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Author Topic: Ceriwyn Alyvor/Korweynite/Traveling Bardess  (Read 7631 times)
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Ceriwyn
Travelling Bardess
Approved Character
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Gender: Female
Posts: 22

Human, Korweynite


« on: July 08, 2010, 10:17:47 AM »

|| Prologue/Overview ||

Just outside the city of New-Santhala, the morning broke. Early sunlight drifted cool and honest over the peasant hovels and city walls to a small inn on the edge of town. A young woman was saddling her horse in the inn stables, tightening the girdle and adjusting the bridle and reigns. She was humming something soft and sweet.

A little girl sleepily appeared from the inn where the woman had been staying, and called, “Ceri, must you go? Can’t you stay a bit longer? Please?”

The woman offered her a kind, sad smile. “I mus' go, Lily, now ere the sun gets too sweldrie for ease o' travel.” The girl gave a pout, and the woman tilted her head gently, then pulled out her lute. “Mightin' ye be contented gin I sing ye one las' song? A goin' song?”

The little girl still looked a little mopey, but nodded and came to sit with the woman as she tuned her lute. Then the woman began playing a gentle, hovering melody:

The darkling night runs frae the vale,
Away the shadows run.
The full-faced moon, sae wane an’ pale
gives reign o’er tae the sun.

The morning light now taks the sky.
The finches start to chime,
an’ tell me I must say goodbye
for now is goin’ time.

Dear lass, know that I lo’e ye.
I wish that I could sta’,
but e’er the road is callin’ me
sae I must be awa’.

Lily waved goodbye as the woman Ceriwyn rode off soon after daybreak, a smile on her face and a song on her lips.


|| Introduction ||

Name.
Ceriwyn Alyvor
(Elven name: Télorarthanté)

    Appearance:
Gender.
Female
Height.
1 ped, 2 fores
Age.
26
Weight.
1 pygge, 1 hafeb
Race.
Human
Hair Color.
Nor’sidian-black
Tribe.
Korweynite
Eye Color.
Uderza-blue
Occupation.
Traveling Bard and Medical Herbalist
(Specialty in healing herbs)
Title.
Traveling Bardess


|| First Movement: Physical Appearance ||

Damien sat in the back of the tavern, his drawing pad on his lap and his knees hiked up to give him a slanted work surface. With quill in hand, he was adding a flourish of his own style to portrait of one of the hefty men at the bar who joked and laughed with his comrades. The artist had long finished the portrait itself, but so much did his subject remind him of a bull, he had gone ahead and added horns, curling from beneath the greasy hair, and a ring dangling from his nose.

(Clothing) He sighed with an air of boredom, then heard the tavern door open and a hooded figure wander in. At first, he might have guess the new arrival to be a young man: a figure thin and swift coming in after dark. But when the individual drew back the hood of her faded blue cape, her femininity hit him with sudden wonder and awe. The person who now wandered through the tavern toward the bar, with a dark leather bodice and dark belt over a off-white, shoulder-less dress with a dark blue outer skirt, was a lovely young woman! Her feet were clothed in leather moccasins, and a lovely, elven-style necklace hung from her neck.

(Appearance) Damien sat staring for a moment. As an artist, he was immediately fascinated by the slenderness of her neck, the litheness of her frame, and the subtle curves of her form. Her skin was gently tanned, and appeared soft, smooth, and unscarred. She held her head high, and yet she appeared modest. She greeted the other customers with friendly uderza-blue eyes, which shone like the sea. Her Nor’sidian black hair fell in waves, as though for many years she had worn it in tight braids and now, free of the constrained, they became ringlets of silken tendrils twining just past her shoulder-blades. Although pulled back, a few still dangled lovingly across her brow.

He picked up his quill to draw her, but was was soon taken in by the revelry she brought with her: out came her lute and for the rest of the night she and the other men in the tavern were singing bar songs and laughing merrily. When Damien awoke the next morning, hung-over but still with the songs and melodious voice of the woman echoing in his head, he looked to see what he had drawn: a rough sketch of a slender woman, with the wings of a cao-cao bird.



|| Second Movement: Personality ||

“So what’s there to see in this city?” asked the traveler after greeting his child-hood friend, a resident of the great city of New-Santhala, just outside town. Now that the harvest season was through, he had decided to make the journey to visit and see the sights of the city.

“It’s New-Santhala! What ISN’T there to see in this city?” the friend joked as he helped with the traveler's bags. “Castles, gardens, great dwarvish brew and splendid music. Speaking of which, we should head to Miller’s Tavern tonight. There’s this young minstrel woman in town, and she’s playing there.”

