Merill Water-Shifter
Dec 19, 2011 1:13:58 GMT -5
Post by Merril on Dec 19, 2011 1:13:58 GMT -5
Full Name: Merril
Other name: Adurna Eld Moi (Water Shifter)
Race: Elf
Side: Varden (Elves, really)
Birthplace: Old Ilirea
Age: 154
Gender: Female
Birthday: First day of Summer
Eyes: Blue-green
Hair: Blonde
Weight: 130
Height: 5’8
Magic User: Yes
Preferred Weapon(s): Merril utilizes a long-bow that she sung from a tree nearly 100 years ago. It is crafted from Ironwood, and gilded with leaf patterns. She carries arrows with ashen shafts and fired-wood points, sung to be as hard as steel. These arrows are fletched with the feathers of crows, in a Hane style. A single long-knife with Elven runes etched on the brown handle and blade. When unarmed, Merril utilizes a soft martial art revolving around joint-locks, incapacitating chokes and throws.
Personality:
Merril is a relatively young elf, and still retains some of the youthful qualities of a child. She is willful and more subject to whim than most Elves of her age. She is curious and energetic, and loves conversing with others and learning new things.
Generally cheerful, Merril never stays in a bad mood for very long, and even her worst moods are less extreme than most. Like most Elves, she is much attuned to the powers of nature. She is wont to playing and frolicking. Merril is quick to love, and slow to anger, and always seeks to be benevolent; to better her character.
Under her vibrant exterior, however, lies nearly 150 years of knowledge. Merril has a sharp and clever mind that is roguishly suited for magic. She rarely finds cause to use brute force, as she is adept at finding elegant and clever solutions.
Appearance:
Merril, like most elves, has a light frame and fair features. She is possessed of blonde hair that falls below her shoulders, which she generally lets fall in natural curly locks. Merril’s eyes can be blue or green depending on the light, but generally appear as a mixture of the two, the color of a deep river.
Merril moves with the grace that is characteristic of her kin. Her arms and legs are muscular but relatively thin when compared to humans. She generally wears very light clothing that does not restrict her motion whilst running or swimming. Merril has a set of gills behind her pointed Elven ears.
Likes: Water, Swimming, Archery, Singing, Warm weather, Interacting with others, The Forest, Poetry
Dislikes: When her skin is dry, When people are not knowledgeable of magic, Being cold, Sweet foods, When organisms die.
Strengths: Accomplished Spellweaver, Archery, Swimming, Powerful Mind, Creativity, Roguish combat style.
Weakness: Disobedience, Curiosity, Impatience, physically weak when compared to other elves and riders.
Family:
Murael (Mother, aged 400 some years)
Luindal (Father, aged 400 some years)
Maraneth (Brother, deceased)
Not-So-Brief History:
Born in Old Ilirea merely fifty years or so before the war, Merril had a tumultuous childhood. The daughter of Murael, an experienced and talented smith, and Luindal, a soldier, many of Merril’s early years were spent preparing for war. She spent much of her time with her mother, learning the art of crafting through singing. During her childhood, Merril stood out from the other Elven children in Ilirea.
As the years passed, Merril was slow to lose the magical sheen of her childhood, retaining it an unnaturally long time. As such, Merril was extremely skilled in magic during her formative years, and learned to manipulate the energies around her in strange and wonderful ways. As most Elven children are valued highly, Merril was looked upon as a prodigy and a joyous rarity. However, fate deigned that the end of Merril’s childhood should coincide with one of the most devastatingly somber moments in history.
Merril and her entire family were present at the sacking of Ilirea by the Foresworn under Galbatorix, more than 100 years ago. As a family, Murael, Luindal, Maraneth, and Merril joined the forces in repelling the Foresworn, but as history has recorded, the fight went poorly for the Elves and Riders in Ilirea. Clinging to the shroud of youth and power that surrounded her, Merril fought bravely once the Elves began their final push and ultimate attempt to escape the city. However, the unit was apprehended by one of the Foresworn riders.
