Name: Maeve Innis
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Appearance: Tall and pale as with many of her people, though stocky despite her height. Raggedly cut dark brown hair hangs down to her shoulders, framing craggy features. Maeve, though previously muscular and lean, has grown both slightly weaker and plumper than she was five years ago due to a more and more sedentary life. Her clothing tends to be fairly plain, consisting mainly of unadorned light grey trousers and shirts underneath rudimentary leather armour. The only things of note about her apparel are a patterned green bandanna which she uses to tie back her hair, and a heavy blue cloak held with a silver clasp in the shape of a stag head. Her quiver lies on her back, her composite bow in a sling, and her hunting knife hangs at her side on a belt covered with small bags and pouches. She has no tattoos, but has several small scars and marks on her face from her time fighting, which she bears proudly.
Personality: Maeve, for the most part, tries to be kind and accepting (to set a good example for her sisters). She has her flaws though, and harbours a suspicion and mild dislike for people different from her own. Both terrified and fascinated by the world outside Rasari, she prefers to avoid new experiences and things outside of her comfort zone. She also is most uncomfortable in large towns and cities, where she feels vulnerable and out of her element. While not illiterate, she is also not the most educated, and practices writing and illustration in a small leather bound journal she keeps on her at all times.
Backstory: Born into a small coastal village, Maeve was raised primarily by the community. Her parents were travelling traders and so were absent for long periods of time though, when back home, they were loving. As such, she grew up surrounded by many that she called family, and took a particular interest in hunting though her parents wished for her to one day join them as a trader. She was sixteen when her sisters were born, twins, and she became the primary carer with the help of the village.
The revolution struck when Maeve was eighteen, and despite the protests of her parents and a large portion of the village, she left her sisters and set out with a small group of others to take up arms against the Kingdom of Rostra. She helped to plant traps and execute ambushes, and though at first the battle went in their favour, soon they began to lose people. One by one she saw her friends die until, two years later, she returned to her village defeated with only three of the people she had set out with.
It was not a heroes welcome she received, but instead one of scorn and disappointment. She was not embraced back into her home, but instead treated as an outcast. When she asked after her parents, all she was told was that they had not returned from their trade routes for six months. After a month of trying to resume her old life and failing, she decided to take her sisters (now four years old) and leave with the others who had fought with her in the rebellion. They left in the night, and were long gone before any of the villagers noticed they had taken the twins. The fog and weather made them hard to track, and soon they had put their old life far behind them. Together they decided to return to a small outpost used during the rebellion, now home only to the few outcasts who had had nowhere to go after the war. In that strange community she raised them as her own until the day, five years later, that she discovered the mask had chosen her.
Cut off for so long from the outside world, Maeve was now forced to leave her sisters and home and to travel to the Capitol of a Kingdom she had never wanted, to learn and wield a power she had never asked for.
Other: She is skilled with her bow and hunting knife, and is fairly agile. She has the knowledge of how to set traps, and is both a good climber, swimmer and long distance runner. Maeve lacks skills in literacy and social etiquette, tending to get herself into awkward situations, and the extent of her medical ability is wrapping the cleanest rag in sight around a wound.
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Appearance: Tall and pale as with many of her people, though stocky despite her height. Raggedly cut dark brown hair hangs down to her shoulders, framing craggy features. Maeve, though previously muscular and lean, has grown both slightly weaker and plumper than she was five years ago due to a more and more sedentary life. Her clothing tends to be fairly plain, consisting mainly of unadorned light grey trousers and shirts underneath rudimentary leather armour. The only things of note about her apparel are a patterned green bandanna which she uses to tie back her hair, and a heavy blue cloak held with a silver clasp in the shape of a stag head. Her quiver lies on her back, her composite bow in a sling, and her hunting knife hangs at her side on a belt covered with small bags and pouches. She has no tattoos, but has several small scars and marks on her face from her time fighting, which she bears proudly.
Personality: Maeve, for the most part, tries to be kind and accepting (to set a good example for her sisters). She has her flaws though, and harbours a suspicion and mild dislike for people different from her own. Both terrified and fascinated by the world outside Rasari, she prefers to avoid new experiences and things outside of her comfort zone. She also is most uncomfortable in large towns and cities, where she feels vulnerable and out of her element. While not illiterate, she is also not the most educated, and practices writing and illustration in a small leather bound journal she keeps on her at all times.
Backstory: Born into a small coastal village, Maeve was raised primarily by the community. Her parents were travelling traders and so were absent for long periods of time though, when back home, they were loving. As such, she grew up surrounded by many that she called family, and took a particular interest in hunting though her parents wished for her to one day join them as a trader. She was sixteen when her sisters were born, twins, and she became the primary carer with the help of the village.
The revolution struck when Maeve was eighteen, and despite the protests of her parents and a large portion of the village, she left her sisters and set out with a small group of others to take up arms against the Kingdom of Rostra. She helped to plant traps and execute ambushes, and though at first the battle went in their favour, soon they began to lose people. One by one she saw her friends die until, two years later, she returned to her village defeated with only three of the people she had set out with.
It was not a heroes welcome she received, but instead one of scorn and disappointment. She was not embraced back into her home, but instead treated as an outcast. When she asked after her parents, all she was told was that they had not returned from their trade routes for six months. After a month of trying to resume her old life and failing, she decided to take her sisters (now four years old) and leave with the others who had fought with her in the rebellion. They left in the night, and were long gone before any of the villagers noticed they had taken the twins. The fog and weather made them hard to track, and soon they had put their old life far behind them. Together they decided to return to a small outpost used during the rebellion, now home only to the few outcasts who had had nowhere to go after the war. In that strange community she raised them as her own until the day, five years later, that she discovered the mask had chosen her.
Cut off for so long from the outside world, Maeve was now forced to leave her sisters and home and to travel to the Capitol of a Kingdom she had never wanted, to learn and wield a power she had never asked for.
Other: She is skilled with her bow and hunting knife, and is fairly agile. She has the knowledge of how to set traps, and is both a good climber, swimmer and long distance runner. Maeve lacks skills in literacy and social etiquette, tending to get herself into awkward situations, and the extent of her medical ability is wrapping the cleanest rag in sight around a wound.