“A minstrel woman?” asked the traveler.

“Yeah. She’s brilliant. Great music, I tell you, and she’s a lively spirit. I swear her kind of friendliness and cheer is the stuff of fae.”

“Where I’m from, all young women are shy,” said the traveler. He paused, then added, “Unless they’re your sister. In which case they’re the worst kind of demon spawn on Caelereth.”

His friend laughed. “Nah, this one isn’t shy. She’s the kind of girl who, if she sees you’re looking glum, will come over, buy you drink, and give you something to smile about. Never met a-one so generous before.”

“That’s a rare quality,” the traveler said, then grinned a bit. “So you got a bit of a thing for her, eh?” he teased, nudging his friend in the side.

“Haha. Wouldn’t matter whatever. She’s a wanderer by nature--here one night and gone the next. Trying to capture her heart’s like trying to catch a moving target. And for all her friendliness, she’s mighty mysterious about her past. She doesn’t look or sound like she’s from around here, but I can’t figure out where she’s from.”

“Maybe she’s from Aeruillin, from the land of fae!” teased the traveler again.

“You’re a pig-headed lout, you are,” replied his friend, smiling, blushing, and shaking his head. The traveler clapped him on the back cheerfully, and they went on their way.


|| Third Movement: Strengths & Weaknesses ||

Strengths.
  • Musical ability: “She was a very clever one--a lass o' pairts, she was. And she was, frae youth, gifted in music. First she leared the lute, then she leared other, more complicated instruments, like the harp an' dulcimer. I hae ne'er heard a soul play more beautiful music than she. And her voice! Her voice was more beautiful than any I hae e'er heard. Blessed by the gods, that one.” - Marci Gorwinion, Nybelmarian Farmer
  • Quick wit and sharp mind: “[She] talked herself out of being robbed by a group of seven men. Never seen anything like it... Seven men tried to rob her... By the time the night was done, they had all vowed to enter into the service of the gods once they reached Santharia, and to live, work, and pray together, and be vessels for good in the world.” Santharian Merchant-sailor
  • Knowledge of healing herbs and salves: “Her herbs and potions are such pure quality, you know--purer than most. She learned about herbs from that academy--the one in New Santhala--but her technique, well... she made passing mention that her mother was an herbalist. Based on her accent, I would say she’s not from around here, so her technique may be something of a rarity in these parts.” - Derri Mulgrum, Santharian Merchant
  • Fluent in Nybelmarian Styrash: Ceriwyn’s first 12 years were spent traversing between the coast and the Kayr for trade purposes, and she picked up an understanding of the language. This turned to fluency after she came to live with them following the death of her parents. She can only speak Santharian Styrash with a heavy accent.
  • Has a horse/ can ride a horse: "My supplier finally purchased herself a horse. Long time coming, I say. Not the youngest or the quickest thing on four legs, but it makes her trips more frequent." - Derri Mulgrum, Santharian Merchant

Weaknesses.
  • Fear of fire: “News came one mirk nicht their wagon caught fire, and both her parents perished in the flames. Music saved her, I hear. She heard the sound o' a coa-coa bird callin' frae the wood and wandered awa' frae camp. Only when she heard a cracklin' an' a scream did she run back with a haste, but to find her parents and wagon consumed. I hear it struck her with a fright for flame. Poor lass. She was but 12 years.” - Marci Gorwinion, Nybelmarian Farmer
  • Trusting: She puts herself in place and situations that may be considered unsafe because she trusts in the goodwill of people. This can lead her into potential dangerous encounters. She has no skill in magic, weapons, or combat, and therefore has no real way to defend herself beside her quick wit.
  • Can only speak Santharian tongues with a heavy accent: “She’s probably from some distant land. It’s a thick accent she’s got. When I first met her, I thought she was speaking some foreign tongue. Her accent’s not as bad as it used to be, but she’s still hard to understand at times.” - Derri Mulgrum, Santharian Merchant



|| Fourth Movement: History ||

From somewhere outside, Marci Gorwinion thought she heard a melody.

She rose stiffly from her chair, took up her cane, and wandered out onto the porch of her home on the plains of south-eastern Nybelmar. Mid-morning breezes swayed the grasses, and the distant call of a coa-coa bird stirred the nostalgic tune from her memory. She could not remember the words, but humming the song to herself helped her remember from whence she had heard it.

