Marie
Feb 7, 2015 23:30:16 GMT -6
Post by Marie on Feb 7, 2015 23:30:16 GMT -6
Name: Marie
Class: Seer
Age: 54
Born in: Remi, Ilia
Appearance:
It's quite obvious on first sight that this cultured woman has seen her share of the world. From the stains of her laugh lines to the number of time-tested grief wrinkles crisscrossing her face, Marie has aged quite well from being the young looker she once was, all considered, even with the accelerated aging that comes with years of magic use and combat stress. She stands at a fairly short 5'4" at her best posture with a similarly fragile build to match, as is typical of most who dabble in the magical of arts. Long, quickly fading silver-teal hair falls just a few inches past her shoulderblades, left for the most part to fly freely but with several strands tidily knit in a number of length-containing braids and knots. Her eyes, most notably, are a very pale orchid purple in color, leaving people to automatically assume she is blind. Many are quick to dismiss this old(er) woman as an actual threat, but rest assured, she is no pushover.
As far as her traveling attire is concerned, Marie dresses in a style that may seem a bit gaudy for a combat medic, but remains mostly practical, as far as retaining mobility is concerned. Her outfit begins with a simple enough white blouse trimmed with gold lace. Lofty purple pantaloons gathered at the ends meet at her knee-length dark leather riding boots. To fit, she wears belt of gold and leather wraps around her waist, making place for two of her tomes, one on each hip, and various bags of small reagents and healing supplies that would otherwise not go in her over-the-shoulder satchel. A several-times sown over heavy purple travel cloak falls over her back, with trimming suggesting it once belonged to a shaman of some sort. Finally, a faded golden headpiece and hair comb, passed down from her own grandmother, sits atop her head, holding a white silk headscarf keeping back the length of her hair.
In contrast, Marie's current and long-time steed, a fairly old white mare named Titania, appears fairly bare in comparison. She is a fairly short horse to match a fairly short rider, no less. Like her rider, Titania has seen her share of combat, sporting a comfortable tanned saddle and harness over a fairly long, braided mane, along with extra loops and straps on the side for which Marie's various staves can be stowed. As with most seasoned mage knights' horses, this loyal steed sports a simple plate chest guard, her only means of protection, as well white plate face mask- most curiously, an aesthetic golden "horn" has been attached to the face plate, creating it the illusion that she is, in fact, a unicorn of sorts.
Personality:
Feisty, flirtatious, and more than just a little bit embarrassing, the inner fire of youth has not left this kindred spirit just yet, mark her words. Contrary to what most might expect from a practitioner of elder magic, Marie is surprisingly fiery and animated, even if she is sometimes subject to her class' predisposition for chaos and trickery. Deeply ingrained into this Seer is a thirst for adventure and experience the world beyond the mundane, and with it comes a liveliness that even old age cannot seem to contain. Having since long evolved from being ashamed of herself, Marie's goal now lies in being able to enjoy life wherever it presents itself, sharing long stories of her travels and helping others where she may, acting snarky all along the way.
This former troubadour's vivaciousness and lust to live her life shouldn't be mistaken for foolhardiness, however. While Marie is sometimes struck with bouts of wonderlust and questionably dotty behaviors, with age has come quite a bit of experience, knowledge, and wisdom. Perhaps Marie's greatest crux, however, is her difficulty with holding onto relationships and allowing others to become close, given her history of loved ones leaving and dying off on her. She may not be immediately friendly to those she meets in her daily exploits, but sure enough, this semi-bitter demeanor lightens up with time- just be wary not to leave a bad impression on her, however, or her stubbornness just might remember it forever. Make a friend in this curious, gruff, and yet motherly grandmother and one might find a loyal ally in her yet.
Story:
Marie's personal background is a rich and varied one, if vague and seemingly never quite the same on each retelling. The sixth and last child and second daughter of a family of quite well-off but staunchly patriotic Ilians, Marie was born with the path of war laid before her. Like the brothers and sister that preceded her, and her parents and grandparents even before that, upon her coming of age, she would be quickly shipped off to learn the mercenary trade. Where her brothers were sent off to an elite training academy further in the country before signing with a mercenary group, Marie and her sister were instead sent to the world-renowned mage academy in Delfia, Etruria, to learn the way of the troubadour. Up until then, she was a fairly obedient girl, if a bit more loud than most expected, but her inner firebrand spirit craved freedom.
