Approved, but do keep reasonable limits for the powers which you’ve given Pithy in mind. ~Ryu
Well, I've had this character sitting in my folder for a while, so I might as well give her a chance to shine. Have another competitor for Ice.
Appearance: Pithy stands at 5’10’’ and, despite her age, her appearance has barely changed during the last 40 years. She is possessed of the pointed ears intrinsic to her kind, and, like many elves, her body and features are gracefully sculpted in a manner that lends her svelte, pale form a sharp, almost ethereal quality. However, many would be admirers have been turned away by the regal bearing with which she conducts herself, and the severe stare of her left, icy blue eye. Her right eye and cheek are mostly obscured under a swath of cascading, black hair. She does not seem inconvenienced by this. So far, no one has seen her right eye when open, but many have noticed crystalline shapes peeking from under the cover of her hair, almost as if concealing a mask of jagged ice.
During her years traveling through human lands and becoming acquainted with several passing adventurers, she has picked up some of their taste in dressing. Her most recent choice in attire consists of complimenting, off-white tunic and cotton leggings. The loose tunic is fastened around her waist with a black belt, allowing the hemline to reach her hips like a particularly short skirt. Covering slender fingers, she wears black, leather gloves reaching to the middle of her forearms over her tunic’s sleeves. She also wears long, black leather boots over her leggings, reaching just below her knee. Projecting metal plates designed to protect the wearer’s knees are affixed to the end of her boots, the only form of armor in her outfit.
Above it all, she tends to wear a set of cowled, vivid blue robes with golden thread marking the finishes at the seams, fastened by a clasp bearing an inlaid insignia shaped as an open rose. The hemline of the robe is asymmetrical, splitting at the height of her hip at the front and descending until they meet on her back, at the height of her ankles, in the manner of a long, triangular coattail. She often wears the item as one would a cloak, letting the long, wide sleeves of the ensemble fall limply to her sides.
Belongings: The robes she wears have been enchanted to resist the elements and the wear and tear of long journeys. However, the enchantment isn’t designed as armor, so it provides no defense against the force of the blows, and only the clumsiest and weakest swipes might fail to cut through the fabric.
Pithy is most often a light traveler, and, beyond her apparel, the only noteworthy item she often keeps on herself are a pair of daggers and a rapier. The daggers themselves are of decent quality, but ultimately quite ordinary, and Pithy is just as likely to use them to clean her nails or to prepare a meal as to use them in an altercation.
Her rapier, on the other hand, is a different story. She bought it off a merchant on the streets of a city she passed in her travels who knew nothing of the weapon beyond the fact that it looked pretty and expensive. The slender and elegant weapon is made of a silver hued material, something that, should it be lacking in protective enchantments, would never manage to endure the abuse Pithy has put the weapon through, abuse that she doubts even a proper rapier would survive. The hilt was crafted in the shape of a flower closing its petals, leaving an opening on one side to hold the handle, and meeting at the pommel to form a vicious spike. While the outstanding beauty and endurance of the weapon are interesting in their own rights, it was not what made the rapier so peculiar. The crafter, upon creating the weapon, had inlaid a series of runes along the inside of the flower shaped hilt, transforming the rapier into a focal point, allowing for a more precise and efficient use of magic channeled through it. For all intents and purposes, someone had crafted a magic wand and given it the shape of a duelist’s sword. As far as she is concerned, it was worth far more than what she spent on it.
Personality: Serious. Distant. Cold. Harsh. All decent adjectives when it comes to describing Pithy’s personality, to the point that some of the people she has traveled with have made wagers as to whether or not they could crack a warm smile out of those lips instead of the usual displeased grimace or sneer.
While often regarded as practical, even opportunistic by some’s standards, Pithy values organization and efficiency, and can appear methodical to the point of perfectionism. Indeed, the intense, analytical manner with which she tends to observe her surroundings tends to make her seem even more unapproachable. It might be for the best, for those that are more perceptive have claimed to occasionally notice an uncompromisingly rancorous bitterness in her exposed eye.
One thing that tends to infuriate her occasional companions is that, while she normally does not mince words, whenever she stumbles upon a piece of information another happens not to have, she has the annoying inclination observed in many wizards and magically inclined beings to treat it as a secret worth keeping.
History: Both Pithy’s bearing and choice in weaponry give poignant hints towards Pithy’s origins, and, despite certain differences between elven and human social structures, one would not be wrong in assuming she had a noble’s upbringing.
