adolescent boy, but still suggests a quick, reliable strength. There are brushes of femininity here and there, of course; a gentle swell of hips which have the potential to become curvaceous, breasts that aren't entirely satisfactory for her and a generally softer, gentille aspect to her appearance that counteracts the sharp, rugged edges of a man.
Influenced by her upbringing, Delwyn, contrary to the meek females who find their homes in towns, carries herself with strength; a kind of dominance that can be seen in the set to her shoulders and high chin. While she is far from being consciously confrontational, there tends to be a look in her eyes that can give a person pause, if not for a moment or two. She is simply accustomed to being in charge.
She is a girl who does not particularly bother to keep her appearance neat and tidy for reputation's sake, though even if she were to try, her dark hair would remain as messy as ever. Falling in soft waves to a spot mid-waist, her locks adhere a dark brown color, yet swim with differing tones - like the gnarled wood of an walnut tree. Her face is narrow, the hollows under her cheekbones pronounced, yet her jaw is strong, with a somewhat squarish appeal. As odd as these traits sound, they seem to fit her perfectly.
Her eyes, well, her eyes are nothing extraordinary. A dark grey in color, they are narrow, cat-like, even. Adverse to what many seem to say, they are not the 'window to her soul' - in fact, they are rather guarded.
Personality:A calm person in general, Delwyn does not usually overstep the boundaries of vocality and tends to prefer silence over anything otherwise. Even so, the most poignant fact about her is that she is ignorant, naive, even; not intelligently-wise, but because the was brought up as a sheltered child. She adheres to certain superstitions and has a very obvious lack of knowledge when it comes to dealing with your regular human outside the Hadarac Desert; the fact alone that she considers herself as an equal (or even moreso) than to a human male speaks for itself. Very much a skeptic, Delwyn is a person who questions everything without pause until she is satisfied with her cognition of the topic.
Yet she is gentle, something which is unusual for a woman of her tribe - who are fierce and bold and admirable. She is not a person who hides her smiles away, only to show to those certain few people - nay, she shares them as completely as she can. While Delwyn is far from an optimist, she believes that focusing on the negative side of things does not help things any.
Despite this placid side of her, she is sharp, a warrior in her own rights, and it is a difficult task to catch her by surprise. Her pride is a rather large flaw; she does not like to accept that she is wrong. Even so, she can understand when she is and is not afraid to apologize. The supernatural frustrates her - magic, especially, since she cannot understand how it works, no matter how many hours she spends broaching the subject. A sarcastic person, it is easy for her to unintentionally offend a person and an equal amount adore her wit as they dislike her as a person. Her thirst for knowledge is vast, and she is aware that being capable of reading and writing is a privilege.
That being said, Delwyn can also be underhanded. A pseudo-warrior she may be, but even she is aware that sometimes a person cannot win without being sly. Quick-footed both physically and mentally, she is aware that she has quite a few advantages over a regular woman and isn't afraid to use them for her own benefit. She may be fluent in the language of sarcasm, but she is also skilled in the art of lying - because she is not naturally a nervous person, doing so will not elicit any reactions from her.
History:Generations upon generations ago, there was once a tiny village nestled between the threshold of The Hadarac Desert and the mighty Beor Mountains. This village was a sheltered one, toughened from a hard life of simply trying to survive; the poor quality of the land they settled in did not make matters any easier. Preyed upon by behemothic beasts that prowled the valleys of the mountains, they were generally considered to be an easy target for raiders - they wouldn't be missed, after all. Their prospects had ever been poor and, finally, during the peak of what many know as the war between the great races of Elves and Dragons, they feared for their land and their lives, finally deciding to pack up and venture deeper into the vast Hadarac Desert.
The trip had been a long, tiring and dangerous one at best, but, eventually, they reached a pair of mountains in the center of the desert, staking their claim upon the fertile valley between their great bases. Though dwarf-like in comparison to the Beor Mountains, these twin peaks were what the village considered their guardians; being the home to wild Dragons, those majestic creatures were quick to be revered by the people. To this day, they remain ignorant of the pact between the Elves and the Dragons.
