Post by Rhiannon Na Farraige on Jul 20, 2010 22:22:20 GMT 2
RHIANNON AMOIREACH NA FARRAIGE
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you say you're curious[/color]
CAN'T LEAVE A THING TO YOUR IMAGINATION[/font][/center]
AGE:56
GENDER:female
BIRTHDAY: February 7
CLASS: elf student
TITLE/RANK: Rhian Mindreader
OCCUPATION:student
ALIGNMENT: neutral
ALLIGANCE: the Queen of the elves
RACE: elf
CANON:No[/SIZE]
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but oh, you seem so serious
[/color]I SHOULD ENJOY THE SWEET INTERROGATION[/font][/center]
HAIR:dark brown
WEIGHT:175
HEIGHT: 5’11
PLAY-BY:Giovanna Mezzogiorno
GENERAL:Rhian isn’t a terribly striking person, but her height obviously sets her apart from humans. Her ears are pointed, marking her clearly as elfkind. Her dark hair reaches beyond her shoulders to swing just shy of the middle of her back. Bright green eyes captivate and hold anyone who comes across her, though she doesn’t do it on purpose- her gaze is soft and gentle, an undemanding greeting. Long, slender limbs color her motions with an unconscious grace and smoothness. Used to and fond of solitude, Rhian tends to move quietly and without drawing attention to herself. She’ll hang on the edge of a group rather than join it, and isn’t very noticeable in a crowd. It’s not that she’d trying to hide; she just isn’t a commander of attention unless she wants to be. Her movements are self-assured and controlled- she’s comfortable in her own skin and it shows.
Restrictive clothing panics Rhian due to her claustrophobia and she prefers to wear loose, tunic-like shirts with long sleeves and pants or leggings. Soft or dark colors are her favorites, mostly showing in her wardrobe as tans or greens. She doesn’t like shoes and usually goes barefoot. [/SIZE]
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i should not be telling you
[/color]I'M FLATTERED BY YOUR INTEREST[/font][/center]
She has a weakness for fresh-baked bread and secretly loves fighting, though she hates hurting people- it’s the challenge and the strategy she likes. She likes practicing with her staff because it feels like dancing. The grace and balanced control of the body necessary for a good staff-wielder is almost intoxicating to the quiet elf, and the rhythm and flow of her drills is soothing.
A nature-lover at heart, Rhian spends much of her time in the woods, where she feels most at home. The smell of rain makes her happy.
DISLIKES: Rhian cannot stand being confined. She’s claustrophobic and walls make her nervous. If she’s inside for too long, she may abruptly leave whoever she’s with and head out the nearest door to find the sky over her head. Her family jokes that she lives on fresh air, but to her it’s important.
Rhian can’t stand liars or thieves, who she considers to be the absolute lowest sort of person. For this reason, among others, she also is not too fond of humans. She thinks that their short life-spans make it impossible for them to truly understand or respect the world and those in it, and when coupled with their impatience and arrogance this makes them dangerous creatures. She has good reason not to trust them, but her dislike perhaps is a bit unfair, though she thinks otherwise.
Bullies and self-important people irritate Rhian immensely. While not quite a pacifist, she doesn’t like violence and is a whole-hearted supporter of respect. The idea that anyone would use force and intimidation to gain power or control others disgusts her. She makes it a point never to be cowed by overbearing bullies.
STRENGTHS: Rhian is a patient and unassuming person. She never pushes or hurries anyone, because she understands the importance of going at one’s own pace. She always has a smile and a supporting word for those who need it, though she doesn’t go out of her way to offer. She has a slow temper, and is usually forgiving- but she can be rather frightening if truly angered. Her greatest strength is her calm disposition, which allows her to keep her head in a crisis.
WEAKNESSES: Rhian tends to be somewhat emotionally distant from others. It’s more to protect her than anything- the closer she is to someone, the harder it is for her to block out their thoughts- but it can make her seem cold. She’s initially wary of strangers, and slow to trust. It doesn’t take much to make her run. In her mind this keeps her safe, but it leaves her with few friends.
