Post by Tismri on May 1, 2011 5:02:24 GMT -5
Your username: Jeriah/Tismri
Character's name: Ealvale
Character's age: 18
Character's attitude: Ealvale is a sweet young woman without a mean drop of blood in her body. She loves everyone she meets and encourages them however she can. She is very easily terrified when she is in danger and almost never goes anywhere alone.
Character's Race: human
Character's appearance: Ealvale has a very cute, little-girlish face, not quite what many would consider beautiful, but very close. She has a long scar on her left cheek from an attack many years ago. She has grey-hazel eyes and red-gold hair that she keeps in braids. She wears a soft, quilted shirt and leggings with a red and white embroidered design. She is never ever ever without her lute.
Character's allegiance: Varden
Weapons: She carries a dagger at her side for defense, but has virtually no ability with fighting. However, if whoever she is with gets into a fight, she had a knack for reciting just the right old tale to give her comrade courage and strength, and make her enemies suddenly guilty and fearful, giving them an overall advantage.
Other Info: She is pretty much the Varden's bard. She has an uncanny, natural gift of expressing just the right words to encourage others, often through songs and tales. Oh, and if anyone wants to make her uncle, go ahead.
History: Ealvale was the daughter of one of Galbatorix's nobles, but her uncle and grandfather were Varden traitors and spies. As a very young child, she remembers sitting on her grandfather's knee as he would sing to her all sorts of cheerful little ditties, the meanings and morals of which she was somehow always able to discover. He would do this for her up until his treachery had been discovered and he had been executed. At this point, Ealvale was only six years old. Her parents had forbidden her to even speak of him anymore, and she couldn't understand why.
Two years later, Ealvale began to develop a very close relationship with her uncle, Fredrik. He would tell her many of the old tales, of particular Dragon Riders and elves, of the feats of all sorts of men. She memorized each of them by heart, reciting them to herself often.
As a nobleman's daughter, she was taught to read and given full access to almost any library she wished. She read very book she could get her hands on, filling her mind with the deeds of many people, though her uncle later explained to her just how much of it had been twisted by Galbatorix and he told her the correct version. She also learned how to play the lute, upon which she would write songs of favorite tales, and memory taught her how to play the old ditties of her grandfather.
One day, when she was eleven, she had been sitting with her uncle as he was reciting a story to her, when the door of the room suddenly burst open and the room was swarming with soldiers. They were under orders to arrest Fredrik. He refused to go with them and confirmed for them that he was indeed working for the Varden. Ealvale was a little surprised at this, but instantly to her mind came the Lay of Cavorth, a man who had sided with his family's enemies because he believed them to be right. Despite the fact that they disowned him, he refused to despair because he was fighting for justice and peace. She shouted to her uncle that he was just like Cavorth, and that she believed in him. One of the soldiers nearest to her became angry with her and struck her cheek with his sword, creating a long cut. But her words had encouraged Fredrik enough that he was able to overcome them. After that, he took her from the house and ordered her to go home, but she insisted on going with him, telling him that she knew the Varden were right. She refused to leave his side as the fled to the Varden.
In the years that have passed since then, she has always been where the Varden's army was, though she knows nothing of fighting herself. Whenever the men seem to get disheartened, she will take her lute and sing just the right song to give them hope again. And when they need a distraction, she will give them a nonsense tale to make them laugh.
Role Play Sample:
The round moon rolled behind the hill,
The sun raised up her head.
She could hardly believe her fiery eyes,
for though it was day, to her surpirse...
THEY ALL WENT BACK TO BED!
With a final flourish, Ealvale finished her ditty and took a quick bow as the men applauded her, chuckling. One man offered a hand to help her down from the table she had stood upon to sing, and she landed on the ground with the softest of thuds. They had requested this particular one that she had usually sung in the mess hall of Tonjheim and the various inns of Aberon over the last few years. Outside the cook tents hadn't seemed quite the right setting for it, but they still loved it anyway, for it made them think cheerfully of home.
She began to walk back to her tent, her mind wandering back to the songs she was attempting to compose. The Lay of Eragon Shadeslayer...or perhaps the Tale of Eragon and Saphira. She hadn't quite decided what direction to take with it. The other, however, was very nearly through.
"For never was there a love so rare
As that of Stronghammer and his lady fair," she murmurred to herself. That would be the finishing line. For the moment, she was calling it the Epic of Carvahall, but she wasn't sure if she would stay with that name either.
"Ealvale!" a voice suddenly jerked her from her silent contemplation, and she looked up to see Iorruna striding toward her. "I finally found you. Come, we must go to Lady Nasuada, for she has summoned us."
