Character's Name: Eathelin
Nicknames: Lin, Linnie
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Species: Kelahati
Abilities:
While all kelahati can speak with animals, Eathelin's ability to bond with creatures is nigh unparalleled; she often wins over even the most sour wild badger, and is rarely seen without a complement of birds, rabbits, or her beloved sheep. She herself can shift at will into a young female lamb; her human form, while not completely free of bestial qualities, is passing enough that she can move easily through the human settlements near her and her brother's flock. As is the case of many of her kind, Eathelin possesses no magical talents, but has gathered an amateur knowledge of healing and potion-making. When times are lean and Eathelin cannot bear to be separated from one of her charges, she will often make a number of homemade ointments to sell instead, and as such usually carries one kind or another on her person.
Appearance:
In her human form, Eathelin appears as a comely young woman. Her skin is faintly tanned from the sun, with a smattering of freckles across a button nose and all down her forearms; her hair is soft and white, falling in tight curls down her shoulders and often covered with a headscarf of dyed wool. In the place of human ears, hers are long and furred like those of a sheep, and a thick lock of shockingly black hair sweeps down in ringlets on the left side of her face. She is almost always in a dress of homespun wool, with a bodice laced in the front and a modest apron tied overtop. Knee-high boots of worn leather and a sheep hook complete her ensemble, each item, though simple, lovingly crafted by hand.
When she shifts, which is rare due to the complex amount of clothing she needs to kick free, Eathelin takes on the appearance of a small lamb that is pure white save for a black slash across its nose. In both human and animal form, Eathelin has bright blue eyes the shade of a cloudless sky. This is one of the few features she shares with her brother, Fairfax.
Personality:
Eathelin is compassionate but shy - her ability to bond with animals so easily comes from the fact that she finds their company infinitely more pleasant than that of humans. Despite this, and her subsequent reluctance to talk before others, she cannot ignore anyone in need of help. To her brother's frustration, this means that she will often treat people even if they lack the funds, and this unquestioning kindness is one of the reasons that the nearby settlements are happy to leave her, her brother, and their homely flock alone, even aiding them when the wolf season threatens their animals.
This does not, however, mean that Eathelin is without spine. Confronted with a creature past her ability to heal, she shows little reservation about ending their lives, albeit as painlessly as possible. Understanding of their relationship with farm animals such as chickens, cows, or hogs, she is not averse to preparing them herself; but the needless killing or mistreatment of beasts raises a quiet fury in her. Auctions where she is present and the animals are shown to clearly be in poor care sometimes go mysteriously wrong, with a number of the starving or beaten creatures escaping into the woods.
History: Eathelin was all but raised by her brother, Fairfax. With only the hazy memory of a father and mother too sick to rise from the bed, she found herself in the role of the housebody at an early age, cooking meals, washing the laundry, and caring for their few animals where she could. Fairfax was, and is, her idol; the golden-haired child, strong, protective, and five years her senior, became the one who managed the tiny farm's money, working with traders and gathering the wood and supplies that would see them through winter after winter. When their parents died, it was Fairfax who dug their graves, while Eathelin planted trees. When they nearly starved once after a wolf pack had killed all but three of their sheep, it was Fairfax who pushed them all into the little cabin, barring the door and making sure Eathelin had the last of their soup for the next three days. And when they began to prosper, their flock numbering more than ten, more than twenty, more than fifty in total, with a coop of chickens and a horse to boot, it was Fairfax who seamlessly took control, picking the lambs for market, hiring farmhands for shearing, and carefully putting the money away where raiders would never find them. Eathelin was happy with her brother. She was safe.
And then he began to grow restless.
As Eathelin grew older and neared womanhood, she noticed her brother's increasing absences. Days would pass before he rode in on their faithful draft horse, Tirib. He would spend market nights in town, leaving more of the money he made there than what he brought home. Though Eathelin would frown at his behavior and chide him softly, he only smiled disarmingly and chucked her under the chin. "Think of what more we could do!" he would exclaim, and then regal her with the latest gossip about lands far from their own. She knew he wanted to see the sea, and the mountains, and the great lake to the north; he would spend hours speculating on the treasure of dragon's scales, or the struggles of the good Angels and their counterparts, the Demons. Eathelin listened, as always, and grew disturbed. The time was coming for Fairfax to leave, with or without her. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Roleplay Sample:
"Hush," Eathelin said, rebuking the young ram before her. He stopped shaking his horns, though his hooves continued to paw the ground in agitation. Slowly, carefully, the young woman untangled the thorny branches that had wrapped around his head, her nimble fingers separating wool from plant with the dexterity of a surgeon. When she gave a satisfied sigh and withdrew her hands from the bush, the ram snorted loudly and whipped back, kicking his heels with such fervor that he might have vanquished a snake instead of gotten himself trapped in a thicket. "Foolish thing," she murmured, smiling. "Oh." Seeing a bead of red well up on her thumb, she sucked it clean, rising to her feet and shaking off the dust from her skirts.