QUIRKS/HABITS: Rhian is unusual among the elves in that the traditional elven magic is barred to her. She can’t use spells, manipulate the material world, or affect others magically. Instead, Rhian and most of her family on her father’s side are telepaths. This power affects elves, humans, dragons, and other animals. She constantly picks up emotions and stray thoughts from those around her. As she is relatively young for an elf, her control isn’t perfect and she sometimes reads thoughts by accident, occasionally replying to them out loud without realizing it. It has been speculated that she will eventually be able to exert a certain amount of control over others, but her powers are not yet mature and as of now she’s limited to long-range communication and mind-reading of thoughts, emotions, and memories. She’s very self-conscious of her abilities and never uses them (on purpose) without permission, and never at all around humans.
As previously stated, Rhian dislikes being enclosed for long. She usually doesn’t stay indoors for more than a few hours at a time, and sleeps in a hammock in the backyard of the house she shares with her mother and younger brothers. She tends to be friendlier to animals than to humans, and claims it’s because animals never lie. Her ability to communicate with them attracts them from miles around, and it’s not unusual to find her sleeping soundly with stray cats or even wild animals curled around her for warmth.
Rhian is a creature of habit, finding comfort in routines. She drills every day with staff and sword, almost obsessively, running through drills she either learned from her combat instructor or came up with herself. In the morning after waking and the evening before bed, she can be found practicing diligently. She loses herself in her routines and tends to forget the world around her, to the point that approaching her could be potentially dangerous as she pays little attention to anyone approaching.
FEARS: Being claustrophobic, Rhian is terrified of small spaces. Perhaps her greatest fear is being closed in forever. After the murder of her father by humans, she used to be terrified of them as well, though that has faded to a general wariness towards them. Fire frightens her, though she uses it for cooking, light, and warmth. She has a healthy respect for deep water, as well.
GOALS: Though she lives in a politically-charged world, Rhiannon is a simple soul As she isn’t a goal-oriented person, she doesn’t actually have many long-term goals. She’d very much like to meet the men who killed her father, but it isn’t an all-consuming hunt for vengeance or anything. She really just wants to find happiness in her own life and the lives of her family.
PERSONALITY Rhian offers to the world a sedate and graceful appearance. Everything she does, she does deliberately and with forethought. This is in large part due to her telepathy, which shapes her personality quite a bit. She has to think before she says anything, to make sure she isn’t replying to someone’s silent thoughts. The twitchy shyness of her youth has turned with age to thoughtful quietness. She doesn’t speak much because she only voices her thoughts if she has something important to say. Among strangers she is the very image of the foreign elf- quiet, self-contained, and impersonally kind.
Among those she knows, however, Rhian is quite a different person. She allows more of herself to show, and will joke and smile with much more ease. She’s open with her telepathy at home, and often converses with her family completely silently, just because she can. With family and friends she is openly affectionate, and reminds them frequently that she cares. She is devoted to her younger brothers, and would do anything for them. Loyalty runs deep in her personality- she’d die for her loved ones, or protect them with her life. Under her quiet exterior lies an unexpectedly sweet young woman, full of life and very loving, but she hides it under her exterior of self-control. Uncovering her sweet side takes time and a good deal of patience.[/SIZE]
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you start to hypnotize me
[/color]WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU[/font][/center]
FATHER: Caleb (deceased)
SIBLINGS: twin brothers Bradoc and Coran, younger (22)
OTHER: grandfather Orion
FAMILIAR/PET: Graymalkin (cat)
MOUNT: None, though she can ride
PLACE OF BIRTH: Stalaga
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Stalaga
WEAPONRY:Rhian is proficient in both swordsmanship and staff fighting, and owns both. While she can use a bow, she does not own one.
HISTORY:Rhiannon Na Farraige was born to the young couple of Elen and Caleb Na Farraige. Both were citizens of Stalaga, and welcomed their first child into a family of healers. Elen was a master of the healing arts, while Caleb used his telepathy to find hidden hurts or reasons for injuries. He was delighted to discover that his daughter shared his telepathic gifts, and began teaching her as soon as she was old enough to listen. Both of her parents doted on the young Rhian, and she grew up happy and comfortable living with her family.
