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Author Topic: Ayaelia  (Read 7877 times)
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Ayaelia
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« on: March 10, 2004, 07:55:22 AM »

Sorry about the delay on this. I've been having AWFUL computer problems. :explode              My computer doesn't seem to want to post my profile. I'm going to try a few things, but just know that I'm here and I'm trying! :(            

After much frustration, I've finally managed to get on a computer that will put this on for me! Thanks for Mina for helping me with a lot of the Kasumarii stuff, and Talia for the information on some of the magic staff, and Rayne for helping me with the styrash! :)            




Name: Ayaeliá (originally short for Ayá’aelién’lólia, or Beyond White Cries, but also doubles as Ayá’aelía, or Beyond the Eyes) Nelintyr
Gender: Female
Age: 124 (Lifespan: 365, looks to be in her late twenties)
Race: Half-Elf
Tribe: Kasumarii, Yifferhim, Aellenrhim
Occupation: Wanderer
Title: Femme Fatale

Physical Description:
Ayaeliá carries something of beauty, though by no means could be considered the most beautiful. Upon looking at her, though, with her hauntingly graceful and lithe figure, and the way she moves like a prowling shingar or the melody of a lonely nightbird, the manner that the careless strands of her soft silver-white hair caresses the supple curves of her face, and her harsh eyes shimmer in piercing hues of cobalt and violet, one might think she might certainly have potential for merciless beauty. Still, she seems to have no care to be the epitome of loveliness, and thus dwells with an attractiveness all her own, untouched or hindered by the conformity of the world.

Her body, reaching nearly 1.7 peds, is elvenly slender, though not so slender has to deny her the generous curves lent by her gender, or to detract from her attained strength. As a child, she might have been disregarded as being scrawny or knobby, but since her awkward childhood, her arms have grown into grace, and her long legs have attained a certain careless elegance that her step borrows. Her skin is of a chilling color, as though the snows of Cyhalloi were powerful enough to dye it pallid. Behind the clothing on her back lie various scars from beatings she received earlier in life.

Her hair, snowy gray as it were, though by no means detracting from her youthful appearance, is often held up almost carelessly by ties adorned with beads in shades of blue and purple. Such beads also hang from a single pair of earrings dangling from her pointed ears, accompanied by two pairs of other silver earrings. About her neck winds a long, thick black string which holds a pendant of rather simply design: A pentagram of silver hue.

Her eyes seem mixed of both cobalt and violet, somehow adding to the enigma that surrounds her like a veil of shadow. Though full of some inexplicable mystery, they also seem glaring, full of a sort of dubious anger and the spirit of bloodshed. They never seem to look at anyone or anything with much heed or understanding, without a thought of mercy or sympathy. When her careful eyes observe a figure, it is only to lightly note carried weapons, and to estimate agility and strength. Whatever softness her heart might posses, whatever desperate loneliness or aching need might burden her soul, is not reflected in her critical eye.

Clothing:
While living among the Kasumarii, Ayaelia wore white, as was typical, though while in training she wore something close to a breast-band and a short skirt, as her harsh training build up an immense amount of body heat. Her training, however, is ended, and no long does she dwell upon that icy island. She tends to wear more dark colors to help her blend into the shadows.

She wears a plain brown shirt, long-sleeved, that flares out slight at the ends. The collar is slightly low but the hem fits nicely. On top of this brown shirt, she wears a vest that would seems almost like armor, but does not protect her to that degree. This vest has a high collar that journeys low in the front, then ties up from the center of her chest to a bit below her bellybutton. The vest is malleable enough that it conforms to her body shape, modestly outlining her curves.

Her pants are fairly tight, as any excess clothing might hinder her while fighting. Her pants are a brownish-gray, made out of some sort of animal skin, and breathes enough to ensure that she never gets too hot. Her boots are rather low, not even coming to the middle of her calf. These boots are leather-made, and thus very malleable and comfortable. They have a slight heel, but nothing that would hinder her in battle.

Ayaelia also wears earrings and a necklace (see Physical Description), which she wears always as though in some fear that she might lose them with a part of her past. She also wears a belt around her small waist, which holds the scabbard for her sword, a place for her armored fan, and a compartment for her moonstars. She also has an extra pocket for food parcels, so that she can eat while walking. Most of her items are carried in her brown leather bag.

Personality
It is often said of Ayaelia that “ice bedecks her heart,” and that “her eyes echo darkness.” She is indeed a rather cold creature, outwardly emotionless and merciless in her subtle beauty. The glare in her eye, the way she carries herself with Queprurian grace, the light tilt of her chin, all seem to paint her as elegantly arrogant, though the uncritical might call it quiet confidence. She knows her limits, but also isn’t afraid to test them, afraid to go beyond them if need desires it, or, if rage drives her, through them. She can, in this sense, be very brash.

