NAME: Laandra Ama'rys RACE: Half-elf CLASS: Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline) BACKGROUND: Outlander Exile TRAIT 1: I feel far more comfortable around animals than people. In fact I feel far more comfortable around myself than animals. TRAIT 2: I'm always picking things up, absently fiddling with them. Sometimes I accidentally break them. Ok, not always "accidentally". BOND: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me. BOND ToD: For Montanus' eyes only
IDEAL: Change: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. (Chaotic) FLAW: There's no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest. Or at least there is little sense in caution when you *intend* to live life to the fullest. RP SAMPLE:
Pottery, sent flying in anger, smashed against aged wooden wall, landing across the surface of the hard packed earth of the ramshackled hut. Well worn steel utensils soon joined what was once a clay bowl full of soup. The contents themselves running down the grain of the wall landing in an ever growing puddle upon the floor. Fierce, gold eyes watched as the small drops joined together, soon forming into a puddle of thick mud.
The wicked flames of temper cooled just as quickly as they had flared. "Dammit! One more thing you have to clean up, you fool." The piercing golden orbs pulled away from the mess and refocused up the reflective surface of the crystal orb. They stared into their own reflection as a smoky feminine voice repremanded. "Control! You must learn control."
Tearing her eyes away from the arcane focus, Rys secreted it away in one of the many pockets of her robes. It had been well over a year since her exile and she still hadn't mastered herself. Still had not adjusted to her new life. Every morning she awoke expecting to feel the torrent of power flowing through her body. Every morning she awoke to the pathetic trickle she had been allowed to leave with. Every morning the promise of renewal and redemption kept her moving forward. This is not the end. This is not the end. There is purpose, there is a future, there is control. I am Laandris Ama'rys. I am more than this. Standing up, back straight, and movements full of dignity, Rys tied her golden brown hair back into a small bun. Taking a rag and an empty bucket, kept on hand for such moments as these, she began the humble task of tidying up the mess that was her temper. A simple spell would have done the job well, but that would have defeated the purpose. Humility and self-sacrifice. Those were the qualities that would end her exile - well, those among others.
The young half-elf muttered away as the soft hands worked, "I will be redeemed. I will be better. I can do this. I can be more than I was."
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DM:The Night Blade; "Well-behaved women seldom make history." -Laurel Thatcher Ulrich ;
Taken the Oath of Sangus