After Rhian was old enough that she didn’t need to be watched every moment of the day, Caleb took to leaving the family for days at a time to visit nearby human towns. He wanted to ease the distrust that humans had for the magical and immortal elves, whom many humans saw as dangerous and untrustworthy. Elen accepted his mission with patience and love, but Rhian was immediately unhappy with him. She’s grown to be extremely close to her father, mostly because of the powers they shared, and didn’t want him leaving her. He was her favorite person, her best friend, and her whole world. He was the only person who understood her completely, and she hated him for leaving her. However, Caleb was determined, and soon he set off, leaving his wife and young daughter behind.
For years, everything went well. Caleb returned to visit his family one week out of every month, which wasn’t enough for Rhian but she accepted it with resignation and cherished every minute she got with her father. When she was twenty-four, Elen gave birth to twins Bradoc and Coran, enlarging their family to five. Rhian hoped their birth would encourage her father to stay with his growing family, but again, when his sons were outgrowing the need to be looked after by both parents, he returned to his travels, driven by his dream of humans and elves living together with no distrust between them.
In the end, it was his trust of humans that did him in. From the start he was open with his telepathic gifts, hoping to show that he had only good intentions. While this won over many men, it estranged others who feared his powers. In time the uneasy faction grew, until finally they came after him and accused him of using his powers to glean information that the elves would use against the human towns. Caleb denied their claims, but they were convinced, and they killed him as a spy for the elves.
Elen and her children would discover his death when his body was brought to them by one of Caleb’s human friends. He told the bewildered family what had happened and surrendered Caleb’s body for burial. Elen, of course, was distraught, but it was Rhian who suffered the most. She’d always been wary of the narrow-minded humans, and now they’d stolen her father and teacher. She felt that no one else understood her as he did. Afraid of the prejudice she might face for her unusual gifts and suddenly without a teacher, she stopped using her telepathy. However, she couldn’t block it completely, and she found herself picking up unconsciously on the grief in her mother’s thoughts. Her house became a place of constant pain, and she took to escaping for days at a time into the forest where no one could reach her- and so no one could hurt her.
Mistrust of humans turned to a deep and abiding terror of humankind, until Rhian refused to even leave the house when humans were in town. Her mother tried to show her the goodness that can abide in the human heart, but Rhian only felt the sadness in her mother’s heart and fled the house more and more frequently. She withdrew from the world out of grief and fear, becoming a hermit even among her own family. Elen and her brothers watched her helplessly, feeling as though they were losing their daughter and sister as well as the murdered Caleb.
In the end, it was Rhian who turned her life around. On one visit to her family, she caught a stray thought of Bradoc’s about how he wished his sister lived with them- and how much he missed her. She realized then the hurt she was causing her family being separated from them. She moved back in and started to fight to overcome her fear and angre left over from Caleb’s death. In order to avoid sharing her father’s fate, she sought out a combat master among Stalaga’s elders and learned to use a sword and staff with precision. Her exercises turned out to be the ideal way to work off extra stress and the confidence it gave her helped her work out some of her insecurities. She began to strive for a balanced life, shutting out unfounded fears and working on ways to reassure herself of her family’s safety.
