Eivor's Character Bio and Origin Story

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Eivor
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 10:25 pm

Eivor's Character Bio and Origin Story

Post by Eivor » Tue Aug 03, 2021 12:05 pm

Thought it would be a good idea to set a place for people to post their character bios. This is the template Im using for Eivor, feel free to use this one, change it up, or use whatever template youd like! First time doing anything like this so feedback is appreciated.

Character Bio
General Information
Full name: Eivor do Styrkja a’Seidher
Nickname: None
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Preferred Pronoun: Her
Nationality: Murandy
City of birth: Lugard
The current place for living: The White Tower
Job title: Wearied Novice
Clan: The White Tower
Marital status: Single

Background
How would you describe the childhood of the character?
Her parents were killed during a dispute between two feuding minor Murandian Lords, leaving her an orphan. Forced on the streets, she learned to survive by whatever means necessary, relying only on herself in order to survive the harsh streets of Lugard.

How would you describe the teenage years of the character?
In a botched pickpocketing attempt, the would-be victim, Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher, took pity on her, and brought her into his home, eventually adopting her as his 2nd child.

How would you describe the adulthood of the character?
A recent initiate of the White Tower, she diligently focuses on her studies, and strives to one day become an Aes Sedai. More to come.

Relationships
Father: Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher
Mother: Lady Enaida do Tilania a’Styrkja
Sisters or brothers: Adoptive brother, Lucas
Wife/husband/partner: None
Children: None
Grandparents:
Grandchildren: None
Other important persons:
Relationships with other characters:
[Isela] Friend
[Character 2]
[Character 3]
[Character 4]
[Character 5]
Physical Characteristics:
Addictions: Kaf
Bad Habits: Slow to act
Color of Eyes: Green
The color of Hair: Red
The color of Skin: Tan
Dialect:
Drinking habits: Rarely
Smoking habits: None
Disabilities: None
Illnesses: None
Does the character prefer any proverbs?
Good Habits:
Height: 5’6”
Hobbies: Reading
Type of Face: Broad and scarred
Weight: 140 lbs

Mental Characteristics
Education: Tutored during teenage years
Fears: Spiders, abandonment
Life Goals (next 5 years): Be raised to the rank of Accepted. Establish a side trade that provides income to allow for self sustainment outside of the allowance given by the White tower once Shawled.
Life Goals (next 25 years): Gain the Shawl and become and active member of the White Tower as an Aes Sedai
Self-perception: Independent and self reliant
Assumed external perception: Obtuse, distant, or disinterested
Self-Confidence: Moderate
Rational Or Emotional: Highly rational
How could you upset this character? Frivolities, tongue and cheek remarks

Emotional Characteristics
What are emotional strengths of the character?
Takes criticism well, and humble when receiving compliments.

What are emotional weaknesses of the character? Becomes irritated easily when facing illogical or inefficient requests.

Is the character an introvert or an extrovert?
Introvert

How does the character cope with fury and rage?
An arched eyebrow and a dismissive wave of the hand.
… with unhappiness?
Outward compassion, but ultimately dismissive
… with rivalry?
Thrives off of it
… with new situations?
Excitement, and an eagerness to learn
… with trouble?
Familiarity, and cool headed, direct response

What’s his or her meaning of life?
To acquire knowledge

What would the character like to change in his/her life?
To be less dependent on others for help and be able to provide assistance instead of receiving it.

What things motivate the character?
To discover, learn, and grow

What situations scares the character?

PK, being forced to act without knowledge and familiarity with the situation.

What makes this character happy?
Praise, especially for deeds done independently and without coercion

Is the character often biased?
Usually not

Does the character prefer to give or to take?
Give

Is the character rather nice or rude?
Somewhere in between
Last edited by Eivor on Wed Aug 11, 2021 12:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Eivor
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 10:25 pm