Ayaelia has a knack for seeing the true value of things. She often sees things such as Golden bracelets or diamond rings as things that are useless in the real scheme of things. A bracelet won’t stop someone from stabbing you in the back, though it may certainly provoke it. A good piece of meat that feeds you for a week will keep you from dying. In this way, she measures the true worth of things, including her life and the life of others, though not necessarily relative to herself, or as their life affects hers. She is almost frustratingly objective.

Despite her seemingly arrogant presence, Ayaelia is far from stubborn. Having lived her life much the way a slave would and being forced to take orders from those who taught her how to fight, she has learned to be flexible, and is well able to take orders if she lends her allegiance or respect to someone. Save for her deep love and belief in Queprur, Ayaelia isn’t sure what to believe, or where she should go and do. She wanders, at times, as though in a dream, without direction or self-guidance. She has, for so long, lived under the guidance of others, that she had trouble making decisions for herself.

Ayaelia seems not to care about much. She has been through enough that her heart is numb to everything, no matter how beautiful or profound. She finds herself distanced from love, fearful to the depth of her very soul. After the death of her first and only lover/friend, she no longer trusts herself to love or to take care of those she loves. She distances herself from others, from those she loves or may love. Loneliness is a part of her everyday life that she still struggles with, but she refuses to stop attempting isolation.

Because of her lack of emotion, she has trouble expressing herself, showing how she feels inside. She is barely literate, and can’t afford quills or paper, nor the tools of an artist or painter. It is just as well, as she has no talent in such things. She has found a medium, hardly distinguishable, but enough to give her an outlet. Most see it as merely practicing with her weapons, but should one dare to watch more closely, they would see how the careful sweeps of her hands and the pattern of her feet harmonize together in a strange and deadly dance, beautiful and intriguing.

Background:
To know Ayaelia’s history, you must go back several hundred years ago to the forests of Bolder. It was here that Ayaelia’s grandfather, filled with overwhelming desire to explore the world, set out, leaving his friends and family behind and journeying southwards, gathering knowledge as he passed through ever-changing terrain. It was, however, within the secluded Quallian forests that his heart settled upon a lovely young sorceress, known well within her part of the forest for her amazing abilities in the realm of magic.

They fell in love, and together bore children, one of whom was an elegant young girl with the soft gray hair of her mother and the gentle blue eyes of her father. While she was highly sensitive to magic, she had inherited the wandering spirit of her father, and the desperate desire for adventure and for places that she had dreamt of. For many years, under the tutelage of her mother, she studied magic, but her mother, after several hundred years, saw her heart wasn’t in it, and let her leave.

Shahelvyr (short for shantí’helvílyr, or “winged wanderer”) made her way toward Santhala, wishing to see the Gryph riders of the Order of the Wing. At the same time, a small group of Kasumarii was riding toward Santhala on important business. A noble had called for a group of bandits to be disposed of, and as of yet no mercenary or Santharian assassin could do the job. One man aboard went by the name of Delvian. Though sent to be part of the assassin team, he had not reached the title of master, as he was indeed young. Surely the Kasumarii would know better than to send out their best men for the job. Still, Delvian was deadly in the realm of fighting compared to most Santharian assassins, and skilled with his Moonblade.

While he and his men were in pursuit of the bandits that had been plaguing the great city, Delvian caught site of Shahelvyr. She was one of the first elves he had ever seen in his life, and certainly the most beautiful. He fell in love, and visited her often on the nights and days he was supposed to be searching. When the bandits had been destroyed, though, and the time came to leave, Delvian asked Shahelvia to come with him, to marry and live with him on the foreign island of Cyhalloi.

Young and still filled with adventurous spirit, she accepted. Together they left for Cyhalloi, but as soon as she stepped aboard the Stormson’s boat, doubts filled her heart. The other Kasumarii looked at her with distrust. Most of the elves they had seen were the Cyahallrhim, who they viewed as tenacious hermits, hallow and strange. On the way to Cyhalloi, she became dreadfully ill, and though her health returned to some degree, it seemed her heart and mind never truly recovered.

Once landed upon the island of Cyhalloi, she was brought before the Kasumarii government officials, and after short discussion, was allowed to stay, and permitted to be the wife of Delvian, which made him and her extremely happy. They lived together, and each day while he practiced and concocted strange experiments (as was his hobby), she would stay in their tent, busying herself with chores. As the years wore on, she found herself unhappy. She felt trapped and often alone, and that desire to find adventure and excitement often rose in her weary heart.  She would cry a bit, when no one could see her, and then think herself silly for ever wishing, returning to her chores.

One snowy evening in the frigid month of coór'pherán, Shahelvia gave birth to a little girl, a half elf, who took very much after her mother in elven qualities. Her ears were slightly pointed, and her figure, young as she was, already seemed to hold elven slenderness. Shahelvia named her Ayaelia, as though in a desperate hope to keep her elven heritage alive in the half-elf. Delvian became completely obsessed with the child, and before she could even walk, began trying to teach her and test her, seeing how well a girl of elven blood could be trained in the Kasumarii fashion, or what skills she might possess to make her a better fighter.

