OOC: Looking for a lady to hop in playing Aroyarin, sister to my character, dominant warrior-elf , and maybe others later. Set in an elven forest-city. Elves only, but maybe some human, dwarven, or orcish bandits could come along...
Tyav'ondo Vala: Tall, lithe elf, well built, round soft features. He is an elven bard, specializing in playing the flute, singing, and reciting poetry.
IC:
Tyav clung to the shattered remains of his father's sword. He missed the old warrior dearly, and it was starting to wear on him. He had almost everything an elven man could want. A good sturdy mansion, carved out of an entire grove of enormous trees, a mother, a sister, more food and drink than he could ever want, and he didn't have to work. Even so, Tyav'ondo was sure that he would be overtaken by death at any moment. He had no way of defending himself, being a bard. The only one with any combat experience now was his sister.
Aroyarin, sister to Tyav'ondo, was a tough elven girl just coming into maturity. She had learned all that Tyav's father could teach her, while Tyav was playing his flute or writing some verses for a new poem. He wished now that he had payed attention to his father, Ondo. At least he wouldn't be in his current situation.
When Ondo Vala died, at the hand of dirty human bandits, Tyav'ondo's mother had named Aroyarin the head of household! This infuriated Tyav, who spent day after day mourning the loss of Ondo. Sometimes he wondered if Aro even cared. He doubted it. Now she only bossed him around, making him do woman's chores while she sat in their father's chair laughing, and doing nothing.
It seemed their mother was never out of her own chambers. Probably to avoid Aroyarin's dominance.
That was why he needed this sword. It was just a fragment of a blade attached to a hilt, but it would more than suffice for debilitating a sleeping elven girl. He had sneaked from his bed, wearing only his thickest silk robe, into his sister's armory, just off from her bedroom. He had been worried about waking her as he passed through to get there, but hearing her loudly snoring, he was almost set at ease.
He gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the stabbing of his own sister. It was then that he realized something was wrong. He couldn't place it at first, but when a strong, but soft arm crept around his neck, and a tough feminine hand grasped his and shook the sword from it, he figured out what it was.
The lack of snoring. He choked, as his sister's arm tightened, and her other brought his hand around behind him. Her foot was between his, offering little option of maneuvering, as she would easily knock him down. He was helpless. He had only to wait for her reaction.
(Hop in here!
)
Tyav'ondo Vala: Tall, lithe elf, well built, round soft features. He is an elven bard, specializing in playing the flute, singing, and reciting poetry.
IC:
Tyav clung to the shattered remains of his father's sword. He missed the old warrior dearly, and it was starting to wear on him. He had almost everything an elven man could want. A good sturdy mansion, carved out of an entire grove of enormous trees, a mother, a sister, more food and drink than he could ever want, and he didn't have to work. Even so, Tyav'ondo was sure that he would be overtaken by death at any moment. He had no way of defending himself, being a bard. The only one with any combat experience now was his sister.
Aroyarin, sister to Tyav'ondo, was a tough elven girl just coming into maturity. She had learned all that Tyav's father could teach her, while Tyav was playing his flute or writing some verses for a new poem. He wished now that he had payed attention to his father, Ondo. At least he wouldn't be in his current situation.
When Ondo Vala died, at the hand of dirty human bandits, Tyav'ondo's mother had named Aroyarin the head of household! This infuriated Tyav, who spent day after day mourning the loss of Ondo. Sometimes he wondered if Aro even cared. He doubted it. Now she only bossed him around, making him do woman's chores while she sat in their father's chair laughing, and doing nothing.
It seemed their mother was never out of her own chambers. Probably to avoid Aroyarin's dominance.
That was why he needed this sword. It was just a fragment of a blade attached to a hilt, but it would more than suffice for debilitating a sleeping elven girl. He had sneaked from his bed, wearing only his thickest silk robe, into his sister's armory, just off from her bedroom. He had been worried about waking her as he passed through to get there, but hearing her loudly snoring, he was almost set at ease.
He gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the stabbing of his own sister. It was then that he realized something was wrong. He couldn't place it at first, but when a strong, but soft arm crept around his neck, and a tough feminine hand grasped his and shook the sword from it, he figured out what it was.
The lack of snoring. He choked, as his sister's arm tightened, and her other brought his hand around behind him. Her foot was between his, offering little option of maneuvering, as she would easily knock him down. He was helpless. He had only to wait for her reaction.
(Hop in here!
)