Eivor's Origin Story Part 1 --- &RPaward

Post by Eivor » Fri Aug 06, 2021 9:52 am

Ely edit 10 Aug 2021:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o

Total: 2 qps

*****************************************

A cold wind blew across the battlefield, bringing the fresh stench of death into the nostrils of Elmur Trave as he scanned the stagnant battlefield wearily. Two months they’ve been out in this light-forsaken land, fighting for the pride of men born into power. Murandian Lords always had their squabbles, but this particular one was especially pointless, something about an offense given at the dinner table by not using the right kind of silverware or some bloody thing. It mattered very little to Elmur, however. All he knew is that when his Lord called, he was expected to answer, and answer he did.
“Despite the fact that this years harvest was already delayed a flaming month because of it” Elmur muttered to himself. “My crops aren’t going to pick themselves”
Realizing he was talking to himself, Elmur gave a quick cough and pulled his eyes away from the battlefield to assess his fellow soldiers.
Solders, HA. Half of these men haven’t picked up a sword since the Aiel War, and the other half are so young, they can barely lift the sword they have.
Scattered around him were a handful of men, sitting or laying on the cold earth. They were a rag-tag bunch, all wearing armor pieced out from whatever their captain could scrounge up. The same captain that Elmur saw on the ground littered with spears during their last retreat. The remaining chain of command fell days ago in an ambush while they were making camp one evening. What was left was a dozen or so farmers, tailors, and even a fairly wealthy merchant who thought this would be a chance for him to get some excitement in his life. Now though only desperate resignation showed in the eyes of each one of them.
This battle is over, Elmur thought to himself, they all know it
As if knowing the thoughts of the men around him, from out of the trees to the East burst a large force of enemy troops. Elmur quickly assessed their numbers.
150, maybe 200 men at least. Light that’s almost a full company!
Elmur look back at the men around him. Most of them saw what he did, and if the others did as well, they showed no sign of it, death or capture...there was nothing more they could do. As the company approached, Elmur began thinking of home.
In the city of Lugard lived his wife, Orna, and their young daughter, Eivor. They had a small home in the southwest district, nothing big or fancy, but it was theirs. Elmur still worked the farm outside of the city, but most of his labor was given out to seasonal workers and his close friend, Gulver, who ran things while he was in the city. Gulver was conscripted as well and had died in the first skirmish against the opposing Lord’s soldiers.
“A damn waste” Elmur muttered, this time not making any attempt to keep it from the ears of the men around him.
Suddenly, a small band of soldiers emerged from the enemies flank, charging on horseback toward them. It was a fool’s errand, but it might be enough to let us slip away, Elmur thought.
“Let’s go boys” Elmur said the the group, “That lot is headed straight towards Lugard and we all have families there that need to be warned. If you have anything left, use it now and the light willing, that hair brained cavalry unit will delay that company long enough for us to get there before them.
Spurred by a new purpose, it took no time at all for the men to get up and start marching towards the city.
Three days into the journey, the walls of Lugard finally came into view.
We’re going to make it, Elmur thought to himself, light, we’re actually going to make it
No sooner than the thought popped into his head the sound of soldiers came drifting from the trees behind them.
“They’ve caught up to us” stammered a young cobbler’s son “It’s too late, we’ll never make”
“If we can make it to the walls, the King will protect us, won’t he?” asked another young soldier. Riken, Elmur thought his name was, a farmer’s son.
“The King” Elmur guffawed, “I wouldn’t count on the protection of the King. It’s up to you all to protect youselfs and your family, now RUN!”
Elmur knew he was right about the King, he ruled Murandy in name only. While the Lords of the land squabbled and fought over petty disputes he sat protected in his modest palace in Lugard. No, Elmur thought, we can’t count on his protection.
The men began running toward Lugard. Elmur’s legs ached from days of marching with little rest. They screamed against each step he took, threatening to give out on him at any moment. The Soldiers behind them were rested… and within view now. The walls of Lugard got closer and closer, but closer still was the sprinting company of soldiers behind them. The gates of the city stood open, and no guard posted to man them.
Where the bloody hell was the gate guard, Elrund though to himself. Is the King’s law really so lax that the city watch has become so disorganized as to fail to post a guard at the gate?
Elmur could hear the soldiers behind them, their feets tamping down the soil as they sprinted toward them. He could hear their breath panting, fueled by bloodlust. Two of the older men with him fell behind, trampled by the company of soldiers behind them, and they kept coming. Passing under the gate, Elmur knew that his life was over, the best he could hope for was to find Orna and Eivor and get them to safety before the soldiers behind them killed and robbed everyone they saw in an effort to satisfy their rage.
Left, right, another right, Elmur sprinted though the familiar streets. The rest of his band of men were long gone, either running to their own homes to warn their families or run down by the soldiers quick on their heels. Right, left, left again, he was almost there. The soldiers that chased them into the city were everywhere now. Chaos and destruction was all round him. Thick clouds of smoke were rising from the cheap wooden houses, and alarm bells were ringing through the city.
Must find them, Elmur thought desperately. Must get them out of here.
Ahead, Elmur’s house came into view, smoke billowing from its thatched rooftop from an ember passed along on the tearing winds blowing through the city. This entire section of Lugard would be under flame in moments with this wind, Elmure knew. In front of the door, a woman stood there with her arms protectively around girl, looking around in a panic as shouting and and the crashing of wanton destrruction rang out all around them.
“RUN!” Elmur shouted “Orna RUN! Take Eivor and get out of the...”
Just moments before Elmur reach his wife and child, moments before touching their outstretched hand, a sword hilt stopped him as hard as hitting a wall, the rest of the blade traveling through his abdomen and exiting his back.
Smiling, the man holding the sword turned around and started making his way towards Orna and Eivor. Terrified, Eivor was able to break free of her mothers arms. Running down a back alley, she turned back to see the lifeless body of her mother fall to the ground as the smiling man wiped his blade...she was alone now. Alone with nothing more than the clothes on her back and the diary her mother gave her just that very day.
Finding a small hollow in the crumbling wall of the outer city, Eivor crawled in. Before the last rays of sunlight sank below the horizon, a sobbing Eivor opened up her diary to write her first entry on the now tear soaked pages of her diary...