He would blindfold the child and hang small toys over her bed, seeing if, without the use of sight, she could feel their presence. When she could walk, he would blindfold her and call to her from across the room, making her wander through the room of various obstructions to finally come to him. Before she had the strength to wield it, he put a moonblade in her hand, which almost led to fatal accidents. Many of Delvian’s experiments ended with Ayaelia in tears, having accumulated a cut or a bruise. Shahelvia used what little magic spells she could remember to heal her child, which seemed to weaken the tenuous elf further. She insisted that Delvian be kinder to their daughter, but Delvian seemed to always be curious.

When Ayaelia was three, her pregnant mother caught cold. She ran fevers and often wandered the tent and surrounding terrain delirious, calling out for her mother and father, mumbling in styrásh, speaking in vague descriptions of tall forest trees of Quallian and the gentle rains that used to kiss the leaves. While in labor with her baby boy, Shahelvia died, as did her child. Delvian was utterly devastated, and mourned and wept for his wife. He continued to train Ayaelia, who seemed confused at the disappearance of the lovely elf that used to sing her lullabies and heal her wounds. Delvian was more careful with her now, though, and never again did Ayaelia suffer a bruise or cut from his experiments.

On the coming of her twelfth year, a time when Ayaelia was working with the Armoured fan, the government of the Kasumarii decided that Ayaelia would have to prove she had the strength to survive in the harsh kar’ii society. The test: she would be sent out to the edge of the island. If she could make it back alive, they would deem her fit to live in the Kasumarii society, and be trained as a Kasumarii child should. It was certainly a worth test, as she would not only have to keep herself warm and fed, but also learn to track the nomadic tribe.

Ayaelia was drugged with the help of a Greendeath and cast out into the snow, leagues from where the tribe was currently settled. She awoke in the snow, with only a few daggers and a pack of clothes to sustain her. She was scared and frightened, and wandered for days, seeming to go around in circles, peeling the bark off of dead trees to feed her. While searching for food, she heard the grunts and harsh breathing of a band of orcs. She fled from them, and just as they were about to see her scrawny figure running in the snow, she was pulled down, and a cool hand covered her mouth.

The sound of orc steps journeyed past and fell into the distance. The hand on her mouth was unclamped, and she looked to see a young elven boy. His eyes looked almost completely white, and his ears were long and elegant. She stared at him in amazement, for in all her life, she had seen no other elf but her and her late mother. He put a finger to his lips, and pulled her up. They journey together back to his tower of ice, magnificently sculpted with a misty beauty and enigmatic air, where his family quietly greeted her with a tentative trust. They fed her and gave her a bed, but never stopped watching her.

It wasn’t until the second day in the tower that the elf spoke to her. “My name in Evamerín. I am of the Cyhallrhim tribe. Who are you? Where is it you come from? And why were you out alone in the snow?”

Ayaelia was fascinated by the elf. He seemed a bit older than she, with white hair tinted with gentle blue. His eyes were pale white, with only a single delicate mark to show where his pupil lie. His skin was creamy white, and his ears held earrings, most made out of bone, though two were made from metal. When he spoke, it seemed as though is voice were like a cold breeze moving through her soul, embracing her like the winter embraces the earth. For a moment, she stared, enchanted, before her voice could find words.

“M-my name is Ayaelia. I come from the Kasumarii tribe, and somehow I must return to them.”

He looked at her strangely. “You are not all human. There is the spirit of an elf in you. The magic of your kind glistens in your eyes.”

She believed she must have blushed the way a little child would, but in truth her cheeks were too bitten by cold to reflect any color except for white. “My mother was an elf from Santharia.”

“A very far-away place that is,” he replied in a soft voice. “And you have come far, too, for the Kasumarii dwell near 3 leagues as the dragon flies. It may take you months to return to your people.” Ayaelia lowered her head, her heart sinking to her chilled toes. Seeing her expression, Evamerin’s eyes softened. “I am young yet, but I can lead you there, if you wish to return. It may take us many months, but we may make it yet.”

After a week of gathering provisions, Ayalia and Evamerin set off together, journeying months through the snow. Evamerin, though close to being as young as she, seemed more skilled in hunting and surviving in the bitter snow, for while she had been in training with her father in fighting, Evamerin had spent his time learning to sustain him and his family. She learned a great deal about hunting and surviving from him, and took careful note of all things he said, as it wasn’t often that he spoke. They grew close, sleeping curled together to share warmth. As the months went by, Ayaelia found herself feeling ever closer to her guide, wishing that the journey would not end.

But it did. In the early spring of her thirteenth year, The Kasumarii village came into site. Evamerin stopped before they journeyed too close, and Ayaelia turned to face him, a look of curiosity on her face. “I can go no farther,” he told her. “This is where you belong. It is not my world, but yours.”

