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| Azette [WIP] | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 22 2013, 01:50 AM (67 Views) | |
| Deleted User | Jun 22 2013, 01:50 AM Post #1 |
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Deleted User
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Name – Azette Age – Nineteen Gender – Female Alignment – Good Social Class – Commoner Occupation – Unemployed Ostler Race – Phoenix Weapons – . Small knife, plain handled wrapped in leather for comfort- fairly dull and lightly rusted. By appearance it should've been trashed a few years back, useless for any fighting purposes but sharp enough to saw through leather and weak rope as needed for occupation. Kept in a sheath attached to a belt worn around her waist. . 35 pound longbow (modeled off of a 1970s Colt). Equally old and well used, but clearly of a far higher quality than that of the knife and well conditioned. It is accompanied by five arrows (the last of the half dozen lost a while back) fletched with turkey feathers and well balanced- the tips are verticals built for the killing of animals, not humans. .*Grade Pony. - Galen. A 13.3 hand steel grey gelding with a large blaze, lean and delicate in frame. Well trained and with excellent conformation, quite an athletic mount despite his size. Fearless. Equip with a hackamore styled bridle, has no saddle. *Not really a weapon. Physical Appearance – Azette was not human in any aspect beyond that of form and function. She was human in shape, but painfully, obviously an supernatural creature in the eyes of the common. She was the height of a child, standing only at five foot, light and small boned as the bird that was her natural shape; she weighed a mere sixty pounds. Through it was no to be mistaken for her being skin and bone - no, her bones, in the nature of avians, were mostly hollow which allowed her to still have an average appearance in shape/weight, but to be functional for the shift. It is unsurprising that this mutation made her appallingly fragile despite most of her light weight being from muscle to support her structure. Her least human aspects however exists in her features. She had dead straight black hair (much according to the colors of a Harpy Eagle) that fell to the small of her back when worn down, which was rare. This was accompanied by unnerving gold eyes, the color of gold or flame, that reflected light like a coin. Her face was entirely composed of sharp feature, a beak like nose that was untidy on the small woman, upward eyebrows, high cheekbones, petite lips, - an overall aristocratic and bird-like face. It wasn't pretty but rather exotic and regal. Her skin was pale and porcelain, unmarked without a scar or single blemish.(here <- much like this, but with gold eyes/black hair). Typical clothing where huntsman breeches, dark rust in color with knee pads of dark brown leather. Tall brown hunt boots, well worn and stained with dirt and dust, the stitching has begun to come loose. Upper clothing was an off white, lacey long sleeve shirt (loose in the arms) bond to wrists by a leather piece extending from mid forearm to wrist (basically leather armguard for shoot a bow, but on both arms) and high collared brown vest, tied to her wait with a belt of the same material as the boots. Winter clothing had wool socks, gloves, and cloak added to general wear. Personality – History – Recovered from journal of subject.. I do not recall much of my past; my life has always been simple and a fair bit blank. My memories while few, I shall account in this journal so I cannot claim the ignorance of them in the future, so when the ages have past and I still wander I will remember my beginning. I was born. Or at least I assume as much, I am not human- so perhaps I hatched from an egg or an idea or a dream, I cannot tell you for I knew no parents, but for the sake of timeline: I was born. My earliest recalling was that of the stable and the smell of horse and hay. I was an orphan and a ward of the state, for whatever reasons I was placed as a hand for a small military run horse stale. The stable held the horses of scouts, usually fast, leggy, and hardy mounts. They were hot and often nervous, dancing in their stalls- weaving back and forth. It was not a safe place for a child to grow up but it was what I knew. Later what I loved. My job from the very start was simple, I was to clean the empty stalls of manure and other leavings, rebed them, and make sure each horse was supplied with water. Additionally I took care of the smaller charges of the barn, the three cats, the big wolfhound, and ever unexplained pet goat. As I got older the responsibilities expanded, I began to feed the horses, then tack them, I began to learn to ride and exercise the horses as it was needed. Life was simple, I had no tragedy or real hardships. I could hunt my own food so I sent little time in hunger, the heat of the barn sustained my through the winters, and company was abundant in the form of the silent beasts I loved so. The crowning moment was the day I received my first and only gift; a small grey pony. He was agile and hardy, good speed, and well trained. A mount that any scout would've been proud to ride had he not been such a small thing, thus was my luck to get him for my years of servitude. I was happy in my little niche. But the course of the winds never remain the same and neither does life. Such places as the this barn were frequented by travelers and peoples of all trades and types- while majorly being a barn for military horses they also sold the failures (like my pony) off to the public. Sales occasionally went wrong, money problems or, more common, horse problems. Men could get awfully angry when there new mount went lame the first day they brought it home- or so happened to be much older that advertised. ( I never said that this barn was honest; it was not in all things). I believe I had just passed my sixteenth founding day (we counted my age by the day I was taken in) when I woke to the smells of burning horse flesh and wood. The entire world was smoke and fire, my true domain, but death to those of more earthy sense. I recall rising in my bed of burning straw, ignoring the ever burning and healing of my skin as flame licked it, and moved down -as if in a trance- into the yard. The horses danced in their stalls, some on fire, others nearing it. The sight was ugly and, I, I was frozen for moments staring at the chaos. Stable hands who had attempted to free the livestock had been unlucky, and oh, the crawl that went over my skin as I reached down and took the bag of coins from the belt of one. Seconds ticked before I finally came to my senses at the cracking of a support beam sounded above me, once.. twice. The horses were hopeless, the entire ground floor seemed engulfed in fire. My only thought was to see if my little pony, the lucky little pony to be stalled outside for I had no money to pay for keep, was alive. Through the fire, I raced outside. The gods' must've been with me on such a night for while people raced around that burning ruins, a little steel grey pony stood in a panic in an outdoor pen still yards from the growing fire. I had wasted no time in collecting him, ignoring my state, which at the time meant I was burned and nearly naked since my clothing had not my same protections, and spent the night on the road, travelling away...away. I cannot, and I apologize, tell as to why I left that burning barn without so much as a glance. Perhaps it was because I was in shock, perhaps because I now was not tied down, perhaps because it was time for me to move on. Either way my winds had changed and the morning left in a new town. I bought clothes, a used bow, and a bridle for my pony. That did it for the money I had stolen .... [to be finished in the morning. And edited, since it's quite awful at the moment.] First Five Abilities
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