Eivor
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 10:25 pm

Eivor's Origin Story Part 2 --- &RPaward

Post by Eivor » Mon Aug 09, 2021 4:11 pm

Ely edit 10 Aug 2021:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x

Total: 4 qps

*****************************************

Sullen eyes peer cautiously from under the hood of a tattered cloak. Eivor Trave holds a worn diary close to herself, open to a half filled page and writing feverishly with a nub of coal ground down to a fine point. She stops for a moment to wipe her brow, light it’s hot today, she thought as she lowers her hand and sighs when she realizes they are coated in coal dust and her brown now surely is as well. She grimaces as she feel her stomach turn in the shallow cavity of her abdomen. Despite being mid summer, food was scarce in Lugard. She occasionally heard the farmers passing by speak of “strange times” with the crops this year, the result of numerous pests and disease decimating the fields. Even the Inns in the city that would occasionally throw out scraps from the previous evening used what little there was to feed the cats and horses. Eivor’s stomach twisted again, reminding her of her present situation.
Five years ago, during a dispute between two lesser lords of Murandy, the city was overrun and both of her parents were killed. Since then, she has been surviving on the streets through whatever means necessary.
Food, Eivor thought, food first, then shelter for the night.
She looked up into the dimming sky, dark clouds rolling in over the horizon. A storm was coming, she definitely had to find a roof tonight.
Slowly, and a bit painfully from sitting too long, Eivor stood up. She took a look down both directions of the back ally, and picked the one that entered the street less busy. It wouldn’t do to have some guard or pompous do-good citizen catch what she was about to do. Despite the hard times, the Murandian king had only increased penalties in the city for theft and disorder. The first infraction would land you in a cell, food there was worse than anything you could find lying on the ground on the streets, and besides, Eivor had already used up her 1st infraction. The 2nd and 3rd offenses led to the dismemberment of one’s hands, the dominant one taken the latter of the two. Eivor looked at her own hand and shuddered.
No, she thought to herself, it wouldnt do to get caught again…
The ally opened up into a wide street. Signs of heavy traffic littered the ground but as people started making their ways to their homes for dinner and to wait out the storm, this one was nearly empty.
Eivor began walking down one side of the street, fully aware of the comedic quality of her confident strut of a person who knows exactly where they are going combined with the image of a street urchin, who’s tattered cloths barely concealed a gaunt frame underneath.
In about an hours time, Eivor stopped roaming to sit back in a small side alley next to a rough, weather stained inn. The sign out front was clearly legible though, “The Domani Wench’s Kiss” it read. Inside, Eivor could hear the innkeeper getting tables ready for what was surely to be another raucous evening. Eivor could imagine men and women gathered in there, laughing, drinking, fighting… and she hated them for it. None of them knew what it was like wondering where their next meal was going to come from. None of them knew what it was like spending nights soaked to the bone, sleeping in the rain after being caught, beaten, and bloodied for laying down on the wrong person porch. None of them knew….
Just then the side door of the inn swung open. A skinny kitchen servant holding a stained wooden bowl poked his head out and peered into the growing shadows. Eivor quickly pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath and trying o remain perfectly still. The servant did not see her or simply paid her no mind, one look up at the sky and the growing thunderclouds and he quickly tossed the contents of the bowl out into cobblestone alleyway, and ducked back into the inn, door slamming behind him.
Eivor cautiously made her way towards the refuse, in the twilight she could make out the rough outlines of plump, but pitted turnips. The parts that remained would be in such a state that even the “fine and respectable” frequenters of the Wench’s Kiss wouldn’t eat them, and no amount of preparation could mask the foul and putrid smell emanated from their brown, shriveled surface.
Just as Eivor reached out to grab the closest one, a low growl filled the air around her. Panicked, she quickly drew her hand back and looked around. Three sets of glowing eyes emerged from the broken wooden crates piled up near the side door of the inn. As they got nearer, Eivor saw that the eyes were attached to three mangy, snarling dogs, spittle flowing freely from their tooth filled snarls.
Slowly, Eivor backed away. In the streets you didn’t last long taking chances just because you were desperate, and desperate as she was, she didn't stand a chance against three hungry dogs, malnourished as they were.
She didn’t turn her back on them until she was back into the dimly lit street, and only then once she heard their ravenous gorging on a meal that wouldn’t be fit for a trolloc, let alone a human or dogs. Sighing she passed by the front windows of the inn, a few patrons had already started coming in, sitting at the simple tables with crusty bread and steaming bowls of stew in front of them. Eivor licked her lips and stared.
She could try and sneak into the kitchen and grab whatever was handy, but it seemed to risky. Inn kitchens were always bustling places, she would almost certainly get caught, and she was rather fond of keeping both of her hands.
The innkeeper himself would take one look at her and refuse to serve her so much as a glass of water without seeing copper up front. Plus she had pulled the ol’ Dine and Dash too many times now, and every innkeeper from here to the palace knew her face and name, and not in a good way.
Eivor reached into her pockets. The piece of coal she had been writing with earlier finally was at the end of its life, and was nothing more than a thick black powder covering everything in there. Not her diary though, that was special, that was kept in a secret pocket she had sewn into the inseam of her breeches. Beside the coal dust, which she blew into the air from her palm face up, she had a rusty needle with a small length of thread attached to it, a small wooden figuring of what she thought might have been a cat (the artist was a young boy who gave it to her in exchange for half a loaf of bread she snagged from the baker one day), a water skin with a hole in the bottom, and a single copper penny.