“Grandmama, where are ye?” called a small, feminine voice from inside, and a young girl appeared at the door. “There ye are! What are ye doin' out here?”

Marci smiled. “I was just myded' o' somethin' frae lang syne,” she replied, sitting down in a rocking chair and gesturing to the little girl to come sit with her.

“What were ye mynded o'?” she asked, climbing on her grandmother’s lap.

“A lass I knew... ” Marci replied, looking out across the fields as though she could see the memory somewhere out in the distance.

“I knew her frae the time she was but a wee babe. Her mother was a herbalist: she could mak all sort o' potions an' salves to mak the auld feel green and the ill get well. And this lass’s father was a trader, and a very well-doin' one at that: one o' the few traders who could boast close relations with the Kaýr. The family used to come by this way on their travels north to Faellaenion Gaeldorioth, carryin' pearls an' foreign gems up to the elves, an' tradin' them for honey and elven jewelry, and then takin' the goods down the Eypesh River to Kosth, to sell them 'fore collectin' pearls and gems again.”

“That is such a lang way to go!” the little girl exclaimed.

“Aye, 't is. We farmers are 'ccustomed to stayin' but in one place, but a family o' traders--they move 'round iverly. This lass, she was raised ne'er stayin' in one part more than a fortnight. Can ye imagine such a thing! But she enjoyed travelin'. She was a very clever one--a lass o' pairts, she was. And she was, frae youth, gifted in music. First she leared the lute, then she leared other, more complicated instruments, like the harp an' dulcimer. I hae ne'er heard a soul play more beautiful music than she. And her voice! Her voice was more beautiful than any I hae e'er heard. Blessed by the gods, that one.”

“Whate'er happened to 'er?”

“Her mother and father passed away, whilst travelin' near the Eypesh Wood. News came one mirk nicht their wagon caught fire, and both her parents perished in the flames. Music saved her, I hear. She heard the sound o' a coa-coa bird callin' frae the wood and wandered awa' frae camp. Only when she heard a cracklin' an' a scream did she run back with a haste, but to find her parents and wagon consumed. I hear it struck her with a fright for flame. Poor lass. She was but 12 years.”

“What did she do?”

“I hear she traveled north to Faellaenion Gaeldorioth.”

“She went to the Kaýr?”

“Aye, an' she dwelt there, with the elven folk. I heard she's with them no more, but she was for many a year.”

“I wonder what it was like bidin' with elven folk.”

Marci glanced out again across the plain. “I reckon we shant e'er know.”

There was a quiet moment before the little girl asked, “Grandmama, what was 'er name?”

“Ceriwyn,” she replied, then peaceful silence fell over the two. Marci rocked her granddaughter back and forth, humming the familiar melody.

* * *

Épthaermelór awoke in a sweat. Beside him, his wife slept soundly, the moonlight clinging to her foxblonde hair. He glanced briefly at her--but that was all. He put on his robe and sandals and walked outside, on to the veranda where he could look out over the village of exquisite sculpture and peaceful fountains. But the beauty and tranquility of the view could not quell the sorrows haunting him this night.

“It has been years now since you’ve gone,” he whispered into the night, his stormy blue eyes echoing the sorrow of a dream. “Why, then, do you still come to me in sleep?”

Épthaermelór had the traditional tall stature and attractive features of a Kaýr. He was still quite young--perhaps less than 100--but already that tinge of compulsiveness so bright in his younger days had dimmed. This night he had dreamed the past, again returning to the days of his first love. She was a Korweynite, and only a child when they first met--perhaps ten or so. He recalled meeting her and her parents through his mentor, an elf named Chúhmár. He himself had just switched professions, changing his trade from that of an armor smith to that of a lapidary, and her parents provided pearls and foreign gems for jewelry.

Even then, there was something about her. Ceriwyn, she was called. The human name seemed so strange now. At twelve, following the death of her parents, she had come to Faellaenion Gaeldorioth for sanctuary, and became the ward of Chúhmár. He recalled her songs, so sad and soft then. They brought her solace. The elders of the village saw that though she was a Korweynite, her spirit was that of a Kaýr, and truly Yvan had blessed the child. She was given training in music and composition, and the elders gave her the name Télorarthanté. That was the name he knew her by.

