Age: 21
Nationality: Anderfels
Race: Elf
Organization: Templar Order
Class: Warrior
Templar: Knight Captain
Appearance:
Standing 5’9, Lady Aywen isn’t too harsh on the eyes. Her hair is white-blonde, her eyes a delicate soft green, and her skin (depending on the time of year) pale or dusted with a golden glow. Her eyebrows remain dark, a trait inherited from her father. Her lips are a light pink, soft and full along the bottom lip and her nose lightly tipped upwards and dusted with a coating of freckles. Her cheekbones are high on her face and give her a false appearance of elfish blood. However, she remains fully human. On the right side of her face, just above her lip is a terrific scar. It is small, only three centimeter’s in length, but cut all the way through her lip and so it is mirrored on the inside of her mouth as well.
Her body is muscular and lithe. Each muscle is defined slightly under her skin, rippling whenever she walks. Her breasts are full, perky, and sit nicely on her chest. Her stomach is flat, arching into childbearing hips and the soft hill of her mound. Her butt is tight and round. On her left leg is a single scar, running from her knee to the top of her hip; carved into her flesh and left there as a shimmering reminder of her past.
However, it should be noted that no one would have much knowledge on her body or face. The most striking part of her is by far her eyes (because that is the only part that most people see. 24/7 (well, as long as she is in view of others) Lady Aywen is always wearing a scarf. It sits around the top of her head, draped across the bridge of her nose to cover her lips, chin, and neck. These scarfs differ in style and colors though she prefers the black and white one and the blue one.
Her personal armor is simple, yet elegant. Her feet are wrapped in leather boots, constructed for quiet and swift movements. These arch up into silver shin-guards that branch up into round kneepads. A single line of flexible material runs up along her thigh, connecting to three plates that interlock to protect the femoral artery located near the inside of the thigh. A second connection is made wrapped and clipped around the front and back of her leg. On the left side of her body, the outside of her thigh is unprotected by a large sheet of metal but a thin, delicate piece of metal protects the outside of her right leg and is overlapped by the connector to the hip piece. Three plates, each overlapping like scales, rest over her mound, connected by two hip clips that curve and protect her from the bottom of her hip to the line above her belly button. Two thin pieces of connective metal arch up into the breast plate.
Her stomach is also lacking a solid piece of metal for protection and instead she relies on interlocking chinks of rings, so small that it is almost impossible to see with the bare eye. This composes of a light suit, colored black and basically a slightly better version of chainmail. On her arms, this is stuffed inside of gauntlets and on her forearms is tightened down using three ‘dragon spires’ that lead up to her shoulder plates. The right side has a large neck guard added to it while the left lacks the added protection. Because she has no helm, the armor had been constructed with a little neck protector that dived down in a smooth V to meet just at the base of her sternum. Each breast has its own protection, the overlays flattened and welded together to prevent penetration.
On the back, connected under the shoulder pads is a black cape, draped down to her ankles.
It should be noted that it is rare to see her out of her armor in public and that the picture below is only for the armor, NOT the face.
Specializations: Guardian
History:
“Who is she?”
“That? That’s our Lady Aywen.”
“Aywen?” the bald headed mage looked over the top of his goblet, beady eyes blinking in the roaring firelight, “The Lady Aywen?”
He watched as the other mage nodded, looking over the maiden sitting fair at the other side of the table across the hall. She was stunning in this light, the way that the flickering of the fire cast shadows off of the armor she wore, the mask around her face so mysterious.
“She’s pretty. I’ll give her that,” he sniffed, taking a large sip of whatever was inside the goblet he had claimed, his eyes wandering back to her face as she politely refused both the food and drink that was brought to her.
“Excuse me-but, who is she?” asked one of the younger boys, earning him a glare from the bald one as the one with hair next to him slammed down his cup in exasperation.
“Who is she?! Who is SHE?!”
“Now you’ve done it,” the bald one sighed, taking a long drink from his goblet.
