Member
Izurich
Achronum
Cu Chulainn
Lildear18
Hero
Mixtape Ghost N
ThatCharacter
Festive
Sp00ki
“You won’t survive the winter.”
Name
Lienna Orhneaht
Age
18 Born the 17th day of the Pegasus Moon, 1476
Country of Origin
The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus
Social Standing
Commoner - soon to join a minor branch of House Gautier
Crest
Minor Crest of Gautier
Lienna's Crest grants her the ability to passively reflect a portion of damage dealt to her back at her attacker, making her an unattractive target.
Lienna's Crest grants her the ability to passively reflect a portion of damage dealt to her back at her attacker, making her an unattractive target.
Starting Class
Monk
Weapon of Choice
Black Magic
Strengths
Reason & Bow
Weaknesses
Heavy Armour & Flying
Starting Spells
Blizzard
Personality
The far northern reaches of Faerghus have a way of imprinting themselves on the people who live in them; frigid, thorny, and severe. Lienna is no exception. Aptly described as “cold”, Lienna looks out for herself first and without exception - everything and everyone else is secondary. She’s not the person to go seeking compassion, and definitely isn’t the caretaking type, more likely to watch you wither and die than take on any extra burden. Still, she can be bargained with, if something of adequate value is offered in return.
As such, Lienna judges things (and people) by how much they can help or hurt her; the beneficial are kept, and the malignant or burdensome promptly abandoned. Socially, she’s attentive and sharp, willing to say or do whatever she needs to to get what she wants, but not an breath more. A hardened air of bitterness from a life hard-fought is apparent in everything she does, but she has no interest in hashing out the past. At the same time, she sees little value in thinking too hard about the future: to Lienna, what matters most is surviving the here and now, and anything beyond that can be dealt with later.
As such, Lienna judges things (and people) by how much they can help or hurt her; the beneficial are kept, and the malignant or burdensome promptly abandoned. Socially, she’s attentive and sharp, willing to say or do whatever she needs to to get what she wants, but not an breath more. A hardened air of bitterness from a life hard-fought is apparent in everything she does, but she has no interest in hashing out the past. At the same time, she sees little value in thinking too hard about the future: to Lienna, what matters most is surviving the here and now, and anything beyond that can be dealt with later.
History
In the Northern reaches of Gautier territory there sits a small village by the name of Hima, best described as a motley assembly of shacks huddled around a small church right on the border of Faerghus and Sreng. Sandwiched between Srengese aggressors and Gautier defenses, the village felt the full brunt of their endless struggle for territory, often caught up in the crossfire of battles or raided for supplies by Srengese forces. Infertile soil, harsh climate, and continued regional unrest made the battlegrounds of Faerghus and Sreng all but unlivable, but nonetheless Hima stubbornly persisted, its people clinging to their inhospitable birthplace like weeds on a cliffside. It was there, in stubborn Hima, that Lienna was born.
She was an only child, left in her elderly grandmother’s care when she was just days old by a mother who wanted nothing to do with her and a father no one could name. With little money to care for a baby, Lienna’s grandmother, Oma, was forced to pick up whatever extra bit of work her old bones could manage, sewing and mending for pennies to make ends meet. Lienna eagerly helped when she was old enough, picking up odd jobs and hunting small game, and the two of them together managed to get by. There was no time or money for school, but Oma did her best to teach Lienna to read, write, and add numbers together; when the child exceeded her own knowledge, she sent her to the village church to learn from the priest and read the scriptures. It was at that church where, at the age of nine, Lienna first discovered she bore a Crest: the Minor Crest of Gautier.
Lienna was excited at first, told by the Priest that her Crest was a blessing from the Goddess, but to Oma, the news was unwelcome. Having heard the stories of how Crests destroyed lives and ripped families apart, she impressed upon Lienna that she must keep her crest a secret, that the nobility of Faerghus would kill, steal and die to add Crest bearers to their ranks and that if anyone found out about it, she would surely be stolen away. But word of a Crest bearer among the commoners of Hima was bound to get out, no matter how closely guarded the secret; soon enough Lienna heard townspeople talk about it, heard it discussed among the Gautier soldiers who often passed through. A few offers of adoption eventually came in from minor nobles, no doubt eager to claim ownership of her Crest, but Oma always forcibly denied them. Lienna didn’t want to go, anyway; from Oma’s stories, Crests sounded more like a curse than a blessing, and she wouldn’t see her little family broken for anything.