Épthaermelór watched her grow, and he, as Chúhmár’s apprentice, and she, as Chúhmár’s ward, grew close. And then fell in love. Télorarthanté was only seventeen, and a Korweynite, and the village elders did not approve of their union. But this did not stop them from consummating their love, and that spring she became pregnant. He recalled lying with her soon after they had discovered this blessing, watching her as she slept. A light clung to her. Living among the Kaýr, she must have developed a light of her own, because forever in his memory he could not regard any elf as having her gentle, unassuming, infinite kind of beauty.

Télorarthanté grew excited for the child. He could recall her looking at swaddling cloths, and singing lullabies to her growing belly. Before the baby was even born, she had fallen completely in love with the child, and he fell even more in love with her. He made her jewelry, and worked hard to provide for the coming child.

And then the miscarriage.

She had cried for hours, days. Her plethora of arias all turned to silence, dark and looming. He recalled how cruel he had been to her. At first, he tried to comfort her by telling her how she would get pregnant again, how all would be all right, and then, when the depression did not lift, he had grown critical of her, told her to snap out of it. In his youthful frustration, he had let her drift away from him.

She left a month later, leaving a note behind that expressed her sorrow, explained that she would take the Eypesh River south, to Kosth, and then take a boat across to Santharia. He never saw her again.

In his heart, he knew she was still out there. Each night he prayed to the gods for her good fortune, and in his dreams, he would remember her. He loved his wife, but part of his heart could never forget Télorarthanté. He was still young, but part of him knew that even if he should live to be 1000, he would never find another creature to match the beauty of her spirit.

* * *

The smoke from back room of The Seabird Saloon spiraled up lazily in unwinding ringlets as three men sat around a table in the beery light of a few flickering candles. Outside, in the front of the tavern, sailors and traders drank, sang, and fought with raucous revelry and rivalry, but here in the back, it was an intimate gathering of friends and associates playing a friendly game of cards and discussing business.

“That bastard cheated me out of fortune. 7 silverbards per head. I could have gotten a nune per,” said a blue-eyed, light-haired man. His scruffy appearance gave him the appearance of one much older than he was, but his behavior pinned him as the youngest of the group.

“Jastor will cheat you. He’s got sweet tongue on him,” said an older man. The wrinkles around his eyes were the road-maps of his life, deep with hardship. “I’ve never known a man who could barter like him. Some just have a gift, I guess.”

“I knew a girl--17 or 18--who talked herself out of being robbed by a group of seven men. Never seen anything like it,” said a third man, whose curved nose and piercing eyes gave him a hawkish appearance.

“Flaunted her feminine whiles, no doubt,” said the older man with a low, huffing laugh.

“Not once,” replied the hawkish man. “Just logic and argument and whatnot. Seven men tried to rob her. By the end of the incident, she’d convinced them all to join a temple together and live a virtuous life.”

“I gotta hear this,” said the younger man, throwing down his cards. He’d been losing anyway, and part of him supposed that, by diverting attention away from the game for a bit, he might be able to reduce his losses.

The other man, too, seemed curious, and laid down his cards. The hawkish man looked them each in the eye, then leaned back in his chair, recalling the situation. “I picked her up at Kosth. She was a young, pretty girl, with a kind of sadness about her. Maybe she lost a lover or something. She asked for passage to Santharia and I gave her my price, and she paid it, so I let her on.

“I had also taken on several other passengers. Shipments were low and I figured passengers would be the best way to recoup my losses. So I let on this group of men, who claimed to be a band of young adventurers seeking their fortunes in Santharia. I didn’t trust them, but they offered a fair price, so I flashed my dagger, gave them a mean eye, and let them on. Between me and my crew, they figured we were too large to be good prey, I reckon.

“The way to Santharia is pretty long, you know, even with fair winds in your sails and even seas under your keel. I’d occasionally look about the ship at night, to make sure those young hoodlums didn’t snatch anything, and I’d find the girl out on the bow, looking out across the sea, alone. Beautiful girl, she was, but I’m supposin’ that I weren’t the only one to see her, ‘cause one night I heard hushed voices and saw the group closin’ in on her.

“Course I planned to help her, but lookin’ at her face from the shadows, she didn’t look scared none, and I watched. They were demanded money from her--jewels or something. She said she didn’t have much. Then she asked... what was it... she asked what they would do with the money. She asked one of the younger ones what he would do with it, and he said something about buying a large estate, a castle of his own. She asked another, and he replied with something similar--a big mansion, with fruit trees.

