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Break it down, crazy style
Name: Meridian
Age: 27
Armoured Appearance: Meridian dons a set of half-plate armour that consists of breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and a helm. The armour is well loved, but old, and even a buffing can't remove some of the deeper scratches in the metal. It is a dull bronze, with painted symbols to announce her rank and order. A tabard of the holy city in red hangs from the hewn plate. Her helm bears a slit cross guard, keeping her face protected but her vision narrow. She carries a double bladed battle axe that is almost more loved than her gear
Unarmoured Appearanxe: When the plate is removed, Meridian wires a simple set of undyed, linen trousers and tunic. Her only boots are her greaves, and so she will wear them even on the hottest days. Her skin is tanned and freckled, and scars litter the surface to denote the various battles she has fought. Most prominently is a three clawed gash of a scar the touches the corner of her mouth and then moves diagonally to the curve of her jaw and down her throat. It is a story to tell. She has blue-grey eyes, and blonde hair that gets hints of red when it spends time in the sun. Her hair is long enough to brush her knees, but she keeps it tightly braided and pinned to her scalp to fit it to her head. She has deep set, hooded eyes, a Roman nose that looks like it was broken at least twice, and a mouth that seems permanently set in a frown with a thicker lower lip that she often chews on when thinking. She smells like myrrh and ginger which sit in a satchel as a gift from the holy city for 'purification'. The artifact she has acquired is a collar made of orichalcum, a rare green metal that glitters like jade. It reacts to touch, and snaps around the throat of whoever wakes it. It prevents the wearer from entering holy ground, and causes deep burns and bruises to the throat if they try to cross the threshold
Personality: What personality? Meridian had walked herself into a persona of steel armour to hide her thoughts away from the world. She is fit to bouts of anger and cursing when things don't go the way she planned. Set under vow of chastity, poverty, and imbibement, she rarely partakes in forms of relaxation and instead meditates to pass time. She holds years of regrets on her shoulders, and cannot put it down. Her word choice is short and quick, and she prefers actions to words
Backstory: Meridian, born under a different name, had her fate as a paladin of the Holy city decided upon the day of her birth. Every year, the stars are read to determine which day will give rise to the most devout paladins; all children born upon that day are taken in as wards of the City. The training started young, was taught harshly, and mistakes were always punished. It created the finest, most loyal paladins who would receive a new, holy name upon the completion of their training; the rest would die, a faith to weak the Holy city would say.
For Meridian, that day was in her twentieth year. That was also the year, of her greatest failure.
On her first mission, to hunt and kill a witch in the Northern village, Meridian made the mistake of feeling empathy for the heartless. The witch, barely a teenager, had harmed one of the faithful and it was her duty to stop them. Instead, unable to cleave her axe through, she let the child run off into the woods; telling her superiors that she had ended him on the spot. All would have been well, had the child not come back to burn the entire village to the ground a week later. Meridian was lucky that all they did was strip her of rank and lock her away. Tormenting her with the news of every new death the child caused because she failed. It took another two years of intense training and scrutiny for Meridian to be charged with hunting the child down again. The only way to regain her title and to fully repent.
She didn't hesitate this time.
After that day, Meridian tossed aside all sympathy for the profane magic users. Her reputation was that of a cruel, merciless witch hunter. Her kill count adding up into hundreds, but not just of witches. She would purge out anyone so much as touched by the magic of her target. Purifying whole villages if need be. Even the smallest touch of magic could spell out disaster, no matter how innocent the source. She was the Holy City's favourite weapon when they needed the most ruthless of missions completed.
Meridian would do it without question. Never question the doctrine. Her failure had killed enough, and she would spend the rest of her life making up for that mistake.
