Post by Gothweniel Al'Faern on Nov 5, 2008 16:44:56 GMT -5
Name:
Race:
Elf, and a possible future dragon rider.
Allegiance:
Birthplace:
Age:
Gender:
Weight:
Height:
Language(s):
Gothweniel has a certain degree of familiarity with the ancient language, though she is still not competent at it.
Magic User:
Clothing:
Weapon(s):
Description:
History:
RP Sample:
Anything Extra:
Gothweniel is strangely attracted to birds, for unexplainable reasons, and she seems to be oddly acquainted with them, often scattering a handful of grain or bread crumbs for them, or sitting on the ground watching birds overhead for sometimes hours on end.
Gothweniel Al'Faern is Goth's given name, however, she allows people she's become acquainted with to call her Gothwen, or to shorten it as they please.
Race:
Elf, and a possible future dragon rider.
Allegiance:
Varden
Birthplace:
Du'Weldenvarden, in the distant city of Maern'Althia
Age:
Gothweniel is 98 years old, though she appears to be around 18 to 20 years old.
Gender:
Female
Weight:
121 lbs. (54.9 kg)
Height:
5 feet 6 inches
Language(s):
Gothweniel has a certain degree of familiarity with the ancient language, though she is still not competent at it.
Magic User:
Due to the fact that she is an Elf, Gothweniel is capable of using magic to some extent, though the use of it easily tires her out, and she is, by Elf standards, and inexperienced, but promising, magician.
Clothing:
Gothweniel often likes to dress in earthly colors, and for that reason is most often seen wearing a tunic-like top of mottled green, which goes to about six inches below her hips. It is tied at the waist by a braided belt in a pale, tan color, and is made of a thick material similar to cotton. She also wears a pair of medium leggings that fit very well, though they still allow for easy movement, and her boots, which reach nearly to her knees, are made of a durable, leathery material, they lace up at the front, and are about two shades darker than her leggings. Upon her head she wears a strange homemade cap that seems to be made of many leaves in different shades of green layered over each other, though the leaves don't seem to be held in place by anything. Usually, her outfit is spotless, and her clothes don’t have any traces of dirt or anything similar.
Weapon(s):
Gothweniel wields a long, pale sword. The blade is narrow, only about one and a half to two inches across, and made of an odd kind of pale, silvery white metal. The edges are usually filed until they are razor sharp, and the end portion tapers slightly, ending in a sharp tip. Though the sword lacks in power, it makes it up in its speed, because it lacks the bulk of many larger swords. The hilt of the sword is made of light, ivory colored stone, and is does not contribute much to the weight of the sword despite the material it is made from. Two thin ribbons of silver lace up the sides of the hilt starting at the guard and traveling up the grip, and ending at the pommel, in which is embedded a sparkling gemstone, of low value, but still possessing beauty nevertheless.
Description:
Gothweniel possesses the beauty that is characteristic of Elves, with straight, fine, waist length hair, and blue-grey eyes that hide a sort of sadness. Her ears are like that of any other Elves, long, narrow, and tapered, and her body is slender and appears to be somewhat delicate. Gothweniel’s skin is a pale, alabaster-cream color, and is somewhat strange due to the fact that it never seems to tan, despite all the time that she spends outside.
She is known to be somewhat stubborn and imperious in manner. Though not always sticking to the formality, and sometimes not sticking to what is customary as well, she still considers old traditions to be extremely important. Some people call her hypocritical because of that. Gothweniel also has a tendency to leave the real world and journey to her own, where everything is beautiful and delicate as glass, but where no one else besides her would be able to survive. Though she occasionally becomes dreamy and seems to be floating above the clouds rather than standing, or maybe sitting, with her feet planted firmly upon the earth, she has an unnerving knack for knowing exactly what’s going on at any particular moment. At most times, Gothweniel is quiet and reserved, she’s decent enough, but not the friendliest of her kind. She is more of a loner than most, both human and elf, and much of her time is spent on her own.
She is known to be somewhat stubborn and imperious in manner. Though not always sticking to the formality, and sometimes not sticking to what is customary as well, she still considers old traditions to be extremely important. Some people call her hypocritical because of that. Gothweniel also has a tendency to leave the real world and journey to her own, where everything is beautiful and delicate as glass, but where no one else besides her would be able to survive. Though she occasionally becomes dreamy and seems to be floating above the clouds rather than standing, or maybe sitting, with her feet planted firmly upon the earth, she has an unnerving knack for knowing exactly what’s going on at any particular moment. At most times, Gothweniel is quiet and reserved, she’s decent enough, but not the friendliest of her kind. She is more of a loner than most, both human and elf, and much of her time is spent on her own.