“Then she says she doesn’t have enough for them all the buy property--that even if they split what she’s got, they won’t have enough. The leader--a big guy, you know--says that they’ll buy each member his property one-at-a-time. And she asks if they trust one another enough to provide to each member his wish and be certain he will return to provide for the rest. Then she asks if they’re all friends. ‘Of course,’ they say. Then she mentions how sad it will be for them all to be living in separate abodes, so far from one another, where they can’t sing songs together, can't joke and tease one another, can’t work side-by-side, because of the distance.

“That must have resonated with them, because they were open to her suggestions. By the time the night was done, they had all vowed to enter into the service of the gods once they reached Santharia, and to live, work, and pray together, and be vessels for good in the world. I tell you, I had never seen nothing like it.”

“That’s some story,” said the younger man, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Her logic’s sound,” said the older man, following the girl’s argument in his mind. “And knowing what a life of crime can be like...” Here he looked up nervously, as though revealing more than he intended, and quickly added: “... from stories, I mean... that I’ve heard... from people. Knowing what that life can be like, she probably saved their skins.”

“So what happened to her?” asked the younger man.

The hawkish man shrugged and picked up his cards again. “Don’t know. She walked off the ship in Chylikis and I never saw her again. I’ll tell you one thing: I’ll never forget her voice. Smooth and soft like the ocean.”

There was a moment of silence, as though the men were waiting to hear the voice of the young woman fill the empty quietness between them. Then they resumed their card game.

* * *

Dear Ms. Ceriwyn Alyvor,

I write you again to ask you to please reconsider your decision concerning the open post we have in the Music department here at the Academy of New Santhala. It is a wonderful opportunity, and you are well-qualified.

Even before your qualifications from both the School of Tunes and the School of the Quill in Bardavos were known to me, I knew you were a very gifted student. It wasn’t until your accelerated second year here at the Academy that I was even made aware of your penchant for music. Although your primary studies here were in mathematics and herbology, the honors you received upon completion of these studies speaks to your dedication and thirst for knowledge. Once I heard you play, and learned you had also graduated early with honors in Bardavos, I knew you would be a perfect fit for the position here.

I understand that much of your hesitancy in accepting the post is due in part to the unacceptable behavior of Professor Atimaeus towards your person in the years that you studied here. His transgressions, in the form of harassment, bribery, and attempted assault, were unfortunate; he has been given a stern warning, and says that he will not make the same mistake again.

I can promise you a lucrative wage, a steady salary, and job security, which I do not believe your current occupation as a traveling bard and herbalist offers. I understand that you enjoy traveling between Ximax and Bardavos, and in all likelihood you may be able to do so still as a visiting scholar at Ximax Academy and the schools in Bardavos. Please reconsider the position, and get back to me.

I hope this letter finds you, and finds you well.

Yours truly,
Barvis J. Oglmier, High Chancellor of the Academy of New-Santhala.


* * *

The bell on the shop door rang like an diminutive watchdog as Alana Felgrove slipped swiftly inside. She was followed briefly by a gelid wind harassing her robes and shaking the creaking sign outside that declared, “Mulgrum’s Herbs and Alchemy” with quiet insistence to all passerby. She pressed the door closed, blocking out the wind, and quieting the little bell.

The shop was an impressive panoply of herbs, vials, potions, reagents, and peculiar curios. One side displayed a collection of mortar, pestles, glass beakers, ladles, and other such equipment for the modern alchemist. All along one wall sat large jars containing everything from plant roots to silvery dust to dried lizards and frogs. Alana stepped in, looking at the familiar jars with timid distaste.

From the back, an aplomb, gregarious, and rather short old man appeared. As soon as he saw the woman, he smiled welcomingly. “Alana, so good to see you!”

Alana wrestled her eyes away from the jars and smiled diffidently at the shopkeeper. “Hello, Derri. How are you?”

“Well, well. That foot fungus I had has finally cleared up, and I’m feeling fit as a filly, despite the chilly.” Derri Mulgrum chuckled at his own little rhyme. “Now tell me, what can I do for you? You’re not usually in the city so early in the month.”

“Yes, our medicines have run low at the temple. I know you were out of slaves, but we certainly need something, and I thought--”

“Oh, not a problem, not a problem! My supplier finally purchased herself a horse. Long time coming, I say. Not the youngest or the quickest thing on four legs, but it makes her trips more frequent. She came in just yesterday and dropped off some things,” Derri told her as he disappeared in the back.

“Ah, thank Eyasha!”

“It’s a good thing, because business is picking up. Her herbs and potions are such pure quality, you know--purer than most.” He reappeared from the back with a little case filled with healing salves. “She learned about herbs from that academy--the one in New Santhala--but her technique, well...” Derri trailed off as he pulled out some brown paper to wrap up the case.