If only such things were within her control.
When Lienna was twelve, Oma started changing, her great age manifesting in ugly ways. It was subtle at first; she’d forget where she left her sewing or trail off in the middle of a sentence, simple mistakes easily attributed to the ravages of time. But her decline was fast, staggeringly so. Soon, she was forced to retire from her little mending business when she could no longer reliably tell the difference between shirts and pants. She began missing meals, and started wandering away from the cabin at all hours of the night, searching for places and people Lienna had never heard of. One evening, Lienna came home to an Oma who didn’t recognize her, speaking of things fifty years past as if they happened just yesterday.
There was nothing for Lienna to do but take up the mantle of caretaker. Within a few months she was transformed from child to parent, her days and nights stretched thin as she scraped together all she could to care for a grandmother who’d forgotten who she was. The townspeople were no help; they were sympathetic at first, but when the true nature of Oma’s condition got out they avoided her like the Imperial plague, thinking her madness was contagious or a divine punishment for some horrible sin. Whatever their reasons, it was quickly apparent to Lienna that without her Oma to turn to, the only person in the world she could rely on was herself.
The worst came when Lienna was fourteen. After being forced to run from a routine village raid, she returned to find her grandmother unharmed, but absolutely hysterical. Lienna was shocked; Oma had long since lost touch with reality, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there and prone to bouts of paranoia, but this episode was the most intense Lienna had ever seen. Oma was inconsolable, howling and screaming for Lienna to get away. Like countless times before, Lienna tried to tell Oma who she was, but Oma was unusually stubborn, insisting that she looked nothing like Lienna and that her granddaughter had been taken away by evil things that had been chasing her. She hurled unimaginable abuse at the so-called “imposter”, screaming horrible things Lienna never thought she’d ever hear pass her Oma’s lips. When Lienna finally managed to calm her down, it was like Oma was asleep with her eyes open, staring blankly and not uttering a word.
She never spoke again.
For Lienna, the years that followed were like living with a corpse she couldn’t bury. She did her best to care for her, sure, but to Lienna, Oma was dead; the body left behind was just an empty husk, a cruel mockery of the wise and vibrant woman she loved so dearly. Alone in the world, she grew bitter and distant, calloused from the pain and grief that shook her every time she looked at Oma’s hollow stare.
Lienna had just come of age when Oma finally passed, and she didn’t pause to mourn her. Instead, Lienna resolved to get as far away from that sad little cabin as she could manage, determined to use whatever methods she could muster not to spend another second shivering in Hima with a belly full of snow. She knew her Crest was her best shot at escaping, and was fully prepared to take advantage of it; Oma would have hated the idea, but the hells would take Lienna before she let a long-dead ghost control her any longer.
After a short stay at the village church and a lot of prodding the Gautier soldiers, Lienna learned of a Gautier Count, the current Margrave’s brother, who was struggling to produce a Crest-bearing heir. Seeing her chance, Lienna got in contact with the Count, who was expectedly welcoming of the chance to absorb another Crest-bearer into his family. Marrying a Count, Lienna reasoned, would solve all of her problems: she’d leave Hima and live in a noble estate, never to worry about the roof over her head or her next meal ever again. So what if the Count was more than twice her age? Marrying him and bearing a few Crest babies seemed a small price to pay for a guaranteed life of comfort.
Still, Lienna was no fool - she wouldn’t agree to lock herself away in a far-flung Gautier keep without insurance. Oma taught her to read and add because she insisted that if she wasn’t educated, she’d be swindled for the rest of her life; this was no exception. Lienna needed to learn more about the world she was entering, understand their politics and make connections of her own lest her new husband or any of his highborn peers try to take advantage of her ignorance. Thus, she agreed to marry the Count under one condition: He would sponsor her education at the Garreg Mach Officers’ Academy. After insisting that he’d keep an eye on her so she wouldn’t take his money and run, the Count agreed, and arranged for Lienna to attend Garreg Mach for the year preceding their marriage. Lienna didn’t care; she’d accept an army of chaperones if it meant getting what she wanted.