Over time, terror turned to a general wariness as Rhian mellowed with age. Her sword and staff became instruments of meditation as much as protection, taking her through drills to a place of mindless peace. Practice became her time for quiet thought, not obsession with protecting herself. She began experimenting with her telepathy again, as she had not since her father’s murder. It was then that she discovered she could speak with animals, and started making friends for the first time, though admittedly not with other elves. She remained quiet, but it was now the quiet of a thoughtful personality rather than a withdrawn one. While she still liked solitude, she was also attentive to her family, especially the twin boys. They are her favorite people, and she has no qualms about making sure the world know it. The only thing she still lacked was friendship, but she was and is unsure of how to go about finding it. Today, Rhian is fifty-six and has found a measure of peace in her life, if not the happiness she still searches for.[/SIZE]
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who am i talking to
[/color]COULD BE A DEMON IN A MASK[/font][/center]
AGE: n/a
EXPERIENCE: moderate to advanced- about 4 years, average post size 1200-1800 words
CONTACT: elf.meister@yahoo.com
MEMBER TITLE: The Telepath
ANSWER: fluffy hobbit
EXAMPLE:
WHACK! The iron tip of a capped wooden staff cracked down on a fragile stool, breaking it in two. Without a pause the long staff was whirled up and over the head of a tall, willowy figure. She held it securely in both hands, weaving a blurred pattern of shining metal in the air. Around and over her shoulders it flew at dizzying speed, creating a satisfying hum in the air. Behind dark, unbound hair, green eyes smiled. The tall figure turned gracefully with the spinning staff, making her movements into a sort of dance, deadly and beautiful at once.
Here and there the tip seemed to brush the ground, the quickness of the strikes making them seem deceptively soft. Only the sharp sound of breaking wood showed the true strength behind the blows. Each kiss of iron to wood left a dent in a floor, a wall, the solid oak counter. And still the woman spun, lazily almost, her luminous eyes locked on her staff happily. None of the blows were unintentional, and each elicited a small nod as she struck at different angles, with different amounts of force. She was testing the staff. By her side, a long sheath hung from her belt- her sword, unused in such a confined area. It too, however, had been rigorously tested for balance, speed, keenness, and strength. It was nigh unbreakable and could split a hair, and that was how she liked it.
Eventually she judged the staff well put through its paces, and gradually slowed her movements. She swung the staff to a graceful halt, slipping it into a long holster that was slung lengthwise across her back. Her green eyes found those of the openmouthed blacksmith who watched nervously from a corner. It was he to whom she’d brought her sturdy staff, asking him to cap it on either end with iron and run bands of the stuff from one cap to the other, strengthening the wood and readying it for battle. This he’d done admirably and beautifully, working flowers and vines into the brace-lines and decorating the caps with intricate designs. Rhian had been well pleased, but hadn’t been willing to pay for his services until she’d tested the job. The splinters that littered the smithy floor now attested to her efforts.
With a smile that made her eyes glow, Rhian pulled a sack from her pocket and placed a handful of coins on the counter. "Enough for the metalwork and repairs to your shop, smith," she said in a quiet voice, "as well as a stool, since I’ve cracked yours.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out into the sunlight of the street, whistling cheerfully.
Here and there the tip seemed to brush the ground, the quickness of the strikes making them seem deceptively soft. Only the sharp sound of breaking wood showed the true strength behind the blows. Each kiss of iron to wood left a dent in a floor, a wall, the solid oak counter. And still the woman spun, lazily almost, her luminous eyes locked on her staff happily. None of the blows were unintentional, and each elicited a small nod as she struck at different angles, with different amounts of force. She was testing the staff. By her side, a long sheath hung from her belt- her sword, unused in such a confined area. It too, however, had been rigorously tested for balance, speed, keenness, and strength. It was nigh unbreakable and could split a hair, and that was how she liked it.
Eventually she judged the staff well put through its paces, and gradually slowed her movements. She swung the staff to a graceful halt, slipping it into a long holster that was slung lengthwise across her back. Her green eyes found those of the openmouthed blacksmith who watched nervously from a corner. It was he to whom she’d brought her sturdy staff, asking him to cap it on either end with iron and run bands of the stuff from one cap to the other, strengthening the wood and readying it for battle. This he’d done admirably and beautifully, working flowers and vines into the brace-lines and decorating the caps with intricate designs. Rhian had been well pleased, but hadn’t been willing to pay for his services until she’d tested the job. The splinters that littered the smithy floor now attested to her efforts.
With a smile that made her eyes glow, Rhian pulled a sack from her pocket and placed a handful of coins on the counter. "Enough for the metalwork and repairs to your shop, smith," she said in a quiet voice, "as well as a stool, since I’ve cracked yours.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out into the sunlight of the street, whistling cheerfully.
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