Won’t get very far with that, Eivor realized.
Just as her stomach groaned at her for what seemed like the hundredth time today, the sound of hooves and the rolling of plated carriage wheels on stone caught here ear from the next street over. Running through another small alley that reeked of human waste, she peered around the corner of a tailor shop. This street was larger than the other, and better lit which was unfortunate for anyone trying their luck at pickpocketing unwary travelers here.
Rolling down the street was one of the most ornate carriages Eivor had ever seen. Black as the night, but polished so heavily that it seemed to glow with an inner light, the sides of the carriage were decorated with fine silver and gold scroll work. The hubs of the wheels shone a brilliant silver and even the horses wore bridles of fine leather worked with silver and gold chain. Guards marched their horse in rows straddling the carriage, three on each side. The curtains were drawn across the windows of the carriage so Eivor could not see what Lord or Lady it was that owned such an extravagant vehicle.
Eivor chuckled quietly to herself when she realized that even if she was close enough to spit in the Lord or Lady’s face, she still wouldn’t be able to put a name to them. Light, they could tell her they were the bloody King of Murandy or Queen of Andor herself and she wouldn’t know the difference.
What really caught her attention however, was the chest hanging off the back of the carriage. Surely whoever rode in such finery must carry gold, jewels, silks, anything of which could set her up for her entire life, and then some! It would’nt even be worth the thought if Eivor hadn’t noticed that the carriage guards, clearly uncomfortable with passing through this part of the city, their heads darting wildly looking from side to side, were riding too far front, expecting danger to come from any of the upcoming alley’s.
Eivor did not like stealing. Most of what she took were things that others had already thrown out themselves, and didn’t really count as thievery in her mind, despite what the law said. This though…once more and she could live comfortably, never having to steal again. Besides, the owner of this carriage obviously could afford a small loss such as this. Maybe she could even help some of the other urchins she knew. Most were cruel, nasty little children, but a few she had grown fond of, and even considered friends.
Just then, as if summoned from her very thoughts, on of the very children she was thinking of darted into the street closely in from of one of the mounted guards. The child was one of the good ones, Elsa? Elysia? She couldn’t remember, her survival instincts were kicking in. Now, now is the time! Eivor though to herself.
While the guards were busy scolding the child the nearly trampled to death, Eivor quickly but quietly made her way toward the back of the carriage. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the needle she saw earlier. The chest was locked, of course, but Eivor had found she had a knack for picking locks, discovered only during the most extreme of needful situations of course. Looking around once more, she saw nobody, but heard the guards up front finishing up explaining to the young girl, Elise, Eivor suddenly remembered, how she should run off now before they call the city guard and report her for impeding traffic.
Light, Eivor thought. Better move quick, if they are so pompous to threated a child with punishment when they clearly weren't watching where they were going, what would they do to a thief they caught red handed?
Quickly Eivor returned her attention to the lock and slid the needle delicately into the keyhole. She felt around for the tumblers inside, she could almost see them, and the metal they were made of. Deftly running through the moving arms of the lock, she heard a silently click as the last tumbler fell into its appropriate place, followed by a guard speaking hesitantly through the darkness, “Hey, is someone back there? What do you think you’re doing?”
Panic set in, Eivor quickly pulled the lock off the chest, threw the lid open and reached in. Her fingers slid through cold, smooth, metal coins. With not a moment to spare she closed her hand around as many as she could and drew them out, loose coins falling through her fingers and clinging on the hard stone street. The sounds drew the attention of the remaining guards, instantly forgetting the verbal abuse they were dishing out to the small girl they almost ran over.
The sounds of hooves rang through the street as the guards whirled their mounts toward her, followed by the dry hiss of swords quickly leaving their scabbards, but Eivor was already on the move. Sprinting into the nearest alley, she was stopped suddenly as her face planted firmly against the riveted leather cuirass of a guard, sending her sprawling back towards the pavement. Reaching out to break her fall, the coins remaining in her hand spilled out over the street as she planted her palm firmly behind her, scraping it against the small pebbles littering the surface of the street carried but the days travelers.
You light blinded fool, Eivor’s thoughts screamed to herself. You didn’t think a mark like that might have had more guards around than the obvious six in plain sight? Realization dawned on her as she saw at least a dozen more guards emerge from the other alleys around the street. They were shadowing the carriage, watching for any who might see the carriage as an easy mark.
Desperately, Eivor watched the last of the rolling coins that fell from her hand roll towards the carriage, and a fine leather boot step on it, halting its movement dead in its place, the side of the coin still shining brightly in the dull glow of the street lamps. On the side of the coin was carved a curved tear drop, the flame of Tar Valon.
Her eyes followed the boot up to velvet breeches, snug to form and being held up by a belt with a gold and silver buckle showing a symbol of a Wolf’s head. Across the person’s mid section they worse a vest inlaid with fine embroidery, lace spilling out of both the sleeves and neckline. A feathered cap sat atop the head of a man with a hardened face, a single scar running across his cheek, marring what would otherwise be seen as a pleasant expression. A small smile crept up one corner of his mouth, as he looked down at the would-be thief.
“Well, well, what do we have here, eh?” The lord spoke as he reached down to grab the coin his boot landed on. He tossed the coin up in the air and snatched with his other hand, tucking it into his belt pouch with one fluid motion.