Her heart grew heavy and tears welled in her azure eyes. “Will I ever see you again?” Her voice seemed to tremble as she spoke.

He smiled at her and leaned down to gently kiss her cheek. “Yes.” She smiled to him as he dropped something in her hand and began in the other direction. “Fare well, Ayaelia. Don’t forget me!” She opened her hand and found that there lay a silver earring. His. She clutched it tightly.

“I won’t! Goodbye!” she shouted in his direction. She then turned, and entered the village of the Kasumarii.

No one had expected to see Ayaelia again. Delvian was ecstatic, and Ayaelia was happy to finally see her father again, though she missed Evamerin. Immediately after her return, she was put into training. Her father hired the best trainer he could afford, but this involved her being sent to the other side of the camp to be trained under the renowned Kilvin Degorin.

From the time she first laid eyes on him, Ayaelie knew she was in for a lot. His cold, glaring eyes looked out at her with strictness and harsh wisdom, with hardly a touch of tenderness or care. His hair was white and scraggly. He was fairly old, but obviously very respected in the way others treated him. Her training began immediately.

For twenty-three years she trained under him, learning the ways of the Korenjaan. At thirteen, her body was too weak to hold and wield a moonblade, and thus he taught her how to use the Armoured fan while also pushing her for strength training. He grew frustrated with her time and time again. As an elf, it took her longer to learn things, sometimes weeks to learn what a human can master in a few hours. Her body never became as strong as a humans’. For this, she was scolded profusely, sometimes denied meals.

As the years went by, Kilvin gave up trying to make his pupil strong, and instead focused on her agility. This is where she excelled. Her slender body could move in ways even a human’s couldn’t, and day in and day out she practiced her moves, equipped with an armoured fan. Each day she worked up a sweat, and when night drew near she would collapse in her cot and slept for as long as she could. There was no break, no day off, no holiday. Eight hours of the day were allotted to spend sleeping and/or eating, and the rest were filled with rigorous training.

As Ayaelia grew, she found she often thought of Evamerin. Her heart often longed for him, even as the years drew short. She found solace in religion, and commonly prayed to Korenjah, asking him to hide her in his soft shadows, as well as to (especially to) the Goddess Queprur, to whom she dedicated most of her prayers. She prayed to her each morning and each night, and grew more acceptant of death, such that when her first mentor died when she was 36, she did not weep, nor fear for his soul when it departed, though she did care for him and appreciate what he had done for her.

She was given to another mentor, younger than her last. He was accomplished at 38, and despite their closeness in age, was far more skilled than she, for a human learns more quickly than an elf. His name was Sakuld, and he was sharp and frightening, with a wild glare in his eyes. He did not carry the wise restraint that her last mentor had, which made him seem all the more terrifying. She lived with him and his wife, and worked just as hard as she had with her last mentor, though punishment was far worse than anything Kilvin had given her.

Sakuld was a very angry man, and pushed and pushed her through her training. He would blindfold her, as Delvian had done when she was little, and make her hear the sounds around her, make her feel the movements of her own body, the weight of the weaponry. Sometimes it would seem as though he would blindfold her just for fun, just to watch her slender figure struggle through its blindness in attempts to fulfill his orders. When she didn’t comply perfectly or reach his high standards, she would be dragged to a wall whereupon she would be chained and whipped until her back bled.

At night, Sakuld’s wife, Merilka, would tend to her wounds. She was a woman with a harsh disposition and a stubborn spirit. She would sometimes explain her husbands actions, and tell her what she was doing wrong or should do. Despite her tone, Ayaelia came to believe that she cared, and they were both bonded by a fear of Sakuld. Ayaelia still recalls many nights hearing Merilka cry and gasp as her husband raped her, and how Ayaelia would shutter and try to block out the noises she couldn’t prevent.

Ayaelia grew ever more desperate in her prayers, though she wasn’t sure what she needed. She did want to be trained and become stronger, but everything was so hard, so difficult. Her heart longed for some place of peace and rest. Still, nothing changed. She was now entering competitions more and more often, in particular against exchange students, whom she always seemed to beat. This led her to more difficult competitions, for which she had to train hard for. More and more she felt driven by fear.

Her skills improved immensely. She was already becoming more skilled in moonstars, and was beginning to learn how to use the moonblade. The more she was blindfolded, the more Sakuld realized her skill. She could sense things, feel them like a six sense. To tests this, he through a piece of fruit at her head. Blindfolded, with a moonblade in her hand, she sliced the fruit, and it fell to the ground. Sakuld looked at her, dressed in very little clothing (training warmed her body) and breathing hard. Never had he ever come across such a thing in all his life. He honed this skill of hers, gaining some respect for her.

