Post by nemix on Jan 20, 2011 17:37:58 GMT -5
Tiael
Name: Tiael
Age: 22 Turns
Gender: Female
Prisoner: Yes
Crime: Theft
Craft/Rank: Prisoner/Candidate/Thief/Miscreant/Acquirer of all your shiny objects. (Cause, two scheming minds is a FABULOUS idea ^.^)
Appearance: Tiael is of medium height for a woman with curves filled out nicely where every woman should have them, without them being obscene thankfully. Her body slender and supple, hiding surprising strength in her limbs. Her travelling and rather nomadic lifestyle had always kept her in good shape. Then again so had climbing walls, running from watch-whers and hiding in lakes to avoid being caught. Now her stint as a prisoner toiling the fields has done nothing but keep this up. The food, also a little to be desired, ensures she rarely puts on; not that she minds. No, she makes sure she keeps herself strong, because this is a prison after all, not everyone in there is nice. Plus, she's found in recent turns that being flexible can have other benefits best left out of polite conversation.
So there is Tiael, slender, strong, average in height but not average in looks, at least when dressed up. Her cheeks are rounded, tapering to a soft chin. Her face is framed with almost shoulder length brown hair again (shaving it all off had actually annoyed her far more than her time in detox), light blonde almost in the tips through Faranth only knows what means. She often used to braid odd sections of hair for Gathers and other social events, when she would equally dress in forest greens and golds that tend to match her sun-kissed complexion. Skirts, fitting bodices and dresses (usually 'borrowed' for the occasion) were often her choice. She loves flair and style at a party or celebration, favouring intricate patterns in her jewellery and finely embroidered sewing over plain fabrics. Should she ever find a way out of the sharing prison, she's sure she'll still find her tastes the same. Her eyes are a honey gold, bordering on light brown, often warm and twinkling with mischief despite the abysmal conditions around her.
When she was trying to play things decidedly low key, she tended to opt for a far more practical approach to her dress. Hair swept back into a tail or bun, she would swap the extravagant dresses for dark, tight fitting tops, leather pants and a leather jerkin for some added protection while she is climbing. She usually bound her wrists and opts for gloves if she will be scaling more vertical surfaces rather than needing acrobatics to get herself into and then out of trouble. At least, before Warden's. These days she wears the delightful red overalls that come with prisoner life. Still, a girl can remember and dream, right?
Not everything has gone smoothly for her as you can guess, what with her being a prisoner and all...a long, rather neat scar across her side and stomach merely emphasises that, however she takes steps to keep it covered for the most part. Being almost gutted at sword point is not something you tend to make common knowledge, so she hides it away in nearly all of her outfits. Another rather unsightly blemish she tries to ignore is an old set of claw gashes to her upper right thigh from a brush with a Wher that very nearly ended in her own demise. All things best kept safely away from prying eyes, they only tend to feed rumours and Tiael is, after all, trying to behave like a good girl and show just how umm, reformed, she is.
Personality: Tiael is, lively. That encompasses much and and the same time little, about this feisty young woman. A bit of a dare devil, Tiael takes risks and tends to forget the rulebook even exists, let alone where she left it. Why would someone want to live a life of rule breaking and danger? Well, it's just not fun if you don't, is it?
A more blunt person would call her a thief, a scoundrel, a troublemaker and those would be on a good day. Her reputation among the trading caravans and now Holds has caught up to her, though to Tiael it simply made the game more fun. At least, until she was thrown over to Wardens. Still, she's not really let that take away her natural inner fire. She has what one might lovingly refer to as a 'shiny complex' and others would call a sharding lack of respect for other people's property. A collector of items, mostly of fancy, Tiael loves the thrill of the capture of these more than the items in question. Without her 'missions' she has a tendency to become horribly bored, short tempered and an all round grouch. Thankfully with Wardens, she's currently determined to find her way out of life as a prisoner and this could possibly be her biggest 'mission' of them all. With the idea of trouble lurking around shadowed corners and the prospect of freedom dangled just out of her reach, she is being upbeat and energetic. Her mind meanwhile is being calculating, manipulative and should really be worrisome for those who think they're in charge of her. After all, she just needs to figure out the best way off this rock right?