Age: 27
Armoured Appearance: Meridian dons a set of half-plate armour that consists of breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and a helm. The armour is well loved, but old, and even a buffing can't remove some of the deeper scratches in the metal. It is a dull bronze, with painted symbols to announce her rank and order. A tabard of the holy city in red hangs from the hewn plate. Her helm bears a slit cross guard, keeping her face protected but her vision narrow. She carries a double bladed battle axe that is almost more loved than her gear
Unarmoured Appearanxe: When the plate is removed, Meridian wires a simple set of undyed, linen trousers and tunic. Her only boots are her greaves, and so she will wear them even on the hottest days. Her skin is tanned and freckled, and scars litter the surface to denote the various battles she has fought. Most prominently is a three clawed gash of a scar the touches the corner of her mouth and then moves diagonally to the curve of her jaw and down her throat. It is a story to tell. She has blue-grey eyes, and blonde hair that gets hints of red when it spends time in the sun. Her hair is long enough to brush her knees, but she keeps it tightly braided and pinned to her scalp to fit it to her head. She has deep set, hooded eyes, a Roman nose that looks like it was broken at least twice, and a mouth that seems permanently set in a frown with a thicker lower lip that she often chews on when thinking. She smells like myrrh and ginger which sit in a satchel as a gift from the holy city for 'purification'. The artifact she has acquired is a collar made of orichalcum, a rare green metal that glitters like jade. It reacts to touch, and snaps around the throat of whoever wakes it. It prevents the wearer from entering holy ground, and causes deep burns and bruises to the throat if they try to cross the threshold
Personality: What personality? Meridian had walked herself into a persona of steel armour to hide her thoughts away from the world. She is fit to bouts of anger and cursing when things don't go the way she planned. Set under vow of chastity, poverty, and imbibement, she rarely partakes in forms of relaxation and instead meditates to pass time. She holds years of regrets on her shoulders, and cannot put it down. Her word choice is short and quick, and she prefers actions to words
Backstory: Meridian, born under a different name, had her fate as a paladin of the Holy city decided upon the day of her birth. Every year, the stars are read to determine which day will give rise to the most devout paladins; all children born upon that day are taken in as wards of the City. The training started young, was taught harshly, and mistakes were always punished. It created the finest, most loyal paladins who would receive a new, holy name upon the completion of their training; the rest would die, a faith to weak the Holy city would say.
For Meridian, that day was in her twentieth year. That was also the year, of her greatest failure.
On her first mission, to hunt and kill a witch in the Northern village, Meridian made the mistake of feeling empathy for the heartless. The witch, barely a teenager, had harmed one of the faithful and it was her duty to stop them. Instead, unable to cleave her axe through, she let the child run off into the woods; telling her superiors that she had ended him on the spot. All would have been well, had the child not come back to burn the entire village to the ground a week later. Meridian was lucky that all they did was strip her of rank and lock her away. Tormenting her with the news of every new death the child caused because she failed. It took another two years of intense training and scrutiny for Meridian to be charged with hunting the child down again. The only way to regain her title and to fully repent.
She didn't hesitate this time.
After that day, Meridian tossed aside all sympathy for the profane magic users. Her reputation was that of a cruel, merciless witch hunter. Her kill count adding up into hundreds, but not just of witches. She would purge out anyone so much as touched by the magic of her target. Purifying whole villages if need be. Even the smallest touch of magic could spell out disaster, no matter how innocent the source. She was the Holy City's favourite weapon when they needed the most ruthless of missions completed.
Meridian would do it without question. Never question the doctrine. Her failure had killed enough, and she would spend the rest of her life making up for that mistake.
Name: Lorenah Stark
Age: 22
Lorenah and Robb Stark, the twins of Winterfell, were equal combinations of ferocity and cleverness. The two connected at the hip from the early hours in the training yard, and the late nights elbows deep in the maester's scrolls. Robb committed himself to being the next lord of Winterfell, and Lorenah committed herself to always standing at Robb's side. If he fought, she would fight. If he studied, she would quiz him. They worked in tandem with one another, and no one would speak one name without the other quickly following.
But time changes all things. As the twins grew, expectations for the two became drastically different. Where Robb was encouraged by the Maester of Arms, Lorenah was banned from the training yard all together (in fairness, she had taken the blame for Robb when the two of them burned down part of the bowery). Lorenah was seen as tiresome whenever she questioned the maester about the history of Westeros, while Robb was praised. The world was simply seeing Lorenah as they saw all noble women, but Lorenah only saw herself as Robb's equal. Where they had once studied together, now Robb snuck out his lessons to teach to Lorenah, and she in turn told him of the various things she heard and learned while others thought her attention occupied.