Maraneth, considered the most talented warrior of the group, was at the time aged 268 years. He and Luindal advanced bravely to defend their friends and family, but Maraneth was swept away and crushed by the now nameless dragon’s tail. Merril wept for the loss of her brother, and with most of her remaining strength, managed to hold off the Foresworn rider for nearly 3 minutes until the merciful intervention of a rider. The distraction allowed Merril and her family to evade the enemy for long enough to escape the city.
They fled to far-off Silthrim, where they mourned the loss of Maraneth, their friends, and their home. The memories of Elf-kind are long, and Merril knew that she would not soon forget the events that had taken her innocence away, though the Elves as a whole made their most earnest attempt to allow life to return to normal. Merril continued her martial training, as well as her training in magic. As most Elves do, she learned to use the sword, the bow, and the spear.
Merril continued to excel at smithing, though she soon lost interest in it. Forresting and Ranging took her fancy, and she became an explorer of sorts, spending much of her time in Ardwen Lake, finding it suitable to augment herself with gills. Her skills translated nicely into scouting for the Elves and ultimately the Varden after its founding.
It was during this time as a scout that Merril truly came into her own. Her time was spent monitoring the aquatic movements of the Empire, mostly shipping routes coming through Gil’ead. In these twenty years or so Merril accumulated her practical skill in battle and with subterfuge. Though her station did not allow for true renown in the fullest sense of the word, she gained a reputation as a reliable operator and source for the Varden’s cause (Not to mention the rumors of mermaids in the Isentar). Very rarely did Merril encounter enemy magic users, but she has come out on top of every wizard’s duel she has ever been in. She has become particularly adept at casting illusions and teleporting objects.
More recently, Merril has worked as a forward scout for the Varden’s advancing army. Now, more than ever, her skills have been put to the test against the forces of the Empire. She is still hopeful that the Varden will succeed, and that she will be able to return to her home of Silthrim, having helped undo the traitor Galbatorix.
Anything extra: Merril nearly always has magical wards placed around her to protect herself from the dangers of espionage. She wears two rings, one which she has poured magical power into for nearly 50 years, and one which prevents her from being viewed through magical means. Both are silver with aquamarine settings, and only she seems to be able to tell the difference between them.
Password: Witch of Teirm
Dragon Bio
Name: Jormungandr (YOR-mun-gan-dur)
Physical description:
Jormungandr is a murky bronze dragon, though when the sunlight strikes him directly he is a brilliant golden-bronze. His teeth, as well as his dorsal and cresting scales are bone-white, while his talons are black. His eyes are an orange-yellow color, and his brow is bony and heavy. Stockier than most other dragons, Jormungandr tends to be swift and powerful on the the ground. As a flier, he is built for power and distance, not necessarily speed.
Personality:
Jormungandr is rather aggressive, even for a dragon, having been subjected to years of abuse by Galbatorix and the priests of Helgrind. He is slow to trust, and will impose his will in whatever way he can over those that he perceives as a threat. He is very defensive of himself and his rider, and relies on her to temper his negative tendencies.
Introspective and thoughtful by nature, Jormungandr prefers deceptive means to his ends, and can be considered the stereotype of a clever dragon. He enjoys riddles, mystery, and intrigue, though it is easy for his rash temperament to get the better of him.
Strengths: Powerful mind, Fast Learner, Above average size, Physical strength.
Weaknesses: Quick temper, Fear of the Galbatorix, Relative inexperience, Slow take-off.
History: Jormungandr was laid nearly 300 years ago by Jotunn, a massive Red dragoness. His egg indicated that his scales would be the Bronze color of his sire, Levyathan. The egg was massive, by any standards, at nearly six feet in height. The egg became somewhat of a permanent fixture in the hatcheries of Ilirea, as the dragon inside never chose a rider when young men and women were presented.
After nearly two centuries, the egg was transported to Vroengard, and dismissed as lifeless, or faulty; fated to never hatch.