Marie's few years of training at the mage academy began quite... poorly. She was admonished quite often by the sisters of the church for wearing extra accessories she'd bought in the town bazaar along with her uniform, or for speaking out of turn when it came to learning the scripture, or for sneaking out of services to watch the mages in the adjoining wing channel the spirits of nature. Indeed, the forbidden was all the more exciting for this girl, and had it not been for the risk of expulsion after nearly destroying a priceless statue of the Saint herself, she would have continued. However, the thought of upsetting her mother and father was beyond reproach, and, with a great sigh, Marie mellowed out up until the day of her graduation. While she was never entirely convicted by the higher faith of the church, she left Etruria with a strong letter of recommendation just the same, returning to her homeland of Ilia with praise.
It wasn't long before Marie was picked up by a mercenary group, what with a constant shortage of combat medics and her talent with a staff. Alongside fellow Ilian soldiers, she and her squadron were given free reign to round the continents, following the trail of gold to bring back to their frozen country. Now was the time where Marie could finally be the free spirit she wanted to be, and for a while, the illusion of glory lasted her through battles. However, when the first of her fellow mercenaries fell in a political skirmish that she had no reason to be in, the troubadour slowly began to doubt herself and her abilities. As time went on, she'd gain long stories of exploits in bandit fortresses and other grand and heroic feats, but also the growing guilt of personal tragedy. It wasn't until she finally met her husband and the father of her only son, Desmond, years and years after leaving her mercenary campaign while exploring the world, that Marie would finally find a reason to come to terms with herself and settle down back in the mountains of her motherland.
All was quite nice in Marie and Desmond's little cottage in the small hamlet of Mysidia, where their only neighbors were fellow Etrurian scholars who sought the peace only a frozen wasteland could offer. Her husband was, in fact, a practitioner of elder magics himself, and perhaps that forbidden allure was what attracted Marie to him in the first place. He was the wise and collected blue spirit to her fiery and passionate red, and they complimented each other perfectly. Before long, though out of wedlock, their son Etrius was born. All was well for the first six years of their healthy baby boy's life, where he, too, was sheltered from the world and its perils, but on his seventh birthday, his father did not return from his monthly pilgrimage to the mountain's summit. Instead, Marie and Etrius were stranded in their cottage for several days due to a freak blizzard which had made traversing the world outside nearly impossible. After several weeks, absence, Desmond was presumed missing, leaving Marie to raise the young Etrius for herself.
It wasn't until her son became teenaged that Marie learned the meaning of the word 'hypocrisy'. Indeed, the two of them had spent the majority of the last decade alone together, and save the rare interactions with the other shut-in scholars who lived beside them, Etrius' only interaction with the outside world was in the rare few occasions that the pair of them went out into the nearest town to stock up on food and supplies. The fact that her son was as adventurous as she, despite looking so much like his reserved father, came as a surprise to the aging Seer, whose having a child so late in life led her to be immediately overprotective of her child. It should not have come as a surprise, however, that Etrius would, not a month after his own seventeenth birthday, run away into town while his mother was asleep to join the Ilian border patrol. They had all sorts of books on magical theory and great stories of the world around them-- was that not enough for him? Evidently not. As soon as she caught wind of it the next morning, Marie immediately spent the next few days attempting to track him down, but to no avail- by the time she had found him, after nearly two weeks of searching along the border, he and his troupe of trainees was already caught in the middle of a bandit ambush, and it was all too late to save her Etrius.
Marie returned home to an empty and broken shell. Now she'd finally understood those neighbors she'd mocked for the last several years and why they were so content with loneliness- she'd become one of them. The next several years of Marie's life would be spent shut in her home, lying in bed when she wasn't reading through her husband's former elder magic tomes or making the rare trip into town. She grew embittered by her loneliness, and, on more than one occasion, considered self-termination, but never followed through on the off chance her husband might show himself again. Another year passed, and, given no sign of anything, Marie decided to make the pilgrimage to the mountain summit herself in a leap of faith, praying to the Saint herself that she might find a sign, anything, that her husband still might be alive. And there, caught onto a lone tree at the mountaintop, she found her husband's cloak dangling in the winds, along with a note of apology addressed to herself within it. It wasn't much of a sign, but at the very least, it was a start. Now, after several years of grieving, with the eve of what would be her son's twenty-first birthday and the hope that her husband may still be alive behind her, Marie has resigned to go off and do it all over again: experience the world once more before dying, help others in need as she once did, and perhaps even get into some trouble along the way.