This pseudo fantasy of equality that the twins had been living quickly came to an end one night. Lorenah had stepped out of the main hall to find where Robb had gone off to, they always hated being a part. Alone, in the dark and with her hood up, a thief attacked; not recognizing the fatal mistake he was making. Despite all of the lessons Robb had taught her on strategy, all the days spent watching fights, Lorenah couldn't even hold off one starving man after her purse. Robb heard her scream, and ran to her aide; killing him in a frenzy of messy sword blows. She may have been saved, but Lorenah did not leave the night untouched; multiple cuts that formed into scars along her arms, and a singular scar that ran parallel to the curve of her jaw.
It had only been a simple theft, but it was enough that rumours started throughout Winterfell. That the Lady Lorenah had been out on a tryst, that she had been raped, or how she would have no marriage prospects now. While Eddard tried to supress the rumours about his eldest daughter, there is never a way to completely stop the rumour mill. He and Catelyn agreed that it was safer to keep Lorenah closer to hand, at least until the rumours quieted down. It wouldn't have mattered. After that night, Lorenah had learned two heavy lessons: that people are cruel, and that she would never be able to stand beside Robb as an equal, not even in her own home.
She withdrew from her usual friends, from her time with Robb, and spent much of her time in her room. Dedicating her to the one thing that no one could ever take away, her ability to learn. Lorenah read everything she could get her hands on, everything her father was willing to have flown to Winterfell by raven (she only forged his signature once), and everything she could bribe the maester into teaching her. Lorenah even learned a good deal of Valyrian so she could translate older texts on her own. It left her dreaming of one day seeing the skulls of the dragons that still survived the Dance.
The twins drifted further apart with every year. Robb quickly growing in friend and ally, while Lorenah spent more of her time in a tower of Winterfell. It became more and more rare to see her outside of her home unless requested by Eddard. Eventually, the people of Winterfell began to know her simply as Lady Candelight. For no matter what hour, a candle could always be seen burning in the tower window. Of course, like all the Stark children, Lorenah has her own dire wolf for a companion. The quietest of the pack and the best trained; the wolf spends most hours in front of her door to guard her mistress from disturbances.
Only something as grand as the arrival of the King and Queen to Winterfell would be able to pull her from her midnight tower.
Age: 22
Lorenah and Robb Stark, the twins of Winterfell, were equal combinations of ferocity and cleverness. The two connected at the hip from the early hours in the training yard, and the late nights elbows deep in the maester's scrolls. Robb committed himself to being the next lord of Winterfell, and Lorenah committed herself to always standing at Robb's side. If he fought, she would fight. If he studied, she would quiz him. They worked in tandem with one another, and no one would speak one name without the other quickly following.
But time changes all things. As the twins grew, expectations for the two became drastically different. Where Robb was encouraged by the Maester of Arms, Lorenah was banned from the training yard all together (in fairness, she had taken the blame for Robb when the two of them burned down part of the bowery). Lorenah was seen as tiresome whenever she questioned the maester about the history of Westeros, while Robb was praised. The world was simply seeing Lorenah as they saw all noble women, but Lorenah only saw herself as Robb's equal. Where they had once studied together, now Robb snuck out his lessons to teach to Lorenah, and she in turn told him of the various things she heard and learned while others thought her attention occupied.
This pseudo fantasy of equality that the twins had been living quickly came to an end one night. Lorenah had stepped out of the main hall to find where Robb had gone off to, they always hated being a part. Alone, in the dark and with her hood up, a thief attacked; not recognizing the fatal mistake he was making. Despite all of the lessons Robb had taught her on strategy, all the days spent watching fights, Lorenah couldn't even hold off one starving man after her purse. Robb heard her scream, and ran to her aide; killing him in a frenzy of messy sword blows. She may have been saved, but Lorenah did not leave the night untouched; multiple cuts that formed into scars along her arms, and a singular scar that ran parallel to the curve of her jaw.