“What do you mean? She didn’t learn technique at the Academy of New-Santhala?”

Derri shook his head. “No doubt she did, but she made passing mention that her mother was an herbalist. Based on her accent, I would say she’s not from around here, so her technique may be something of a rarity in these parts.”

“Not from around here? Where is she from?”

“Not sure. She’s probably from some distant land. It’s a thick accent she’s got. When I first met her, I thought she was speaking some foreign tongue. Her accent’s not as bad as it used to be, but she’s still hard to understand at times. She never talks about where she’s from or why she left, though. How does that look?” He asked, mostly to himself, as he lifted the case now neatly wrapped in brown paper.

Alana nodded her approval. “I wonder why.”

“Not sure.” Derri took out his abacus “She’s a strange mix of mystery and friendliness. Most every time she comes ‘round, she takes a room in Mitch’s Tavern and Inn, and I hear music and revelry into the early hours. She’s got a lovely voice on her.” He finished his calculatons. “3 od.”

Alana handed him her little pack of coins, and Derri went on as he counted them as the woman asked, “She certainly sounds like a merry soul.”

“Well, that I do not know so much.” Derri paused in his counting as a memory came upon him. “Once I heard her, late in the evening, when the bar had quieted and all others were sleeping. She was leaning out the window, her dark hair falling across her shoulders, her lute in her soft white arms, singing the softest, sweetest, saddest song I ever heard. I nearly cried, though I know not if it was for the beauty of her voice or for the sorrow of the song.”

They both stood quietly, thoughts rushing swiftly and subtly upon them like a tide, leaving them submerged until they finally floated back to the surface. Derri finished his counting. “Thank you, Alana.”

“Thank you, Derri.”

The final sound was the small bell, which rang just a little softer in the wake of reminiscence.



|| Appendix ||

Belongings: A 15-string lute, a bag with an extra change of clothes (including leather breeches, a white blouse, undergarments, and others) and toiletries, a large herb pouch and a small herbalist sickle for herb collection, a potion/salve-making set (mortar and pestle set and some small jars), some needle and thread for mending, a container of medical salves and bandages in case of physical injury, a bag of snacks, and a water canteen.

Familiars: A horse, Murmer, purchased just recently in the city of New-Santhala. Murmer is a blue roan who for what he lacks in speed, he makes up for in sure-footedness, endurance, dependability, and a sweet nature.
« Last Edit: December 27, 2010, 10:00:08 AM by Kalína Mërénwèn » Logged
Deklitch Hardin
Truth Seeker
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #1 on: July 10, 2010, 02:30:04 AM »

Greetings and welcome to Santharia,

An interesting and enjoyable CD you've got here. I especially like the story you have developed around your CD. Just a couple of corrections for you.

1) Your horse, Murmer would need to be included as a Strength

2) No magical ability and No weapon ability are not weaknesses, as we compare our characters to a standard peasant who would have no ability at magic or skill with weapons.

Finally, if you don't have something ... eg weapons or a portrait, you can leave that out, rather than writing 'none' or something next to it.
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Seeking the truth, whatever the cost! - Deklitch Hardin, Elf Friend
Ceriwyn
Travelling Bardess
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Gender: Female
Posts: 22

Human, Korweynite


« Reply #2 on: July 10, 2010, 02:55:17 AM »

Goodness, I didn't expect to get comments while still working on my CD! I thought I put the right icon up, to indicate I'm still working and therefore not yet ready for correction. Is there something else I need to do? I'm sorry if I made a mistake. It's just that I get awfully flustered when people begin commenting when I'm not done with my first draft!

Thank you, though, for the corrections. I'm not sure how to list my horse as a strength. Is the horse a strength or being able to ride him/her? And would being able to ride a horse still be considered a strength if you're comparing to a standard peasant? Most peasants probably have the same skill and knowledge as my character with regards to horses and horseback riding, and many peasants own horses (for going in to town or pulling their plows)--at least from what I know of them.
« Last Edit: July 10, 2010, 06:22:03 AM by Ceriwyn » Logged
Deklitch Hardin
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #3 on: July 10, 2010, 09:28:19 AM »

Sorry, I didn't look at the icon you had up. I was drawn in by your CD and just wanted to make those couple of comments for you. I'll stay away until you are ready for comments, I promise :)

Here, have a bunny.  Pet
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Ceriwyn
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« Reply #4 on: July 10, 2010, 12:05:25 PM »

A bunny! How darling! Thank you, Deklitch. I'm sorry if I was a bit snappish. No idea I do appreciate your taking a look at my CD.  hug

I believe I've finished, for the most part. I apologize if there happen to be a few typos in the mix. Also, I've taken some liberties on the accents of Nybelmar--I hope that's all right. Also, as you probably noticed, I've been a bit nontraditional in my approach to the CD. I hope that's all right, too.