One night, a figure wandered into the tent where Ayaelia stayed, moved like a shadow through the darkness. Sakuld awoke, and caught the intruder just as he was entering Ayaelia’s quarters. He was reported, and was sentences to death. All agreed that Ayaelia, for whom this elf (as it seemed he was) had tried to reach, should kill him. Ayaelia did not see him, even as she was cast into the arena, for Sakuld had decided to take this time to show her great skill. She moved like a melody, her blade elegantly swinging in the hair as she approached the elf. She could feel him, sense him.

The crowd roared, and slowly she raised her blade, moving toward him, her mind becoming taken by the crowd and the sword. Like a dancer, she wandered toward him. Like a bolt of lightning, her blade ran him through. It was then that she heard her name, whispered to her with a sudden chill over her soul: “Ayaelia.” She pulled off the blindfold to find herself staring into Evamerin’s eyes.

Her body trembled, her hands still clutching the blade that as now slick with his blood. He smiled at her then, in a way that seemed knowing, seemed understanding. “I told you we would meet again.”

Tears welled in her eyes, overflowed down her cheeks, burnt like acid into her heart. “Evamerin, I-… I-…”

He reached down then and kissed her softly, then pulled back. “I love you.” He dropped something cold into her hand, and then fell backwards, his lithe figure sliding off her blade, into the snow. She opened her hand, and though her tears, she saw a silver earring, identical the one he had given her over twenty years ago.

Sakuld was furious at how Ayaelia had behaved in the arena, and made her suffer for her tears in slashes on her back. He was merciless in her training, making her attempt feats that she wasn’t ready for, denying her hours of sleep, making her work without rest, and beating her if she even made an utterance of defiance. To this day, Ayaelia has never cried. Her heart hardened by the misery she was put through. For four years after Evamerin’s death, she suffered in this manner, until, of old age, Sakuld died. By this time, Ayaelia had reached the age of 56, though she still looked as though she were in her teens.

The death of Sakuld came as a great relief to her and Merilka, who would live another seven years before dying as well. During this time, she went to visit her father. Delvian was now on his deathbed, and despite being rather detached from her father, she still loved him. She took care of him, which she found very relaxing after going through such training day after day.

She stayed with him, even as the rest of the tribe continued nomadically through the Cyhalloi tundra. She fell behind to care for her father, with no fear of her tribe going on without her. He would talk to her, and tell her how proud he was of her. On his final day, he gave her a pair of beaded earrings and a necklace that had belonged to her mother. He died that night, and left her with all his worldly possessions.

For two years she lived there in his tent, spending most of her time training on her own and praying to Korenjah and especially to Queprur, asking her to guide her father’s spirit, and to give her strength. Those two years were ones she spent reflecting on her past, thinking a lot about Evamerin to the point that her heart had broken a million times by her own thoughts. Her self-training began to mimic dance, through which she conveyed her emotions. She could not seem to cry, though sorrow welled up in her to the point she feared her heart might burst.

She returned to the realm of fighting. Packing up her things, she journeyed across the island of Cyhalloi alone, without a companion or a guide, through the bitter snow and hail. Many years had passed since last she passed alone as a wanderer, a traveler, searching for some ever-moving destination, yet all the knowledge was there. She could hunt and protect herself ‘till at last she began her training again.

Ayaelia went through several more mentors, whom she impressed with her skills in the Moonblade, Moonstars, and especially the Armoured fan. They were amazed at her ability to sense targets, and her agility and speed. She fought in dozens of competitions and won fame and recognition. Her skills lead her into the Nightson sect, and she immediately begun studying for membership, learning the basics of shadowmancy, in which she excelled. She never got around to learning all the other sects, though, for upon the death of her last Nightson mentor, she lost interest in pursuing anymore training. She had learned so much of fighting and skills. The horrid island of Cyhalloi had contained her for 120 years, and now she wanted to be rid of the place.

She took a boat to Santharia, sleeping most of the way there. Dreams plagued her, memories of Evamerin reeling through her brain. When the boat landed upon the Santharian harbor of Carmalad, she had no clue as to where to go. For two years she’s wandered the land of Santharia, without a guiding star.

Strengths:
-- Due to decades upon decades of constant, dedicated training, Ayaelia is extremely skilled in fighting with those weapons she had been trained with, including the armoured fan, the moonblade, and moonstars.
-- Agility is Ayaelia's strongest suit. She can move and twist with elegant and grace, whish makes her a surprising opponent in battle. There's no telling what agile move she will do next.
-- Ayaelia has a ‘sixth sense,’ being able to sense things without seeing them or perceiving them in any other of the five senses. It is thus nearly impossible to sneak up on her. She is extremely intuitive. Her skills were developed almost from birth, both by her father and from her mentors. The power is merely her ability to sense car'all, which comes from her elven blood.
-- Despite inner loneliness, Ayaelia is physically independent, able to survive by herself without the help of anyone else. She can hunt, cook, and take care of herself without the aid of anyone else. She also seems to be rather resourceful. Her perceptiveness is keen, especially in Santharia where things are still new and she notices even the smallest details.
-- After gaining or training to gain into the Nightson sect, Ayaelia learned how to use Shadowmancy, and is average at using this medium to help keep herself hidden.

