Post by Admin on Sept 12, 2013 19:22:37 GMT -6
Character Name: Rook
Species: Human
Class: Scout
Weapons: Currently using one long sword she found in a corpse during her travels. She has two short swords hidden away that she may retrieve at some point.
Current Abilities: Heal (level 1 scout)
Physical Description: Average height, female human. She has a sturdy figure, not particularly feminine or dainty. She has short, bright green hair. Sometimes she looks a little shifty.
Garb: A black hat, a black shirt with varying sleeve lengths, baggy shorts with many pockets, short lace up boots and a vest with a silver dragon sewn onto it. That is her standard uniform, along with two leather wristbands, and her pendent that she keeps hidden. Her color scheme is usually green, silver, black and neutral colors. She’s stolen most of the clothing she wears, or has received them as gifts. In one case she actually paid for something to keep a good reputation in a particular town.
History of Family: An aging mother named Meredith, and an aunt named Olivia that committed suicide after suffering a strange insanity for the last years of her life. There is no father figure known to Rook, and the only male figure closest to her is her employer, the one she loathes but must follow orders from due to special circumstances.
Motives: Curious by nature, self serving, and will run or betray to save herself. She is condemned to a life of greed and theft when it comes to things precious to others, all thanks to her past and the markings made on her by her employer. If the greed moves her, she may seek out items that have great meaning to others, and take them for herself. She may make a bargain or trade an item with someone else if it benefits her. Each item has a story, and she'll often tell those rather than giving others information about her personal life and motives. There is not much she personally holds dear to her. She grows tired of caring about her well being and wants to die to spite her employer, but her duties are not yet fulfilled, and he will not let go of his most valuable pawn. (He learned to prevent them from committing suicide with his last endeavor). Her wish is to die "pure" rather than being disposed of.
Personal Motto: "Do not let yourself be corrupted by sin; it will be the death of you."
Role in Wildgard: Lurker, listener. Every once in a while she writes down tales of her Wildgard adventures for her employer to read later. She is paranoid someone will take the journal she uses, therefore she often finds a relatively safe place before recording what happened or is happening in a day. In the event that it is taken, it would cause her to fail her one task, and then be asked more of, prolonging her service to him. This would be the worst case scenario for Rook, as she detests her role as a lackey and never wanted it to begin with.
Story Plot: Rook grew up with her mother in a large forest community South of Wildgard, and they often visited her aunt Olivia to make sure she hadn’t slipped into complete lunacy. Since her aunt never married or had children, she loved Rook as if she were her own child. Rook had always been a curious girl, even at the age of fourteen. So one day at her aunt’s place, when she saw her fumbling with something under her bed and heard the plunk of a floorboard falling, a mischievous smile spread its way across Rook’s face.
Later, she crept into the bedroom through the outside window, and moved stealthily as she could to the bedside. Peeking underneath the bed, she saw a floorboard with a large symbol (שׂ) painted in black in the middle of it. She carefully lifted it, and raised an eyebrow at what she saw. Hidden below, she saw part of a box bearing the same marking. It was too heavy to lift noiselessly, so she lifted up the edge.
Her family had never been rich, she had thought, yet there was enough valuable coin stowed away in this box to feed her family lavishly for over a lifetime. But on top of all the riches was a red and grey pendent attached to a simple black cord, sitting in the middle of a piece of cloth with an odd triangular pattern embroidered in it. Her eyes were glued to it from the first glance. Rook had never wanted to wear something so badly. She picked it up and examined it in her palm, captured by the beauty marbled within it. She eyed up the coins, and then pocketed the pendent, making a promise to herself to only admire it for a while. She would put it back before she left, and no one would be the wiser. Rook then lowered the lid back on the box, looked the שׂ in the eye, and placed the floorboard back with silent precision. She climbed out the window, and settled herself down by a tree where she became lost in her thoughts.
