Post by Fjalla on Jan 14, 2012 18:24:00 GMT 8
[atrb=cellSpacing,20,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][atrb=border,0,true] [atrb=style, width:500px; bTable][atrb=background,http://i.imgur.com/uNZDJ.png,btable][STYLE=background-color: transparent; font-size: 30px; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 75%; border-bottom: 3px #c2c2c2 solid; border-top: 3px #c2c2c2 solid; float: right; width: 480px; height: 30px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding-top: 5px; overflow: auto; color: #444444; letter-spacing: 2px;]CHARACTER FILE: FJALLA[/style] [STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; float: right; width: 300px; height: 300px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 20px; overflow: auto; color: #353535; padding: 5px;]APPEARANCE BIOGRAPHY |
She was five years old and she had been out on an educational trip. She had collected the most flowers for the little activity, more than anyone in the group of children, more than the second and third place finishers combined, and as a result, she got five septims to spend anyway she liked. She bought a dress --blue, with lovely embroidery all around it-- and her mom gave her an old pair of fine boots. She didn't have tights, but she pretended she was wearing a bright white pair as well as a silver circlet, and so she was a princess. She was the Mountain Flower Princess of Whiterun's Plains District.
That was when they were living in Whiterun Hold in a house half the size of all the others and her mother was an alchemist and her father was dead.
Her mother, Eyja, worked all the time, making potions to sell, but Fjalla was smart and knew not to talk to strangers and not to go too far and only to buy things from the venders she knew. She was a polite child and a comforting presence, and often other parents would pat her on the head and ask if she wanted to play with their sons or daughters. Fjalla was seven, eight, nine, a true princess at heart despite her impoverished status, even when she gave up her dress and imaginary tights.
She was a warrior.
She was no longer the Flower Princess of Whiterun's market, because she had grown out of her rewards, and she didn't even live in Whiterun Hold anymore. She, as well as her mother, lived in Windhelm, in Eastmarch, with its intertwining streets and even colder weather. Eyja was still an alchemist, as she had always been, and as Fjalla had always known her to be. Fjalla was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. She was not a princess --she had long ago abandoned all such silly notions of royalty-- but she didn't know what she was, either. She was no alchemist, even though she had been studying so much, so if she were not to follow her mother's footsteps, what about her father's?
Her mother would never talk about him. "Fjalla," she would say when asked at dinner, sloshing her soup around in its bowl, "that was a long time ago." But Fjalla was nosy and so she began to search. She waited until her mother was gone and picked the lock to her room. There, in a dark chest under the bed, was everything her mother had saved relating to her father. Letters, trinkets, clothing, a death certificate. Fjalla sifted through each item gingerly. She felt impolite, even though he was her father and she had a right to know. She felt like she was an intruder on some other life, when her mother was happy and she was small.
Jokull was his name, or so some of the letters said, and he had been a sellsword. Fjalla dug through the chainmail and leather and tomes and daggers, and each journal page she read from different books revealed more about Jokull to her than she had ever known her entire life. He went around and collected bounties, from bandits to giants and thieves, and the more Fjalla read, the more engrossed she became into her father's world. And in an instant, she knew what she wanted to do.
She put back everything in the chest and relocked the door, and when her mother came home Fjalla said everything was fine, fine, fine. Better than fine, actually.
It took some courage, but eventually she had proclaimed to her mother that she was going to become a mercenary, at which Eyja had become infuriated. Over the course of a week, however, she began warming up to the idea, not because she liked it, but because she had never seen Fjalla so willing and eager to do anything since she had went out to collect flowers as a child.
She was a thief.
Morals, honor, integrity.
Fjalla had always held them high. Always put them before other importances. And, initially, she had planned to make them the most important thing in her career.
She had started off wonderfully, after an extra year or two of learning the craft of a mercenary. She picked up things quickly --light armor was best for her slender figure, and she preferred to dual-wield swords than have shields or bows or battleaxes. She enchanted them both, one with an absorb stamina effect and the other with a frost damage enchantment, as well as learned how to sharpen them. She honed her lock-picking skills and learned to be quick on her feet, and even grasped the ability to cast Candlelight.
It had been a regular day like any other, when she was in The Rift, off to rid the Hold of several bandits that had set up camp in its forests. Fjalla had handed in the proof and collected her reward, but not before stumbling upon a man claiming to sell a potion that would cure you of all afflictions.
She noticed, in the crowd, another man picking the pockets of the entranced viewers, but, instead of reporting it to the guards like she should have, her curiosity got the best of her and she approached the potion merchant, telling him that she had seen his little trick. At that, he had looked at her lithe, form, built for agility and stealth, and extended an offer.
She was to steal something, anything, that night, and if it gave her a desirable rush, she was to visit him in the Ratways the following day. At first, Fjalla had tucked the offer away from thought, but as she looked through a window that very evening, into a home with all sorts of lovely trinkets she wanted but knew she could never get, she couldn't help the urge. She waited until the moon was out, picked the lock and snuck in, intending only to take a closer look at the lovely silver circlet by the windowsill -- much like the kind she had wished for as her child, in her days of frocks and imagination and princesses.
Before she had even felt herself conducting the action, she swiped it off its placement by the glass and slipped herself out with as much noise as the still wind. Needless to say, she made her way through the Ratway and into the Ragged Flagon in search of the man from the market. She had felt adrenaline and excitement like no other that night, even more so than her first fight with a cave bear -- it was like a fire was burning in her veins, spurring her on and whispering words of encouragement.
And just like that, she was in.[/ul]
MISCELLANEOUS
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] NONE [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] FEMALE [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] TWENTY-ONE [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] NORD [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] HETEROSEXUAL [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] THIEVES' GUILD [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] IMAGE [/style]
[STYLE=background-color: e1e1e1; border-left: 5px #c2c2c2 solid; text-align: center; font-family: wire one; font-size: 20px; float: left; width: 150px; height: 25px; padding-top: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; overflow: auto; color: #353535;] DATA [/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center]