Age: Twenty.
Sex: Female.
Species: Aguar.
Height, Weight, Build: At five foot six inches Nell was of average height for female Aguars. Their bodies were lithe and delicately built to cut through currents and waves that swished through the forest floor, leading out to a grandiose ocean. She was at a steady 115 lbs soaking wet, a fit weight to filter into her race. They ate fish and fruit, working their lean muscles by running and swimming. Nothing in the South needed them to be overly large and bulky, though a few of males who prided themselves as protectors did manage to look much bigger than the women.
Physical Description: The weather in the South was a mixture of hot mornings, where one could lounge in pools of crystal clear water idly dragging soggy tree moss over sensitive parts to save from blistering in the sun, and a stinging afternoon downpour that cooled the forest. Choosing to stay in caves along the shore or deep within the forest under humungous tree leaves for shade Nell's skin was a translucent porcelain often mocked by the other girls. Unblemished by the sun, not even the rosy stain of her prickling anger from being teased could be mistaken as a “healthy glow”. Luckily her long twirling tendrils were of a normal color that most of the Arguar shared. A vibrant red that only shined more brightly in the sun. Crimson, sable, and even ebony colors were most common with the Arguar. But if her hair was normal that was where it ended. While mixing a tattooing liquid one summer for the Feast of Ages, one of the boys who that night were to be initiated as men decided it funny to pour an unknown ingredient into her bubbling pot when her back was turned. Once the liquid cooled Nelirah had dabbed the ink onto her lips to test its staining of the skin. It was suppose to have washed off within a week but from the way it had blistered her soft lips, the ink stayed. If the shockingly uncommon dark red lips and pale smooth skin didn't have her teased, it was the warm amber eyes under sooty thick lashes that finished the deed. Her grandmother had always tried to tell her that her eyes were beautiful and uncommon, but even the old woman feared that strangeness about Nell.
Personality: “Babes born during the winter rains were forever stained with the ocean in their eyes and must never in all their forever, tell a lie.” The South sang of legend and wisdom, and many believed these songs to hold true to their race. Just like this little nursery rhyme for children it was taken seriously. Nell had been born during the winter rains, and her babe's eyes quickly faded from the normal turquoise jewel tone to a burning amber that even had her own mother talking. Whispers and rumors fled throughout areas of the South where finally it was decided that Nell would be kept alive..but watched carefully. She was a different to their norm. A different that even while a mad tyrant of a king slayed those different was she still considered something that shouldn't be acknowledged like the others. This subtle outcast led her to be very quiet, and shy. She had a sweet quality about her to those in need, even if she never received the thanks due. With this sweet nature she was far too naive and trusting, all too accepting and forgiving, but even under the most trying of moments she never gave up. Never stopped smiling, even when she was angry. Angry at those who taunted her and teased. Angry at her grandmother for taking her away from her mother so that the woman did not have to feel the shame of raising an “awkward” child. But most of all she did not even show to the public eye when she was angry at herself, for never standing up to these things.
Special abilities: With no one to really play with as a child besides the water creatures of the south that weren't going to make her lunch, Nelirah spent most of her time gathering the poisons from colorful frogs, mixing herbs to make healing tonics, and as she grew up to be a young woman her medicines were often sought. During the time of the Tyrant she had seen many die, and tended to fatal wounds only to watch the person's life force drain away. It was tiring and emotional work, but their was really no one else to do it.
Equipment: With little more than thin silks as clothing, weaved together with grass skirts and bodice's decorated in beautiful shells that swept into the pools she frequented, Nell had her bag of dried herbs and clinking bottles of tonics. Needles, thin sharp knives for surgical work, she had only her healing equipment and a spare pair of pants to brave the other climates of the lands.
History: Raised alone by her grandmother by the time she was twelve Nell was actually really on her own. She slept in the high branches of the tall trees that littered the forest, ate alone with only beautiful birds and rain forest creatures for company. She grew up known as the “Strange One” because her eyes did not fit in with their silly song. That is how Nell saw it. Silly songs and even sillier people who believed all the children born in the winter should have to have bright eyes like ocean. People came to her for healing but that was about it, she had more knowledge of curing a common cold than the old crones in the villages did. When the time of liberation came and the Tyrant king was proven dead, many of the young male protectors were in constant competition to be chosen to represent the South. In an attempt to find what was taken and now lost. It just so happened that on this night of the choosing Nell had been handing out a special tonic for a sick babe, and was intrigued by the loud feast. One warrior had already been chosen, but Nell couldn't really tell who it was, but she heard them talking. Talking about why they must nominate two when losing one great warrior for the journey was enough. Idea's as to who else should go were thrown around and just as Nell was about to leave to go back to her own tree someone roughly grabbed her and threw her into the circle of elder men. Everyone's bright eyes were on her, and sneering comments about how “perfect” it was to let “Strange Nell” go with the warrior. She was weak enough, that she wouldn't be missed. Very few people quipped up for her not to be chosen. But only because she had been good at making potions for them. Most were young girls who needed the potion to banish a child from their womb after a quick lasting passion with some of the young men. Of course they didn't want her to go..they would be breeding by the dozen when..or if she returned. But the elders were already set. Nell was to go with the warrior to a place far from the South, and even as everyone shuffled back to their homes Nell stood by the grand fire that was already nothing but cooling embers now. She was going to be leaving this place. Inside a spark ignited. Hope. Hope of a chance to get away from being an outcast, but she quickly dashed it as she remembered these people were still her kind. She had a duty to them. Soon she would begin the journey with the first chosen one of the South, Tavorly Kityun, as if her life could get any worse.