Sometime later, Rook jolted back to reality as she heard her aunt shrieking from the bedroom. Olivia was hunched over her bedside, floorboard ripped out, and gripping at her head. Her sobs shook her between her constant rambling about god, and how something was taken, how it was impossible. “He’s coming back it’s the end he’s going to kill me-“...her words grew fainter and her sniffles more prevalent. Rook gulped and scrambled into the house to join her mom, who had gone to investigate the mental breakdown. After Olivia was calmer, she put a hand on Rook’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Stay pure. Stay free. And most of all... do not let yourself be corrupted by sin. It will be the death of you, you hear me?” There was no sense of jest in her eyes, and for once, Rook actually nodded and listened to what her insane aunt was saying. She would remember those words for the rest of her life.
The next day, Rook learned that her aunt had killed herself. She bled to death, from places where she cut out strange shapes on each of her thighs. Nailed to her door, she left a note. “I have died pure and clean.” Below that was another, addressed to Rook. She had inherited the money under the bed. But what stung the most, and what weighted the guilt like a boulder in her stomach, was the apology and explanation that followed: Rook’s coming of age present was thought to be stolen by who it first belonged to. Her aunt was sad that her niece would never wear the red pendent she worked so hard to keep safe, and would purify for her, so she would live life forever free of sin.
Rook didn’t wear the necklace until she was sixteen, and even then, she hid it in her shirt and could never wear it with pride. She left her money and home, becoming a wanderer, traveling between towns to satisfy her curiosity and make friends. However, it led her to trouble one night when she approached a man wearing the same pendent as her. She had felt for her own through her shirt, but it wasn’t there. In panic and disbelief, she drew a dagger on him and called him a thief, only to have him take her face delicately in his hands. His black hair was similar to hers in length, and he looked at her with cold, unsettlingly kind eyes. She shivered and broke away from his touch, but stared him down and stood her ground
“Give it back,” she stated firmly. “It’s dear to me.”
“But I should say the same to you, should I not?” he replied.
Confused, she looked at his collar to find nothing. Where there should have been the necklace, was a single, familiar sign that made her sick to her stomach. שׂ He gestured to the pendent beneath her shirt and a tight smile formed across his face.
“You are permitted to keep it, but...” the man spoke softly. “This is how it went. First, your family took what was my prized possession, and rightfully mine for years, and then as if you inherited their greedy blood, you stole it from your own family before they got the chance to give it to you. Had all their plans gone well, I wouldn't have known. But a grave mistake was made. I found you, because that stone was awoken and crying for help as soon as you removed it from its ward. They had been clever, and silenced her and her influences. But it’s as if you just couldn’t wait to be a sinner!” His smile bared teeth. “A filthy, rotten, sinner indeed. Don’t worry, you’ll pay for what you’ve done in this lifetime. I’ll make sure of it.”
Rook backed away wide eyed, and moved her hands up to her face. On each side, an area was cold, running from her jaw bone to the middle of her cheek.
“That feeling will pass. I was more careful where I put those this time. It’s a lot harder to cut something out of a place you can’t see unaided, isn’t it?” He let out a short laugh.
Cut? She started to tremble in fear at the man that drove her aunt to her death.
“There’s a place I want to go to...I need you to travel there for me, and serve as my note taker. I don’t want to arrive knowing nothing of the past-”
Rook cut him off as she sent her dagger towards the haunting symbol, but the man swiftly let his left hand take the stab instead. He stumbled back and let out a pathetic, hurt sound. “You’re just digging yourself a deeper grave, my dear human...” he drew his icy, now pained eyes up to meet hers. Did she regret all that she did? She couldn’t tell. In a moment, her own dagger was held to her throat and his bloody hand was pressed to her forehead, fingers gripping her hair, cold blood dripping down the bridge of her nose, into the corners of her eyes. ”The only thing you should regret is making an angel bleed. Now I suggest you cooperate, as it will make your new life so much more bearable.” He smiled sweetly and shoved her to the ground, tossing the dagger beside her, along with a green leather-covered journal retrieved from his satchel. “Use that. Leave in the morning, you’ll know where to go. And remember: the longer you take to get there, the more you will suffer.” With that, he left. As morning arrived, she began her winding journey to Wildgard, being sure to make that thing wait as long as possible for his information.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
What happened from that point to the present are stories of her travels that she’s collected. Rook is now 20 years of age, and finds herself caught in a war she knows little about after finally stumbling into Wildgard. She has started the journal after four years of indulging in progressively worse thievery, and the occasional bout of violence.