It had only been a simple theft, but it was enough that rumours started throughout Winterfell. That the Lady Lorenah had been out on a tryst, that she had been raped, or how she would have no marriage prospects now. While Eddard tried to supress the rumours about his eldest daughter, there is never a way to completely stop the rumour mill. He and Catelyn agreed that it was safer to keep Lorenah closer to hand, at least until the rumours quieted down. It wouldn't have mattered. After that night, Lorenah had learned two heavy lessons: that people are cruel, and that she would never be able to stand beside Robb as an equal, not even in her own home.
She withdrew from her usual friends, from her time with Robb, and spent much of her time in her room. Dedicating her to the one thing that no one could ever take away, her ability to learn. Lorenah read everything she could get her hands on, everything her father was willing to have flown to Winterfell by raven (she only forged his signature once), and everything she could bribe the maester into teaching her. Lorenah even learned a good deal of Valyrian so she could translate older texts on her own. It left her dreaming of one day seeing the skulls of the dragons that still survived the Dance.
The twins drifted further apart with every year. Robb quickly growing in friend and ally, while Lorenah spent more of her time in a tower of Winterfell. It became more and more rare to see her outside of her home unless requested by Eddard. Eventually, the people of Winterfell began to know her simply as Lady Candelight. For no matter what hour, a candle could always be seen burning in the tower window. Of course, like all the Stark children, Lorenah has her own dire wolf for a companion. The quietest of the pack and the best trained; the wolf spends most hours in front of her door to guard her mistress from disturbances.
Only something as grand as the arrival of the King and Queen to Winterfell would be able to pull her from her midnight tower.
WIP
Name: Visenyra Targaryen, second daughter to Queen Aemma & King Viserys Targaryen
Age: 24
Dragon:
With the face of her grandfather Baelon, the mismatched eyes of her grandmother Alyssa, and the heritage of the name Visenya to match with her sister, great things were expected of the second daughter of Viserys. It became clear within a year, that Visenyra would never live up to those expectations. Whether it was the difficult of pregnancy for Aemma, or thanks to the wonders of incest, Visenyra was born with legs that were twisted, broken. The maesters tried everything they could to fix the princess' legs as she grew up. Braces, poultices, and with Viserys consent, even attempted to break and reset the worse of the two legs. It was all for naught, fate had decided that Visenyra had lost the Targaryen coin toss. In the end, the maesters built a set of crutches for the princess to use for short distances, and she was left confined to a wheeled chair the rest of the time.
It at least made it easy for Viserys to dedicate his time in teaching Rhaenyra on the matters of politics and policy.
While Visenyra's legs had betrayed her at birth, she was blessed with a different talent. Something that the dragon priests quickly picked up on when they found that five year old Visenyra had hobbled and crawled to the dragon pit, and was curled up with a pale blue egg. An egg that they had given up on that had started to hatch as Visenyra whispered against its shell as if in a dream. Visenyra had not had a dragon egg placed in her crib as a babe, not because Viserys refused it, but because the maesters had worried she was too weak to share the cradle with anything. It was fitting that the Targaryen had sought out the very egg Aemma had planned to place in her crib in the first place.
Visenyra and Iessoi (the Valyrian word for remember) were close companions from that day. She would have someone take her to the dragon pit everyday, and when they did not, Visenyra would find a way there on her own. No one was sure how or why, but Iessoi grew faster than the rest of the whelps his age. He grew larger, flew faster, and had a watchful look to his eyes just as Visenyra did. While the two became an inseperable rider and dragon, Iessoi was not the only drake that Visenyra had a knack with.
The more time she spent there over the years, the more she connected with the restless beasts. Calming fiery tempers, finding answers to what ailed the beasts, or even simply working beside them without so much as a hiss from the creature. She whispered in Valyrian, and they would understand. In their own, serpent hisses and sparks, Visenyra could tell what they needed. Her legacy as a dragon whisperer was secured when she managed to hatch one of Syrax's eggs for her sister who had brought it to her in hopes she could save it. After that day, Viserys ordered a room built for his younger daughter near the dragons pit; that she might visit and commune with the creatures whenever she needed too.
