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User1nvalid

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  • Character Name
    Astarmë Arthalion | Mersilmë Wynterbourn

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  1. Astarmë was quick to take the missive the moment it was finally ready for the public to view, curiosity bright in her eyes as she read the page. When she reached the name Sofia Euler, her expression softened into a small, pleased smile. Though she was not her first pick, she was still the one who had stood out among them and, in turn, won the hearts of the people. She quietly wondered what Sofia Euler would make of her new role. Her mind then drifted to the evening itself, to all that had been said and done. There would be more to come, and perhaps even the same names would return, trying again. She would be eagerly awaiting such, and was even more pleased to see her mother venture out and create something new. Astarmë tucked the missive neatly away, an anticipation settling in her chest. It had been her first ball and already, she found she could not get enough.
  2. In the quiet of the palace, the young Princess Astarmë sat with the first edition volume before her, her tutor waiting nearby, letting her explore the pages at her own pace. She read the names and deeds of Idunia’s knights, marking the ones she thought were particularly notable with ribbons. Sir Frederick 'Ecthoron' Euler. "Patience in everything. Slow and steady wins the race." Astarmë's lips curved slightly, amused and fondly as she thought of her sister, of how she had to remind Sidhîel on more than one occasion to slow down, to think, to wait. Sir Frederick's dedication to patience would only strengthen her own. Her eyes lit up upon seeing the next knight mentioned. Ser Caspian Beowulf Colborn III, she knew his boy, the father of the much younger Beowulf. She recalled her first experience sailing during which Beowulf learned how to steer the ship. The boy was kind, adventurous, teased often, but full of potential. She imagined the day his name might stand proudly alongside his father's and could only eagerly await for when that time came. Ser Safiyaa-Yavanna Vourkehardt Glennmaer, Astarmë traced the letters with a finger, described as a 'Knight of the People,' a figure Astarmë could deeply admire for that. Dedicated to her service, placing the needs of others above her own, carrying both devotion and love. The reminder that gentleness did not imply weakness struck her. It was then that Astarmë leaned back, brushing a curl from her face. She did not long for knighthood, but she imagined what it might be like to follow dreams so big.
  3. User1nvalid

    User1nvalid

    Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Answer: "Oh- Well, if you’ve been waiting for me, then I suppose I ought to make myself worth the trouble," she smiles warmly, brushing dirt off her clothes before settling onto the cushion. "I’m not of much importance," she admits with a dry laugh. "All I’ve known in my life was my father’s inn. My mother left me on his inn’s doorstep in the dead of winter. They thought I wouldn’t survive, callin’ it a blessing of sorts. Whatever it was, I’m grateful. I’ve since then kept the fire steady, the beds made, and tended to travelers day in and day out," she pauses, looking down as she fiddles with her sleeve. "Until now, of course. Just four winters ago, a group came through our inn, raiding it to disrupt the trade routes or some such," she gestured vaguely. "Three knights had been following them, and a fight broke out. My father, in his honor and pride, tried to stand firm against the raiders. My brother tried to help… but it got messy fast." She looks back up at the old woman. "One of the knights stayed to aid my father. While my brother and I cleaned up, I watched him work quietly, tending wounds with experience I didn’t have. He didn’t have to stay after, but he did. That night stuck with me—not for the danger, but for the choice he made to stay." She smiles, thinking back, "I guess you could say it was inspiring, the knight was kind and spoke to us throughout the night, showed us a trick or two. My father had encouraged me to strike out on my own adventure this spring. That day drove me to want to be someone meaningful, like that knight was to us."
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