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Prototypes

The creatures who are but thoughts.

0 · 357 views · located in Nomad

a character in “Nomad - Book One: War”, as played by Homesick Angel

Description

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"I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday
And I believe that your head is the only thing in your way
I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty

I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay."




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Full Name|: Evelyne Lafayette Lafleur
Titles/Nicknames|: Evie
Age|: Twenty-three
Race|: Human
Gender|: Female
Sexual Orientation|: Heterosexual
Class|: Warrior
Specialization|: Mercenary

Hair Color|: Dark Brunette
Eye Color|: Sea foam Green
Height|: Five feet, seven inches
Build|: Slender, but coiled

Appearance|: Little ol' Evie isn't so little if one was to get a closer look. She stands on the shorter side of average for a woman her age, perhaps even an inch or so beneath it. In addition to that, she possesses a rather slender frame, though not slender enough to look like she's one stiff breeze away from sailing away past the horizon. Sleek is the better operative word, and even at a glance, there seems to be something solid about her that keeps her on her feet, and in fact, there is. Beyond initial appearances, she's built on a solid base of corded muscle and hardened sinew. Generations of genetics and years of practice saw to it that while short and slender, she's also firm with enough muscle on her body to fill her out and give her a deceptive strength. It's a body made for agility and quickness than outright brute power, but she's not one be slept on either.

A singular glance at her caramel colored skin would prove to anyone that her lineage is not solely Orlesian. That particularly elsewhere in her case is Rivaini, and one wouldn't have to dig too deep into her lineage to see who was responsible for it; a gift from her mother. A pair of muted seaform green eyes often sit downcast on her face, though sometimes they do manage to light up and sparkle like emeralds when she's excited or particularly joyful. Her hair is a thick mess of dark brown curls which she has somehow corralled to play nice, and cut just above her neck so that the excess doesn't spill out and in her way. A pair of cherry lips that look almost too big for her face and a roundish nose fill out her face, in addition to a dusting of freckles, thick eyebrows, and thick eyelashes.

She's not without her imperfections and hints that speak of a life led outside of Orlais' ivory towers. Scars dot her body, the most prominent being a spot of damage resting beneath one of her eyes. It's not exactly something someone could get just by tripping over something. Her hands are calloused through use and practice, and little discolored lines mark her fingers, tiny scars from errant knife cuts. Not exactly the hands of an idle noble lady, but the ones of someone who has to be doing something at all times.

Still, let's not forget that she's Orlesian, and even more than that, a woman with taste. Her casual clothing flits between fine, pretty, and cute, and it's not rare to catch her in a dress if she feels she can get away with it that day. That being said, she does try to wear her boots as often as she can, and still her wardrobe consists primarily of practical trousers fine made shirts, usually sporting colors of reds and pinks and blue accents. Look good, feel good, she'd say.


"Uhh? Do you need something? You're staring
at me awfully hard. I'll do what I can for you,
but I can't promise anything."

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Apparent Demeanor|: A lost soul adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Evie's resting expression has a tendency to default to that of a lost looking puppy. She hadn't always been like that, once upon a time she'd been as sure and confident as they'd come. Like she knew what she was going to do, where she was going, all that she had to do was to get there in one piece. Life was an open door, all she had to do was to walk through it. To suddenly have it slammed in her face, and for her to lack the strength to jar it back open damaged her confidence and left her looking for another way out.

Once she was a passionate and vibrant woman, but all that has since dulled and she'd become more thoughtful in her approach. There's still a passion in her heart, her Rivaini blood makes it difficult to snuff out entirely. Embers are all that remain of that fire however, though under the right circumstances they can be stoked for a time, but they never burn quite as bright as they once did. She's more subdued, and though she tries to hide it, she still wears her heart for all to stitched back together on her sleeve. She's easily read, either through her words or through the emotions at play on her face. She'd never been an apt player of the Game, and, honestly, it was all above her head to begin with.

