Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Các Kèo Bóng Đá Bạn Nên Tránh Khi Đặt Cược Tại Nhà Cái Hiện » Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? »

Players Wanted: Long-term fantasy roleplay partners wanted » Serious Anime Crossover Roleplay (semi-literate) » Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! »

0
followers
follow

Maeve Winterborn

"People care not what cruelty is involved in their comfort."

0 · 193 views · located in Empire of Valon

a character in “Magefire: The March of Progress”, originally authored by VitaminHeart, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Image

Maeve, as pictured in a formal portrait at age twenty-one, a few years before the dissolution of the Order of the Dragon.

Full Name: Maeve Fiachra Winterborn

Nicknames/Aliases: Mae-mae (Affectionate) Maeve of the Mists (During her time as a rider.)

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Species: Human, though the Winterborn family is thought to have had some elvish blood at some point far down the line. For that reason they have quite sharp features and pale hair.

Occupation: Former Member of the Imperial Order of the Dragon.


Description: Maeve was described in some records of the Order as being a beautiful lady rider, though the writings may seem somewhat exaggerated, beholding the woman as she stands today. Maeve is a distinctive, if not particularly beautiful individual. Her features are sharp and generally 'elfin' in appearance. She has high, prominent cheekbones, a narrow nose, deep-set eyes and thin, pale lips. Her hair is a very pale blond hue, though at this point it appears dull, loosely tied, back, and in need of a thorough wash. It appears that she has been neglecting herself to some degree....though no longer having any money officially does not help. Her clothes appear old and frayed, made up of a rather haphazard assortment of items.

Personality: Maeve is an individual who has been through a very difficult few years psychologically, and this is quite clear upon much interaction with her. Born into a background of soldiering and military she learned to be a stoic and unshakable individual, not one to be ruled by their emotions. She also learned the importance of maintaining her dignity, even in the face of terrible occurrences.

During her career as a member of the Order of the Dragon, Maeve was known as one of the more diplomatic individuals among them. She had been raised to be comfortable around others, even those of high status, and so was often used in the interests of politicking and keeping on the good side of various powerful individuals. She tended to be quite at home negotiating and discussing matters. It was possibly this tendency that led her to her own fate.

Despite this, cracks have appeared in Miss Winterborn's normally rock solid composure at the treatment of her dragon by the empire. As one of the Order of the dragon she was magically bound to her dragon counterpart Rah'von, and along with that she gained a deep and personal, almost sisterly affection for the creature. The years of being unable to do anything to prevent the abuse inflicted upon him by the empire and VEGA has effected her deeply and she feels enormous personal guilt for her own involvement, as well as a personal obligation to protect Rah'von in any way she possibly can.

Maeve feels a deep resentment both toward esoteric technologists, especially VEGA for what they had done in pursuit of advancement, and also toward the other dragon riders for the perceived abandonment of her and Rah'von. She feels betrayed by the Order, and no longer considers herself part of it.


Skills: As a former Dragon Rider, Maeve was trained throughout her childhood to be a fighter. She is quite adept with weapons and can give quite an informed opinion on tactics and fighting styles. She is also very knowledgeable on magical creatures and their behaviour. She is quite athletic and completely undeterred by heights, able to climb and take actions that would make the normal man weak at the knees. She is far tougher than her appearance would let on, and appears to be able to shrug off minor injury without much complaint.

Weaknesses: Maeve is very much out of practise in the field of combat, or indeed any of the activities she's trained in. She has been stuck inside the depths of the palace for the best part of five years, refusing to abandon Rah'von. As a result she's not retained the same level of fitness she'd kept as a rider. Beyond that, while it is not as immediately obvious on her, what has happened to her dragon has taken a toll on Maeve's health, and she is prone to sickness. Her link with Rah'von means that his death, or near death causes a psychic shockwave to hit her, something that it potentially lethal. Maeve expects that she may die when Rah'von dies.