Weaknesses
-- Despite her training, Ayaelia's elven figure gives her very little in the way of strength. Her punches and kicks are relatively soft as compared to a human's.
-- Ayaelia’s anger or warrior spirit can drive her to fight long after she has accumulated serious injury, which will sometimes make the wound worse. She, however, perceives the wound, as she does most things, but will usually fight with it anyway, despite feeling each silver pang cut through her. In this way, she is stoic.
-- Due to a flurry of wounds received to her back, the flesh of her back tends to be a bit tender. Getting hit even once to her back would cause about three times as much pain as it normally would. Because of this, she usually avoids having her back towards people.
--Her sixth sense really only benefits her when she is aware of her surroundings. If she becomes lost in thought (which tends to occur most often when she is practicing her fighting techniques, which are more like dance and self-expression than actual fighting) and when in deep sleep, such as that induced through herbal drugs.
-- Having always had a mentor to guide her, Ayaelia lacks real direction. She, when finding someone she respects, will do as they wish, and can be extremely subservient out of pure habit.
-- Though typically emotionless and independent, Ayaelia has an inclination to older elven women, especially Yifferhims. They remind her of the mother she lost, and she is often drawn to them, both in the love and longing for a maternal figure in her life and for an innate desire to understand and reflect more of her own culture. They can thus be very distracting to her, be it in battle or just in keeping up her guard.
-- Light-haired elves with long ears attract her, even if she does not love them. Especially if they are younger than she, or appear younger, she has an incredible capacity for protection. Usually they remind her of Evamerín (see Background) during the time when she knew him best, and after his death, she had a strong desire to protect those of his semblance.  Elves of this nature can thus easily take advantage of her, using her skills for their personal benefit.
-- Being new to the continent of Santharia, she knows almost nothing of the inhabitance there. She does not know what plants are poisonous and which can heal, or what tribes are aggressive and which ones aren’t. She isn’t knowledgeable in custom, which can land her in all sorts of trouble.

Fighting Styles/Weapons:
Ayaelia was trained in the Kasumarii fashion, primarily in the Korenjaan manner, though later she began more broad studies in the Nightson manner, which she never really finished. Her handle with a weapon is nonetheless deadly. Though excellent in all of her weapon, she is probably most deadly with her Armoured fan, which she can whip out and use in the blink of an eye. Training with this weapon since her hand could grasp it, Ayaelia is very connected to her weapon. The fan is also the easiest to use along with her agility. She can do flips and spins and turns without having to work around the weight of this light weapon. It also allows for speed, and in the split of an eye it seems as though her direction could change completely.

Moonstars, her distance weapon, lend her a lot of ability to kill at a distance, though she doesn’t often use them in battle. She tends to prefer to be a lot closer to a target then that, and attacking someone far-off doesn’t give her the same satisfaction. Anyone can kill something that doesn’t know it’s being attacked, but only forcing it to fight can reveal it’s true power, and there is skill and knowledge to be gained from that. Ayaelia will pick up styles from fighting, which can make her deadlier after each fight. Usually when Ayaelia does use her moonstars, she is hunting. She does not take great satisfaction in scaring something out of its mind before taking its life. When it comes to the innocents in nature, she is as humane as she can be.

The moonblade, which has almost become the symbol of the Kar’ii, is another weapon Ayaelia has come to master. Especially near the end of her training, she did a lot of work with the weapon, and has found ways of moving with the weight of the blade. Many of her styles with a focus of agility have had to be manipulated to incorporate the blade, but she has become a master at them, though using the moonblade tends to tire her out far more quickly.

Strength never was Ayaelia’s strong suit, but she has always been amazing in her agility. She suffered for not being as strong as other Kasumarii children, but in the end, she was recognized for talents in agility, being able to move her body and move through the air like a feather in the wind. Though she no longer trains under a mentor, she is always learning, not just from fights, but from little things that happen around her, like the movement of a leaf as autumn breezes spirit it away, or the way a deer moves through the forest like a poetic verse. She is constantly watchful.

Though fighting has become an undoubtedly important part of her life, she tends to be rather isolationistic, both in her personal relations and with her fighting. If she sees two gangs in some sort of brawl, or a skirmish break out in front of a saloon, she will most likely pass it buy, trusting Queprur to choose the best fighter and confound the other with her might. If, however, one of those opponents resembles Evamerín or her mother, she will more than likely step in to lend her hand against the opposing force, even if the odds seem impossible.

Magic Styles
Ayaelia’s ability in magic is extremely limited. She had begun learning Shadowmancy before her training was cut short by her own desire to leave for a place far different from the icy Guldor. Unlike the masters of the art, she cannot throw opponents through the air and bind them in shadow. She cannot make shadows dance for her own entertainment or to contain others like little black gypsies. Her ability to manipulated shadows is merely to clumsily move them from one place to another, usually from a place where many shadows lie to a place where she is hiding.