“My Lord, you needn’t concern yourself with this filth. Please return to the carriage and we will dispose of this...” the guard speaking crinkled his nose at Eivor, as if smelling something foul beyond the dirt of the street on her “...this filth.”
“Oh needn’t I?” the Lord responded with a touch of irritation in his voice. “You are apparently the employer and I the employed now, is it? Do not assume to tell me where I can and cannot go, guardsman. I fought in the Aiel war when you were nothing more than a dirty thought in you Da’s head when he laid his eyes across the flesh of your goat-kissing mother. One street urchin is not going to be the end of me”
“Two, my lord.” another guard muttered. “There were two, they must be working together, they could be a whole lot of them ready to descend upon us at any moment!”
The lord rolled his eyes toward the second guard, staring at him flatly until he shrank back, muttering to himself and scanning the surrounding alleyways as if an ambush could come at any moment. The Lord turned his attention back toward Eivor.
“Now then, where were we? Ah yes, my name, and the name of the person who’s coins you were so hastily trying to relief him of, is Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher. And who is the urchin that lays here so dangerous apparently to warrant such of my guards mirth?”
Eivor worked her mouth silently, terrified that these were the last few moments of her life. As she worked up the courage to speak, Lord Vrisking began walking around her, gathering up the coins scattered across the street. He paused after picking up each one, looking at her expectantly. Finally Eivor found the words.
“E..E...Eivor, my lord. Eivor Trave. I...I’m sorry I stole from you, it’s just that...I was hungry and I...I throw myself at your mercy!” Eivor shouted the last bit, perhaps hoping that some form of help would hear her and come to her aide, but she knew it would not.
“Hungry, was it?” Lord Vrisking asked, arching an eyebrow. “If it was food you needed child, I have plenty, and would have offered it freely. Why rob me for want of something I surely have plenty of” Lord Vrisking gave his round belly a pat, chuckling to himself.
Eivor searched the stones in front of her, thinking of what to say next. He certainly is not like any lord I’ve heard of before, Eivor thought. Maybe there is a way out of this yet.
Looking up at the Lord, which received a disapproving hiss fro the nearest guard, Eivor responded as eloquently as she could. “My Lord, I beg your pardon, but risks are not something to be taken easily on the streets of Lugard. It was a risk to rob your carriage, yes, but it may have been riskier to ask for alms or food”
Lord Vrisking looked at Eivor inquisitively, his smile broadening into a near grin now. “Go on, child, I’ll hear your whole point before I pass judgment”
“Robbing you assured nearly unlimited gain for me, with the risk being mitigated by my timing, stealth, and guile.” Eivor continued “However, to ask would not only gain me only what mercy you were willing to provide at the moment, but the risk too of being ignored or even beaten for insolence also cannot be mitigated by my own ability and only by your will. Therefore, it was logical to me that the risk of being caught was worth a lifetime of full bellies vs yet another day of meager handouts where the sun would rise on a day I’m no better off then I am today”
Lord Vrisking’s eyes widened, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at Eivor. She slowly got to her feet, despite the growls of the guards around her, and began shuffling her feet nervously. Finally the lord burst out laughing, much to the shock of the guards around him, who looked at each other with puzzled looks.
“Can’t argue with that I suppose,” Lord Vrisking mused out loud. “Can’t argue with that”
After a moment, when the lord was able to stifle his laughter long enough, he gave Eivor a hard stare, a stark opposite of the jovial man splitting his sides with laughter a moment ago. “Well what are we going to do with ya know then, eh?” He asked to nobody in particular, stroking the his stubbled chin with one hand and lightly bouncing the coins stacked in his other “I’ll tell ya what, Eivor, was it? I’ll give you two choices. The first, I’ll give ya these coins here you were in such a hurry to run off with.”
Eivor quickly reached for the coins, it didn’t matter what the second option was, those were gold Tar Valon marks! More money than she had ever seen in one place before. It wouldn't be the lifelong retirement she planned, but she could likely live years on that.
Years of eating stale bread and only slightly better than tattered clothes, she thought to herself. Still, it would be a vast upgrade to the life she had now. She hesitated for a moment, just as Lord Vrisking snapped his hand back, wagging the finger of his other hand at her.
“OR...” He continued, “You ride with me back to my estate, I have a wife and a boy about your age, and plenty of servants around keeping the house up. My cook can always use another pair of hands, especially small ones like yours, good for getting in and scrubbing he glassware.”
He chuckled to himself, “Just don’t give her any backtalk, or you’ll wish my guards did away with ya, promise ya that!”
Kneeling down so his face was at the same level as Eivor’s, he continued, “You’ll have your own bed, a roof over your head, a full belly, and the pay is decent enough.” He looked down at the ground by Eivor’s feet, her diary had fallen out during her tumble. He picked it up, flipping through the pages dismissively, then added “Decent enough to afford a new one of these” He went to toss the book aside, and Eivor caught his wrist, surprisingly strong for a girl of ten.
“No!” She snatched the diary from his hand. “This I keep, my parents, they...they...”
A look of understanding, and that pleasant, almost fatherly look return to his face, “So be it, I assume that means your coming then, eh?”
Eivor thought for a moment, then was startled by a twitch from the lords wrist she was still holding. She was holding it too tightly, it seemed, because when she let go she could see the white outlines of bloodless skin where her hand grasped returning to its normal shade of copper. Tears began to well up in her eyes. This man was offering her a home. It wouldn't be like before, she would be a servant, not a daughter, but something about the way he showed that almost fatherly smile made Eivor think that maybe this would be the next best thing. Nodding, she placed her hand into the outstretched palm of Lord Vrisking, and together they got into the carriage.