Tiael lives by her own rule-set, out for herself and out to profit where she can. Not because she is greedy (not in her eyes anyway), but because it has helped her to survive comfortably so far and she sees no reason to stop now. People are, useful, but she rarely connects or stays in contact with anyone for long. Seeing as most folk are easily manipulated, Tiael has learned to exploit her talent for making people believe they are 'special' to her, when usually they are a means to an end. That is not to say she hasn't considered taking someone under her wing. A second set of hands and eyes are useful, however she usually grows tired of people before ever getting very far with this endeavour. So for now, she operates alone, conspiring against the system, escaping it where possible, and attempting to enjoy a life of simply acquiring the things she wants or needs.
In social situations she is quite charming, friendly, tends to be warm. Of course, people tend to trust happy people more than grumpy ones. She makes a point to be seen, to help, to work well with others, especially if she plans to hang around somewhere for a while. Get in good with the locals, get out of town well with their belongings later. That isn't to say things don't backfire. They have, on more than one occasion too. Especially when it comes to people that catch her eye. She doesn't tend to worry much about rank or social opinions, simply pursues her, creatures of interest, with as much focus as she does her shiny objects. This has often landed her in more trouble than her thievery and she's been chased out of more holdings than she can remember. Still, it's always fun at the time and one or two stick out as fond, if rather rushed, memories. The pay-off is worth the trouble in her book. Here at Warden's she's been careful so far to keep to herself mostly, however there are a few people around who have caught her attention. She's simply yet to put anything into action, as it were.
History: Tiael as one might expect, began life as something of a stray. Her mother died shortly after birthing her and she was simply brought along with the trading caravan that she'd been travelling with. Fostered by one of the women there along with her five other children, Tiael grew up living the rather rough life of a trader. She was quick to grow, quick to study, and quick to learn to give as good as she got. It was during these early, formative years that she realised something. They never stopped anywhere long, certainly not long enough for anyone to get to know her. They were a small, isolated group in many ways, unknown by any really, known of by many though. Their caravan carried leathers mainly in the summer months, woven fabrics throughout the rest of the turn along with whatever goods they could barter for well in one area and drag to another to sell for profit. There was also one main rule on the caravan. Despite its growing appeal, there would never be Dust. Dust, was not something permitted among her 'family' and has, to Tiael, always been something to be avoided. This point she likes to make adamantly clear to this day, but we digress.......The long stretches on the roads gave her thinking time, and time to imagine. Daydreaming was something she was often chided for but honestly, anything was more interesting than watching yet another hill roll past.
She dreamed of daring escape from the trader life, of slipping away at a Crafthall and devoting herself completely to study. Perfecting a far more noble art, like Harpering or perhaps something more rugged like Blacksmithing. The latter would be a challenge, but she was skilled with her hands, she could make it work she was sure. The problem with Tiael, was that these dreams never lasted long. Once she was past the daring escape, the quick and sly talking that would secure her life there, she often found she couldn't imagine any more. The humdrum of study awaited after that, endless hours toiling away in stuffy rooms and throwing herself into her work. In her head, she could imagine herself, quiet, studious, working hard. In her heart though, she always knew she'd get bored. She got bored of lectures and lessons on bartering, though she did learn when to spot a rare find or well priced deal. Still, it wasn't enough to keep her interest and her attention always wandered. The idea that she could knuckle down and really work, was rather alien and almost impossible, if she was being honest. One thing was certain though, her small, insular group was doing nothing for her itch to get out there and do something worthwhile.
When she turned thirteen her eye for accurate, quick appraisals had won her a fair amount of respect from her peers, though the adults were often disinclined to listen to a child. This all came to a head during one sunny summer gather, where she was rummaging among the other trading stalls, keeping an eye out for something pretty that interested her. She found it too, a small broach. Nothing too fancy, but it had a sheen to it, shaped into a shell and polished up. It was also ridiculously cheap. With a grin, she had held it to the light, and then began to rummage in her purse.
“Wouldn't do that if I were you.” The burly voice of Nemit, a fellow trader spoke suddenly. She frowned, eyed the piece again, and then shrugged.
“If it's overpriced that's ok, I just like it.” She replied, dipping once more for her marks. The broach was snatched from her fingers a moment later, a dramatic sigh issued from Nemit.
“Can't let you go wasting your money lass.” He said firmly again, tossing the broach down and steering her forcefully away. Annoyed, she was adamant it had been a perfect deal. Every argument was thwarted though, and as the afternoon passed on she began to forget about it. It wasn't until later that she realised a few of her group were missing, so she passed among the stalls again. There, huddled round the jewellers stall, they all stood, Nemit included.