She was an only child, left in her elderly grandmother’s care when she was just days old by a mother who wanted nothing to do with her and a father no one could name. With little money to care for a baby, Lienna’s grandmother, Oma, was forced to pick up whatever extra bit of work her old bones could manage, sewing and mending for pennies to make ends meet. Lienna eagerly helped when she was old enough, picking up odd jobs and hunting small game, and the two of them together managed to get by. There was no time or money for school, but Oma did her best to teach Lienna to read, write, and add numbers together; when the child exceeded her own knowledge, she sent her to the village church to learn from the priest and read the scriptures. It was at that church where, at the age of nine, Lienna first discovered she bore a Crest: the Minor Crest of Gautier.
Lienna was excited at first, told by the Priest that her Crest was a blessing from the Goddess, but to Oma, the news was unwelcome. Having heard the stories of how Crests destroyed lives and ripped families apart, she impressed upon Lienna that she must keep her crest a secret, that the nobility of Faerghus would kill, steal and die to add Crest bearers to their ranks and that if anyone found out about it, she would surely be stolen away. But word of a Crest bearer among the commoners of Hima was bound to get out, no matter how closely guarded the secret; soon enough Lienna heard townspeople talk about it, heard it discussed among the Gautier soldiers who often passed through. A few offers of adoption eventually came in from minor nobles, no doubt eager to claim ownership of her Crest, but Oma always forcibly denied them. Lienna didn’t want to go, anyway; from Oma’s stories, Crests sounded more like a curse than a blessing, and she wouldn’t see her little family broken for anything.
If only such things were within her control.
When Lienna was twelve, Oma started changing, her great age manifesting in ugly ways. It was subtle at first; she’d forget where she left her sewing or trail off in the middle of a sentence, simple mistakes easily attributed to the ravages of time. But her decline was fast, staggeringly so. Soon, she was forced to retire from her little mending business when she could no longer reliably tell the difference between shirts and pants. She began missing meals, and started wandering away from the cabin at all hours of the night, searching for places and people Lienna had never heard of. One evening, Lienna came home to an Oma who didn’t recognize her, speaking of things fifty years past as if they happened just yesterday.
There was nothing for Lienna to do but take up the mantle of caretaker. Within a few months she was transformed from child to parent, her days and nights stretched thin as she scraped together all she could to care for a grandmother who’d forgotten who she was. The townspeople were no help; they were sympathetic at first, but when the true nature of Oma’s condition got out they avoided her like the Imperial plague, thinking her madness was contagious or a divine punishment for some horrible sin. Whatever their reasons, it was quickly apparent to Lienna that without her Oma to turn to, the only person in the world she could rely on was herself.
The worst came when Lienna was fourteen. After being forced to run from a routine village raid, she returned to find her grandmother unharmed, but absolutely hysterical. Lienna was shocked; Oma had long since lost touch with reality, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there and prone to bouts of paranoia, but this episode was the most intense Lienna had ever seen. Oma was inconsolable, howling and screaming for Lienna to get away. Like countless times before, Lienna tried to tell Oma who she was, but Oma was unusually stubborn, insisting that she looked nothing like Lienna and that her granddaughter had been taken away by evil things that had been chasing her. She hurled unimaginable abuse at the so-called “imposter”, screaming horrible things Lienna never thought she’d ever hear pass her Oma’s lips. When Lienna finally managed to calm her down, it was like Oma was asleep with her eyes open, staring blankly and not uttering a word.
She never spoke again.
For Lienna, the years that followed were like living with a corpse she couldn’t bury. She did her best to care for her, sure, but to Lienna, Oma was dead; the body left behind was just an empty husk, a cruel mockery of the wise and vibrant woman she loved so dearly. Alone in the world, she grew bitter and distant, calloused from the pain and grief that shook her every time she looked at Oma’s hollow stare.