Credits:
Class: Seer
Age: 54
Born in: Remi, Ilia
Appearance:
It's quite obvious on first sight that this cultured woman has seen her share of the world. From the stains of her laugh lines to the number of time-tested grief wrinkles crisscrossing her face, Marie has aged quite well from being the young looker she once was, all considered, even with the accelerated aging that comes with years of magic use and combat stress. She stands at a fairly short 5'4" at her best posture with a similarly fragile build to match, as is typical of most who dabble in the magical of arts. Long, quickly fading silver-teal hair falls just a few inches past her shoulderblades, left for the most part to fly freely but with several strands tidily knit in a number of length-containing braids and knots. Her eyes, most notably, are a very pale orchid purple in color, leaving people to automatically assume she is blind. Many are quick to dismiss this old(er) woman as an actual threat, but rest assured, she is no pushover.
As far as her traveling attire is concerned, Marie dresses in a style that may seem a bit gaudy for a combat medic, but remains mostly practical, as far as retaining mobility is concerned. Her outfit begins with a simple enough white blouse trimmed with gold lace. Lofty purple pantaloons gathered at the ends meet at her knee-length dark leather riding boots. To fit, she wears belt of gold and leather wraps around her waist, making place for two of her tomes, one on each hip, and various bags of small reagents and healing supplies that would otherwise not go in her over-the-shoulder satchel. A several-times sown over heavy purple travel cloak falls over her back, with trimming suggesting it once belonged to a shaman of some sort. Finally, a faded golden headpiece and hair comb, passed down from her own grandmother, sits atop her head, holding a white silk headscarf keeping back the length of her hair.
In contrast, Marie's current and long-time steed, a fairly old white mare named Titania, appears fairly bare in comparison. She is a fairly short horse to match a fairly short rider, no less. Like her rider, Titania has seen her share of combat, sporting a comfortable tanned saddle and harness over a fairly long, braided mane, along with extra loops and straps on the side for which Marie's various staves can be stowed. As with most seasoned mage knights' horses, this loyal steed sports a simple plate chest guard, her only means of protection, as well white plate face mask- most curiously, an aesthetic golden "horn" has been attached to the face plate, creating it the illusion that she is, in fact, a unicorn of sorts.
Personality:
Feisty, flirtatious, and more than just a little bit embarrassing, the inner fire of youth has not left this kindred spirit just yet, mark her words. Contrary to what most might expect from a practitioner of elder magic, Marie is surprisingly fiery and animated, even if she is sometimes subject to her class' predisposition for chaos and trickery. Deeply ingrained into this Seer is a thirst for adventure and experience the world beyond the mundane, and with it comes a liveliness that even old age cannot seem to contain. Having since long evolved from being ashamed of herself, Marie's goal now lies in being able to enjoy life wherever it presents itself, sharing long stories of her travels and helping others where she may, acting snarky all along the way.
This former troubadour's vivaciousness and lust to live her life shouldn't be mistaken for foolhardiness, however. While Marie is sometimes struck with bouts of wonderlust and questionably dotty behaviors, with age has come quite a bit of experience, knowledge, and wisdom. Perhaps Marie's greatest crux, however, is her difficulty with holding onto relationships and allowing others to become close, given her history of loved ones leaving and dying off on her. She may not be immediately friendly to those she meets in her daily exploits, but sure enough, this semi-bitter demeanor lightens up with time- just be wary not to leave a bad impression on her, however, or her stubbornness just might remember it forever. Make a friend in this curious, gruff, and yet motherly grandmother and one might find a loyal ally in her yet.
Story:
Marie's personal background is a rich and varied one, if vague and seemingly never quite the same on each retelling. The sixth and last child and second daughter of a family of quite well-off but staunchly patriotic Ilians, Marie was born with the path of war laid before her. Like the brothers and sister that preceded her, and her parents and grandparents even before that, upon her coming of age, she would be quickly shipped off to learn the mercenary trade. Where her brothers were sent off to an elite training academy further in the country before signing with a mercenary group, Marie and her sister were instead sent to the world-renowned mage academy in Delfia, Etruria, to learn the way of the troubadour. Up until then, she was a fairly obedient girl, if a bit more loud than most expected, but her inner firebrand spirit craved freedom.
