Her High Diary
Today marks my fifteenth. No doubt my loathsome family is watering at the mouth to marry me to some wretch to rid me from their laps. While they prepare a little party in my name for themselves, I slipped out to get some peace and quiet before I could be bound to it.
Outside, away from the rats of rags and of royalty, I found a band of strange people. I went to them, and they openly laughed at me- despite the nobility beneath my mousy cloak. Needless to say, I was endeared. They mocked me, and had one of their children come to arm wrestle me. I dominated the little one at their game, and who I presume his father near tore my arm off in rematch. Despite my loss, I think they rather liked me.
I spent the rest of the day with them; they took me on a hunt and taught me the basics of the trade. They offered me a bow, but it was far too strong for me, I could barely draw it, let alone shoot accurately. After puncturing the wall of a wagon in error, they handed me an old a rusty blade instead. I do not blame them.
Myself and two of their rank slinked through the trees. They'd provided me rags fit for forest-stalking. We must have been out there not more than a half hour before a boar caught sight of us. It charged, horns primed, and my two companions stepped aside with a hearty hearken. I swung, just as they showed me, and split the brutish grunter's skull with a satisfying crunch. I was rewarded with hoots of approval, and a slap on my back that sent me face first into the mud.
We spent the evening with them showing me to skin and butcher the beast, and eating it's cooked remains. It was more raw an experience than any fancy concoction some castle-keep cook tosspot had ever presented me - far more satisfying. We spoke of their faith, their journey, I told them of my position. They told me it was my duty to seize what I deserve. This dinner was excellent, and they even let me keep its skull as a trophy.
I returned to the castle walls to a prompt arrest, a stern word, and a series of slaps. The folk had kept my dress and let me keep these leathers and clothes and thirsting implement, much to the ire of my parents. I had to retrieve them from the rubbish next morning before they were sent to flame. Thank goodness the servant sent to guard me was gullible and a fool.
My mind is now resolute, and my path is clear to me. I will not wait for a far-flung succession pipe-dream, all while running the risk of marriage. I will make my own destiny and take what I deserve rather than awaiting my slop like some decorated pig. The shriveling seat will not assuage me alone.
Today marks my fifteenth. No doubt my loathsome family is watering at the mouth to marry me to some wretch to rid me from their laps. While they prepare a little party in my name for themselves, I slipped out to get some peace and quiet before I could be bound to it.
Outside, away from the rats of rags and of royalty, I found a band of strange people. I went to them, and they openly laughed at me- despite the nobility beneath my mousy cloak. Needless to say, I was endeared. They mocked me, and had one of their children come to arm wrestle me. I dominated the little one at their game, and who I presume his father near tore my arm off in rematch. Despite my loss, I think they rather liked me.
I spent the rest of the day with them; they took me on a hunt and taught me the basics of the trade. They offered me a bow, but it was far too strong for me, I could barely draw it, let alone shoot accurately. After puncturing the wall of a wagon in error, they handed me an old a rusty blade instead. I do not blame them.
Myself and two of their rank slinked through the trees. They'd provided me rags fit for forest-stalking. We must have been out there not more than a half hour before a boar caught sight of us. It charged, horns primed, and my two companions stepped aside with a hearty hearken. I swung, just as they showed me, and split the brutish grunter's skull with a satisfying crunch. I was rewarded with hoots of approval, and a slap on my back that sent me face first into the mud.
We spent the evening with them showing me to skin and butcher the beast, and eating it's cooked remains. It was more raw an experience than any fancy concoction some castle-keep cook tosspot had ever presented me - far more satisfying. We spoke of their faith, their journey, I told them of my position. They told me it was my duty to seize what I deserve. This dinner was excellent, and they even let me keep its skull as a trophy.
I returned to the castle walls to a prompt arrest, a stern word, and a series of slaps. The folk had kept my dress and let me keep these leathers and clothes and thirsting implement, much to the ire of my parents. I had to retrieve them from the rubbish next morning before they were sent to flame. Thank goodness the servant sent to guard me was gullible and a fool.
My mind is now resolute, and my path is clear to me. I will not wait for a far-flung succession pipe-dream, all while running the risk of marriage. I will make my own destiny and take what I deserve rather than awaiting my slop like some decorated pig. The shriveling seat will not assuage me alone.
Myrgan
Name. Myrgan
Age. 23
Gender. Female
Height. 6'4"
Weight. 189lbs
Race. Human
Personality. Stern, commanding, resolute, pessimistic, selfish, zealous.
Likes. Graft, strength, rain, corvids
Dislikes. Song, monarchies, waste
Appearance. Imposing, pallid, and of raven hair dyed with sage from its former white lustre, this warrior-woman leaves little in the shade of subtlety. Their hip clunks with the skull of a first big hunt, an ancient fable stains their skin, and a chipped blade well-weathered from long usage is gripped in scarred and blackened hand.
Origin & Background.
Myrgan was born to an impotent noble family, far from a inheritor of any worth, as a sister to their younger twin Rydri. She stood in stark contrast to her brother, more traditional and in reverence to ancient arcane traditions—Myrgan held a cruder nature from her earliest years. Stabbing food with the vigor of a bull's goring charge, and frequently shedding raiment with relentless growth spurts, her ability to fit within high society was stunted. As she grew, the electric-blue of her eyes seemed to bleach towards white with each admonishment.
In her early adolescence, she found herself drifting further from her family, feeling more as an appendix that was more so held onto out of a sense of tradition than a genuine member. This was especially the case given that her younger twin was viewed more favorably for the helm-seat of house. They were naught short of eager to let the family feign the brother as the rightful heir - it meant nothing to her regardless given that they both shared a near identical distance to any real seat of power.
In truth, she found more kinship with common folk, after all, should she be to preside with any real efficacy, she should know her subjects. At least she presumed. When the novelty of their ilk wore off in lieu of petty squabbles and rock-bottom aspirations, she sought a people who weren't so comfortable with being the fetid off-cuts of their own former demesne- a people with a higher duty.
She was fifteen years to the day when she shirked her expected presence to the halfhearted celebration of her age, instead slipping the outskirts of her home city in the hopes of finding some tranquillity in nature. She had occasionally been taken on guard-encumbered trips to the forest for herbalist studies, her family having the hope that a flowery pursuit might reign her into a more traditional role in the family. This, of course, failed drastically when she had used the sage she harvested to dye her hair black, resulting in a long stay confined to her room to save face.
That day however, what caught her icy eye was a caravan of folk; horned, gruff, and outcast.
Equipment.
One small, obsidian dagger
One savage, axe-like cutting sword
One hand mirror
One pouch of sage
Fine clothing for one
Common clothing for one
Two ounce bottles of ink
One sharp bone, carved for tattooing
One hooded lamp
Two flasks of oil
One leather-bound diary
One vial of perfume
One stick of wax
One signet ring
One bar of soap
One boar skull
Job. Disgraced scion
Skills. Literacy, hunting, athleticism
Faith. The Void
Deficiencies. Empathy