Lienna had just come of age when Oma finally passed, and she didn’t pause to mourn her. Instead, Lienna resolved to get as far away from that sad little cabin as she could manage, determined to use whatever methods she could muster not to spend another second shivering in Hima with a belly full of snow. She knew her Crest was her best shot at escaping, and was fully prepared to take advantage of it; Oma would have hated the idea, but the hells would take Lienna before she let a long-dead ghost control her any longer.
After a short stay at the village church and a lot of prodding the Gautier soldiers, Lienna learned of a Gautier Count, the current Margrave’s brother, who was struggling to produce a Crest-bearing heir. Seeing her chance, Lienna got in contact with the Count, who was expectedly welcoming of the chance to absorb another Crest-bearer into his family. Marrying a Count, Lienna reasoned, would solve all of her problems: she’d leave Hima and live in a noble estate, never to worry about the roof over her head or her next meal ever again. So what if the Count was more than twice her age? Marrying him and bearing a few Crest babies seemed a small price to pay for a guaranteed life of comfort.
Still, Lienna was no fool - she wouldn’t agree to lock herself away in a far-flung Gautier keep without insurance. Oma taught her to read and add because she insisted that if she wasn’t educated, she’d be swindled for the rest of her life; this was no exception. Lienna needed to learn more about the world she was entering, understand their politics and make connections of her own lest her new husband or any of his highborn peers try to take advantage of her ignorance. Thus, she agreed to marry the Count under one condition: He would sponsor her education at the Garreg Mach Officers’ Academy. After insisting that he’d keep an eye on her so she wouldn’t take his money and run, the Count agreed, and arranged for Lienna to attend Garreg Mach for the year preceding their marriage. Lienna didn’t care; she’d accept an army of chaperones if it meant getting what she wanted.
Uniform Alterations
Lienna's uniform skirt is ankle-length. She foregoes her jacket and her blouse features long, loose-fitting bishop sleeves. She wears a brown scarf tied tight around her midriff in a wide band, held together at one side with a long, drooping bow.
Trivia
- Lienna stands about 5'3" with a thin, willowy frame. Her hair is long, straight, and the colour of ivory, usually either braided or worn down. Her skin is fair and generally clear, and her eyes are a deep amethyst purple.
- Her favourite dish is Beast Meat Teppanyaki. While simple, it was a special treat enjoyed on the rare occasions when her village could get their hands on Noa fruit.
- Having broken a leg as a child when she fell from a tall tree, Lienna has a potent fear of heights.
- “Orhneaht” is pronounced or • nay.
“Let's dance!”
Name
Jorah von Riegan
Age
20 Born the 20th day of the Harpstring Moon, 1474
Country of Origin
The Leicester Alliance
Social Standing
Heir Apparent of House Riegan
Crest
Crest of Riegan
Jorah’s Crest gives him an uncanny ability to read people’s emotions, and makes them more receptive to suggestion - that is, until they realize what he’s doing.
Jorah’s Crest gives him an uncanny ability to read people’s emotions, and makes them more receptive to suggestion - that is, until they realize what he’s doing.
Starting Class
Lord
Weapon of Choice
Bow
Strengths
Bow & Riding
Weaknesses
Reason & Authority
Personality
Perhaps his greatest virtue and flaw all in one, Jorah may be physically incapable of taking anything seriously. He’d call it an asset, being that he doesn't suffer long from heartache or disappointment, and it's nearly impossible to get under his skin. A little too sure of himself, Jorah doesn’t see much beyond the moment, often blind to the consequences of his actions. His impulsivity can often end poorly when his urge to push the envelope overrides his common sense, but he offsets his occasional bad luck with a near-insufferable ‘could have been worse’ attitude. He's laid-back and playful, with a devil-may-care outlook on life and an easy confidence that often strays into cockiness; a born performer and avid show-off, Jorah is generally happiest when all eyes are on him.
