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| Eowyn; "But no living man am I!" | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 28 2008, 01:01 AM (266 Views) | |
| Eowyn | Jan 28 2008, 01:01 AM Post #1 |
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About You Name: Onora Contact Info: ElisabethSW@msn.com Characters on WotR: Halbarad How Did You Find Us?: Advertisement General Information: Name: Eowyn Alias: White Lady of Rohan (She will also be known as Dernhelm and Lady of the Shield-Arm in the future) Gender: Female Homeland: Meduseld in Rohan Age: 23 years In the Service of: Theoden and Rohan. Weaponry Weapons: She has a single sword in her possession. It was not named and it has no lineage, however it is a sturdy blade and has been used in battle before it was given to her. It’s a simple blade of smooth steal. Fairly short and well-balanced, it is ideal for the one-handed wielding that would be required from horseback. The hilt is gilded and formed in the likeness of twin horse heads, the grip is wrapped with leather, and the pommel is large and round, serving as an elegant weight. The sword is considered to be in some sort of retirement by most people. After all, it was taken out of active use, given to a daughter of Rohan so that she could learn to wield it, and now it only exists for ceremony. Still, it is possible that the current owner does not share that opinion. Armor: Well, she doesn’t really have any as she shouldn’t be anywhere near battle. However, she knows where to find some should the need arise. Steed: Windfola is the fine stallion born and bred to be one of the finer creatures Rohan had to offer. He is a great gray beast with a thick, black mane and tail and light dappling about his chest and flank. Broad and well-muscled, this horse has no difficulty bearing heavy loads or rushing into battle. However, it has been a long time since he was used in a manner which would test him in these areas. Description Physical Description: She is called the White Lady of Rohan for a reason. She is tall and slender. Her skin is pale, appearing as if the merry sun of her homeland has rarely touched it, and her hair is of a light golden hue. The features of her face bear few marks of strain, and yet there is nothing soft about them. From her stern, slate eyes to the proud set of her jaw, she seems cool and impassive. The only marks her hands bear are calluses from the rubbing of reins, but even these have begun to fade lately. She has been seen often enough in the long, thick dresses of simple cuts. They dazzle the eye with their vibrant hues of red, green, and blue, colors that are popular in her country. Eowyn has also been found in the black of mourning far too often of late. However, her preferred garments are of light, white clothes that breath and allow her to fill the wind. Occasionally she can be found with a circlet of gold on her head or a golden belt around her waist; however neither are icons commonly associated with the lady. In essence, she seems to favor a simple form of elegance. Avatar: Miranda Otto Personality: Just like anyone else, she has her quirks. There are times when she’s rash and temperamental, or bold to the point of it being a vice. Though she is capable of great love, she also has times of supreme selfishness. Duty is held highly in her eyes, and yet it can be neglected if there is reason. She can be both noble and petty. When it comes to races, she pays little attention beyond heeding her land’s legends about elven sorcerers. And men? Men have little importance in her mind beyond their capacity to fight, and thus she does not give her affections as other women her age would. Few people ever see more than the mask she shows the world. It’s unemotional, uncaring, incapable of feeling hurt or pain. Helm’s Deep has a wall for protection, she has ice. Pride fills her, makes her hold her chin up and straighten her shoulders even when her world crumbles around her. As long as she keeps up the façade nothing can touch her. Pity has no place here, nor weakness of any sort. Still, it is only natural that cracks form at times, and out of these run her sorrow and anger. Only a few can pull down the wall and see her in her weakness. She loves her family dearly, mourns the slow decay of the man who raised her and feels fear clinch her heart every time Eomer and Theodred ride out to battle. Only her family ever gets to see that rare smile that melts away the walls and allows a woman of only 23 years to shine through. It is around these people that she feels free to cry or rant and spend her anger. Around these people she can relax, but not entirely. If they knew who she was inside, they would never accept her, and so she keeps her innermost thoughts to herself. It is here where the child can be found, the girl who started to go missing not long after her seventh year. This is the side of her that feels the call of the wind and delights in the feel of a horse surging beneath her. This is the side that delights in wild mountain views and tales of honor and valor. When she studies the make of a soldier’s sword or appraises a horse, she is secretly appeasing this side of her. There’s something in her that makes her heart beat faster when she hears the call of a horn. Something that fills her mind with dreams of honor and valor. How many nights has she laid awake, hoping that some miracle would happen and she would get a chance to fight. In truth, Eowyn doesn’t know if it’s because she loves her family and wants to keep them from harm, or if she simply longs for a chance to test her metal, but she dearly hopes it is the former. Whatever the case, she feels sure that she is destined for great things, and so she resents it all the more when the men leave for battle and she must remain home, a dry-nurse to her uncle. Looking at the world around her, she recognizes that all must die at some point in their lives. Having seen her mother fail and her uncle begin to rot even while he lived, she has long ago determined that she would die in battle if ever the chance presented itself. At least then she could give her life to a cause and she would not waste away like so many others. She would go out with her boots on, literally. History: Eowyn was born in 2995 to Eomund and Theodwyn of Rohan. Her father was the chief Marshal of the Mark, and her mother was the sister of King Theoden. She was not the only child borne to the couple, as Eomer, her brother, had been borne four years earlier. They lived happily for a time, but the shadow in the East slowly began to encroach upon their lives. Even now, she remembers playing catch with her father one day, though she can’t recall anything that was said. She remembers seeing her father take out his armor and slowly put it on, sparing the time to place his helm upon her head and his cloak around her shoulders, though the helm covered her eyes and the cloak pooled around her feet, before completing his transformation from loving father to fierce warrior. She remembers watching him mount up and wave goodbye before riding off at the head of his eored. She remembers the look on the faces of her mother and brother when the riders came back and told them the news. There are some things that a seven year old child will never forget. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Theodwyn soon sank into depression after her husband’s death. Little by little she faded away, until she joined her husband beyond the circles of this world. With Eomer being the eldest of the two children at eleven, they were in no position to take care of themselves and King Theoden, their uncle took them under his wing and raised them as his children alongside Theodred. Life in the King’s house was pleasant enough in the beginning, and she quickly became close to her dear cousin, seeing him more as another older brother than any other sort of kin. He learned to fight and ride as was befitting a lady of Rohan, along with all the courts traditions and customs. Still, the shadow fell across them once again and Theoden changed and the golden hall became a dark place. In 3017 Eomer became a Marshal of the Mark, in one fell swoop earning honor, pride, freedom, and position. At least, that’s how it looked to Eowyn. She had grown used to Theodred’s leaving to fight, and she had not grudged Eomer his gaining of experience in the battle, but with this it seemed that they were always away, winning more glory and honor, and she was stuck, waiting on a fading old man in his cavernous hall and keeping a wary eye on the serpent called Grima. Misc. Info Sample RP: Second Character Others: Just for the record…I HATE talking about clothes. It feels so Mary-Sue-ish, especially when the character is female and royalty. *shudders* Did you Read the Rules? Second Character |
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7:13 PM Jul 10