Leiva (Getz 1st Alt)
Sept 5, 2016 21:30:01 GMT -6
Post by Leiva on Sept 5, 2016 21:30:01 GMT -6
Name:Leiva
Class:Novice
Age:15
Born in:Sacae
Appearance:Despite her age, Leiva looks extremely young, sporting a girlish, cute face and a large pair of deep red eyes. The only thing betraying her small, innocent appearance are the bandages that cover the left side of her face, the remnant of some horrible wounds inflicted upon her during the assault on her village. Her build is small and slim, lean but not unhealthily so. To maintain the look of a relatively normal girl, Leiva dons a pink wig above her shaven, bandaged head that is often put up in a ponytail, the bangs cut short to be kept out of her eyes. She adorns her upper body with a cut-off brown cloak that ends at her waist and a forest green sleeveless undershirt that allows for freedom of movement for her shoulders and arms, save the leather paldrons sewn into the cloak. Leiva's hands are covered by a pair of brown cloth gloves connecting to leather arm guards that extend halfway up her arms. As her outfit as emphasised freedom of movement thus far, the lower area of Leiva's attire is no different, her legs covered by a pair of cut-off slacks that end above her knees. Makeshift leather kneepads are strapped to her knees. Her shoes are a pair of leather combat boots.
Personality:Leiva is a hotheaded, stubborn girl, often hammering her opinions into other people until they accept them and is also extremely egotistical and overconfident in her swordsmanship, despite being a mere novic with the blade. Whenever Leiva experiences emotions, they are highs or lows, nothing in between, which often tires most people she comes across. She's often told her high voice gets grating and annoying when she's too happy or angry, which only serves to anger her further, in most cases. Leiva never admits her own flaws and vehemently denies that she has any at all when they are brought up, always opting to outscream the opposer rather than discuss the issue rationally. Because of how irritating she is often told she is, Leiva gets uncomfortable whenever she's around someone who actually enjoys her company, finding it weird and disconcerting due to that, in which cases she stutters and speaks quietly and politely, becoming abnormally reserved. She feels that whenever she does encounter someone who can tolerate her, they deserve better than she usually is.
Leiva is a quick-witted girl, never passing up the opportunity to crack a stupid joke or pun, to the chagrine of her comrades, most of the time. She has always held a philosophy that laughter is the best medicine, always joking and laughing when she or her friends are feeling sick, sad, or other similar ailments. Many times she jokes about how awful and insufferable she herself is, always following the comment up with, "Just kidding!" This pattern of joking about her own imagined insecurities is not a comedic response, but rather one of coping with her inferiority complex. She feels like a worthless freak due to her less-than-amazing skills with the sword, as well as her wounds, and opts to release her feelings and tension through jokes.
Story:Leiva was unplanned and unwanted by her parents. Therefore, she was dropped in an unnamed town in Sacae where the locals raised the street-rat Leiva, considering the lack of an orphanage. It was when Leiva was ten years old that she learned one of her closest adult guardians used to be a military instructor, specifically in the realm of swordplay. Leiva was enamored by this and begged the parental figure to teach her, and so they did, giving way and beginning to teach Leiva the ways of the blade at age 12. Leiva learned slowly. She was clumsy and weak with her strikes. But, what she was not lacking in was speed. Leiva was fast, her proudest moment being striking the same straw dummy three times in forty seconds when she was thirteen years old. From the moment she began training, Leiva lived an impoverished but happy life for three years.
It was on Leiva's fifteenth birthday that she heard the screams from deeper inside of town; a bandit raid was currently underway. Quickly making a decision without thinking, Leiva grabbed her sword from her bedside and got dressed, running off deeper into town with delusions of heroism filling her head.
Needless to say, Leiva was outclassed. The town burned, and corpses lined the roads. She froze in horror as one of the criminals approached her, an evil grin blighting his face. He raised his axe and brought it down; Leiva, knees shaking from the terror, couldn't dodge. The axe came down, splitting the left side of her face in a long, five-inch gash. Shortly, Leiva collapsed from the pain and lost consciousness, the screams and crackling of fire all around her as she slipped off.
Not all was lost, however. A kind nomad eventually came across her bleeding, crumpled form and took it upon himself to bandage her up and fix her. He couldn't, however, spare the time to bring her with him; she would have to save herself. And that's exactly what Leiva did when she woke up, the carnage surrounding her like a cage.
For a while, Leiva did naught but cry. Cry at her dead friends, cry at her destroyed home, cry at her devastated village. But once the sorrow left, determination replaced it. Leiva was filled with a strong sense of duty: a duty to protect the innocent and save those less fortunate, such as herself. She would be a hero, a protector. A savior. She stood and picked up her sword, blood and tearstained face, ragged, dirty clothes, and set off to roam Sacae, looking for a cause to fight for, a trainer to work under. Searching for her purpose.