Soon after Jormungandr’s egg was moved, Vroengard fell to Galbatorix and his Foresworn riders. In the scramble to defend the remaining dragon eggs, Jormungandr’s egg was left behind. It was too big to move quickly, and had never shown any sign of hatching. It was captured by the Foresworn and taken back to Ilirea, where Galbatorix presented it to person after person in hopes of finding a rider. Galbatorix poured the poisons of his mind into the egg, but Jormungandr would not hatch. Frustrated, Galbatorix sent the egg to the priests at Helgrind, to be tempted with their dark magics. It was not long before the flickering consciousness grew wary and angry. The dragon quickly shut itself off from the minds of the priests, and was sent back to Ilirea, now Uru’baen.
Galbatorix, seeing no further use for the egg, but unable to bring himself to destroy it, sent the egg as a trophy to a wealthy family in Belatona, with the understanding that the most promising young men and women from the county would be brought before the egg every year.
Was their egg stolen or given to the character by the Varden/Empire or found in the wild?: Given by the Varden
Roleplay Sample:
Merril lay curled about the base of the massive egg, as naked as her naming day. As soon as the egg had begun to hatch, Merril had moved it out of the public eye, and into a tent that Nasuada had kindly provided for her. Tears welled in the Elf's eyes as she shifted her lithe body closer to the egg.
The dragon with the river-bank scales was having trouble hatching.
Reaching out with her mind, Merril could not connect with the dragon, no matter how she tried. Every time she got close, the dragon pulled away. Merril could almost touch the dragon's desire for a companion that had been hidden away for so long. Stroking the egg, Merril knew that the dragon...her dragon...was dying. Her voice heavy with emotion, but whithered by her mental exersions, Merril placed her hand over the small crack in the egg that had appeared when she had first touched it, and sang in her mother-tongue.
"You have lingered in the dark for so long, collecting the shadows of this world; painting it with the darkest colors of your mind...you have not known me, but you have dreamed of me, just as I have dreamed of you. Bond with me here.
Bond with me. Learn to fly with me, and you will possess every color of this world, and no longer learn from the phantoms of history in books, or false tales."
A soft hum came from the large egg as the dragon with the river-bank scales responded to Merril's song. Hearing the dragon, Merril looked up, moving to her knees to sing into the crack directly.
"Have you dreamed of me much? Have you hungered so long for the touch of my hand? Bond with me here, this night and you will possess that and more of me. For every breath that my lungs take in, and every beating of my heart; every thought belonging to me, as good belongs to you.
It is not power, or knowledge, or society that I desire. Not food or wine, or the pleasure of this world, not even the best. Only the closeness do I crave...to hear again the hum of your valved voice."
A warmth came to the crack in the gigantic egg then, and a gust of air as the dragon pressed its muzzle to Merril's hand, breaking through the jeweled shell. The universe flared to life in Merril's mind, and the hot sting of bliss shot through her, rendering her breathless. The Elf slumped against the egg, catching herself on the neck of the dragon as its head protruded.
The tears began to stream down her face as she locked eyes with her soul-mate for the first time. Merril poured her energy into the dragon as it flexed its muscles, emerging fully from the egg, and dragging her into a heaped embrace on the floor of the tent. Their minds were one, and his voice sounded just as she had dreamed it would.
"I have waited long indeed for you, my love."
The dragon hummed, and his voice filled Merril's mind. She gave in to it, allowing him to explore every inch of her being, as she did to him. They delved deep into each other's minds. From a dream, long ago, from a half-remembered childhood day, the dragon chose his name, reciting Merril's thoughts at being presented to dragon eggs as a child.
"Whoever you are...wherever you are...I will love you until the end of the void itself."
Merril's voice caught in her throat, and she was speechless.
"You have dreamed of me as Jormungandr, the foundation of your world. It is a good name. A strong name. I would be glad to have it."
Standing and meeting the dragon for the first time as equals and bond-mates on common ground, Merril once again touched her left hand to his snout, whispering his name.
"Jormungandr..."
