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 Maion Jesteyn - An (un)emotional beginning

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Join date : 2009-05-21
Location : Canberra, Australia

Maion Jesteyn - An (un)emotional beginning Empty
PostSubject: Maion Jesteyn - An (un)emotional beginning   Maion Jesteyn - An (un)emotional beginning Icon_minitimeMon Jun 22, 2009 3:46 am

((Copy pasta from the old forums, with some spelling and grammar changes to make it look and flow better Smile Enjoy Maion's introduction!))

Name: Maion Jesteyn

Race: Elf (No Subrace)

Age: 74

Height: 5'6”

Weight: 64 kg

Natural Hair Colour: Very light brown/Very dark blonde

Eye Colour: Hazel, specifically two rings, one of motley brown surrounded by vivid cats eye green

Personal History:

Epic tales of journey, discovery and heroism were not to be for this young elf. Born and raised by bandits on the island of Anphillia, she learnt to live off the land, or whatever fort folk, or city scum happened to be unlucky enough to be caught in the groups careful laid traps. Now this wasn't an ordinary group of bandits. No, they didn't hole up in one place and wait for adventurers to come clear them out. They kept on the move and its probably this that kept them, and consequently Maion, alive for so long.

So she grew, learning the lay of the land, how to set traps, how to live in a world of hardships. But most importantly, she learnt how to hunt. A natural with the bow, she quickly started bringing down large amounts of fresh meat for the band. She even slaughtered deer roaming the grounds of the forts, and a sow or two from Ranzington, all without ever being caught or seen.

Yet as she grew, the origin of her skills and abilities became apparent. Never a boisterous child, Maion was very quiet, having been shown the sight of blood whilst very young. Death held no sting for her morals, it was simply another daily occurrence since the time she could first remember. Her lessons always involved hunting, killing, or how to avoid being hunted or killed. Emotion drained from her as she aged. The other bandits drank, played dangerous knife games, sang and Maion joined in with these for a time. She even became quite skilled with a makeshift lute one of her lovers made. She took no joy in physical pleasure, or material gains, living only for the next hunt and her lute.

As time passed, the fort folk and city scum cracked down on banditry around their holdings and food became scarce. Bandit turned on bandit as the natural game they were used to hunting was brought inside expanded fort and city boundaries because of the dangerous and feral creatures that roamed the countryside. Maion's skills became invaluable. But even they were not enough. Angry from hunger and lack of “proper drink” men from the bandit group turned on the few women that had once eagerly shared their beds. Instead of the old code, where the woman chose the man, men took the women as they pleased. Some even approached Maion when times got desperate, to see if they could make the silent elf with the bloody hands squeal.

It didn't much matter to Maion, but she had no wish to go through such an experience when other things could be done. Like hunting. She saw an opportunity and took it. With her quiet voice and tone lacking an emphasis, she promised two things in return for one:
“Leave me be. You will have meat. Tonight.”

Knowing her reputation, some of the men trusted in her. Others looked at how long it had been since meat had truly been served and made for her anyway, but by the time they had made their choice, Maion had gone, her ever present Bow and Lute along with her.

True to her word, Maion went hunting for meat. She settled down within her elven eyes sight of the bandit camp and waited. When the activities died down and the guard was set, she decided it was time to make her move. She crept upon the camp quietly. A strange sensation passed through her chest when she considered what she was about to do. Feeling, real feeling tingled the tips of her fingers as she picked up a stick and cracked it with her foot. She had wanted to see if the band of predators that raised her could also be prey for a long time now.

The noise drew a camp guard, who died with an arrow through his throat. Working her way to the other side of the ravine in which the group was entrenched, she performed the same to the only other guard on duty, freeing up both entrances to the camp. And then, she used the second corpse to create a fresh blood trail to the nearest commonly used fort folk path. Sneaking back to the camp, she used subterfuge to trick the guard replacements into believing that she had taken their shift, to attone for her inability to bring back meat. Early in the morning, several bird calls, barely a hint out of tune alerted her that it was time to leave.

The aftermath of the slaughter was an ugly sight. Trackers had discovered the slick trail of blood in the dark of night and followed it all the way to the bandit camp. They launched a raid in the wolf's tail grey of early dawn, cutting most of the bandits down before they could rise, because of the lack of guards.

Watching from a nearby vantage point, Maion eyed the slaughter and nodded to herself once. It was clear. She had outgrown these sacks of flesh, this useless pack. Now she would have to find a new pack, one where she could fight as a lone wolf, or be party to the hunting of large, ferocious beasts.

But the beasts on her mind were not animals, nor fell creatures. These beasts were to be armed with steel, plate and shield, with spell and arrow. She needed the ultimate prey. And Axfell, could provide.
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