Brief History: Maeve Fiachra Winterborn came into the Winterborn line, a dynasty of well-known dragon riders, the post being handed down the line for centuries. Her father, grandmother, and uncle were all well-known riders, and her mother was of noble bloodline, meaning that Maeve was born into considerable status, and gained a great confidence from it.

From early age she trained for her destiny, learning from the rest of her clan the rules of combat, or persuasion, and etiquette, so she might be as at home at a formal banquet as driving a sword through the head of an ogre. As she grew into her teenage years she travelled with her father into the mountains in order to meet with the dragons and discover her partner. There, she met her dragon Rah'von, a young mist dragon, and they stuck up an immediate bond.

For some years they trained together, learned about one another, before they were bonded, their destinies intertwined with one another for life. It was from there that Maeve became a fully initiated member of the Order, and began her work. Her first years in the order proved something of a baptism of fire, as a terrible war flared in the northern territories, beast-creatures pushing south and invading outposts there. It was a hard-fought campaign that claimed the life of Maeve's father and his dragon Therir, but proved her mettle as a soldier who could keep her calm, even in the face of a considerable loss. Maeve considered it to be a matter of duty.Her father had met his end doing what he was born to do, and such was the life of the Order. All knew being slain was a risk that came with their status.

The death of the emperor occurred a few years later, and with it the crowning of the young empress and the 'Magefire Revolution'. Soon enough the importance of the Order of the Dragon began to diminish as war machines and magefire weaponry became common in their usage, promising the safety of the borders without the need of reliance upon beasts of the air.

With the encroachment of VEGA into the palace and disturbing rumours surfacing about their activities in Witchfell, many in the Order of the Dragon began to talk of leaving the capital for more remote parts, away from the influence of the organization. Maeve, still young and optimistic, announced her intentions to remain in the palace. She thought that her skills in negotiation would allow her to talk the young empress into forsaking VEGA and their technologies. She thought that by leaving they would only leave themselves with no voice in the city to counter them. As the others left, the rider remained, confident that all this was simply a fad that would quickly blow over as soon as the novelty wore off in the eyes of the empress.

Sadly, she was terribly wrong, and as the demand in the city began to rise, one of the esoteric technologists proposed something to the empress in secret.


One night, Maeve found her sleep to be unnaturally heavy, and continuing long into the day. She awoke sometime in early evening, a pain gripping her ribs. From below pitiful screams and cries issued. The rider stumbled out and down into the lower levels, following the noise, though she struggled to stand. Down in a large chamber below the palace she found the source of the pitiful sounds, her dear Rah'von, chained down, crowds of esoteric technologists swarming around him, cutting into his chest and grating in some vile metallic device. Maeve had screamed at them, shouted, searched for a weapon, anything to drive them away, but guards had gotten hold of her, dragged her away and locked her back in her upstairs room, where she listened, agonized, to the cries and pleas of her closest friend.


Five years passed. Maeve remained in the palace, the bond to her partner keeping her there, if her loyalty did not. Soon, as it became apparent that the creature would be incapable of escape anyway, she was allowed back down to him, and there she remained, regarded as little more than an annoyance by the staff, be it one necessary. Her 'co-operation' was recorded officially as being approval on her dragon's treatment, but in reality it was down to utter powerlessness in the situation. She remained with Rah'von to try and protect and care for him as much as she could, but struggled with the guilt at what her naivety had resulted in.

So begins...

Maeve Winterborn's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maeve Winterborn
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

There was an awful lot that could be said for the march of progress. It was something that many of the esoteric researchers were only too quick to point out when people began to get sentimental.

Since the reign of the empress had begun, the blanket of fear and superstition that had once covered Valon had been gradually lifted away, into a new and enlightened age of understanding.

They could understand how magic worked. They could enhance and control it, focus it and use it as power. The force that had once seen the species of Valon cowed and terrified had become a means for them to better their lives.

Through one of the high, vaulted glass windows it was possible to see out into the blue pre-dawn, where the eerie glimmer of the magelights that lined the streets of the capital swayed in the wind. Winter was beginning to draw in, though to the inhabitants of the city, such a thing held little fear. The enchanted gardens allowed food to be grown all year round.