No more than eighty people live in this tribe, but that benefits them; their lives, though difficult, remained peaceful, and their community is more close-knit than any human town in Broddering. Naturally, superstitions have formed, and without trade routes they rely heavily on the graciousness of Mother Nature. They predict weather through means like the trail a sand snake should leave in the path, or, astoundingly, the color of the dragon that might fly overhead that day.
Alas, their good fortune was not to last and fate predetermined that they would settle in an area that was remarkably close to an Urgal village. Following the slaughter of a band of villagers they had send out to scout the area, the village leader - a man called Dougal - desperately arranged a meet with these Urgals. Fortunately, they were of the lenient kind and the two groups spoke the same tongue. Eventually, they came to an arrangement - the human tribe would send two sacrifices a year for the Urgals' customs in exchange for protection against any enemy that might arise.
Naturally, they began to share these customs. The tribe began to grow slightly matriarchal, though not to the extremes of the Urgals. Over time, necessity dictated that magic users should pop up, and they still retained enough knowledge of the outside-world, as it were, to use it to their advantage, though it was not used for anything more strenuous that finding sources of water in the desert. The tribe knew better than to have fights, but if that were to occur, it would be dealt with by the chief. They used their true names freely and without fear - they do know how dangerous (or indeed, how handy) this can be outside the desert, however.
As for Delwyn: born nineteen years ago when the sun was at its highest turn in the sky on the eve of the solstice, she had always been a more curious child, watching from a distance the almost military-esque training and only partaking in it reluctantly. From her mother, she learned reading, writing, and the necessities a housewife might need (because social expectations survived the many years). From her father, she learned archery and the art of fighting (or remaining alive). With no siblings, she was forced to turn to the other children her age for company - who were a rambunctious bunch, yet they still got along like a house on fire.
She grew up with friends who had concrete ideas of what they wanted to be - A warrior! A tanner! A scout! - without any idea of what occupation would suit her. Just when her parents and tribe began to pressure her to just choose, fate intervened once again. Like a miasma, a sickness began to spread around the camp, incurable and fatal. The healers were overwhelmed and sought help from the Chieftans, who had as much answers for them as a passing butterfly might.
As quiet as Delwyn was, she had the initiative to suggest that an envoy travel outside the Hadarac Desert with the hope that it would be herself that was chosen. She wasn't even considered, at first, until her ever-loyal friends suggested that, without a job in the tribe, she wouldn't be missed. As roundabout as that method was, it got her what she desired.
Thus, she found herself crossing the Hadarac Desert with expectations on her shoulders and a plea for help in her throat.
Roleplaying Sample:The sand was gritty and dry, simultaneously stealing away the moisture in her throat and getting into every place she couldn't reach. Yet the girl took as much comfort from the situation as was possible, the sun heating her back - had she the vocal chords, she would have been purring. Beside her, a snake slithered quietly by, taking no threat from the lackadaisical human. Slowly, Delwyn pried and eye open and leaned forward, examining the barely-there, sideways tracks that the snake's path created. Though she had studied the topic - since it was one of the more interesting career options, as it were - she was unable to decipher them; nor was she able to even link the wanderings of a snake to how the weather might change. That was something that had always irritated her. She may have shared in the superstitions of her peoples, but sometimes their methods seemed too absorb for her intellectual palette.
The young woman's hair whispered as she shook her head with a sigh, long accustomed to the often internal argument and quickly dismissing the thought before it became too heated for her to bear. With some difficulty - laying around for three hours at a time tended to do that to a person - Delwyn pulled herself up, curling her toes into the silky ground below. The horizon wavered, endless and familiar, and in the distance she could spot the frantic activity inside the village. As guilty as she was of abandoning them when they needed as much extra help as they could take, the illness and death that pervaded the place was stifling.
And, of course, there was the ever-present fear that she might catch that fatal disease. As loyal as she was, Delwyn was still very much human and wanted to live. The thought of writhing on her death bed was enough to make her shudder, despite the intense heat.
Audible in the silence, her sigh brushed past cracked lips, and she eventually summoned up enough courage to make her way back into the village, leaving trails of her own.