“See here, look at the shine on it, pretty right? Catch many an eye, good deal too. Can't beat that price neither. Gonna earn me a pretty mark once I've paid for it here, you know they love this stuff over in the west.” He was saying, waving something about. Squinting, Tiael headed closer, watching as the broach from earlier was waved into view for all to see. Outraged, Tiael puffed up her chest and marched over, peering upwards defiantly at Nemit.
“You absolute tunnelsnake!” She cried, thumping him hard on the hip with his fist. “Absolute, thieving, tunnlesnake of a man!” She bellowed, thumping the man about the waist, chest, finally cheek as he buckled over in surprise and dismay. “You told me not to buy it! You told me! You.... you liar!” She said, snatching the broach from his astonished hand this time, and glaring. “That was my deal and you were going to steal it, from under the nose of a child! You should be ashamed.” She said with a growl before shoving the trinket in her pocked and turning on her heel. Striding away, she stormed across the gather square, walking until she could finally calm down.
Slowly, her hand reached into her pocket, pulling out the shell broach and running her thumbs over it. She'd show him, she'd get twice the price for this at -
That's when it dawned on her, she hadn't actually paid for it. That small thing in her hands, was now hers. Hers and no one else's. She hadn't handed over a thing, no one had come after her, nothing had happened, she'd simply wanted it enough....and now it was hers.
It's funny, what effects experiences have on young minds. Right then for Tiael though, something changed. She decided, that if she just went about things in a certain way, she could have all the nice things she wanted. All the shiny things, she could take the items she saw that were worth more. That were wasting away in dusty and forgotten places, disused and unwanted. She could have those things she wanted in life, shiny trinkets, comfortable clothes, all she had to do was...take them. Of course, she couldn't just walk up and start picking up everything in sight, oh no. This had worked, because the timing, the situation, everything had been just right. What if, she made situations like that? What if she sort of, helped things along till she was in a position to have the things she wanted? That had to be better than what was going on now, besides, life was already dull, surely this would liven things up? Her mind whizzed away, fizzing behind her eyes as a plethora of opportunities seemed to splay themselves out to her. She was barely known by people outside the caravan, they drifted for days, stopping in fancy Holds, Halls, even Weyrs! So many things that were prone to being left behind, or unappreciated. She'd appreciate them, oh yes, far more than their previous owners. She barely had a thing, she'd make good use of those extras that people could really do without.
From that day on, Tiael put herself to work with a new kind of enthusiasm. Her outburst at the Gather had earned her a swift reprimand, though no one had removed her hard won treasure. She swiftly realised that if she was going to get more opportunities to wander unnoticed, she'd need to behave and earn some trust back. So that's what she did. She got involved, worked hard, asked questions, listened and even began to joke around with her peers. It was taxing, mind numbing at times, but it paid off. She was allowed more freedom, trusted with more duties and given free reign again at public occasions. From then on, it was a case of perfecting the art of conversation, distraction, slight of hand and other small time ventures that could help her get her mits on small trinkets and items. New combs, jewellery, one of her earliest and most joyous ventures had seen her walk off with an entire Gather outfit made from fine material. The entire lot had to be hidden, squirrelled away with her belongings until much later when she could wear it without people wondering or putting two and two together, but she often stayed up, studying the intricately sewn blouse and skirt, loving the soft texture and vibrant colours.
This continued across a span of turns, until she was sixteen, and she then realised fast running out of space. She was inventive, hiding most things or dirtying them slightly to make them appear old. People didn't pay too much attention if you were careful about it. Besides, she was becoming well liked, a valuable member of the team, why would anyone point a finger at her? There were far more shady characters to throw suspicion on when, by unfortunate chance, something was discovered that someone had very vividly remembered being at Hold or Hall just before they'd left. Still, this feuding and suspicion merely increased tension on the caravan. It would bring things to breaking point she realised, if she let it get that far.
It was a situation which had been puzzling her for a while, she was trying to find a good reason to leave, to get out before it got too difficult. While keeping all her possessions of course. In the end, she decided to feign illness at the next Hall, she'd have to, tragically fall behind and try to catch up on fast horses later, or perhaps on the next caravan through. That should work well, if she hid her belongings around then she'd get to keep them too. There was only one problem, she needed a small sum of marks to really get herself going in the world. There was only one person who kept these around in any kind of a supply, Lyral. He was safe keeper for the caravan, handing out marks earned and otherwise watching the finances of the whole place closely. She wouldn't take them all, but she'd need a few, and she'd need to get them before they stopped at the Hall because he'd be watching them like a hawk once they were there.
