Description

Personality

Personality:
Terrah is the girl next door turned mercenary. She's upbeat, friendly, and curious. She likes to make jokes, even if they are sometimes bad or inappropriate, and is almost always smiling. Cheering people up is her specialty, and she is quick to offer comfort to anyone feeling down. She's very individualistic and strong willed, preferring to determine her own course through life. She holds morality above law, and is willing to go against the established law to accomplish a noble goal. She rarely works for free, but she won't go against her beliefs for any amount of money. With these beliefs, she's a staunch idealist, which is a good and a bad thing, depending on the idea. She makes friends easily and is extremely loyal to them. Betrayal isn't a word she knows.

Still fairly young, Terrah can have a quick temper at time, and being a headstrong person, will get into fights over trivialities. She has a lot of pride, and doesn't take insults lightly. If challenged, Terrah will never back down from a fight, no matter how hopeless. She's easily taunted, and this can get her into trouble. Her unwillingness to follow the law if it goes against her beliefs has landed her in jail several times.

Terrah is good with words up until she starts to like someone, which thankfully isn't often. She's awkward around people she has a crush on, and usually tries to avoid them altogether rather than embarrass herself in front of them.

Deity: Shakkel, but only in principle. She does not like to worship traditionally.
Likes: Flowers, travelling, birds, big things, young kids, sunrises, swordplay and dueling techniques, sleeping, eating, shiny objects, people, friends, and books.
Dislikes: Laws in general, zealots, most mages and magic, cruelty and torture.
Life Goals: Terrah doesn't know what she wants out of life, but hopes to be able to raise a child in the future. She also has a vague goal of learning all the world's sword fighting techniques.
Fears: Water, dying, heights, large insects, small dogs, being bound or restrained.
Quirks: Terrah gets up early every morning to watch the sunrise. It's her favorite time of day, and reminds her of her mother and sister. She also collects stones, although she keeps only her favorites with her, which fill a small pouch.

Equipment

Weapons:
x1 Mid-sized double edged steel short sword.
x1 Steel hunting knife
Armor:
A patchwork set of medium leather and chain that is better for movement than protection. Includes a pair of leather boots and leather gloves.
Gear:
1 roll of bandages
1 leather canteen
2 whetstones
2 sets of weapon/armor bindings
1 journal and pen
Several common herbal antidotes
1 box of homemade matches
1 small pouch of collected stones
Animals:
N/A
Magic Items:
N/A
Spells:
N/A

History

Terrah was born in the north, but never knew her hometown. Her father was killed by raiders and she was taken along with her mother and sister as slaves when she was very young. Her first memories were of work, and as a child it wasn't so hard, usually picking herbs or knitting or cooking. Her sister, who was older and a pretty girl, was "entertainment for the raiders, and when Terrah was 16, her sister was no longer interesting, and they killed her. The raiders wanted Terrah, but her mother resisted, and was also killed, and Terrah was taken by rage. She fought against them as hard as she could, but failed in the end. They raped her, though thankfully she blocked much of it out, and cut her throat, leaving her for dead. She doesn't recall how long she lay in the sun, but she eventually woke to the face of a young man, who had found her and helped her. He was a cleric, but despite his efforts, she was left with several scars on her face and a rather nasty one on her neck.

For a year, she stayed with the boy, and he taught her to read and write and other things she had missed in her childhood. Over time though, she began to have feelings for him, but was too scared to speak up. She tried to tell him, but in her fear she fled. This decision has haunted her since. She wandered for a bit, and was almost captured by another group of raiders, only narrowly escaping thanks to a group of adventurers. She tagged along with them for a while, and, not wanting to be a burden, took up swordsmanship lessons from them. Each of them had their own style, and Terrah was fascinated by the movements, and soaked in what they taught, from the defensive Soresu form, to the aggressive Juyo, to the balanced Ataru. By the time she was 20, she had grown more attached to swordplay than any of the adventurers.

They eventually went their separate ways, and Terrah sought to put her skills to good use, so she became a sellsword, although she was often mocked by her fellows for refusing so many contracts because of a "contrast of morals". Revenge has crossed her mind, but it has mostly been a fantasy, since she only remembered a single name of the raider leader, and had no idea where they might be. Recently, she found her way to Delta, in the north, where she's taken a job to hunt a killer that's on the loose.

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Writing Sample

The battle was a symphony. All around Jaskar, metal clanked against metal, shields shattered and swords were parried. Men and women on both sides were dying, their notes fading into blackness and silence, but still the battle raged. In front of him, his opponent, clad in black steel with the emblem of the enemy emblazoned in red across his chest. His armor was slick with blood, and under his helmet, his face gleamed with sweat. His blue eyes looked tired, but he would not relent. Even in the face of Jaskar the indomitable, he would not relent. Jaskar knew this man; Nevan. He was prince, soon to be king, and the greatest warrior Adonia had ever known. He has never met his match in combat, but then again, he'd never met Jaskar.

The two circled each other, the battle expanding to give them both a wide berth as the two warriors sized one another up. There was an interlude in the song here. Silence, a break in the rhythm that came as a calm before the storm. The only sound that Jaskar heard was his own breath, and his heart. Nevan struck, and Jaskar ducked behind his shield, the sword ringing out the first note. Nevan tried again, but Jaskar had already tired of the defensive and sidestepped, bring his sword to bear upon Nevan. His opponent's skill matched the legend, as Nevan parried in time. Note after note struck as the two played their instruments in unison. Ducks, parries, dodges, and bashes continued for an hour, with neither warrior tiring. The battle waned around them, but they fought on, a perfect stalemate until Jaskar gained the upper hand.

He knocked Nevan's shield from his hand and cut his arm. The pain in Nevan's arm was sharp and hot, but he was resolute. He changed forms, and adopted a more aggressive stance. Jaskar, too slow to keep up with his shield, discarded it, and adopted his own offensive stance. The two collided again, their swords whirling and the notes playing a tempo much faster than many though possible. It was almost as if the two didn't react so much as foresee, as again they were the perfect match. The fight was so fluid that each warrior nearly choreographed the other with his strikes, and blended seamlessly together in a brutal yet elegant dance. The battle drew to a close, but still they fought on, neither warrior gaining ground. This was no longer a battle for their country, it was no longer just following orders. This was a test, or rather the test of who was truly the greatest warrior. It came down to this, and this was where it would end.

Jaskar abruptly stopped, and his opponent fell off balance. The split second Nevan took to recover was all Jaskar needed. He sliced into Nevan's shin, crippling him. Nevan knew it was over. He'd known how the song would end from the beginning, because he'd heard it before. In his dreams, in his past. Great warriors are defeated, and today was his day. He fell to his knees and pulled his helmet from his head.

"And so it ends."

With a thrust of his sword, Jaskar pierced Nevan's neck, and blood spurted out. The man was dead, the final note faded. Jaskar had emerged victorious. His comrades who had returned to watch cheered and congratulated him, but he said nothing. As he returned to camp, he reflected on the day. He'd thought that the battle was a symphony, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Only now did he realize that today was just the first note, that the crescendo was a long ways off and that before the song had finished, many more notes would have to come and go.