It was a warm summer morning. Eathelin cupped a hand above her brow and stared over the gently sloping hills, her eyes passing methodically over the round white puffs that dotted them. Gathering her hook, she went about a well-worn path through the pastures, her headscarf folded neatly about her throat so that the sunshine could warm her ears. A cardinal fluttered suddenly to her shoulder. "Good morning," she said pleasantly, pinching some seeds from her pocket and offering them to the bird. It poked its beak around her palm inquisitively before flying off. Eathelin watched it go, admiring the shock of its red feathers - so much brighter than that drop of blood had been! - before she scattered the seeds about the grass.
Yes, it was a beautiful day, as beautiful as the one before and surely as gorgeous as the next, without a hint of fall to mar the lazy warmth of the earth. Soon it would be noon. Noon was Fairfax's favorite time of the day - he reveled in the heat. She wondered if he would be back at the farm, and if Tirib was with him. Today would be a fine day to visit the river, she thought, and as she walked, her mind descended into half a dozen hypothetical conversations whereby she would lure Fairfax toward the riverbanks and perhaps an afternoon of fishing. It was unsurprising, therefore, that she did not immediately catch the disturbance over the hill.
By the time the panicked ba-aas of the flock broke her daydreams, the shadow of an enormous beast was already descending upon them. "No!" Eathelin cried, her mind shocked into blankness. She ran toward the thing, but even as she bounded over the grass, it was once more straining aloft, bloodstained balls of cotton in its claws.
"Leave them alone!" she cried. Reaching down, she grabbed a rock from the earth and hurled it with all her might toward the beastly thing. To her surprise, it struck. The creature turned its head, and Eathelin was skewered in its yellow gaze. As its shadow sped across the hill, seeking to engulf her, the lamb maiden could think only dazedly of the redness of its feathers... as red as the cardinal had been...
Nicknames: Lin, Linnie
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Species: Kelahati
Abilities:
While all kelahati can speak with animals, Eathelin's ability to bond with creatures is nigh unparalleled; she often wins over even the most sour wild badger, and is rarely seen without a complement of birds, rabbits, or her beloved sheep. She herself can shift at will into a young female lamb; her human form, while not completely free of bestial qualities, is passing enough that she can move easily through the human settlements near her and her brother's flock. As is the case of many of her kind, Eathelin possesses no magical talents, but has gathered an amateur knowledge of healing and potion-making. When times are lean and Eathelin cannot bear to be separated from one of her charges, she will often make a number of homemade ointments to sell instead, and as such usually carries one kind or another on her person.
Appearance:
In her human form, Eathelin appears as a comely young woman. Her skin is faintly tanned from the sun, with a smattering of freckles across a button nose and all down her forearms; her hair is soft and white, falling in tight curls down her shoulders and often covered with a headscarf of dyed wool. In the place of human ears, hers are long and furred like those of a sheep, and a thick lock of shockingly black hair sweeps down in ringlets on the left side of her face. She is almost always in a dress of homespun wool, with a bodice laced in the front and a modest apron tied overtop. Knee-high boots of worn leather and a sheep hook complete her ensemble, each item, though simple, lovingly crafted by hand.
When she shifts, which is rare due to the complex amount of clothing she needs to kick free, Eathelin takes on the appearance of a small lamb that is pure white save for a black slash across its nose. In both human and animal form, Eathelin has bright blue eyes the shade of a cloudless sky. This is one of the few features she shares with her brother, Fairfax.
Personality:
Eathelin is compassionate but shy - her ability to bond with animals so easily comes from the fact that she finds their company infinitely more pleasant than that of humans. Despite this, and her subsequent reluctance to talk before others, she cannot ignore anyone in need of help. To her brother's frustration, this means that she will often treat people even if they lack the funds, and this unquestioning kindness is one of the reasons that the nearby settlements are happy to leave her, her brother, and their homely flock alone, even aiding them when the wolf season threatens their animals.