Much to his father’s chagrin, Jorah has a nomadic soul, drawn to wander and explore all the world has to offer… although, his more level-headed sister might suggest he's only traveling between fair maidens' beds. As a notorious flirt and a devilish charmer, even Jorah would have to admit that such a theory isn't entirely baseless. Beneath the flippant attitude and flirtatious remarks, however, Jorah is a genuinely kind soul, happy to live and let live without judgement and generally averse to doing harm unless he must.
Much to his father’s chagrin, Jorah has a nomadic soul, drawn to wander and explore all the world has to offer… although, his more level-headed sister might suggest he's only traveling between fair maidens' beds. As a notorious flirt and a devilish charmer, even Jorah would have to admit that such a theory isn't entirely baseless. Beneath the flippant attitude and flirtatious remarks, however, Jorah is a genuinely kind soul, happy to live and let live without judgement and generally averse to doing harm unless he must.
History
When Jorah was born, his father, Duke Rodolph von Riegan, rejoiced. Possessing of the Crest of Riegan, Jorah was the first bearer of a Major Crest the family had produced in generations, cementing his spot as heir apparent to House Riegan’s seat among the Five Great Lords and making him a future great contender for influence at the Roundtable. With the issue of inheritance squared away early on in his tenure as Duke, Rodolph could raise his heir and conduct his business as Duke with a weight off his mind—for a few months, anyway.
As it turned out, Jorah grew into Duke Riegan’s biggest headache, a far cry from the responsible, stately heir he was meant to be. As soon as he could walk, he was difficult to keep still; among other antics, he was notorious for running off in the direction of anything that caught his eye, rules or danger be damned. As a child, he turned escaping his handlers into an art form, and his Crest power was apparent from an early age - he had an infuriating talent for getting what he wanted, no matter how strict his caretakers claimed to be.
His teenage years brought no relief; in fact, the only change that seemed to manifest was when he made the transition from chasing mice and butterflies all around Derdriu to chasing comely maidens instead. Knowing how much of a boon his son’s Crest power could be as a negotiator, Duke Riegan began taking Jorah with him on business trips around Fódlan, hoping that seeing him in action would endear the boy to politics and motivate him to take his role as heir more seriously. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect: it gave young Jorah a taste for adventure.
From then on, Jorah was impossible to contain. What used to be an itch to cause trouble around the Roundtable and the Riegan estate expanded to include all of Derdriu and beyond, turning the boy into a bona fide flight risk. Having finally gotten a taste of the world beyond Derdriu, he was desperate for any chance to experience more of it, driven to distraction by stories told by soldiers and merchants with nary a thought spared for his lessons or responsibilities. Hoping to stifle his son’s wanderlust, the Duke responded by barring him from any travel outside of Derdriu; instead, he simply turned Jorah’s birthplace into his prison.
Chafing under his overbearing father but ever mischievous, Jorah still managed to find loopholes in his sentence. In his later teen years, he took to a habit of walking the streets of Derdriu in disguise, using the creative moniker “Torah” to talk to the commoners without the pretense of nobility. Unsurprisingly, one of his absolute favourite haunts (aside from a number of taverns and cat houses) was the Derdriu waterfront, where he spent countless afternoons chatting up salesmen, sellswords and swashbucklers from every corner of the world. Heedless of the danger of being an unprotected noble heir surrounded by foreigners, Jorah thrived in their company, soaking up everything he could squeeze from them about their homelands and their adventures. Still, while sailors’ stories were enough to tide him over, they couldn’t sate him forever; before long, the Aquatic Capital felt more to Jorah like Fódlan’s Fishbowl, where he could gaze out at the entire world parading through the harbour, but never follow them whence they came.
The ever-present tension between Jorah and his father finally came to a head the year Jorah turned twenty, far past the age where he should have started taking his role seriously and still with his head in the clouds. Duke Riegan had long threatened action if Jorah couldn’t get his act together, and Jorah had long resisted him, insisting that his younger sister Delia was more fit than he for the position. After an explosive argument, the Duke finally gave Jorah an ultimatum: he would attend the Officers’ Academy at Garreg Mach and return a fitting heir, or he wouldn’t return at all.