Eivor
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 10:25 pm

Eivor's Origin Story Part 3 --- &RPaward

Post by Eivor » Wed Aug 18, 2021 2:12 pm

Ely edit 29 Aug 2021:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x

Total: 3 qps

*****************************************

In the kitchen of a large manor house located in the hills of Murandy, a fiery haired young woman hastily made her way though the throng of cooks, dishwashers, and scullery maids busily going about their duties for the feast planned for that evening. Eivor was not a small girl, but she moved with an almost snake-like agility, ducking under the hands of cooks moving hot pans from the ovens to the prep tables and dodging charging kitchen maids distracted by their own mental list of chores that needed to be completed. Not to mention the continuous flood of dogs, cats, and small children of both the staff and guests of Lord Vrisking’s elaborate birthday feast.
A general mood of glee filled the air, the area had been prosperous the last few years and that wealth was spread generously around by the mercy of Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Serdher. He had always made sure that those that worked for him were treated fairly and compensated well for the work they did and it showed in the small smiles and general peppiness of the staff as they bustled about.
Eivor let a small smile cross her own lips as reflected on her own interactions with Lord’s family. Her life was in shambles when they met, living day by day on the streets of Lugard. An attempt to rob the man resulted not in punishment, but reparation. He invited her into his home and gave her work as a scullery maid, a chance to live a better life, and better it was.
She went from days without food or even clean water to having the ability to eat whenever and whatever was available in the rich manor. She not longer slept in dark, dank alleys but now had her own small room in the servants quarters, complete with a worn pine dresser and a bed that had some lumps, but was otherwise like a cloud compared to what she was used to. Her new position in life also came with a small stipend that she could use towards frivolous purchases, as everything else she could need was provided by the estate.
Narrowly avoiding colliding into a burly dish washer at the end of the kitchen, Eivor quickly side stepped around him as his eyes widened, wondering where she had come from to begin with. She opened the doors that led from the kitchen to the back stairs that the servant used to quickly get about the house while remaining unseen by those who may be attending the Lord (They never used them outside of special occasions, as Lord Vrisking saw the notion to be “a ridiculously archaic waste of efficiency in order to satisfy arrogance”)
Lord Vrisking had sent his man servant, Lex, to fetch Eivor to attend him in his office. She typically spent her time there discussing topics of local treaties, trade assessments, philosophical debate, and even a few occasions to share a few joke so dirty it would make a bar made at the Wenches Kiss blush. A few of the newer members of the staff would whisper about their unusual relationship, sometimes verging on suggestion inappropriate intentions. These comments, if overhead by one of the more senior members, was usually met with a clap upside the head or at the least, a tisk following by a wagging finger.
The truth was that for whatever reason, Lord Vrisking and Eivor had more of a father/daughter relationship, if labels were required on such a thing. The Lady of the house, Enaida do Tiliania a’Styrka, wife to Lord Vrisking but not taking his name, welcomed Eivor just as much. The often played stones together and gossiped about members of the staff or even the Lord himself, often giving each other a warm hug before departing for the evening.
Together, the Lord and Lady had a son, Lucas, a nasty little child that earned little recognition from either his mother or father. His ill nature was fed by the fact that they seemed to favor Eivor often more times than himself, and he hated her for it.
Lucas could be seen throughout the day skulking in the dark recesses of the house, glaring angrily at Eivor or ridiculing her openly for what she wore, how she spoke (Those from the city like Eivor tended to speak quickly, often times slurring two words together into a new hybrid form for expediency's sake) and incessantly reminded her of their difference in stature he was a Lord’s son and she was the help, she will never be more than that in the eyes of his mother and father.
Some days, Eivor would be dismayed to find a dead bird under her sheets, sand in her shoes, a frog hidden in her evening meal (alive or dead) or some such prank that could only have come from the twisted mind or a hateful child such as Lucas. Once she had found that her diary, the one her mother had given her shortly before soldiers from a lesser house razed the outer city and killed both of her parents, was missing. Panic stricken, Eivor rushed about the house, tossing cushions, upending tables, and hastily opening every cupboard door in the house looking for it.
When Lady Enaida came to see what the racket was, a quick talk with Lucas found the diary buried deep in a refuse pile outside the kitchens. He hadn’t been able to sit for a week after that, and gave Eivor such a stare every time they passed one another that it sent a chill down her spine.
Lady Enaida had the diary sent to a bookbinder in Lugard to repair the damage, but the smell of rotting vegetation stuck into the fibers of the cheap paper for months. Every time Eivor opened it to jot down even the most pleasant of occurrences from the day, she would immediately break into tears when she smelled the stench wafting from the pages on her lap. A tear formed in Eivor’s eyes even now as the memory slowly drifted in and out of her mind.
Wiping the water from her eye, and straightening her dress (it was stained from her time in the kitchens today but it will have to do) she politely knocked on the oak doors of Lord Vrisking’s office.
“Come” shouted a gruff voice from the other side of the door.
Eivor opened the door and entered the office. Inside was a large oval room filled floor to ceiling with shelves of books, scrolls, and journals. In the center of the room was a worn oak desk. It’s decorative features were minimal, but beautifully done.
Sitting behind the desk was Lord Vrisking, his broad shoulders slumped forward, peering into the pages of a book Eivor recognized as “The Flora and Fauna of Murandy.” It was one she read often herself. Lord Vrisking encouraged all under his roof to take whatever books interested them and enjoy them (as long as they were prompty returned afterwards).
Eivor took a seat on one of the two green velvet armchairs in front of the desk. She ran her fingers along the arms of the chair, polished over time in part by Eivor herself as she sat and talked with Lord Vrisking about topics ranging from the events of their days to the political turmoil of Cairhein. An occasional game of Stones was also played, but Lord Vrisking often grew tired of losing. She let out a subtle cough to grab the Lord’s attention, and he looked up at her suddenly, as if realizing she was there for the first time.
“Oh. Hello Eivor, yes I called you here didn’t I?” He removed his spectacles and leaned back in his char, tapping the gold rimmed glasses against the arm of his own char, and looking at her thoughtfully. A small smile showed in the corner of his mouth as he continued. “We have had many good talks here in this room, haven't we?’ He looked around the room and gestured absently.
“Yes my Lord” Eivor responded politely. She was unsure why she had been called here, and the delay of that explanation was making her somewhat nervous. Beads of sweat started showing on her brow.
Lord Vrisking shook his head in mild frustration, “My Lord?” He asked incredulously. “Come now Eivor, you have beaten me too many times at Stones for sure titles between us, which brings me to why I called you here today.” A knock at the door interrupted him, followed by it opening to admit Lady Enaida, a smile on her face as she gracefully crossed the room to stand beside Lord Vrisking. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him, lovingly, then gave Eivor the same look.
“Lucas?” Lord Vrisking asked her, placing his own hand tenderly on hers.
A look of sad disappointment flashed across the Lady’s face as she silently shook her head.
Lord Vrisking tisked to himself then continued, “Too bad, but not surprising. Eivor,” he looked at her closely, his own face sharing the same loving features as his wife, “we have been privileged to have you in our home. We know it was not an easy transition for you, but you have thrived here beyond our wildest imaginations, and have grown quite fond of you.”
Eivor shuffled her feet nervously under her chair. “Thank you my Lor...I mean, Vrisking. I have enjoyed my time here, and am extremely grateful for everything you have done for me”
“And WE would be extremely grateful to have a daughter!” Lady Enaida exclaimed, unable to contain her bubbling emotions any longer. “Oh please Eivor, we love you so much, we truly do. We already see you as the daughter we never had, and we thought,” she looked at Lord Vrisking “we thought that we might as well make it official, by adoption. If...if that's something you would like?” She looked at Eivor expectantly.
A wave of emotions suddenly hit Eivor. None of the many scenarios she ran through her head as to why she was called here today prepared her for this. For this! Light, is this really happening? Eivor did not have to think for long, she couldn’t remember a time she was as happy as she was with these two since her parent were alive. And now they want to adopt me! Without hesitating another moment, with a grin spreading across her faces, Eivor stood up and ran around the desk to them and embraced them fervently. “Yes yes yes!” She cried out, her eyes closed tightly, pushing tears of happiness from her eyes.
The three of them held each other warmly. A family wrought with happiness and a bright future ahead. Behind the oaken doors of the office, in the dark of the hallway beyond, Lucas glared angrily at them, his mouth twisted into a jealous grimace, hatred burning in his eyes.

