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** RP PROMPT(s)**+The Arms Master covets only the most renown of blades.
only by wager might she strip it from you on the hill of battle RP....Be weary. You may not get it back.+ An Assassin.+ Quite knowledgeable in herbology and natural
remedies, she has become quite attuned to nature,
though she cannot hear the wood she still can
listen to the murmurings of most anything else...may offer
a Viera's boon with a tempting amount of alcohol.+ Drank from The Cauldron of Forgetting...you are NOT remembered...+ I AM THE STRONGEST
She didn't choose the fight life,
the fight life chose her.'+ "A mug of mead will never betray you."
Anywhere there's celebration & mead.
You will find her.Actions have consequences |
No consent minus extreme scenarios and death

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"If glory comes after death, I'm not in a hurry
(if one must die to be recognised, I can wait)"- By Marcus Valerius Martialis
(known in English as Martial),
a Latin poet from Hispania
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ABOUT

⸙ A trained warroior first. a woman second. Becomes a personality that is introverted, reserved and active. A graceful and elegant woman, but by no means straight-laced. Possessing the nonchalance and tolerance to respond to most anything with half a smile or even sometimes nothing at all.
If it is something that arrests her attentions or seems fruitless, she'll simply walk in the other direction.Despite showing a chaste sense of values and speech, her words sometimes have a strange eroticism. Gentle yet assertive. Vigorous despite feminine-looking. A silent looming that pretends to be self assured; is actually empathetic and filled with compassion. She possesses the thoughtfulness to perceive the truth of things, read the hearts of others and properly understand their standpointBetrayal is deeply rooted in her psyche. Do not be surprised if she feels slighted by abandonment issues or is reluctant to keep ties. as such, the rava is strongly honor bound and unlikely to persue something if there isn't a just cause. however, do expect her revenge to be ruthless.
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⸙ Eye Color:
Tanzanite
& glass blueHaircolor & Hairstyle
Egg-shell white;
blue-smoke tinge.Hairstyle:
Thick, curled tight; wavy
and flipped at their ends. Shorn, cut, and wilde; tamed and straightened on occasion. Worn in various style.Complexion:
A cordovan brown beneath a beautifully deep rich hue of
blue color, showing through.Fur Color:
Egg-shell white;
off cream.Distinguishing Features:
Piercing blue eyes like
smokey glass marble, turned
from over exposure to mist
from her sire's spellworkings.
Clawed feet & toes like true Viera. Scars.Nicknames:
- The Coming Dark,
- Princess Denial,
- Miss Denial,
- Princess Negative,
- The Inevitable Cut,
- Iseult The Bladeworthy,
- Temperamental Beauty
- "Blue",

Class & Job:
Arms Master -
a practicioner of
various single and double
handed weapons. From swords,
to polearms, daggers or bows.Most Arms Masters lack proficiency in using high end magic but are capable of very simple spells.Occupation:
None that is permanent.
May be seen working an
odd job or two.An avid collector of information...Scent:
Winter flowers
honey & brown sugarLocation
& Place of Residence
Wherever she pleases...Loves:
Drink. Flowers. A good fight. Seems to find all the races attractive - good bone structure.

Parental Lineage:
Mother - living;
Sinoa Of The Red Gaze,
the ambitious /strict mother.
she who studies the celestial bodies. the salve maker of her village. The ultimate betrayer.Father - living;
Yngvi The impassioned,
a cryptic and spiteful jack
well versed in spellcraft,
who abandoned the civilized world to became a hermit.

Quirks:
No longer of the Green Word, she is more strongly attuned to the outside world. Most sights and sounds can overwhelm the senses she has to sort between listening, and speaking.
Thinking too deeply turns
into a trance-like state or slowing speech.Appearing...almost...asleep...& loves flowers the most.

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Spoken:
A clipped creole, that is mixed with a foreign accent
that sounds like the people of delta and island nations. It melds
between broken-common and deeply soaked in Golmore roots.
Sometimes making it hard for people to understand.Voice:
Tentative, considering, a sweet syrupy murmur
that sighs and effects with all the airs of a woman with a blade
in hand and wine in the other.Voice:
Kagura; Janyse Jaud

WORDS

To help better understand Iseult,
here is a small glossary index of words
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Innae or Inne' - "In. In it. Inside."punnit' - "upon. on it. go ahead."whaddae' - "what do you, what."shure- "sure."'moar- "more."idde' - "it."
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'dey, 'tey, 'tae - "do, they, to.
sometimes with the words "to do."bludde' - "blood."gudde' - "good."chun' or shun' - "-tion."
usually at the end of a word
i.e. atten'chun.
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*For the sake of RP - I will entirely drop the accent or forego it all together for the sake of readability + understanding. Never be afraid to ask me, and I'll do so.

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BACKSTORY

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Lively magpies are twittering at the treetops
as if discussing Somesuch a secret.
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'My pretty child. My sweet child. My favorite...of favorites.'In the salt raised lands, mountain peaks over deep and dark jungles called home to sweeping green and black earth, soul rich with exotic life. My twin brother and I...were very close. From the start I was born to win. To be the pinnacle of everything my people signified. Are. Was.I was born.Born to a shrewd woman and her peasant keeper. My mother was a killer...she was a woman who knew how to kill. She taught me that much, I was good with my hands she said. Small, perfect hands. With long, thin and slender fingers. Enough to throttle and choke. And a pretty face.My sire taught me strange spells, magics so deeply entrenched in nature. Things my small mind...could not understand.'And this chickadee, my lil' one is a good hunting knife. Sharp enough fer' mai' pretty girl, ya. Mai' sweet face."All I could know is that my sire, who lived alone, loved me. But my sire knew my mother was a killer. For his spellcraft, he could see her ambitions. Warned me of them. And that everyone knew it."You should take your brother. And leave this place. Because you don't know how wunner'ful peace is, mai' lil' chickadee. You have no idea how disconcer'in peace can be. But I know."My sire; in his dicrepid mind, despite his spell work and cryptic musings, was a good man. And he did all for the good Elder who took our village under her hand. While she promised us ivory, the most abundant of herbs, for kits to grow strong and healthy, and vast land to build our homes. She promised us. Implored us. The greatness of the Rava. And of village.That is, till the day some of our male kits were captured; my brother, among them, was sold to the ones with chains. A lie that they were leaving for their training; my many half sisters were captured or worse and I called my mother 'ma'maan' for the first time."Matron. Ma'maan." My mother turned to meet me in the bower of our tree home. She wore her long dark robes, my mother did. The one that she draped over her tall and slender figure. Her black lashes hung down her pearl colored hair, tailed like a wedding train, and rosette colored mouth, set tight, gleamed like bleeding gushing brilliant fire.Eyes jet black and lined with turquoise, my mother said:"Someone's murdered the Elder Matron. For betraying us...so you, as your father has, must leave and find an escape. You must find your brother and forsake our ways...tell no one. I, shall stay."I could smell a lie. I knew she was lying through her teeth - but I wanted to believe. Twisting up my mouth like I'd inhaled raw spices, I stamped my foot on the red clay packed earth beneath me. "Who was it, ma'maan!? Who killed our Elder!?""I did. my fair chickadee."That day.I left. I ran. I ran...and I ran, Then I walked...and I walked. Till my eyes stung and my feet ached. That day, I wanted to grow stronger so as not to be fooled again. Not by my mother. Or my father.I don't easily trust people...🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ⸙͎ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