With time, Visenyra and Iessoi became frequent fliers. The maesters had devised a saddle for the princess that would hold her securely in place upon the dragon's back without the need to use her legs. The first day they tried it, Visenyra and Iessoi were gone for two nights flying. It was the first time she had ever left King's Landing, and it was the first time she had felt free of her own bodily shackles.
When the events known as the Dance of the Dragons occured, Visenyra had declared for her sister's claim to the throne, and had departed with her to Dragonstone leaving the Dragon Pit in a bit of a mess without her to help soothe restless and kept tempers. While she had no ability to fight on foot, Visenyra's close connection to Iessoi made the pair a dangerous sight in the sky. Working as one heart, one mind, she often spent her time as a long range scout and messenger for her sister.
Name: Visenyra Targaryen, second daughter to Queen Aemma & King Viserys Targaryen
Age: 24
Dragon:
With the face of her grandfather Baelon, the mismatched eyes of her grandmother Alyssa, and the heritage of the name Visenya to match with her sister, great things were expected of the second daughter of Viserys. It became clear within a year, that Visenyra would never live up to those expectations. Whether it was the difficult of pregnancy for Aemma, or thanks to the wonders of incest, Visenyra was born with legs that were twisted, broken. The maesters tried everything they could to fix the princess' legs as she grew up. Braces, poultices, and with Viserys consent, even attempted to break and reset the worse of the two legs. It was all for naught, fate had decided that Visenyra had lost the Targaryen coin toss. In the end, the maesters built a set of crutches for the princess to use for short distances, and she was left confined to a wheeled chair the rest of the time.
It at least made it easy for Viserys to dedicate his time in teaching Rhaenyra on the matters of politics and policy.
While Visenyra's legs had betrayed her at birth, she was blessed with a different talent. Something that the dragon priests quickly picked up on when they found that five year old Visenyra had hobbled and crawled to the dragon pit, and was curled up with a pale blue egg. An egg that they had given up on that had started to hatch as Visenyra whispered against its shell as if in a dream. Visenyra had not had a dragon egg placed in her crib as a babe, not because Viserys refused it, but because the maesters had worried she was too weak to share the cradle with anything. It was fitting that the Targaryen had sought out the very egg Aemma had planned to place in her crib in the first place.
Visenyra and Iessoi (the Valyrian word for remember) were close companions from that day. She would have someone take her to the dragon pit everyday, and when they did not, Visenyra would find a way there on her own. No one was sure how or why, but Iessoi grew faster than the rest of the whelps his age. He grew larger, flew faster, and had a watchful look to his eyes just as Visenyra did. While the two became an inseperable rider and dragon, Iessoi was not the only drake that Visenyra had a knack with.
The more time she spent there over the years, the more she connected with the restless beasts. Calming fiery tempers, finding answers to what ailed the beasts, or even simply working beside them without so much as a hiss from the creature. She whispered in Valyrian, and they would understand. In their own, serpent hisses and sparks, Visenyra could tell what they needed. Her legacy as a dragon whisperer was secured when she managed to hatch one of Syrax's eggs for her sister who had brought it to her in hopes she could save it. After that day, Viserys ordered a room built for his younger daughter near the dragons pit; that she might visit and commune with the creatures whenever she needed too.
With time, Visenyra and Iessoi became frequent fliers. The maesters had devised a saddle for the princess that would hold her securely in place upon the dragon's back without the need to use her legs. The first day they tried it, Visenyra and Iessoi were gone for two nights flying. It was the first time she had ever left King's Landing, and it was the first time she had felt free of her own bodily shackles.
When the events known as the Dance of the Dragons occured, Visenyra had declared for her sister's claim to the throne, and had departed with her to Dragonstone leaving the Dragon Pit in a bit of a mess without her to help soothe restless and kept tempers. While she had no ability to fight on foot, Visenyra's close connection to Iessoi made the pair a dangerous sight in the sky. Working as one heart, one mind, she often spent her time as a long range scout and messenger for her sister.
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