A few inhabitants already awake and heading to their places of work trod along the cobbles, attempting to keep out of the path of the golems. The hulking, metallic figures in question plodded through the streets with brooms and cleaning cloths, the magelights glinting off their bronze shells and immobile masks. Children often shied away from the constructs, though few of the adult inhabitants of Valon batted an eyelid any longer to their presence. They had become a fixture, yet another great gift provided by the new governance.

It couldn't be blamed on them, it was natural enough to wish for comfort over hardship, and under the influence of those who dwelled up in the palace, the people never seemed to face any sort of difficulty..to the point that they neglected to ask very important questions.

The insides of the palace were probably not what most would imagine...well..below the ground floor at any rate. A great deal of effort had been taken into preserving the old features above, though the installation of esoteric power had proved a challenge, and meant that the old dungeons and storage rooms had had to be drastically remodelled.

The chamber could not have been more than one floor below the ground, if the small windows were anything to go by. It had been built to minimize sound, though it appeared they did not feel that they had much to hide regarding the power even if it were somewhat...distasteful to individuals.

A few magelights burned overhead in the large domed room, the copper-plated door left somewhat ajar.

At the front, a haphazardly dressed figure paced back and forth, wringing their hands.

The individual appeared to be a woman in her late twenties, rather unimpressive in stature, bearing the look of someone who had far too much on their mind. Her dark blonde hair was tied back rather messily, and seemed somewhere in need of a wash, reflecting the lights in a rather unappealing manner. She looked a little on the pale side, eyes deep-set and cheek bones rather high. It was possible there was some elf in the family, but it was clearly quite a way back.

She was dressed in a collection of ill-matching, and admittedly rather cheap
clothes, her outfit seeming to have been assembled by committee, and more than enough to demonstrate that she couldn't have been there as a guest of the empress or any of the council members that dwelt within the building.

No, Maeve was there as a matter of...what was it...obligation? Guilt? Some manner of foolish optimism that her presence might be of help? No...it wasn't exactly any of them.. it was more that it was the only thing she could do. The Order was gone. The schools of magic were scattered, and the mythical creatures were and hidden in fear of falling prey to the Esoterics. She was pretty certain there was not likely to be some great uprising. So this was, in some way, Maeve's only way of showing the people what she was, or what she had once been at any rate...regardless of how painful it was.

The sharp-featured woman turned and walked toward the centre, feeling her stomach twisting into knots at the sight of the shape, forlornly suspended from the centre of the dome by a considerable number of cables and ropes. It was an enormous shape, four legs and a pair of once imposing wings that lay in tatters, suspended out unfolded nearly to their full extent by hooks set into the ceiling. Numerous pipes, cables, and lengths of semi-transparent tubing rose in a complex web from its back and neck, set into fissures cut in between the creature's scales.


Set around the creature's ribs a metallic claw issued upwards, sinking into the scaleless tissue on its chest, emitting a low hum associated with large machinery as it ran, the central column seeming to glow a yellow-green shade.

This, this...travesty was the fate of the dragon Rah'von. His life force had powered the lights of the palace for approaching five years, and Maeve of the Mists, once a rider of considerable renown, found herself nothing but an inconsequential figure in it all.

Where were the others? Other dragon riders? She didn't know. Maybe they'd suffered the same fate. The bond had weakened over the years, but it still didn't allow her much further than the city gates. They could all be gone for what she knew, or the news of the terrible fate that might await those of great magical power might have scared them away.

The woman dropped to her knees beside the head of the once great creature and ran a hand over the dull scales. There was no reverence for them anymore.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tryniszka Vosk Character Portrait: Soren Hearthfire Character Portrait: Maeve Winterborn
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Following the Zarc's departure, Tryn rejoined the bustling crowds making her way to her first destination, the tavern. The Drunk or Dead, as it was known, was owned by a former adventurer by the name of Ferrus Farragut, one of the few people Tryn had never managed to piss off. As she approached the tavern, she was pleased to see it in the same state of half-disrepair that it was when when she last visited. Ferrus, while excellent at brewing spirits, wasn't much for carpentry, and he only bothered to pay for repairs when there were more holes in the roof than wood. She was glad that here, at least, was not too much changed.