Her parents were Guardians, powerful knights and spellcasters, bound to the forest and dedicated to the defense of their woodland enclave. Much reverence was given to this order, and they were treated as one would treat the most respected aristocracy. However, neither Pithy’s intense gaze nor severe manner suggests the fact that she was born the talentless, sickly foil to her twin sister. Now, elves bearing more than one child – twins, no less – is an odd occurrence, and much was expected of them. Both were trained in the art of fencing by their parents and were tutored in matters of the arcane from an early age along with several prospective mages, but where her sister would excel, exhibiting a talent matching, even succeeding that of their parents and earning the praise and admiration of her teachers and peers, Pithy would struggle to so much as match the prowess of the lowliest magical pupil.
Parents should love their children regardless of their perceived shortcomings, and despite Pithy’s failures, hers always tried to reassure her. She need not worry, this was simply not her calling; they loved her all the same. They did not understand how their every word of compassion wounded her, each an admission that she was inferior to her sibling. Her sister was the strong one, the compassionate one, the warm one, the talented one, and even though they looked virtually identical, Pithy began to feel more and more as if even her appearance was a vicarious imitation of her sister’s. How could she compare if she never stood a chance? How were they different?
And so frustration and bitterness festered.
She devoted herself to studying and training, from sunrise to dark’s fall, always pushing for perfection. She sparred often, striking matches with her sister, her parents, when available, and other knights, slowly refining her techniques until she grew into a swift and precise duelist. She poured over magic tomes, seeking to achieve with focus and execution what she could not with power, but despite her best efforts, it was never enough to best her better half. Those around her made note of her progress, of her persistence, and many were proud of her, her family included. But it was never enough. She despaired, and could see her sister’s encouraging smiles as little else than mocking gestures.
Pithy left. If she was a full-fledged Guardian, bound in pact to the spirits of the forest, she could defeat her. But that would not be allowed. She was too young, too impatient, too unlike her, according to her parents and mentors. They knew nothing. She travelled to the frozen north, blinded by thoughts of reprisal. She had read of spirits of the tundra, hungry, seeking warmth and life in a land that had none, haunting unwary travelers. If she could not match her sister on her own, she would use the spirit’s power. Using sorceries, she entrapped a spirit of the land, forcing it into a pact that bound it to her, lending Pithy its powers.
Upon her return, riding a tide of murmurs and worried, shifting glances, she strode to her sister’s presence and demanded a duel. The encounter was a close one, and it left much of the arena frozen in ice, but in the end, Pithy could not surpass her sister. The duel ended with Pithy knelt before her better half, clutching her wounds before the judgmental eyes of a whole settlement. They knew what she had done, the origin of the power she wielded. Regardless of appearance, it had been taken forcefully, a chain’s binding, not a pact’s honor. It did not belong to their home, to the Guardians, and neither did she, not anymore. So her sister told her, before turning her back to her. Pithy’s backstab was intercepted by her father’s blade, and she was restrained by her mother’s magic. Only her family’s mercy, unwanted as it was, spared her. She was kept in restraints until she recovered, and was promptly exiled from her woodland home.
Since then, her life has been spent on the roads. She never stopped searching for ways to magnify and improve her control over her spellcraft, a task she pursues with an almost resigned abandon, and one can most often find her trailing rumors of magical artifacts found in any corner of Lore. The trail has now brought her to Bren.
Skills, spells and abilities: Pithy is precise and quick with her feet, a nimble swordfighter basing much of her fighting style on swift, pinpoint strikes meant to shatter or bypass opponents defenses. Occasionally, she makes use of side-arms, such as the daggers she carries with her.
While Pithy’s education in arcane matters was expansive and she retains knowledge of several disciplines, due to binding an elemental spirit of ice, her magic has become aspected. While this means that cryomancy comes naturally to her, other forms of magic suffer. The other elements will not obey her most of the time, illusion spells sap the heat from around them, and the use of healing magic on deep wounds is likely to inflict frostbite on the recipient before significant progress is made.
That said, her ice magic does manage to supplement her fighting style, allowing her to summon barriers of ice, sharp icicles, blasts of frigid wind, or spikes and shields, should she need the extra armament. The colder the environment, the easier it is for her to summon her magic, though the opposite is also true. One of the simplest, yet most effective uses of her magic is to focus some of her frigid power into her rapier, an act facilitated by the runes within the guard. The weapon will be enveloped by a whitish glow in this state, and anything it touches will begin to slowly freeze while the charged blade remains in contact. Foes will find their bodies slowing and numbing with the scathingly cold touch of her blade, and any unfortunate victim of a thrusting lunge may find their wounds freezing from within until the weapon is dislodged.
First Post: http://forums2.battleon.com/f/fb.asp?m=21786250
< Message edited by andres_950 -- 8/15/2014 19:34:57 >