Species: Human
Class: Scout
Weapons: Currently using one long sword she found in a corpse during her travels. She has two short swords hidden away that she may retrieve at some point.
Current Abilities: Heal (level 1 scout)
Physical Description: Average height, female human. She has a sturdy figure, not particularly feminine or dainty. She has short, bright green hair. Sometimes she looks a little shifty.
Garb: A black hat, a black shirt with varying sleeve lengths, baggy shorts with many pockets, short lace up boots and a vest with a silver dragon sewn onto it. That is her standard uniform, along with two leather wristbands, and her pendent that she keeps hidden. Her color scheme is usually green, silver, black and neutral colors. She’s stolen most of the clothing she wears, or has received them as gifts. In one case she actually paid for something to keep a good reputation in a particular town.
History of Family: An aging mother named Meredith, and an aunt named Olivia that committed suicide after suffering a strange insanity for the last years of her life. There is no father figure known to Rook, and the only male figure closest to her is her employer, the one she loathes but must follow orders from due to special circumstances.
Motives: Curious by nature, self serving, and will run or betray to save herself. She is condemned to a life of greed and theft when it comes to things precious to others, all thanks to her past and the markings made on her by her employer. If the greed moves her, she may seek out items that have great meaning to others, and take them for herself. She may make a bargain or trade an item with someone else if it benefits her. Each item has a story, and she'll often tell those rather than giving others information about her personal life and motives. There is not much she personally holds dear to her. She grows tired of caring about her well being and wants to die to spite her employer, but her duties are not yet fulfilled, and he will not let go of his most valuable pawn. (He learned to prevent them from committing suicide with his last endeavor). Her wish is to die "pure" rather than being disposed of.
Personal Motto: "Do not let yourself be corrupted by sin; it will be the death of you."
Role in Wildgard: Lurker, listener. Every once in a while she writes down tales of her Wildgard adventures for her employer to read later. She is paranoid someone will take the journal she uses, therefore she often finds a relatively safe place before recording what happened or is happening in a day. In the event that it is taken, it would cause her to fail her one task, and then be asked more of, prolonging her service to him. This would be the worst case scenario for Rook, as she detests her role as a lackey and never wanted it to begin with.
Story Plot: Rook grew up with her mother in a large forest community South of Wildgard, and they often visited her aunt Olivia to make sure she hadn’t slipped into complete lunacy. Since her aunt never married or had children, she loved Rook as if she were her own child. Rook had always been a curious girl, even at the age of fourteen. So one day at her aunt’s place, when she saw her fumbling with something under her bed and heard the plunk of a floorboard falling, a mischievous smile spread its way across Rook’s face.
Later, she crept into the bedroom through the outside window, and moved stealthily as she could to the bedside. Peeking underneath the bed, she saw a floorboard with a large symbol (שׂ) painted in black in the middle of it. She carefully lifted it, and raised an eyebrow at what she saw. Hidden below, she saw part of a box bearing the same marking. It was too heavy to lift noiselessly, so she lifted up the edge.
Her family had never been rich, she had thought, yet there was enough valuable coin stowed away in this box to feed her family lavishly for over a lifetime. But on top of all the riches was a red and grey pendent attached to a simple black cord, sitting in the middle of a piece of cloth with an odd triangular pattern embroidered in it. Her eyes were glued to it from the first glance. Rook had never wanted to wear something so badly. She picked it up and examined it in her palm, captured by the beauty marbled within it. She eyed up the coins, and then pocketed the pendent, making a promise to herself to only admire it for a while. She would put it back before she left, and no one would be the wiser. Rook then lowered the lid back on the box, looked the שׂ in the eye, and placed the floorboard back with silent precision. She climbed out the window, and settled herself down by a tree where she became lost in her thoughts.