All that being said, Evie is still a warm and kindly young woman, both to stranger and friend. To get her help, one need only ask, and even then, if she's able to sense that she might be of some use to them, she'd offer herself. She's conditioned herself to always try to be the first to help and even the downturn in her personality hadn't been able to break it out of her. She's never been the one to watch an injustice and not try to do something about it. She's always been a creature of action her whole life, and though she might not know what to act on now, she still has to try and do something. She'd rather fumble around in the dark than let inaction take hold.

She makes every effort she can to put one foot in front of the other, even though she doesn't know where they're taking her. It's better than sitting around than feeling sorry for herself. It gives her a rather aimless air. That's not to say she sucks all the energy out of any room she walks into. She's not that depressive. Rather the opposite actually. Smiles are not an uncommon thing for her, and laughter comes easy especially for the things she finds hilarious. She's no stranger to humor, and indeed likes to think she can dole out the quips and sarcasm with the best of them. Well, maybe not the best, but still. It's there. She also has a propensity for self-depreciating humor, especially these days. If you can't laugh at yourself... She's not so fragile as to let a couple of words break her.

Evie is still in the process of trying to find herself. To pick up the pieces and to learn from the price of failure. Still, one foot in front of the other, and hopefully she'll be able to find a different path, and maybe, just maybe, that path will be hers. And it'll be all the sweeter because she found it herself...

Hopefully.

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β€œSimple is nice. I like simple.
Simple is a lot less likely to go wrong”





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DEX|:

INT|:

WIS|:

CNG|:

MAG|:

WIL|:

CON|:
⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [7/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [8/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [5/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [4/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [6/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [0/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [5/10]

⎧ β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡β–‡ ⎭ [6/10]


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Equipment|: Evie's kit is a little on the heavier side, with secondhand chain mail beneath a scratched breastplate. Thick plated gauntlets and boots, in addition to a visored helmet complete her look. It helps to protect her more vital parts while at the same time giving her access to speed and mobility. She's comfortable in more armor if necessary, but it tends to slow her down and limit her agility, in addition to tiring her out more quickly. For weaponry, she's proficient in most standard types, though she primarily carries a pointed estoc to be used with both hands on her back. In addition to the primary weapon, she carries a shortsword on her hip and a dagger hanging from the shortsword's sheath.

Fighting Style/Training|: Evie's style emphasizes the use of quickness and precision. She doesn't possess the size nor the constitution to fight toe-to-toe with larger and stronger foes. She's not the stand-and-deliver type of combatant. Instead, she closes the distance quickly and then tries to pick out the weak points with the estoc. As the weapon is a primarily thrusting one, she looks for the weaknesses in armor to pierce, and even if it doesn't have a cutting edge, the a heavy steel bar will still hurt if it hits hard enough. If she needs a bit more power, Evie will flip the estoc over and hold it by the blade, using the cross guard and hilt like a pick or club.

The sidearms provide her with even more options if the estoc is either lost or stuck in the wall or ground. Quick, agile, and adaptable are the tenets of her style. She's also been trained secondhand in Chevalier tactics, as well as what information she could glean from a couple of months of official Chevalier training.


β€œI might not be a Chevalier,
but I've trained too hard to be completely useless.”


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Place of Birth: Val Royeaux, Orlais
Social Status/Rank: Aspiring Mercenary, Minor Nobility

History: Evie was born and raised in the heart of Orlais in Val Royeaux, and though the Lafleur line have lived in the city for generations, her mother is a relatively new transplant in comparison. Raised in Dairsmuid in Rivain, her mother was the youngest of a noble family who's main interest was trade. The way her mother says, she grew up watching her family make foolish business decision after decision until their coin was ran out and they began to dabble in piracy. Her heart hadn't been in the business to begin with, and once piracy entered the equation, Dimah, her mother, decided that was enough and took her leave. She took what coin she could bring and headed for Val Royeaux to make a living she could call her own. She used the coin she brought as a down payment on a little cafe, colorfully named it the Spice of Life, and brought a little taste of Rivain to the the Garden District.

