Name: Irada Naiahliim
Gender: Female
Race: Elven
Age: Twenty-three
Appearance:Irada stands at 6'4" and weighs around 137 lbs. She has long white hair the flows down past her bottom. She mostly wears it in dreaded braid, but occasionally brushes it out to leave it down, or she puts it up in a ponytail, depending on what she is doing. She has a bronze skin tone with a grayish tint, both representing the lineage of her two breeds of elven blood. She has dull, dark green eyes with a sullen stare. Her high cheekbones compliment her sharp features, but her full lips seem slightly out of place with such tight, angular features.
Irada tends to wear the leather of fallen animals that her people have blessed and deemed safe to take from, or she has a a suit of armor made from iron that was decorated by her and her sisters; elvish prayers and designs all across.
Personality: Irada is a very excitable elf, whether it be with positive or negative emotions. She is very talkative and very blunt, never has she feared to speak what's on her mind. She will tell anyone when they are out of line, when they have done something wrong and she will go to great lengths to justify any situation that captures her attention.
Irada is very in-tune with nature and has a strong link with the land and animals around her. She is also very protective of both and is not afraid to attack anyone who harms the land and it's children.
She is very kind and caring, but also very aggressive with a lot of pent up anger and frustration. Being a sort of foreigner to others, she can come off as hostile, rude and inconsiderate to others, At least until she gets to know them.
Irada enjoys learning new things and improving herself in any way, shape or form and she will push herself to extreme limits to prove herself to others.
Motives: Irada believes in fighting for whats right, for the protection of the things and ones you love and to live your life to the fullest; to do everything you possibly can before your end time comes.
Experience in battle: Irada has experience defending her clan and creatures of the land, but not much experience with organized groups gathered and prepared for long battles.
Weapons: An elven crafted wooden bow with arrows made from the antlers of fallen deer. She also has two steel daggers blessed by her clans tribal healer and elder mother.
Specialty Power: Control of darkness. The shaping of shadows, giving them form.
Short History: Irada was born in the forests of Castradell in the Umata clan of mixed-bred elves. Being of both dark elven blood and Wood elven blood, Irada had a knack for magicks and commuting with nature at a very young age. The Elder Mother seeing this took Irada from her mother, father and sisters to train her in the arcane arts and to become one with the spirit of Harramel.
Years dedicated to her magic, Irada benefitted her clan greatly by providing protection and insight to her people. But by being who she was, she had become distanced. She was not the same as them. Even the ones who had Magicka in the blood, they were not of the same strength and caliber as her and feared her power. As Irada reached the age of adulthood, she packed her belongings and left in the night without a word.
After leaving, Irada made a life as a vagabond, traveling from place to place, trying to learn of the outside world that she had been sheltered from. As she came to a much larger town, a kingdom, Irada found a posting board in which the King was asking for citizens to join his military, his army. Out of curiosity, and out of a sense of adventure and justice, Irada made her way to the kingdom to become a Castrdell guard.
Battle Sample: Irada ran through the trees gracefully, jumping over fallen branches, flowing with the breeze of the wind. She could hear a snap of a twig in the distance and stopped. Slowing her breath by calming her heart and muscles, Irada pinpointed the position and distance of the foreign aura far across from her. Furrowing her brow and narrowing her eyes, Irada reached behind herself and pulled her bow out and reached into her quiver for a sacred Dormel deer antler.
"You. Are mine." She hissed under her breath. Hooking the arrow to the string, Irada drew the arrow back tight, took a deep breath and released the now flying arrow of death. She heard a grunt and thud from afar and raced over to newly fallen body.