Tryn stepped into the bar casually, drawing attention from no one but the bartender, Ferrus himself, who was chatting up a young elf at the bar. When he saw her his eyes widened, he stopped in the middle of whatever exaggerated tale he was telling, and let the glass he was cleaning fall to the floor, shattering it.

"By all things holy and otherwise, I swear I'm not drunk yet! Tryn? When did you skulk back into town? Tryn smiled a genuine smile as she approached the bar and took a seat a stool down from the other elf.

"Just this morning, Ferrus. I'm here on particular business." She trusted Ferrus, but not any of his patrons. It was probably best to be vague, in case anyone was listening. "I'm looking for our friend. The one who stayed behind. Know where I can find her?

"Oh, aye," he nodded, obviously intrigued, "She's with him. His eyes darted up to the magefire lantern above their heads, and Tryn caught his meaning. Her dragon, kept in the palace and harnessed for energy. She felt Ankh's anger flare up at the thought of what they were doing to the other dragon.

"So it's true, then, what I've heard." She could feel the anger in herself rising up now. She wanted to believe the rumors were lies. "I need to speak with her, can you arrange it?"

"You don't need my help, Tryn. They aren't being kept a secret. Most people know, and don't care. You can walk right in and see them, if you want.

"What!?" she slammed her hand down on the bar, her voice raising. "They don't care? What sort of...of monsters would be okay with that? Ferrus placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stood up, her voice trembling now. She didn't care that she was making a scene. She had assumed that the citizen's were guilty of only ignorance, but the fact that they knew what was going on and did nothing set something off within her. She took a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was low, measured, and chillingly calm. "I will speak with her, and whether or not she wants to help, Ankh and I are going to put a stop to it. Thank you, Ferrus. You should take a vacation away from the city. You deserve it." Finished, Tryn turned and stormed out of the tavern, her next destination in mind.

The walk to the palace afforded Tryn much needed time to cool off, and Ankh dutifully reminded her that the guards would likely not let her inside if she was visibly upset. When she approached the gate, she was approached by two guards, an older man with a smug sense of satisfaction about him, and a younger one who looked rather shamed.

"Halt! What business do you have in the palace?" The older one asked. Tryn continued despite his order, and his hand went to his sword. Before he could draw it, however, Tryn waved her hand towards the two men, drawing on her magic as she spoke.

"Not your concern. Open the gate then forget you saw me. The spell clouded their minds and they obeyed, mumbling incoherently as they did. It was an incredibly useful spell when used on those with feeble minds, which most guards seemed to have, and once she was inside and out of site, it wore off and they returned to their duty, slightly dizzier than before.

Tryn had been in the palace many times before during her years as a rider and she was familiar with the layout. They'd done renovations, but the only place she figured would be feasible to keep a dragon would be in the dungeons somewhere. She made her way into what had been the dungeons with ease, surprised at the lack of security, only to end up lost. They had changed drastically to accommodate the magefire systems, and the lower level seemed like a maze of pipes and gears.

Follow the magic to it's source. Tryn could feel the magic in the magefire flowing through the pipes, all emanating from a central location. The dragon had to be there. She followed it through the winding tunnels and copper doors until she came to what seemed to the the epicenter. Before her, a copper door left casually open. She approached it, bracing herself for what she was about to witness, and pushed it completely open.

No amount of bracing could have prepared her for what she saw. Suspended in the center of the chamber, the dragon hung like a deer carcass strung up to dry. Cables and tubing protruded from it everywhere and held in place by a metal claw that dug into it's chest. The anger and anguish that flooded into her from Ankh nearly deafened her, and her own anger left her dumbstruck, her jaw hanging open as she gazed at the once mighty creature. The, Tryn saw her. Knelt near the head of the dragon was the woman she had come to find. Her voice cracked as she tried to speak.

"Maeve of the Mists?"