I appreciate any feedback anyone might have. Thank you!
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Tervild Jorek
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« Reply #5 on: July 11, 2010, 12:28:05 AM »

Hello Ceriwyn,

Allow me to say that your CD is "off the hook" in more ways than one. Obviously, it's very well written, well thoughtout, and I don't see any spelling or grammar errors. Unfortunately I'm not very well versed in the geography and racial distinctions of continents that are not Sarvonian or Cyhalloi. However your story seems legitimate, and I don't see anything wrong with it in the least so I have to applaud you on your knowledge of all that. Your strenghts and weaknesses are also very well balanced in my opinion, and I think that your CD should be approved any moment now. Good work  Thumb up let's RP together soon.

.: Tervild Jorek :.
« Last Edit: July 11, 2010, 01:10:15 AM by Tervild Jorek » Logged

Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #6 on: July 16, 2010, 11:37:27 AM »

Quote
lass’s father
  Should lass's be lass' ?

I don't recall seeing in the CD where Ceri learns the healing craft.  I read where she was trained in music, but not healing.  Can you point me to it?  Or if it is not there, maybe expand it to include the healing skill.

The only part that did not ring true to me was the episode on the ship.  However, as it is a story told second hand, I will give you some leeway in that perhaps it wasn't as simple as that but details were lost in the telling.  So, no need to change anything there.

Other than that, I quite enjoyed the CD.  It was created in an original way, which is always a nice change of pace for Mods who have to read hundreds of CDs.  (not me of course, by the time I read 100 CDs, it will be 2025)

Keep in mind that I do not know Nybelmar nor the tribes there, so the next Mod will need to check the veracity of those details.

So, I'll give you your First Approval.  Thumb up

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Ceriwyn
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« Reply #7 on: July 16, 2010, 11:53:01 AM »

Thank you for first approval, Altario!

"lass's father" is actually correct, though it may look strange. If you replace "lass" with "girl," for example, (they are more or less synonymous), you get "girl's father."

Ceriwyn is not a healer--she just knows healing herbs, which she learned at the Academy at New-Santhala: "Although your primary studies here were in mathematics and herbology, the honors you received upon completion of these studies speaks to your dedication and thirst for knowledge."

I meant healing herbs to be her specialty--sort of like how medical students may have a specialty in neuroscience or endocrinology. I had considered adding this detail to the letter, but it seemed a bit unnatural, so I took it out. I don't mind adding it back, though, if you prefer.

And thank you again for your approval. It felt as though I had been waiting such a long time!
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Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin
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« Reply #8 on: July 16, 2010, 12:01:46 PM »

Eh, I'm still not convinced about lass's, but as this isn't a English Lit course (or it shouldn't be mods) i'll let it go as part of the speakers accent. :D

I missed the mention in the letter, thank you for pinting that out.  You don't need to add more to the letter; was my oversight.

Hopefully someone else can get this seconded, and I can get you titled.

Good luck.
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Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #9 on: July 16, 2010, 04:01:37 PM »

Nybelmar is not one of my strong suits either and at the moment I don't have a lot of time to go and read it up. If in a day or so one of the other mods or minimods haven't looked at it I'll try to do it at that point.

Dek
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #10 on: December 15, 2010, 01:55:40 PM »

Oh my, a Mod practicing thread necromancy? What else have we been practicing in our inner sanctum, secretly talking to one another? I'd be afraid, very afraid indeed.  :D

Let's see if we can shake off the cobwebs and get you a second approval, Ceriwyn.
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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #11 on: December 15, 2010, 02:17:14 PM »

I first ran a search on the Korweynites, and found that they hadn't been majorly altered since you made this CD. After that, I skimmed through your CD and didn't really find anything else that seemed outdated.

As for your third and fourth weaknesses:

Quote
Does not know Thergerim or any of the less common Santharian languages, and can only speak Santharian Styrash with a heavy Nybelmarian accent.

Your character is being compared to a peasant, so this doesn't count as a weakness. Typically, peasants aren't bilingual.