Character's name: Ealvale
Character's age: 18
Character's attitude: Ealvale is a sweet young woman without a mean drop of blood in her body. She loves everyone she meets and encourages them however she can. She is very easily terrified when she is in danger and almost never goes anywhere alone.
Character's Race: human
Character's appearance: Ealvale has a very cute, little-girlish face, not quite what many would consider beautiful, but very close. She has a long scar on her left cheek from an attack many years ago. She has grey-hazel eyes and red-gold hair that she keeps in braids. She wears a soft, quilted shirt and leggings with a red and white embroidered design. She is never ever ever without her lute.
Character's allegiance: Varden
Weapons: She carries a dagger at her side for defense, but has virtually no ability with fighting. However, if whoever she is with gets into a fight, she had a knack for reciting just the right old tale to give her comrade courage and strength, and make her enemies suddenly guilty and fearful, giving them an overall advantage.
Other Info: She is pretty much the Varden's bard. She has an uncanny, natural gift of expressing just the right words to encourage others, often through songs and tales. Oh, and if anyone wants to make her uncle, go ahead.
History: Ealvale was the daughter of one of Galbatorix's nobles, but her uncle and grandfather were Varden traitors and spies. As a very young child, she remembers sitting on her grandfather's knee as he would sing to her all sorts of cheerful little ditties, the meanings and morals of which she was somehow always able to discover. He would do this for her up until his treachery had been discovered and he had been executed. At this point, Ealvale was only six years old. Her parents had forbidden her to even speak of him anymore, and she couldn't understand why.
Two years later, Ealvale began to develop a very close relationship with her uncle, Fredrik. He would tell her many of the old tales, of particular Dragon Riders and elves, of the feats of all sorts of men. She memorized each of them by heart, reciting them to herself often.
As a nobleman's daughter, she was taught to read and given full access to almost any library she wished. She read very book she could get her hands on, filling her mind with the deeds of many people, though her uncle later explained to her just how much of it had been twisted by Galbatorix and he told her the correct version. She also learned how to play the lute, upon which she would write songs of favorite tales, and memory taught her how to play the old ditties of her grandfather.
One day, when she was eleven, she had been sitting with her uncle as he was reciting a story to her, when the door of the room suddenly burst open and the room was swarming with soldiers. They were under orders to arrest Fredrik. He refused to go with them and confirmed for them that he was indeed working for the Varden. Ealvale was a little surprised at this, but instantly to her mind came the Lay of Cavorth, a man who had sided with his family's enemies because he believed them to be right. Despite the fact that they disowned him, he refused to despair because he was fighting for justice and peace. She shouted to her uncle that he was just like Cavorth, and that she believed in him. One of the soldiers nearest to her became angry with her and struck her cheek with his sword, creating a long cut. But her words had encouraged Fredrik enough that he was able to overcome them. After that, he took her from the house and ordered her to go home, but she insisted on going with him, telling him that she knew the Varden were right. She refused to leave his side as the fled to the Varden.
In the years that have passed since then, she has always been where the Varden's army was, though she knows nothing of fighting herself. Whenever the men seem to get disheartened, she will take her lute and sing just the right song to give them hope again. And when they need a distraction, she will give them a nonsense tale to make them laugh.
Role Play Sample:
The round moon rolled behind the hill,
The sun raised up her head.
She could hardly believe her fiery eyes,
for though it was day, to her surpirse...
THEY ALL WENT BACK TO BED!
With a final flourish, Ealvale finished her ditty and took a quick bow as the men applauded her, chuckling. One man offered a hand to help her down from the table she had stood upon to sing, and she landed on the ground with the softest of thuds. They had requested this particular one that she had usually sung in the mess hall of Tonjheim and the various inns of Aberon over the last few years. Outside the cook tents hadn't seemed quite the right setting for it, but they still loved it anyway, for it made them think cheerfully of home.
She began to walk back to her tent, her mind wandering back to the songs she was attempting to compose. The Lay of Eragon Shadeslayer...or perhaps the Tale of Eragon and Saphira. She hadn't quite decided what direction to take with it. The other, however, was very nearly through.
"For never was there a love so rare
As that of Stronghammer and his lady fair," she murmurred to herself. That would be the finishing line. For the moment, she was calling it the Epic of Carvahall, but she wasn't sure if she would stay with that name either.
"Ealvale!" a voice suddenly jerked her from her silent contemplation, and she looked up to see Iorruna striding toward her. "I finally found you. Come, we must go to Lady Nasuada, for she has summoned us."