History:
Born in the distant city of Maern’Althia, in Du Weldenvarden, Gothweniel had a rather lonely childhood. She has almost no recollection of her first year of life, though one memory remains clear and fresh in her mind, though she has not completely figured it out and puzzles over it still.
She was lying down somewhere, wrapped in a soft blanket that smelled of the forest,, and staring up at the night sky, framed by the branches of trees, and dotted with a countless number of stars. The night air cool against skin of her face, and she could see a light out of the corner of her eye, and the crackling of a fire. The murmuring talk of the other Elves reached her ears as a loving hand reached forward and adjusted the blanket. Minutes passed, and the talk continued, she didn’t understand what they were saying, but listened intently all the same. Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the air, and then she felt like she was floating, the wind whipping in her face as a pounding echoed through her ear. It was all so strange, the memory so distant..
She had woken up the next morning in a thatched hut, with an older Elf woman sitting next to her, humming softly, an old Elven lullaby. She had no clue what was going on, but she wasn’t frightened, for she soon learned that the old Elf woman was kind, and she raised her for her entire childhood. However, as the dwelling was situated on the outskirts of Maern’Althia, she spent much of her time on her own. As a result, she grew to be quite solitary. The woman, who she considered her mother, was the one who tried to teach her about the ancient language. Gothweniel proved to be a promising learner, and the ancient language intrigued her. The rest of her time, she practiced swordplay with a stick, and magic, occasionally, though when she actually did do any magic, it usually came involuntarily, or accidentally, on occasion.
She grew used to life like this, mock fighting with her mother, and learning the ancient language, and though she thought she knew her mother well, she couldn’t deny that there was something mystical about her, something strange, but she always shook it off. It wasn’t until that one day, when she was nearing twenty years of age, that her mother suddenly began to tire more easily, and seemed more and more sickly as the days progressed. No remedies seemed to help, not even the most complex or powerful ones, and the world for Gothweniel steadily went downhill. She stayed by her mother’s side the entire day, but she couldn’t delay the fact that her mother was slowly dying, from the inside out, it appeared.
The day before her mother died, she told Gothweniel a strange story, though Gothweniel did believe her, she never fully grasped it. Though the words were weak and difficult to understand, she never forgot a word of what her mother said, especially the first five words.
“I am not your mother.”
Obviously, Gothweniel couldn’t understand what she was saying, for she had never known anyone else to be her mother, but she didn’t have a chance to speak before her mother continued with what she had been saying.
“Nearly eighteen years ago, you were born to Aliyna Mithrandir and Silvenir Alvanthia, they are your true parents. Like any other mother and father, they loved you with all their heart, but some things, you just can’t change.”
She had sighed then, a deep, troubled sigh.
“That night I’ll always remember clearly. I was sitting with them around a fire, we were talking about…the nonsense we always talk about, it was just a friendly gathering, when suddenly we were attacked. By what, I don’t know, but your mother screamed at me to save you. I had no choice, I picked you up and ran for it, but both your mother and father were killed. They had wanted me to take care of you should anything happen to them, and so I did.”
She sighed once more, and then looked at Gothweniel with sad eyes.
“Now, you may ask me anything, and I’ll tell all that I can.”
At last, Gothweniel was able to learn what her parents looked like, she learned more about them in general, though when she asked the final question that she had, if you’re not my mother, than who are you? Silence was the reply, and then a weak cough before her mother that wasn’t spoke again.
“Go and find the Varden, there, you’ll find all that you need to know. Good bye, dear Gothweniel.”
There hadn’t been time for a proper goodbye before her “mother” died silently. Distraught, Gothweniel stayed only long enough for her “mother’s” burial, before taking what was most important to her, including the sword that she had obtained just recently, just a month ago, before she set off to find someone who would tell her who were the Varden, and where she could find them.
Through the old elf’s information, she made the challenging journey through the Hadarac Desert to the Beor Mountains, then to the mountain Farthen Dûr, to the city of Trojheim. She barely made it, nearly collapsing of exhaustion and hunger before she reached the city, though she managed with the aid of a Dwarf. The Varden recognized her as Aliyna Mithrandir and Silvenir Alvanthia’s daughter almost instantly, though they did not mention that she had been watched for many years, and promised her the information that she had come this far to find, though she has yet to receive it.