“Why, she is everything that is right in this godforsaken world! Our Lady Captain is most kind. She’s fair and honest and level headed. She’s not here to fight like some of the other barbaric Templars are,” he said, looking almost fondly at her figure, “I don’t know how you haven’t heard of her. She’s, by far, the most level headed in the whole bunch if you ask me. Last week a mage was in question and she refused to take action without proof. ’Innocent until proven guilty’ she said. And get this, her men agree! She’s raising a whole new bunch of Templars; they actually think before acting.”
“But what about their duty? I thought that all Templars were supposed to be unswervingly loyal to the Order. You know, “obedience is more important to the Chantry than moral center.” Doesn’t that still apply?” the young one asked, his green eyes shimmering with a small hint of terror.
“Oh? That? Hmmm, well I suppose it does still apply. But what if the Templar’s morals are skewed,” his voice had sunk into a hushed whisper, “They say that the Maker turned on us because we had too many faults. What if she’s trying to fix these faults? As far as I’m concerned, she’s the definition of good.”
“If she’s been going against the Templar, how has she even become a Captain? Wouldn’t they have killed her by now? She must have another high name of some sort,” the young one said, “All the high-borns get to have whatever position they want, so long as their family can pay for it. I bet she bought her way—”
“Hold your tongue!”
“Oh boy,” another sip, the bald one shaking his head as he looked towards the man next to him. He looked ready to explode and the sharpness of his words had grabbed the attention of a few more nearby. “Aywen grew up in Tallo, that’s in Anderfels in case you didn’t know.”
“I know where Tallo is.”
“Then you should know that it’s in the desert.”
“I knew that!” cried the young mage in exasperation.
“Well, when she was very young her mother started making her wear scarves to protect her face from the grains of sand. I’ve heard that a single sandstorm in Anderfels can strip a horse of all its flesh but that doesn’t apply to Lady Aywen. They say that she was a natural fighter, what with all the appearance of the Dark Spawn out there.”
“Yes, yes. But how did she get here?”
“I was just about to tell you,” a glare, a toss of brown hair, “They say her father died, trying to protect both her and her mother from a Genlock that had broken into their home. Her mother died shortly after, giving her enough time to escape. From there, she just sorta vanishes until she sought to join the Templars.
From there, everything was just smooth sailing for her. She took orders, preformed her duties well and after a vicious fight with a dark spawn, they promoted her. And not once did she ever brag about it. She’s just so—”
“I’m so what, Linrage?”
There was a scramble, the bald mage spraying red wine across the table in front of him. Linrage, the mage with the long brown hair, was blushing and the kid stared up into her face as Aywen smiled, it showing in her brilliant green eyes.
“So kind and beautiful,” he finally managed to stammer out, her eyes narrowing as her metal fingers carefully tapped on the table next to him.
“I’ve heard some nasty rumors about you Linrage, keep your nose clean and out of trouble. You know very well that I cannot defend you again, nor do I hand out second chances,” she straightened herself out as he rushed to say yes, her attention turning to the bald one as she carefully dipped her head in acknowledgement, “How are your spells going, Bladwere?”
“Better,” he said, amazed that she had known his name and what he had been working on. Of course it occurred to him that she was in the Templar Order and so knew everything about every mage. He scowled and she turned her attention to the third, the youngest.
“You must be new around here. I’ve never see you before,” she paused, looking at the two older mages for a moment before extending her hand, “I’m sure Linrage has already offered up my name so the introduction has been very one sided.”
“Alistar,” the young mage offered, taking her hand and shaking it quickly.
“Well Alistar, no matter what these two have told you the Order isn’t so terrible,” she smiled again, “I wouldn’t worry too much. Soon you will learn who to trust and who not to, between all fractions of this land. Just keep your nose clean, be smart, and don’t take too many risks. It will be a pleasure serving beside you.”
“Erm, thanks,” he said awkwardly, his cheeks growing red as he did his best to meet her eyes. She laughed, lightly, the notes climbing up until she had finished. Her eyes opened and she bowed her head again, politely excusing herself from their presence and from the feast. Behind her were two more Templar Knights, their armor shimmering as she exited the hall with them in tow. The doors closed, and she began to make her way back to her quarters, Satina lighting her path with a smile made of a silver glow. It was time.