Sometime later, Rook jolted back to reality as she heard her aunt shrieking from the bedroom. Olivia was hunched over her bedside, floorboard ripped out, and gripping at her head. Her sobs shook her between her constant rambling about god, and how something was taken, how it was impossible. “He’s coming back it’s the end he’s going to kill me-“...her words grew fainter and her sniffles more prevalent. Rook gulped and scrambled into the house to join her mom, who had gone to investigate the mental breakdown. After Olivia was calmer, she put a hand on Rook’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Stay pure. Stay free. And most of all... do not let yourself be corrupted by sin. It will be the death of you, you hear me?” There was no sense of jest in her eyes, and for once, Rook actually nodded and listened to what her insane aunt was saying. She would remember those words for the rest of her life.
The next day, Rook learned that her aunt had killed herself. She bled to death, from places where she cut out strange shapes on each of her thighs. Nailed to her door, she left a note. “I have died pure and clean.” Below that was another, addressed to Rook. She had inherited the money under the bed. But what stung the most, and what weighted the guilt like a boulder in her stomach, was the apology and explanation that followed: Rook’s coming of age present was thought to be stolen by who it first belonged to. Her aunt was sad that her niece would never wear the red pendent she worked so hard to keep safe, and would purify for her, so she would live life forever free of sin.
Rook didn’t wear the necklace until she was sixteen, and even then, she hid it in her shirt and could never wear it with pride. She left her money and home, becoming a wanderer, traveling between towns to satisfy her curiosity and make friends. However, it led her to trouble one night when she approached a man wearing the same pendent as her. She had felt for her own through her shirt, but it wasn’t there. In panic and disbelief, she drew a dagger on him and called him a thief, only to have him take her face delicately in his hands. His black hair was similar to hers in length, and he looked at her with cold, unsettlingly kind eyes. She shivered and broke away from his touch, but stared him down and stood her ground
“Give it back,” she stated firmly. “It’s dear to me.”
“But I should say the same to you, should I not?” he replied.
Confused, she looked at his collar to find nothing. Where there should have been the necklace, was a single, familiar sign that made her sick to her stomach. שׂ He gestured to the pendent beneath her shirt and a tight smile formed across his face.
“You are permitted to keep it, but...” the man spoke softly. “This is how it went. First, your family took what was my prized possession, and rightfully mine for years, and then as if you inherited their greedy blood, you stole it from your own family before they got the chance to give it to you. Had all their plans gone well, I wouldn't have known. But a grave mistake was made. I found you, because that stone was awoken and crying for help as soon as you removed it from its ward. They had been clever, and silenced her and her influences. But it’s as if you just couldn’t wait to be a sinner!” His smile bared teeth. “A filthy, rotten, sinner indeed. Don’t worry, you’ll pay for what you’ve done in this lifetime. I’ll make sure of it.”
Rook backed away wide eyed, and moved her hands up to her face. On each side, an area was cold, running from her jaw bone to the middle of her cheek.
“That feeling will pass. I was more careful where I put those this time. It’s a lot harder to cut something out of a place you can’t see unaided, isn’t it?” He let out a short laugh.
Cut? She started to tremble in fear at the man that drove her aunt to her death.
“There’s a place I want to go to...I need you to travel there for me, and serve as my note taker. I don’t want to arrive knowing nothing of the past-”
Rook cut him off as she sent her dagger towards the haunting symbol, but the man swiftly let his left hand take the stab instead. He stumbled back and let out a pathetic, hurt sound. “You’re just digging yourself a deeper grave, my dear human...” he drew his icy, now pained eyes up to meet hers. Did she regret all that she did? She couldn’t tell. In a moment, her own dagger was held to her throat and his bloody hand was pressed to her forehead, fingers gripping her hair, cold blood dripping down the bridge of her nose, into the corners of her eyes. ”The only thing you should regret is making an angel bleed. Now I suggest you cooperate, as it will make your new life so much more bearable.” He smiled sweetly and shoved her to the ground, tossing the dagger beside her, along with a green leather-covered journal retrieved from his satchel. “Use that. Leave in the morning, you’ll know where to go. And remember: the longer you take to get there, the more you will suffer.” With that, he left. As morning arrived, she began her winding journey to Wildgard, being sure to make that thing wait as long as possible for his information.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
What happened from that point to the present are stories of her travels that she’s collected. Rook is now 20 years of age, and finds herself caught in a war she knows little about after finally stumbling into Wildgard. She has started the journal after four years of indulging in progressively worse thievery, and the occasional bout of violence.