She was lying down somewhere, wrapped in a soft blanket that smelled of the forest,, and staring up at the night sky, framed by the branches of trees, and dotted with a countless number of stars. The night air cool against skin of her face, and she could see a light out of the corner of her eye, and the crackling of a fire. The murmuring talk of the other Elves reached her ears as a loving hand reached forward and adjusted the blanket. Minutes passed, and the talk continued, she didn’t understand what they were saying, but listened intently all the same. Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the air, and then she felt like she was floating, the wind whipping in her face as a pounding echoed through her ear. It was all so strange, the memory so distant..
She had woken up the next morning in a thatched hut, with an older Elf woman sitting next to her, humming softly, an old Elven lullaby. She had no clue what was going on, but she wasn’t frightened, for she soon learned that the old Elf woman was kind, and she raised her for her entire childhood. However, as the dwelling was situated on the outskirts of Maern’Althia, she spent much of her time on her own. As a result, she grew to be quite solitary. The woman, who she considered her mother, was the one who tried to teach her about the ancient language. Gothweniel proved to be a promising learner, and the ancient language intrigued her. The rest of her time, she practiced swordplay with a stick, and magic, occasionally, though when she actually did do any magic, it usually came involuntarily, or accidentally, on occasion.
She grew used to life like this, mock fighting with her mother, and learning the ancient language, and though she thought she knew her mother well, she couldn’t deny that there was something mystical about her, something strange, but she always shook it off. It wasn’t until that one day, when she was nearing twenty years of age, that her mother suddenly began to tire more easily, and seemed more and more sickly as the days progressed. No remedies seemed to help, not even the most complex or powerful ones, and the world for Gothweniel steadily went downhill. She stayed by her mother’s side the entire day, but she couldn’t delay the fact that her mother was slowly dying, from the inside out, it appeared.
The day before her mother died, she told Gothweniel a strange story, though Gothweniel did believe her, she never fully grasped it. Though the words were weak and difficult to understand, she never forgot a word of what her mother said, especially the first five words.
“I am not your mother.”
Obviously, Gothweniel couldn’t understand what she was saying, for she had never known anyone else to be her mother, but she didn’t have a chance to speak before her mother continued with what she had been saying.
“Nearly eighteen years ago, you were born to Aliyna Mithrandir and Silvenir Alvanthia, they are your true parents. Like any other mother and father, they loved you with all their heart, but some things, you just can’t change.”
She had sighed then, a deep, troubled sigh.
“That night I’ll always remember clearly. I was sitting with them around a fire, we were talking about…the nonsense we always talk about, it was just a friendly gathering, when suddenly we were attacked. By what, I don’t know, but your mother screamed at me to save you. I had no choice, I picked you up and ran for it, but both your mother and father were killed. They had wanted me to take care of you should anything happen to them, and so I did.”
She sighed once more, and then looked at Gothweniel with sad eyes.
“Now, you may ask me anything, and I’ll tell all that I can.”
At last, Gothweniel was able to learn what her parents looked like, she learned more about them in general, though when she asked the final question that she had, if you’re not my mother, than who are you? Silence was the reply, and then a weak cough before her mother that wasn’t spoke again.
“Go and find the Varden, there, you’ll find all that you need to know. Good bye, dear Gothweniel.”
There hadn’t been time for a proper goodbye before her “mother” died silently. Distraught, Gothweniel stayed only long enough for her “mother’s” burial, before taking what was most important to her, including the sword that she had obtained just recently, just a month ago, before she set off to find someone who would tell her who were the Varden, and where she could find them.
Through the old elf’s information, she made the challenging journey through the Hadarac Desert to the Beor Mountains, then to the mountain Farthen Dûr, to the city of Trojheim. She barely made it, nearly collapsing of exhaustion and hunger before she reached the city, though she managed with the aid of a Dwarf. The Varden recognized her as Aliyna Mithrandir and Silvenir Alvanthia’s daughter almost instantly, though they did not mention that she had been watched for many years, and promised her the information that she had come this far to find, though she has yet to receive it.