It was late one spring night not too long after her plan was formed, that she decided it was a good a time as any. She snuck along to his small cot, knowing the box of Marks was kept underneath. Quietly, she reached under, her hand closing on the box and moving it noiselessly out. She didn't dare open it in here, there were too many other people and it wasn't going to be a quiet process. Best take the box away, take what she needed, and slip it back. If she'd been a little more aware, and less focused on what she was about to do, she might have noticed things weren't right. As it happened though, this wasn't the case. A sharp and heavy thud across the back of her skull sent her sprawling as she exited the caravan, the box flying from her hand and girl and marks sprawling all over the mud.
“Gotcha.” A familiar voice hissed at her ear. Groggy, she tried to stand up, but a firm boot held her down. “Just you wait till they find out it's you.” The voice sneered, and she grimaced. Nemit had found her, caught her red handed, and there was nothing she could do. Her mind raced, trying to work out what to do until she was yanked up fiercely by her hair. “They'll see you hung for this my lass.” He hissed, grinning as she felt the jab of a blade at her side. She winced, looking around desperately and wondering why he hadn't made more noise. Wouldn't he want to wake them all up? Alert them all to what she'd done? He was chuckling though, reading her expression clearly. “No rush lass, no. You and me are going to spend some......quality time together first.” He sneered again, and Tiael's mind screamed. Without waiting to find out more, she kicked him in the kneecap, hard, hearing a sickening crack. He yowled in pain, reaching for his knee as he fought to keep his balance and letting her slip free. Staggering to her own feet, she fought to keep her balance as a grating sting of metal flashed along her stomach and raked up her side. She didn't stop, she didn't look back, she merely grimaced and charged for the trees.
They provided ample cover, and she was in them before most had woken. She couldn't stop though, they'd be out with the canines soon. Another grimace as she realised she was far from ok, her shirt was soaking with blood, but she made herself walk, heading for a river. It was cold, but it would keep the canines off while she looked for a shelter. A small cothold was to save her life later, a brief lie about crazed bandit attacks had seen her in the door, and her wound patched up. No one came for her, no one chased her down and Tiael counted herself lucky.
She was away, but not as she'd intended. She rested at the cotholding, healed, worked off her debt to the people, and then pushed on. She was truly alone now, and redoubled her efforts to get good at obtaining the things she wanted. She could talk her way into lodgings at most places through small stories of fabricated troubles, and minimal work to pay off her debts. She often picked up an item or two on the way, nothing too big though, she always kept on the move. She became talented at manipulation, as well as thievery. She learned more about sneaking around, pawning off her items for marks, and kept herself fit and agile as she moved across the Northern continent. Thievery, seemed to be on the rise, what with the crazed thirst for Dust keeping people living a lives on the edges of society, and she was usually in the thick of it. Not doing Dust, no no, why blow your brains out on something that wouldn't let you appreciate your hard won treasures? It simply lumped her actions in with a whole other section of people, in some ways it made it easier. Tiael was likeable, worked hard, and clearly never touched Dust so why would she have reason to steal? Still, the rising threat from the addicted population put many on edge, but Tiael just upped her game. Staying one step ahead, she continued to find the whole thing thrilling despite her brush with death. She had another similar one at twenty two turns which was to put rather a large stop on proceedings.
Along with shiny objects, Tiael was developing a small weakness for pretty people. Usually women, though there were so many stories floating around about a rather mysterious thief who flattered and flirted her way to anything, people would be hard pressed to truly know who she actually bedded. It was a Lord Holder's daughter that finally landed her in the thick of things, she was a pretty thing, about Tiael's age, soon to be married off and frightfully unhappy. Wine and comforting company had soon taken a rather unexpected, but happy turn as far as Tiael was concerned. At least, till her father had burst in just as Tiael managed to figure out how to undo all the catches on his daughters bodice and was throwing it to the floor. Well, as one might imagine, she wasn't exactly made welcome after that. A whole Guard was put on the chase, and Tiael was doing rather well, till she ran into their watch-wher and was promptly pinned under the ugly beast's legs. She suffered a large and deep wound to her upper thigh where the smelly thing had scrabbled at her, trying to hold her still. Eventually, she'd passed out from the pain.