Quote
Unfamiliar with all Sarvonian lands south of Bardavos and north of Ximax.

I have the same problem with this weakness; Only those peasants who have lived in those areas would be familiar with those areas, and it goes to say that many of the people you will be RPing with (who are for the most part more powerful than peasants) wouldn't be familiar with those areas either.

I am pretty confident that you will want to get rid of these, and would suggest that you add this as a weakness:

Frailty- Ceriwyn is a woman, a thin figured musician, and appears to have spent most of her time learning how to heal people and play music. It would fit in perfectly with your character, and I imagine you wouldn't miss a beat with this weakness, concerning what it is you want to accomplish by posting with this CD (that is, rendering to us how this particular musician would think and behave socially). Moreover, I think it wouldn't make sense if she didn't have this weakness.
« Last Edit: December 15, 2010, 05:42:29 PM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #12 on: December 15, 2010, 02:47:34 PM »

Now, as for your first strength:

Quote
Musical ability: A pro with most stringed instruments (including the lute, harp, dulcimer, etc.) and a quick study with most other types of instruments. Beautiful vocals and an experienced song-writer.

There is an Aellenrhim Harp (http://www.santharia.com/dev/index.php/topic,11811.0.html) and a Dulcimer (http://www.santharia.com/dev/index.php/topic,13491.0.html0) but no lute that I know of in Santharia (that is to say that I did something of a thorough search, but I am not 100% sure about it).

So, I would suggest that you take the lute out of the picture, and tell us about some other instrument(s) she always has with her in your belongings section.

You may want to look at these entries for inspiration:

http://www.santharia.com/dev/index.php/topic,12901.0.html

http://santharia.com/culture/percussion_instruments.htm

Also, here is an old entry on the Gitarre, of which you might want the approval of Kalina to use:

http://www.santharia.com/dev/index.php/topic,9715.msg108856.html#msg108856
« Last Edit: December 15, 2010, 02:48:34 PM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #13 on: December 15, 2010, 05:35:05 PM »

Hi and welcome (back) to Caelereth, Ceriwyn, I'm pleased you've decided to return to us :D

Personally, I wouldn't have an issue with you keeping the lute. I believe that the lute was an instrument from medieval times on Earth, and as such it should be fine. In addition, other bards have a lute among their possessions, including the Famed Bard Judith of Bardavos. I think that, as a result, you can therefore safely keep the lute. If you were proposing to cart around an instrument like a grand piano or an electronic guitar with you or something else that would either (1) be too big to take with you or (2) belong in a more modern timezone, the instrument would have to be changed, but as it stands, a lute would be fine.

I would agree with Alexandre's comments about your weaknesses, however.

« Last Edit: December 15, 2010, 06:05:56 PM by Deklitch Hardin » Logged

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Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #14 on: December 15, 2010, 06:14:09 PM »

Hmmm... Taking a look at what Altario had to say, I did some research on the Korweynites again, and noted that in your personality section:

1. Her heritage of idealistically righteous thinking, and affinity for literature such as poems (which it would be easy to work the idea of poem reciting into your character and would give you the opportunity to make some original poems in your posts), isn't mentioned at all.

2. Also worth mentioning is that the Korweynites have a particular love for Elves, evinced by their strong ties to the Kayr elves.

From the clothing section of the entry on Korweynites:

Quote
As was stated before the standard clothing is the “Eben” a simple tunic often made up in bright colours with complicate ornaments. This clothing serves as much as official clothing as well as for everyday work but exists in many forms and is worn by men and women alike.

You have said this in your CD:

Quote
But when the individual drew back the hood of her faded blue cape, her femininity hit him with sudden wonder and awe. The person who now wandered through the tavern toward the bar, with a dark leather bodice and dark belt over a off-white, shoulder-less dress with a dark blue outer skirt, was a lovely young woman! Her feet were clothed in leather moccasins, and a lovely, elven-style necklace hung from her neck.

So, as you can see, the dark colors, and complex arrangement of several different garments (what with a cape, shoulder-less dress, and outer skirt) that you have chosen for her are quite different from what her people typically wear.

Conclusions: Now, I don't mean to say that you need to go and change all of these things here to meet the traditional Korweynite. Rather, I wanted to point out to you that your character is a Korweynite, and thus she should have several Korweynite traits. While physically she may look like a Korweynite, I'm not seeing much of her people's culture injected into the CD.
« Last Edit: December 15, 2010, 06:40:41 PM by Alexandre Scriabin » Logged

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