Name: Noa Ghaun

Age: Twenty-three

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pan

Race: Andorian

Kingdom: Primfira

Appearance: Tall, as to be expected of an Andorian Warrior, and leaning toward a porcelain color; Noa tends to keep her head held high, the one long braid she does keep trailing triumphantly behind. Toned with musculature crafted from persistent practice and an unwavering dedication to martial pursuits, her sleepy-eyes and generally 'distant cast' belie this nature; while the clothing she 'traditionally' wears shows off a fair amount of her 'hard work'.

A white hooded shawl, sleeves barely down to her elbows and the loose bottom lingering just above her navel, serves to cover her short and unkempt 'golden' hair. Often it is out of the way, revealing the strange ochre coloration of her iris. Aside from the shawl, she wears a similarly colored, long skirt -slit on the outside of both legs- is bound around her by ornately decorated metal rings (two more of which adorn her wrists); making it something more akin to a pair of pants. While Noa is prone to removing her shoes, if she has the chance before a fight, she can maneuver within the sturdy boots fairly well. They, too, share the pristine color of her shawl.

If one were to look closely at her face, they would see that the shape of her eyes is pronouncedly round; though the half-lidded expression on her countenance in nigh perpetuity makes them look like narrow crescents. Her chin is fairly strong, along with her jawline; but her cheeks look somewhat shallow...giving her an oddly 'elfin' look, when considering her slightly pointed ears. She bears no piercings or tattoos. Only scars, which she takes pride in.

Secondmost are the scars to her braid, the only part of her hair that seems to have been planned. Within it are several rings similar to those on her wrists and legs, albeit much smaller. Gladly will Noa tell someone what her braid means, and offer forward a name for each ring.

Occupation: Spearmistress (Warrior)

Personality: Without regard for the boundaries surrounding emotion, Noa has an impressive grasp on 'distance'. A sleepy-eyed, slow-spoken but often slyly-mocking woman who has a fair amount of confidence in her ability to fight. To be true, she knows little else; though she is quick to pick up the basics of many things presented to her.

Aside from this, Noa treats her duties very seriously and holds a love for the Primfira Kingdom. She rarely speaks of politics, preferring to make conversations more 'worthwhile'. Though that is often a nebulous and all-too-convenient definition. She is meddlesome, at times, and more often than not incredibly quarrelsome.

History: Being born into the Ghaun family is one of the largest boons Noa could have received; though she has said, in her arrogant youth, that it is clearly the other way around. On rare, somber, days she may even speak what she thinks to be the truth. Despite all the tension between the many brothers and sisters of her brood, all vying for the respect (and funding) of their 'Matri' and 'Patri', she was lucky to be among them.

Noa never involved herself in the convoluted plans of her more 'cunning' siblings, choosing to route their selfish desires one at a time; through ritualistic combat. She would slay none, as was her prerogative granted at the moment of becoming 'the One Victorious'. Still, it was little more than a diversion for her.

The scholarly friends of the Ghaun family had been instructed to guide Noa in her endeavors since she was a lass that could barely reach her 'Patri's' knee. So, for the years she was a 'runt' (along with several of her slightly older and slightly younger siblings), Noa spent with her nose in books; bitterness breeding as she came in bloom. It seems, too, that her body had taken issue with the countless hours spent studying the useless trifles of the 'intellectual's world'...and finally caught up to her. When she hit her growth-spurt, the orders of her tutors no longer mattered, Noa becoming indolent and scathing; casting aside pages and demanding to be taken before the Head Ghauns.

So it was. So she impressed them. Mostly by knocking out her eldest brother, who had attempted to bar her way, with a trio of punches that looked almost lazy. She wouldn't tell them, for several years, that she had been honing herself in corners and crannies without their consent; sneaking peaks of the martial masters who instructed those who would be Warriors of Primfira, carrying the name of Ghaun forward to honor the service their ancestors had given to the 'Crown and Land'.

Truly, it mattered little. Of her brood, Noa become one of the three brought under their 'Matri' and 'Patri's' wing; one of the three who were to learn their craft from perhaps two of the most deadly Warriors to have ever wed. From there, it was brutality; but brutality became Noa quite well, her 'lock' earned within a year and her first ring adorning it within two days thereafter. After, she simply demanded to be sent to the capital; finally claiming the funding she had never asked for.

Entering into the 'True Guard' (as Noa calls it), took time. Not that she had been counting years. The struggle shaped her with every hardship. Forced her to lose childish notions of glory and honor in bloodshed; though she never could quite cast the romanticism of it from her mind. Brought her current 'dreary' mood as she grew closer to defending what she could not help but love deeply. Primfira, though this newfound affection did not dull her want for 'worthy' battles.

After a year in the nest of nobles, she would receive a gift. Threadcutter, her 'Matri's' old polearm; restored for Noa's inheritance. With it came the responsibility of her name. While it had always been something important, she did not realize that simply having Ghaun tacked on would mean something serious. Fights became more common, and since she had more to fight for Noa became more ferocious; but did not discard the understanding brought on by the tutelage of her youth.

Approaching the castle was difficult enough. Asking for a job, seemingly silly. Noa fancied herself one of the best. She had spent the time free of patrolling continuing to forge herself; testing this long-developed mettle in 'Blood Pits'. By now, she had gathered her scars. By now, she was calling herself a 'Spearmistress'. It seemed to impress some, and amuse others. Regardless, she found her place close to the heart of the country that had given her 'Ghaun' and things such as 'pride' and 'resilience'.

Still, what she asked for would be placed upon her; after a time. A Warrior of the 'Crown and Land'. Noa Ghaun would fight, if need be, on behalf of certain nobles or (so she hoped) the 'Golden Family' themselves, in duels pressed upon them by the stronger and (by her measure) more reasonably qualified.

Regardless, she would spill their blood; if the order was to do so. If they completed the contract by proving themselves despicable or adequately formidable.

Weapons: Threadcutter : A strange polearm fitted with a hooked blade on one end, and a piercing point on the opposite end. While it appears a more ceremonial weapon, ornate and well-kept; several heavy rings affixed to this weapon add a considerable amount of weight. (4 rings, 10 lbs apiece; able to be removed) Stands above Noa by nearly half a foot, putting it somewhere close to 'absolutely towering'.

Skills:

Spatial Reasoning : While many would see Noa as something of an arrogant lackadaisy, the truth is not so different. Of course, she would call herself 'a natural' when it comes to keeping track of the distance between herself and a given foe; as well as maintaining a clear mental image of her surroundings. She is rather hard to pin, or corner, and is particularly wary in close quarters.

Conditioning : She calls herself 'Spearmistress' and is recognized as a Warrior of Primfira. Such does not come without discipline; both mental and physical. Noa is in excellent physical condition and keeps herself focused on what appears to be the most important task at hand. It is this that allows her to utilize the extra weight added to Threadcutter

Threshold : Pain is temporary, some would say. Others would say there is little greater than the fury of being inflicted with pain. Noa would agree with both, on a calm night. In a fight, however, she is certainly a student of the latter. While aware of her wounds, she will attempt, with great vigor, to fight through them and land a killing blow; or escape, depending on the situation. Torture is less effective against her, but not useless.

Scar(s): Lower lip (below, trails to chin, very thin)
Right shoulder (front to back, jagged, very wide and pronounced)
Midriff (across; above navel, seems clinical, very straight and fairly thin)
Tattoo(s): None

Additional Information: Projectile weapons tend to make her uncomfortable, and she has a certain distaste for those who think that battle is so impersonal.