Upon waking, she found herself in a cell. A small, smelly, room that was supposed to hold her? Pah! Her leg hurt something fierce though, and she had to concede to wait and bide her time. As her leg healed, her mind worked, and after some clever talking, a few hairpins and a length of string, she had managed to pick the lock and flee into the wilds again.
From then on, things were trickier. The Lord had informed his neighbours of the miscreant, and life for Tiael became hard indeed. Rumours can be such nasty things, clearly she'd been trying to secure Dust, clearly she was half crazed out of her mind! There was a reward placed on her head, a new one for Tiael. Were things really so different these days? It meant her travelling had to push much father afield.
Constantly moving, constantly on watch for those who wanted reward money, or simply to get rid of 'just another Dust addict' she was forced to try and keep one step ahead. But you can't really, can you, not forever. Eventually she was picked up by a patrol near High Reaches, and then hauled up to the Weyr to be left in their charge by the angry Lord whose lands she'd been found stealing from, well, how else was she supposed to eat exactly when she was between marks? A little bemused, they agreed to hold her and figure something out. Once again, Tiael played along, tried to fit in and behave as they wanted. Least till the door was open. The problem with riders is, once you get out of the Weyr, they don't have to spend much time trying to track you down. Each time she made a break, they swept her up and locked her behind more doors. It was, frustrating.
Finally, they grew tired of her games, and began to look for someone else to throw her at. A solution came their way in the form of Warden's Weyr. Tiael had been behaving for a while now, but they were well past trusting her façade. With Faranth only knew what kind of people being shipped off to an island, in the middle of the sea, they believed she'd be best kept there. People could keep an eye on her, she couldn't really be trusted but at least she'd be out of their hair. So she was transferred, as a prisoner, and not much more passed on to her new wards. Tiael has been there nearly a turn and a half now. She's been behaving, watching with slight interest the change the Queen and her Blue mate had brought. As ever, she's watching and waiting. Despite the depressing conditions, Tiael is content to play the game and see if she can puzzle her way out of this one. Dragons are seeming a good option at the moment, however she still has to overcome that tricky problem of actually Impressing one.
Other stuff: Uhmmm, please don't eat her? She's a new char so may take some getting used to >.>
Pets
None (seriously, would you trust her with a pet???)
Roseth
Desc Roseth is a medium sized green, thin and amazingly quick, more speed and precision than actual strength. Her hide is a pale green, dark green vine like markings on various parts of her body.
Personality
Perhaps not the most sociable of dragons, Roseth is nevertheless enthusiastic about life, death, and everything in between. She finds no shame in being anything in life as long as she can live without regrets; what point does it play when the big picture rolls around? Doing things halfheartedly is a concept she refuses to acknowledge and if anyone were to suggest to her to just 'go with it', Roseth would do her right best to pull them along for the ride and make them sit up front, shardit. Being stuck at Warden's Weyr for the rest of her life doesn't bother Roseth overmuch, the green preferring to see it as an unexplored territory without that color bias she hears so much about from the more traditional of persons within the Weyr.
Where else can a green become a Wingleader? Perhaps not Weyrleader because that specific title would involve Chasing a Queen and that would get a tad bit awkward. Roseth is the sort to think about those things, plot out her life with vague goals and little planning on how to get there. Lists, details, flash cards - none of them matter. Once Roseth sets her mind to a goal (such as the best wingleader in the entire Weyr), she will go for it! All while not forgetting to stop and smell the flowers, wander along the sea shore, play with that delightful wild flit.
Despite being easily distracted, Roseth is something fondly referred to as a 'rank climber'. When Roseth says she wants to be top in her class, Hers would be wise to believe it, same with any desires spoken to become wingleader, head of guard or anything of the sort.
She loves Hers, Snowth, and anyone Hers loves! Invidith, not so much, and Djith, Caninth, and, surprisingly, Cabarath are all met with some level of suspicion. The sneaky ones are dangerous. When it comes to gossip, Roseth will listen to everything, talk about nothing, and she can, surprisingly, keep a secret.
Why Me?
Can we say 'power couple'? Roseth certainly can! She sees Tiael as a complete asset, someone to compliment her desire for a higher rank with the practicality required to reign in someone as enthusiastic as the Green. Tiael has the scheming side of her, to help Roseth reach her goals, and while Roseth is a very enthusiastic dragon, Tiael will easily be able to reign in the excitement with a few well placed reassurances and plans for the future. Tiael, on the other hand, gets someone in love with life and wants to show her how to live it to the fullest.