Eivor
Posts: 10
Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2021 10:25 pm

Eivor's Origin Story Final Part

Post by Eivor » Sun Sep 12, 2021 12:08 pm

Ely edit 15 Sep 2021:

1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.

Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: x

Total: 4 qps

*****************************************

The sun shown brightly down on the fields of the Seidher estate. The fields of wildflowers starving for water as yet another day of scorching temperatures mercilessly dried and withered the leaves of any plant the remained steadfast through this seemingly unending drought. Eivor held a hand up to the sky to protect her eyes as she looked disparagingly at the tormentor floating high in the sky.
It MUST end some time, right? Eivor thought to herself.
For 3 months the drought had lasted. First it killed off the lush grass surrounding the home itself. Eivor had enjoyed sitting out on the lawn reading to herself in the cool shade of the leatherleaf trees scattered around the yard. Now both the grass and the trees were gone, leaving only a dusty wasteland and gnarled, twisted skeletons of the trees she had once enjoyed so much.
After that the surrounding fields of wildflowers began to die. Their numbers dwindling one by one as the wretched husks of the plant next to them finally succumbed to the hot winds and blew away, now exposing their neighbor to the scorching rays. The only ones left now were spiked, wicked looking thorn-flowers, meant to be hardy against the any extreme weather the typically mild Murandian climate held for them. Even those, however, were starting to dry up.
Eivor slowly made her way back up to the house, sweating profusely as she carried a water jug in each arm up to the kitchens. The well near the house had dried up weeks ago, and the creek down at the outer edge of the fields a few days back. To get water now one must trudge down to the once great flowing waters of the River Reisendrelle. Even there, getting to what remained of the diminished body of water required wading through 50 paces of waist deep mud to get to the clear waters still flowing at the center.
Eivor stopped and set the jugs down carefully for a moment, panting heavily. Since becoming the adopted daughter of Lord Vrisking do Anatia a’Seidher and Lady Enaida do Tiliania a’Styrka, they had insisted that Eivor cease her duties in the kitchen and for that matter, any labor around the house. She was nobility now, after all.
The truth was there were very few left to do the work around the estate, and if Eivor had not started picking up more responsibility, the entirety of the estate would have withered like the fields of flowers outside. Many of the servants had left a couple weeks ago. With little water and even less food, there was no way to keep them sustained while working another mans land. Some had even died from heat sickness trying to do that very thing.
The horses too were all gone, save a stout donkey in the stables the Lady Enaida lovingly called Zyntam which translated from the Old Tongue meant “error”. Called such for his crossed eyes and the strange sideways shuffle it used to get around. Steadfast as Zyntam was, he too was barely hanging on to life, and in no condition to be put to work.
Looking at the cool water next to her, Eivor resisted the temptation to take a sip. Every drop was precious, and if given her fill, Eivor would drink every last drop to quench the thirst given by the task of fetching the water to start with.
That wouldn’t do, Eivor thought to herself. I am nothing, a charity for the Lord and Lady desperate for a daughter and a child who adores them.
Eivor was not the only child the Lord and Lady had, however. Sitting on the porch, staring menacingly down at Eivor, was her adoptive brother. Lucas was a sniveling excuse for a young man. His poisonous mood was matched only be the monstrous pranks he played on Eivor. If he was an atrocious boy before Eivor was adopted, his being challenged as the heir to his fathers estate only made him worse.
Sighing heavily, Eivor picked the jugs of water back up and started heading towards the house. As she reached the bottom steps to the porch, Lucas stood up and made his way towards her with a snake-like intent.
“Watcha doing Urchin?” Lucas asked Eivor with a sneer. He never let her forget the days she lived day by day on the streets of Lugard.
“Let me pass, Lucas.” Eivor said with a hint of disgust. “You know Mother isn’t feeling well, and she needs this water, we all do.”
“Mother!?” Lucas guffawed incredulously, spit flying from his mouth as he nearly choked on the word. “You mean MY mother? Yours is lying in the bottom of a ditch somewhere, rotting in the earth, not even the worms would have her. You’re father must have been half piss drunk when he laid eyes on her to bear YOU into this world”
Eivor’s face reddened. This goat-kissing excuse for a human had her to her last temper. I won’t fall for it. Eivor thought to herself. He’s just trying to get me upset. But Eivor was upset. She had been working so hard around the estate trying to keep things going and this monstrous little thug was incessantly trying to stop her at every turn.
Her emotions bubbled up inside of her, she couldn’t stop what was coming next, “What’s wrong Lucas, have another conversation with FATHER about how you’ll never live up to his standards? About how the child he picked up off the city streets is a better child than you’ll ever...”
An inhuman roar came from Lucas’ mouth as he started toward Eivor. She tried to step back out of his way but at that moments her foot found a small rock jutting out of the ground. With a gasp she desperately tried leveling the jugs as she fell, trying to save as much water as she could from soaking into the thirsty soil. Water splashed all around her, the jug in her left hand slipped out and crashed to the earth, its contents darkening the soil around it for a moment before drying up the match the rest around it.
Moving the jug in her right hand into a protective cradle with both arms, Eivor hit the hard dirt with a crash and her head slammed violently down behind it, still holding the water jug upright as her vision blurred. Once the stars cleared from her vision, Eivor moved the jug in her arms around to find that about half of the cool liquid remained.
Dazed, she saw through blurry eyes Lucas walking toward her with a twisted grin on his face. Silently he lowered his trousers and pointed toward the jug.
“N...n..no Lucas, you...can’t” Eivor stammered, barely staying conscious.
Lucas let his stream flow into the jug, not exactly being careful to not spill over onto Eivor as well. Raged filled her.