It was here that she found her knight in shining armor. Her father was born and bred a Chevalier, like his brother and like their father before them. The Lafleurs have experienced extensive service as Chevaliers, and have won their titles from the beginning through honorable action. Once the Spice of Life opened its doors, her father soon followed the delight smells through the doors and met her mother for the first time. Afterward, her father began to frequent the cafe, and before long, and to the surprise of none of the regulars, they were married. Evie wasn't the first, nor second child of the marriage, sitting comfortable as the third of four. Her brother, Marc was the first, and unsurprisingly followed in his father's footsteps as a Chevalier. Meanwhile, her older sister followed their mother and began to help in the Cafe.

Evie's earliest memories were the smells of her mother's cafe, and she too inherited the love for cooking, particularly baking. At the same time, she was enthralled with her father's strength and stature as a Chevalier. He had never been a particularly warm man, though neither was he unnecessarily cold. Evie always knew him as the type whose respect had to be won, and though her brother has managed the feat she... has not. Perhaps it was out of the desire to win his affection, or maybe to follow in the footsteps of her family, or heck, maybe she just wanted to ride Marc's coattails, but soon after he'd became a Chevalier, Evie expressed her wish to do the same. She vividly remembers her father's reaction when she told him her desire as a distinct dismissive "humphf." She would be lying if she said that it didn't hurt at the time.

Her uncle on the other hand got a kick out of it. He was a hard man, just like her father, but unlike him, he wasn't afraid to show warmth either and even laughed every now and then. She tended to gravitate more toward him than she had her father. He'd been more open with her, more supportive, and though he too had to have his respect won, it was an easier job. In fact, it was him that she learned the basics of how to fight. At first, it was just the fundamentals, but once Evie made it clear that her wanting to be a Chevalier was more than just a phase, she began to teach her more and more. She loved her uncle for giving her his time, though he wasn't perfect himself. He had a distinct lack of fondness for elves, and slurs weren't a rare occurrence on his lips whenever he saw one. He also had a tendency to act more brashly than her father.

Such as an incident where once Evie was old enough to swing a sword with some proficiency, he put her in armor and took her with him on a patrol. There had been evidence of a small band of bandits in the area they were heading to, but they thought that word of a Chevalier would scare them from the area. Her uncle didn't believe there was any real danger, until they were ambushed. Evie and her uncle won the day-- or rather, her uncle did while Evie tried not to die. She won a battle scar instead, a wide gouge beneath her eye. It wasn't something they could hide, and Evie's parents had both her uncle's and her hide after they returned. However, it did have the unintended side affect of her father taking an interest in her training, though her time with her uncle was limited. Every now and then he'd visit and check on her progress, but no more field trips for them.

She found her father to be a taskmaster, running her through drills and practices until she was exhausted, and then making her do more. It was nothing compared to the Academie he'd always say, but... she never quite believed him. That is, until it was her turn to attend. Whatever her uncle or her father had put her through was nothing compared to what the Academie could put her through. A couple of months in, and she was exhausted; mentally, physically, and emotionally. She was on autopilot, just going through the motions and seriously questioning all of the choices she'd made up to that point. She couldn't cut it, and she flunked out. It felt like all the time she put into it was wasted, that all of her hopes and dreams were broken. She was a hollow wreck for a time afterward, and the success of the rest of family only served to rub salt into the wound. Her brother had become a lieutenant-chevalier in the time being, while her old sister had come to take more responsibility in the cafe. Even her younger sister had gotten outstanding marks in school, is only waiting to attend the University.

Meanwhile, Evie remained home as a failed chevalier, the first in a long, long time for the Lafleurs. The disappointment from her father was palpable and it was a long time before he could even speak to his daughter, and when he did, it basically amounted to get out. With a coin purse of money he'd tossed her, and hand-me-down weapons and armor, Evie set out to rebuild her life from the beginning.

Presently, she lives in Riverbend off of what coin her parents had given her and what minor jobs she can pull as a mercenary.




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β€œYou ever have a dream of something? One that you'd
knew you'd accomplish no matter what? Then ever had all
of those dreams and aspirations irreparably broken?
It kinda stings.”

So begins...

Prototypes's Story