Class:Novice
Age:15
Born in:Sacae
Appearance:Despite her age, Leiva looks extremely young, sporting a girlish, cute face and a large pair of deep red eyes. The only thing betraying her small, innocent appearance are the bandages that cover the left side of her face, the remnant of some horrible wounds inflicted upon her during the assault on her village. Her build is small and slim, lean but not unhealthily so. To maintain the look of a relatively normal girl, Leiva dons a pink wig above her shaven, bandaged head that is often put up in a ponytail, the bangs cut short to be kept out of her eyes. She adorns her upper body with a cut-off brown cloak that ends at her waist and a forest green sleeveless undershirt that allows for freedom of movement for her shoulders and arms, save the leather paldrons sewn into the cloak. Leiva's hands are covered by a pair of brown cloth gloves connecting to leather arm guards that extend halfway up her arms. As her outfit as emphasised freedom of movement thus far, the lower area of Leiva's attire is no different, her legs covered by a pair of cut-off slacks that end above her knees. Makeshift leather kneepads are strapped to her knees. Her shoes are a pair of leather combat boots.
Personality:Leiva is a hotheaded, stubborn girl, often hammering her opinions into other people until they accept them and is also extremely egotistical and overconfident in her swordsmanship, despite being a mere novic with the blade. Whenever Leiva experiences emotions, they are highs or lows, nothing in between, which often tires most people she comes across. She's often told her high voice gets grating and annoying when she's too happy or angry, which only serves to anger her further, in most cases. Leiva never admits her own flaws and vehemently denies that she has any at all when they are brought up, always opting to outscream the opposer rather than discuss the issue rationally. Because of how irritating she is often told she is, Leiva gets uncomfortable whenever she's around someone who actually enjoys her company, finding it weird and disconcerting due to that, in which cases she stutters and speaks quietly and politely, becoming abnormally reserved. She feels that whenever she does encounter someone who can tolerate her, they deserve better than she usually is.
Leiva is a quick-witted girl, never passing up the opportunity to crack a stupid joke or pun, to the chagrine of her comrades, most of the time. She has always held a philosophy that laughter is the best medicine, always joking and laughing when she or her friends are feeling sick, sad, or other similar ailments. Many times she jokes about how awful and insufferable she herself is, always following the comment up with, "Just kidding!" This pattern of joking about her own imagined insecurities is not a comedic response, but rather one of coping with her inferiority complex. She feels like a worthless freak due to her less-than-amazing skills with the sword, as well as her wounds, and opts to release her feelings and tension through jokes.
Story:Leiva was unplanned and unwanted by her parents. Therefore, she was dropped in an unnamed town in Sacae where the locals raised the street-rat Leiva, considering the lack of an orphanage. It was when Leiva was ten years old that she learned one of her closest adult guardians used to be a military instructor, specifically in the realm of swordplay. Leiva was enamored by this and begged the parental figure to teach her, and so they did, giving way and beginning to teach Leiva the ways of the blade at age 12. Leiva learned slowly. She was clumsy and weak with her strikes. But, what she was not lacking in was speed. Leiva was fast, her proudest moment being striking the same straw dummy three times in forty seconds when she was thirteen years old. From the moment she began training, Leiva lived an impoverished but happy life for three years.
It was on Leiva's fifteenth birthday that she heard the screams from deeper inside of town; a bandit raid was currently underway. Quickly making a decision without thinking, Leiva grabbed her sword from her bedside and got dressed, running off deeper into town with delusions of heroism filling her head.
Needless to say, Leiva was outclassed. The town burned, and corpses lined the roads. She froze in horror as one of the criminals approached her, an evil grin blighting his face. He raised his axe and brought it down; Leiva, knees shaking from the terror, couldn't dodge. The axe came down, splitting the left side of her face in a long, five-inch gash. Shortly, Leiva collapsed from the pain and lost consciousness, the screams and crackling of fire all around her as she slipped off.
Not all was lost, however. A kind nomad eventually came across her bleeding, crumpled form and took it upon himself to bandage her up and fix her. He couldn't, however, spare the time to bring her with him; she would have to save herself. And that's exactly what Leiva did when she woke up, the carnage surrounding her like a cage.
For a while, Leiva did naught but cry. Cry at her dead friends, cry at her destroyed home, cry at her devastated village. But once the sorrow left, determination replaced it. Leiva was filled with a strong sense of duty: a duty to protect the innocent and save those less fortunate, such as herself. She would be a hero, a protector. A savior. She stood and picked up her sword, blood and tearstained face, ragged, dirty clothes, and set off to roam Sacae, looking for a cause to fight for, a trainer to work under. Searching for her purpose.
Kirala-Daughter