Closing her eyes tightly Eivor began to scream. The wind began picking up around them, swirling in small eddys at first and growing into a torrential storm of violent air. The sound was deafening. Vaguely Eivor could hear Lucas shouting. Through narrow slits in her eyes she could see him swatting and ducking to avoid brush and branches that were being wrenched down from the remains of the leatherleaf trees around them.
As the storm grew around her she found herself becoming calm. She imagined herself as a rosebud opening up to the sun, that scorching sun. Eivor felt distance surprise when she realized the violent storm raging around her left her untouched.
She stood slowly, letting the tainted water jug roll off to her side. Surprise washed over her again as she moved toward Lucas, and the ferocious wind tunnel moved with her. Lucas was cowering against the rails of the porch, hot tears streaking his dust covered face as the winds whipped at him mercilessly.
“W...whats happening? E..eivor? Are you doing this?”
Am I? Eivor thought briefly. It was a quick distant thought, rage pressed in round her calm, threatening to shatter the peace that filled her. She looked down at the wretched creature groveling at her feet.
“I am done being the victim of your cruelty” Eivor said calmly to Lucas. “I am done suffering you’re insolent and petty attempts to hurt me.”
Lucas looked up at her, then around at the swirling winds around him. He looked up at Eivor, and found a brief moment of courage as he sneered, “You are nothing, Urchin, you don’t scare me. Mother and Father are going to see what you are. They’ll see what you are and send you away! You’ll be back on the streets begging and scrounging for the scraps of the likes of me! WITCH!”
It was too much. The rage sliding over the void that held Eivor at bay shattered her to the core. She screamed out, throwing her hands forward toward Lucas, “NOOO!”
An unseen force slammed into Lucas, smashing him through the rails of the porch and against the wall of the house. Somewhere though the rage, Eivor could hear a thunk as Lucas’ head met firmly against the stone wall. It wasn’t right, Eivor’s thoughts raced through her head. It wasn’t right that one person can be so cruel to another. How could he do this? How could he make her do this? Light, HAD she done this?
As realizations crept upon her, a voiced spoke quietly from the cracked door of the house, “Eivor? Eivor, what have you done?”
As the dust settled around her, the scene around Eivor brought her to her knees. Lucas lay limp against the wall of the manor, blood flowing freely from a wound on the back of his head. Eivor’s eyes slowly moved to door that the voice originated from. It was open a bit more now, shaded by the strong form of Lord Vrisking. He wore a dark face, his eyes darting from Eivor to Lucas, working his mouth silently.
Suddenly the door burst open the rest of the way, and Lady Enaida pushed past Lord Vrisking. She ran quickly to Lucas, eyeing Eivor warily. She began sobbing while holding Lucas in her arms. Lord Vrisking slowly walked over to Eivor. He went to one knee and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Eivor, what happened, what have you done?” He asked again, with searching eyes.
“I….I don’t know. He just made me so angry, and I...I couldn’t have done this could I?”
“It is something that few can.” came a voice from the lawn.
Both Eivor and Lord Vrisking spun suddenly toward the woman that spoke. They had not seen her approach. Eivor realized that she was quite beautiful. She wore a long pale red silk dress, divided for riding. Its embroidery seemed to have been stitched organically into the silk, following the slim outline of the woman wearing it. A glittering Kandori necklace lay below an ageless face, staring at her like a hawk. Standing next to her was a sinewy framed man in a leather jerkin. He stood with his arms crossed, seemingly at ease, but something told Eivor he was poised to be lethal at a moments notice.
Without another word, the woman hurriedly walked up the steps of the porch toward Lucas, ignoring the protests from his mother. She knelt down and placed both hands on his face.
“Not gone yet.” she muttered to nobody in particular.
Suddenly, Lucas’ eyes shot open and arched his back, tring to pull free from the woman's grasp. She held him firmly amidst his convulsions and shouts. As soon as it began, it was over. Lucas sat there panting heavily. The woman stood up slowly and returned her attention toward Eivor.
“My name is Jovia, this is my warder, Gregory. We were passing by on the road nearby on our way to Tar Valon when I...felt what you did here.”
Warder, Eivor thought to herself. The amount of reading she had done made it abundantly clear who this woman was. An Aes Sedai!
Before Eivor could say anything, The Aes Sedai continued on, “That much power is rare, and quite dangerous if left untrained. You must come with me, child, it is not safe for you or others unless you are taught to control this power.”
Shaking her head, Eivor began to sob. “I didn’t mean to….I...I won’t do it again, I promise!”
The calm face of the Aes Sedai slipped a moment to annoyance before returning to it’s former state. “That is not possible, girl, and I have no time for childish protests. Gather your things, and quickly. Bring only what is dear to you, the Tower will provide the rest.”
Turning her attention to Lord Vrisking, Eivor searched his face for help, but there was none. “You must go, Eivor.” Lord Vrisking said slowly. “We love you but… it’s not safe for you to stay here.” His eyes darted to Lucas, it clearly wasn't her safety he was worried about.
Still sobbing, Eivor ran up to her room. She quickly gathered a few dresses, books, and personal items she held dear went head back down. Quickly she turned back. On the nightstand next to her bed she grabbed her diary. She wrote down a quick entry, tears falling onto the pages, making the ink bleed slightly. When she was done, she tucked it into her pack, walked downstairs, then continued on down the dirt path leading toward the manor.
Ahead, where the path met the road, stood the Aes Sedai and her warder, impatiently standing next to their horses, with a third saddled and waiting for her. Looking back, she saw the Lord and Lady standing on the porch, holding each other and watching her leave. Lucas was nowhere in sight. Just before she turned again, Lord Vrisking put a hand up to wave to Eivor. She smiled slightly and waved in return. She turned finally to join the Aes Sedai and the warder, beginning a new chapter in her life.

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