Marie's few years of training at the mage academy began quite... poorly. She was admonished quite often by the sisters of the church for wearing extra accessories she'd bought in the town bazaar along with her uniform, or for speaking out of turn when it came to learning the scripture, or for sneaking out of services to watch the mages in the adjoining wing channel the spirits of nature. Indeed, the forbidden was all the more exciting for this girl, and had it not been for the risk of expulsion after nearly destroying a priceless statue of the Saint herself, she would have continued. However, the thought of upsetting her mother and father was beyond reproach, and, with a great sigh, Marie mellowed out up until the day of her graduation. While she was never entirely convicted by the higher faith of the church, she left Etruria with a strong letter of recommendation just the same, returning to her homeland of Ilia with praise.
It wasn't long before Marie was picked up by a mercenary group, what with a constant shortage of combat medics and her talent with a staff. Alongside fellow Ilian soldiers, she and her squadron were given free reign to round the continents, following the trail of gold to bring back to their frozen country. Now was the time where Marie could finally be the free spirit she wanted to be, and for a while, the illusion of glory lasted her through battles. However, when the first of her fellow mercenaries fell in a political skirmish that she had no reason to be in, the troubadour slowly began to doubt herself and her abilities. As time went on, she'd gain long stories of exploits in bandit fortresses and other grand and heroic feats, but also the growing guilt of personal tragedy. It wasn't until she finally met her husband and the father of her only son, Desmond, years and years after leaving her mercenary campaign while exploring the world, that Marie would finally find a reason to come to terms with herself and settle down back in the mountains of her motherland.
All was quite nice in Marie and Desmond's little cottage in the small hamlet of Mysidia, where their only neighbors were fellow Etrurian scholars who sought the peace only a frozen wasteland could offer. Her husband was, in fact, a practitioner of elder magics himself, and perhaps that forbidden allure was what attracted Marie to him in the first place. He was the wise and collected blue spirit to her fiery and passionate red, and they complimented each other perfectly. Before long, though out of wedlock, their son Etrius was born. All was well for the first six years of their healthy baby boy's life, where he, too, was sheltered from the world and its perils, but on his seventh birthday, his father did not return from his monthly pilgrimage to the mountain's summit. Instead, Marie and Etrius were stranded in their cottage for several days due to a freak blizzard which had made traversing the world outside nearly impossible. After several weeks, absence, Desmond was presumed missing, leaving Marie to raise the young Etrius for herself.
It wasn't until her son became teenaged that Marie learned the meaning of the word 'hypocrisy'. Indeed, the two of them had spent the majority of the last decade alone together, and save the rare interactions with the other shut-in scholars who lived beside them, Etrius' only interaction with the outside world was in the rare few occasions that the pair of them went out into the nearest town to stock up on food and supplies. The fact that her son was as adventurous as she, despite looking so much like his reserved father, came as a surprise to the aging Seer, whose having a child so late in life led her to be immediately overprotective of her child. It should not have come as a surprise, however, that Etrius would, not a month after his own seventeenth birthday, run away into town while his mother was asleep to join the Ilian border patrol. They had all sorts of books on magical theory and great stories of the world around them-- was that not enough for him? Evidently not. As soon as she caught wind of it the next morning, Marie immediately spent the next few days attempting to track him down, but to no avail- by the time she had found him, after nearly two weeks of searching along the border, he and his troupe of trainees was already caught in the middle of a bandit ambush, and it was all too late to save her Etrius.
Marie returned home to an empty and broken shell. Now she'd finally understood those neighbors she'd mocked for the last several years and why they were so content with loneliness- she'd become one of them. The next several years of Marie's life would be spent shut in her home, lying in bed when she wasn't reading through her husband's former elder magic tomes or making the rare trip into town. She grew embittered by her loneliness, and, on more than one occasion, considered self-termination, but never followed through on the off chance her husband might show himself again. Another year passed, and, given no sign of anything, Marie decided to make the pilgrimage to the mountain summit herself in a leap of faith, praying to the Saint herself that she might find a sign, anything, that her husband still might be alive. And there, caught onto a lone tree at the mountaintop, she found her husband's cloak dangling in the winds, along with a note of apology addressed to herself within it. It wasn't much of a sign, but at the very least, it was a start. Now, after several years of grieving, with the eve of what would be her son's twenty-first birthday and the hope that her husband may still be alive behind her, Marie has resigned to go off and do it all over again: experience the world once more before dying, help others in need as she once did, and perhaps even get into some trouble along the way.
Credits:
Lovely mugshot used with permission from Aeorys on deviantArt.
Statsheet template made by VincentASM on SerenesForest.
Statsheet made by yours truly.
Statsheet template made by VincentASM on SerenesForest.
Statsheet made by yours truly.