This does not, however, mean that Eathelin is without spine. Confronted with a creature past her ability to heal, she shows little reservation about ending their lives, albeit as painlessly as possible. Understanding of their relationship with farm animals such as chickens, cows, or hogs, she is not averse to preparing them herself; but the needless killing or mistreatment of beasts raises a quiet fury in her. Auctions where she is present and the animals are shown to clearly be in poor care sometimes go mysteriously wrong, with a number of the starving or beaten creatures escaping into the woods.
History: Eathelin was all but raised by her brother, Fairfax. With only the hazy memory of a father and mother too sick to rise from the bed, she found herself in the role of the housebody at an early age, cooking meals, washing the laundry, and caring for their few animals where she could. Fairfax was, and is, her idol; the golden-haired child, strong, protective, and five years her senior, became the one who managed the tiny farm's money, working with traders and gathering the wood and supplies that would see them through winter after winter. When their parents died, it was Fairfax who dug their graves, while Eathelin planted trees. When they nearly starved once after a wolf pack had killed all but three of their sheep, it was Fairfax who pushed them all into the little cabin, barring the door and making sure Eathelin had the last of their soup for the next three days. And when they began to prosper, their flock numbering more than ten, more than twenty, more than fifty in total, with a coop of chickens and a horse to boot, it was Fairfax who seamlessly took control, picking the lambs for market, hiring farmhands for shearing, and carefully putting the money away where raiders would never find them. Eathelin was happy with her brother. She was safe.
And then he began to grow restless.
As Eathelin grew older and neared womanhood, she noticed her brother's increasing absences. Days would pass before he rode in on their faithful draft horse, Tirib. He would spend market nights in town, leaving more of the money he made there than what he brought home. Though Eathelin would frown at his behavior and chide him softly, he only smiled disarmingly and chucked her under the chin. "Think of what more we could do!" he would exclaim, and then regal her with the latest gossip about lands far from their own. She knew he wanted to see the sea, and the mountains, and the great lake to the north; he would spend hours speculating on the treasure of dragon's scales, or the struggles of the good Angels and their counterparts, the Demons. Eathelin listened, as always, and grew disturbed. The time was coming for Fairfax to leave, with or without her. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Roleplay Sample:
"Hush," Eathelin said, rebuking the young ram before her. He stopped shaking his horns, though his hooves continued to paw the ground in agitation. Slowly, carefully, the young woman untangled the thorny branches that had wrapped around his head, her nimble fingers separating wool from plant with the dexterity of a surgeon. When she gave a satisfied sigh and withdrew her hands from the bush, the ram snorted loudly and whipped back, kicking his heels with such fervor that he might have vanquished a snake instead of gotten himself trapped in a thicket. "Foolish thing," she murmured, smiling. "Oh." Seeing a bead of red well up on her thumb, she sucked it clean, rising to her feet and shaking off the dust from her skirts.
It was a warm summer morning. Eathelin cupped a hand above her brow and stared over the gently sloping hills, her eyes passing methodically over the round white puffs that dotted them. Gathering her hook, she went about a well-worn path through the pastures, her headscarf folded neatly about her throat so that the sunshine could warm her ears. A cardinal fluttered suddenly to her shoulder. "Good morning," she said pleasantly, pinching some seeds from her pocket and offering them to the bird. It poked its beak around her palm inquisitively before flying off. Eathelin watched it go, admiring the shock of its red feathers - so much brighter than that drop of blood had been! - before she scattered the seeds about the grass.
Yes, it was a beautiful day, as beautiful as the one before and surely as gorgeous as the next, without a hint of fall to mar the lazy warmth of the earth. Soon it would be noon. Noon was Fairfax's favorite time of the day - he reveled in the heat. She wondered if he would be back at the farm, and if Tirib was with him. Today would be a fine day to visit the river, she thought, and as she walked, her mind descended into half a dozen hypothetical conversations whereby she would lure Fairfax toward the riverbanks and perhaps an afternoon of fishing. It was unsurprising, therefore, that she did not immediately catch the disturbance over the hill.
By the time the panicked ba-aas of the flock broke her daydreams, the shadow of an enormous beast was already descending upon them. "No!" Eathelin cried, her mind shocked into blankness. She ran toward the thing, but even as she bounded over the grass, it was once more straining aloft, bloodstained balls of cotton in its claws.
"Leave them alone!" she cried. Reaching down, she grabbed a rock from the earth and hurled it with all her might toward the beastly thing. To her surprise, it struck. The creature turned its head, and Eathelin was skewered in its yellow gaze. As its shadow sped across the hill, seeking to engulf her, the lamb maiden could think only dazedly of the redness of its feathers... as red as the cardinal had been...