Despite her faith in Queprur, she gains no clerical skills from her belief in the goddess.

Her faith in Korenjah is unwavering, which is all that allows her to manipulate the shadows to the smallest degree that she does. Her faith in Korenjah is excelled only by her faith in Queprur, Goddess of Justice in the Kasumarii faith. Unlike most of the Santharian population, she does not fear her, nor does she necessarily see her as the frightening empress of death, but instead as an objective goddess who is fair and powerful. Ayaelia believes that all of the chaos that may exist will come to balance on Queprur’s sword.

Other Skills
Ayaelia is a moderately good tracker. Having been separated from her nomadic tribe twice, she has been forced to learn how to take care of herself within the harsh climate of Cyhalloi. Of course, tracking a tribe through the snow tends to be far easier than tracking through dust, upon which a breathe of wind can hide footprints. She does find is slightly easier to hunt in Santharia, though, as game is far more plentiful. She has little or no knowledge in medicine or sewing, and her stitches are clumsy (and usually temporary, used just until she can get to a real seamstress). Her bandaging is often just cleaning a wound with water and wrapping a cloth around it.

Belongings
Weapons:
-Armoured fan
-Moonblade
-Moonstars
Clothing (see above)
Supplies:
-Water
-Food portions
-Medical supplies
-Sewing supplies
Brown leather pack

Edited by: Talia Sturmwind  at: 8/9/05 11:39
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Khiera Meneris
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Human, Hjoria


« Reply #1 on: March 10, 2004, 08:59:22 AM »

Sorry to hear that you are having problems!!

Don't worry, we are patient people ;)  And the board is not going anywhere! I hope you sort out your computer troubles soon, and will be able to join us for some RPing! :)  



Hold me.
Soothe me.
Love me.

Save me from my RAGE.

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Luca the Thief
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« Reply #2 on: March 10, 2004, 02:51:22 PM »

First off, I'm glad to hear that you've finally got your CD up! Computers can be real buggers when they don't listen to you! (but isnt that the case with everything?)

As for your CD, it's wonderuflly written. Though I didn't have time to read through your history in it's entirety, so I'll try to get back on that tomorrow.

The only real thing I see to comment on is to balance out your strengths and weakesses. I feel that your strengths outnumber your weaknesses considering you are a very skilled fighter (both phycially and mentally) and have magical (however limited) ability. I suggest added some weaknesses, phsycial ones are nice, or maybe take out a weapon or tone down your strenghts.

Other than that, I'll probably be back later when I have the time and patience to read through your history.



"Never mistake knowledge for wisdom. One helps you make a living; the other helps you make a life"

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Alýr (Rayne)
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« Reply #3 on: January 01, 1970, 09:00:00 AM »

I changed your status icon to the ! sign to show people you're ready for comments. At first glance, everything seems to be in order. I would like to hear other people's commentary, though.

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Jeremy Azure
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« Reply #4 on: March 11, 2004, 02:30:22 AM »

It looks very nice but I am sure you mean 'Femme Fatale' to be your title? Mispellings irk me.  

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Teppei Carrion
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« Reply #5 on: March 11, 2004, 04:02:22 AM »

Looks great - Shouldn't be any time at all before it's approved and titled. I look forward to RPing with you in the, hopefully, near future.

Welcome the darkness
Just to bury away
The broken sorrows And unwanted pains
That torment me night and day

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Mina
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« Reply #6 on: March 11, 2004, 04:06:22 AM »

Great job, Ayaelia.  :thumbup   I don't see a lot of problems with the CD, and most of these have to do with the strengths and weaknesses, as Luca has already mentioned.  

I'm fine with the shadowmancy, since she isn't particularly good with it yet.  However, I would like to know how good she is with the moonstars.  Being very good with both melee and long-range weapons might be considered too powerful, I think.  Also, the sixth-sense is...problematic.  I'm not sure if you will be allowed to keep it, since it does seen rather powerful.  Finally, I think you should add her agility, strength and tracking ability to this section too, since they are considered strengths and weaknesses.  You might also want to consider adding a few more weaknesses to hopefully balance things out.  

As for the rest of the CD, it mostly looks okay.  One mistake I did spot was that you mentioned that elves learn more slowly.  Technically, this is not true.  While they do usually take longer than humans to reach the same level of proficiency, this is not due to them being slow, but rather the tendency for their training tends to be more in-depth.  I'm not sure if this still applies to an elf being brought up in a human society, but it doesn't seem too impossible to me.  

Well, that's all I could find for now, except for a few misspellings here and there.  It shouldn't be too long before you're titled.  :)  


There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

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Ta'lia of the Seven Jewels
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« Reply #7 on: March 11, 2004, 05:00:22 AM »

I'm not sure, but I think it could be
Femme fatal
in English, Jeremy, fatale being a french word. It is Femme fatale in German as well, but the English dic didn't show the expression.