As it turned out, Jorah grew into Duke Riegan’s biggest headache, a far cry from the responsible, stately heir he was meant to be. As soon as he could walk, he was difficult to keep still; among other antics, he was notorious for running off in the direction of anything that caught his eye, rules or danger be damned. As a child, he turned escaping his handlers into an art form, and his Crest power was apparent from an early age - he had an infuriating talent for getting what he wanted, no matter how strict his caretakers claimed to be.
His teenage years brought no relief; in fact, the only change that seemed to manifest was when he made the transition from chasing mice and butterflies all around Derdriu to chasing comely maidens instead. Knowing how much of a boon his son’s Crest power could be as a negotiator, Duke Riegan began taking Jorah with him on business trips around Fódlan, hoping that seeing him in action would endear the boy to politics and motivate him to take his role as heir more seriously. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect: it gave young Jorah a taste for adventure.
From then on, Jorah was impossible to contain. What used to be an itch to cause trouble around the Roundtable and the Riegan estate expanded to include all of Derdriu and beyond, turning the boy into a bona fide flight risk. Having finally gotten a taste of the world beyond Derdriu, he was desperate for any chance to experience more of it, driven to distraction by stories told by soldiers and merchants with nary a thought spared for his lessons or responsibilities. Hoping to stifle his son’s wanderlust, the Duke responded by barring him from any travel outside of Derdriu; instead, he simply turned Jorah’s birthplace into his prison.
Chafing under his overbearing father but ever mischievous, Jorah still managed to find loopholes in his sentence. In his later teen years, he took to a habit of walking the streets of Derdriu in disguise, using the creative moniker “Torah” to talk to the commoners without the pretense of nobility. Unsurprisingly, one of his absolute favourite haunts (aside from a number of taverns and cat houses) was the Derdriu waterfront, where he spent countless afternoons chatting up salesmen, sellswords and swashbucklers from every corner of the world. Heedless of the danger of being an unprotected noble heir surrounded by foreigners, Jorah thrived in their company, soaking up everything he could squeeze from them about their homelands and their adventures. Still, while sailors’ stories were enough to tide him over, they couldn’t sate him forever; before long, the Aquatic Capital felt more to Jorah like Fódlan’s Fishbowl, where he could gaze out at the entire world parading through the harbour, but never follow them whence they came.
The ever-present tension between Jorah and his father finally came to a head the year Jorah turned twenty, far past the age where he should have started taking his role seriously and still with his head in the clouds. Duke Riegan had long threatened action if Jorah couldn’t get his act together, and Jorah had long resisted him, insisting that his younger sister Delia was more fit than he for the position. After an explosive argument, the Duke finally gave Jorah an ultimatum: he would attend the Officers’ Academy at Garreg Mach and return a fitting heir, or he wouldn’t return at all.
Uniform Alterations
Jorah wears his house leader uniform unchanged with the exception of a colourful patterned sash around his waist, reminiscent of Leicestrian style.
Trivia
- At 5’8”, Jorah is neither tall nor short, with a lithe frame covered in wiry muscle. His hair is blond and almost always kept tied back in a number of braids; let down, it’s long enough to reach the middle of his back. He gets his wine-coloured eyes from his mother and his deep tan skin from his father, and has taken to painting his face with symbols he learned from Brigid sailors, despite his father's protests.
- Though he plays it off as a "knack", Jorah's Crest ability affects him more profoundly than he lets on. It forces him to feel the emotions of the people around him, good and bad - and there's no way for him to turn it off.
- Jorah is an avid lover of music and dance, and has learned to play a number of instruments. His time on the Derdriu docks also taught him a wide repertoire of folk and sailing songs, which he’s more than happy to break into at any moment.
- His abundant energy (and one embarrassing incident where he inexplicably got stuck on a chandelier) earned him the nickname “Monkey” from his mother.
- Jorah’s favourite food is super-spicy fish dango from the Empire, though he’s generally a fan of anything foreign and anything liable to sear the tongue out of his head.
