It's a bit on the short side but I felt a quick reaction post was needed to nudge things back towards the skullduggery at hand. I can pad it out if needed but always feel like I'm throwing out fluff if I dive to deep into what a character is thinking at the moment.
A lither, lighter figure than that of either the previous applicants or their Ventus patron was next to slip its way into the bar, albeit the pace she kept somehow made her strides seem longer; leaving a rebuffed Conrad little time to offer pleasantries. "No." she'd pre-emptied, severing the barman's sentence short and coursing passed him to the corner table, having held Eolas squarely in her sights since her arrival.
Stopping with that same abrupt manner Brevana flicked a waiting seat from before her, motions deft enough to do so quietly as it found a place top down upon the nearby table. "I will prefer to stand." she thrummed, R's rolling over the statement as something in her eyes denigrated those assembled. A slight pivot of gaze let the woman regard both Bakk and Haljon in turn, a gesture that seemed more calculation than courtesy. "You are fortunate I've arrived." the southerner stated as flatly as her accent would allow, as if voicing her opinion of the others.
"You may begin." she'd consent, a bit more brass spoke into the terse sentence as it fought to be heard above the loud crack an idle palm squeezed from her knuckles. Worldly that he was the ex-Vidril needed no introduction to deduce her origins--and so none were given--her suede ninirri and sternly set jaw revealing her to be a warrior-savant of High Atoll. As for the Venar and the Northman (Whom she'd noted held the uncommon distinction of being the taller of the two) they were offered only what cursory exposition could be beheld. She was a warrior, to that much a lattice of scars would attest along the length of each arm, and an old one at that if the white snaking through her brown curls were to be believed. It was only her eyes that could cast that into doubt, bright bits of brown nested in a sea of sun yellowed sclera like hard facets of mineral. Irregardless she seemed less than equipped for whatever undertaking was about to be proffered, bare of even the basic essentials travel or turmoil would demand.
It was the way she moved that made her seem dangerous.
Work's been whipping my buns but I've managed to get the first bit of Brevana's backstory up for your perusal. May be able to polish it off when I get off at midnight.
Here's a WIP while I touch up the backstory and get some feedback.
Name: Brevana the Cloud Age: 68 (allegedly) Gender: Female Appearance: Brevana is an austere looking woman of formidable, ram-rod straight posture and a terse (at times rude) demeanor that permeates all other aspects of her being; in short a woman not in the business of being beautiful. Brown of skin and hair and eye not a drop of Vrentian blood resides within her, evidenced in the subdued, exotic garb draped across her athletic form. White streaks its way through the puff of curls a simple tie keeps in check and lends to her a certain mystique; having either aged gracefully or before her time.
Clothing/Armor: A cross-collared suede garment (called a ninirri) that makes sparing use of concealed buttons and terminates just above the knee. Though reinforced with minimalistic metal plaques this sleeveless offering appears more a vestige of office than battle, a distinction at odds with the scar stricken expanses of leg and arm it leaves bare. Stiff linen slippers accompany Brevana in her travels, secured by a length of leather sandal while a similar solitary wrap graces her right forearm.
Weapons: Brevana is a scholar of a deadly martial ballet known as the Glorious Path of Crescent Sun's Shadow, taught exclusively to the militant arm of the Order of Stone Sages; a philosopher cult that vehemently decries Yvazgrul as the demiurge. Being an expression of the destruction of self and denial of the 'material lie' Crescent Sun Style has no stance, its principle tenant to be formless. At times mistaken for feats of mysticism a more thorough understanding of the body and its structural faults permits Brevana to strike a foe's hidden 'spirit seams' to various effect.
*Phantom Flaying Touch - The direct application of force to a spirit seam, causes localized muscular paralysis. *Sinner's Stride - A very technical throw wherein one's attacker's weight and momentum are leveraged against them. *Biting River Blow - A three strike combination that causes veins to contract, stemming blood flow *Mind Killer Dance - Induces agony by targeting the spinal column *Empty Cup Ritual - Forcibly induces vomiting over extended (often fatal) periods of time *Aphelion/Perihelion's Seal - Brevana enters into either a death-like trance or taps into her body's full potential respectively *Crescent Sun Rises/Sets - The second most devastating move in Brevana's arsenal, a sweeping kick that cuts like a knife *Firmament Crush/Weight of Paradise Hold - A collection of grapples that crush bone and burst organs.
Inventory: Having taken a vow of poverty and adhering to an ascetic lifestyle Brevana carries little in the way of possessions save for the clothes on her back and a small book of self authored poetry.
Backstory: Far to the south the verdant slopes and pastures of Vrent give way to the ruins of Ankhor Mote, the carrion corpse of a once great empire stripped bare by the press of foreign powers. Now merely an oft contested border it's empty streets play venue to the half-hearted saber rattling of expanding nations, mediated only by the unconquerable fortress-fane that keeps them from coming to blows.
Enter High Atoll, seat of the Stone Sages and last vestige of a bygone realm; rising from the White Rills to resist superpowers at each side. Were either country to move in force upon this stronghold it would be seen as the prelude to an invasion by their neighbor, yet lesser efforts invariably fail-- for neither northern seers or the southern Savannah kings hold power within this den of doubters.
So it was that a young Brevana was raised to there ranks, as countless prisoners before her-- broken and humbled by the might of these insurmountable heretics. Born to the braid (Warrior wives within the hundred harems of Prath) She and her slave-sisters marched at the merciless behest of a Savannah king, and he willed that they succeed where all others failed. Barely blooded the young warrior was attached to a ring of heart-drinkers and dispatched to covertly overtake High Atoll; what ensued could scarcely be described as battle. The Crescent Sun pushed through the would-be raiders like a prow through water--above effort--and offered the survivors a choice: remain and adhere to their teachings or return and submit themselves to the 'compassion' of their master. Few opted for the latter.
This proved to be a quickly contempted decision as the Stone Sages were a stringent lot, demanding as much of the reluctant initiates as they did their own number; the thralldom she'd been released from a distant luxury compare to the harsh ascetic lifestyle Brevana now endured. Bodies and wills alike broke beneath the burden of a forty day fast, during which a paltry ration of water was to be the sole source of sustenance, yet Brevana's was not among them. Days turned into weeks and the weeks into months as all that she'd believed herself to be eroded away, in the years that followed the true self that was revealed grew close enough to grasp.
Those of High Atoll value that which they extol to be the righteous truths, expressed totemicly as The Man, The Mirror and The Maker. The man is the material world and represents the lowest order of truths, those that are expressed externally. The mirror is the self and represents the next order of truths, personal truth. Lastly the Maker represents divine truth, as expressed via a crescent sun, for enlightenment is an ever distant horizon. By this measure ignorance is not only unjustified but sinful, as it distances oneself from the divine.
Through such reasoning Yvazgrul and like entities are adversarial to the will of the True Architect, fashioning a kingdom of their own in flawed semblance of the divine model; formed with the malevolent intention of entrapping aspects of the divine in materiality. Evidenced in how Yvazgrul, the font from which the Red Way springs covets the physical realm and coerces faith through fear and favor.
*One must not mistake weakness in themselves for the strength of another
*Though entwined mind and body are no more separate halves of the same whole than a stone to its shadow.
*The material world is as an ocean, ignorance a weight upon the heel. To look beyond the surface we must shake this tether.