RP Sample:
Why do they keep this information from me? Gothweniel raged silently as she sat upon a chair in the small, but comfortable room that she had been given. After all that I went through to get here in the first place? It was far from fair, in her opinion. She could have died getting here, she nearly would have, if it hadn’t been for that Dwarf that she met, what was his name again?
She closed her eyes as she tried once more to picture her parents. Her true mother, according to her caretaker, as she called her now, was tall, as tall as she was, with long, hip-length hair the color of sunshine, with emerald eyes, and pale skin, like her. A form began to take shape in her mind, slightly resembling herself, she should be smiling, Gothweniel decided, just a slight smile. A face began to come more into focus as she tried to piece together what her mother would have looked like. Her father, as she was told, had been taller than her mother by several inches, with black hair, and dark eyes, his face was set in a smile, one that appeared even more sincere than her mother’s, but the image in her mind was blurry, she would never know what her parents truly looked like, or have any memory of them.
A wave of sadness and resentment washed over her as she opened her eyes again, not bothering to hold onto the image that she had just created, letting it dissolve in her mind. Sometimes, she wished that she had not been told what she had been told, maybe she would have been better off without knowing, but hadn’t someone said to her once, “knowledge does not come without a cost?” Or something along those lines. If she hadn’t understood that before, she did now.
With a frustrated sigh, she opened the door to her room, and half walked, half stomped, out of her room, closing the door quietly behind her, though not shedding the disgusted expression from her face. Striding down the corridor, she nearly walked head-on into a young Dwarf, surprised, Gothweniel jumped backwards, she had not seen the dwarf, but then again, she had been looking down at the ground. To her surprise, however, the dwarf smiled expectantly.
“Yes, I know what you want.” He said softly, knowingly, and Gothweniel turned a doubtful eye upon him. How could he possibly know what she wanted? After all, whenever she thought she finally would be told the information she wanted, it always turned out that they actually thought what she wanted was a book or something. Incredulously, she looked on as the dwarf’s smile broadened.
“Come with me, I think my master has something to tell you. In fact, he told me to fetch you.”
Here we go again, last time this happened…Gothweniel thought, thinking she perhaps ought to just forget the whole thing, but how could she? After coming all this way? Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly followed the dwarf down the seemingly endless hallway.
She closed her eyes as she tried once more to picture her parents. Her true mother, according to her caretaker, as she called her now, was tall, as tall as she was, with long, hip-length hair the color of sunshine, with emerald eyes, and pale skin, like her. A form began to take shape in her mind, slightly resembling herself, she should be smiling, Gothweniel decided, just a slight smile. A face began to come more into focus as she tried to piece together what her mother would have looked like. Her father, as she was told, had been taller than her mother by several inches, with black hair, and dark eyes, his face was set in a smile, one that appeared even more sincere than her mother’s, but the image in her mind was blurry, she would never know what her parents truly looked like, or have any memory of them.
A wave of sadness and resentment washed over her as she opened her eyes again, not bothering to hold onto the image that she had just created, letting it dissolve in her mind. Sometimes, she wished that she had not been told what she had been told, maybe she would have been better off without knowing, but hadn’t someone said to her once, “knowledge does not come without a cost?” Or something along those lines. If she hadn’t understood that before, she did now.
With a frustrated sigh, she opened the door to her room, and half walked, half stomped, out of her room, closing the door quietly behind her, though not shedding the disgusted expression from her face. Striding down the corridor, she nearly walked head-on into a young Dwarf, surprised, Gothweniel jumped backwards, she had not seen the dwarf, but then again, she had been looking down at the ground. To her surprise, however, the dwarf smiled expectantly.
“Yes, I know what you want.” He said softly, knowingly, and Gothweniel turned a doubtful eye upon him. How could he possibly know what she wanted? After all, whenever she thought she finally would be told the information she wanted, it always turned out that they actually thought what she wanted was a book or something. Incredulously, she looked on as the dwarf’s smile broadened.
“Come with me, I think my master has something to tell you. In fact, he told me to fetch you.”
Here we go again, last time this happened…Gothweniel thought, thinking she perhaps ought to just forget the whole thing, but how could she? After coming all this way? Heaving a sigh, she reluctantly followed the dwarf down the seemingly endless hallway.
Anything Extra:
Gothweniel is strangely attracted to birds, for unexplainable reasons, and she seems to be oddly acquainted with them, often scattering a handful of grain or bread crumbs for them, or sitting on the ground watching birds overhead for sometimes hours on end.