Ayaelia, I have just started reading it and like your description of her appearance very much, (reminds me of the Bavaeras description I did, using so many colours) One thing which disturbed me though was her "bikini" top. This is not an expression which one would know in middle ages, I doubt, that something like this was worn!Not even bras existed then.  Maybe you call it breastband or describe , how it looks without using the word?
And isn't it a bit too dangerous to wear such few clothes when fighting??(Well, Faugars heroine has not much more on her body, :lol )

Will read it later!

***Astropic of the day***
"For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path   that may have heart. There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length. And there I travel looking, looking, breathlessly. ~Don Juan"

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Mina
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« Reply #8 on: March 11, 2004, 05:07:22 AM »

Actually, Talia, 'femme fatale' is found in english.  Or so says the dictionary I checked.  Look here.  As for the bikini top, I initially thought that the climate on Cyhalloi might be too cold for such clothing, but the Kar'ii tend to wear just skin-tight combat outfits, so...


There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

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Khiera Meneris
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Human, Hjoria


« Reply #9 on: March 11, 2004, 05:47:22 AM »

Well, glad to see you finally managed to get it posted up! :)  Let's take a look :)

1. I'm sorry but, i couldn't find your character's height?

2. A "sixth sense"? Hmmm ... sounds iffy to me, i see no mention of it's development etc. in your history (or if i missed it, please point it out to me)  ... i usually don't mind characters having special natural attributes and such, it makes characters more unique, but your character is quite a skilled fighter with a background in magic, in comparison to say, an elderly hobbit cartographer who can only use a staff ... see what i mean? I would like to see more detail on this "sixth sense" part -- what and how she can actually sense, limitations, etc.

3. Mina is right about the various points that you should add to your strengths section.

4. Does her faith in Queprur grant her any clerical skills?

Very nicely written up CD! :thumbup  It shouldn't be too long a wait for a title! :)




Hold me.
Soothe me.
Love me.

Save me from my RAGE.

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Calanthe De Cadenet
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« Reply #10 on: March 12, 2004, 03:01:22 AM »

when this gets finished I feel a 'Hubba!' coming on.  It is a rare gift, my child.

"The rough paths of the world can be hard on a lady's skin and hair.  Why not treat yourself to the luxury of one of Mistress Parfum's high quality bars of soap?"

How Calanthe Got Here

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Ayaelia
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« Reply #11 on: March 12, 2004, 08:49:22 AM »

I'll work on adding strength, agility, etc to my strengths and weaknesses. Where do you put a trait that she's average at? Like, if she's an average runner? :\

I would like to keep the sixth-sense, because it tied into her name. And khiera, I do develope it! That's why her father blindfolded her and had her walk through the room of obstructions! And that's why her mentor blindfolded her! Is this not enough development? :confused

Oh, I knew about the elf thing. I was lookng through some of the critiques and saw that they learned everything indepth, so it took them a longer time to learn stuff. Should I specify this in my CD?

As for the bikini top, I mentioned that the training warmed her up. When you are training really hard, or doing intense work, you get really hot, no matter the temperature that day. I hope this is ok. I'll change it to breast-band, though, for the sake of Santharia. ;)

I'll change the title to Femme Fatale. :broadgrin

Oops! I forgot about hight! :o  I'll add that in!

No, Ayaelia doesn't gain any clerical ability from her faith in Queprur. Should I mention that somewhere?

Thank you all so much for the help! :worship  

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Khiera Meneris
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« Reply #12 on: March 12, 2004, 08:58:22 AM »

Ah, i see about the sixth sense part. Sorry, it wasn't that obvious from just reading through. It would probably help with other Mods/Admins looking through your CD as well, if you write briefly under strengths regarding how she gained her "sixth sense". No need to go into detail, just a sentence or so explaining briefly, and then pointing the reader to her history for further detail and such.

And yes, just for clarity, mention that she doesn't gain any clerical skills from Queprur.

And in general, if your character is average in a certain skill, you don't have to mention it ... because it is commonly assumed that the average person is well, average at their skills lol.

I'll take another look through your CD once you're done editing ... looking good! :thumbup  



Hold me.
Soothe me.
Love me.

Save me from my RAGE.

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Mina
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« Reply #13 on: March 12, 2004, 09:08:22 AM »

For the 'sixth sense', perhaps you could change it to something like highly developed senses?  Good hearing combined with a lot of practice navigating without the use of sight could probably result in what you want.  


There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

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Khiera Meneris
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Human, Hjoria


« Reply #14 on: March 13, 2004, 01:06:22 AM »

Alright, everything seems to be in order now :)

*pastes a "+"*

Excellent work on your CD!! :thumbup  



Hold me.
Soothe me.
Love me.

Save me from my RAGE.

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