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Maeve Winterborn

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

0 · 283 views · located in Valonian Empire

a character in “The Magefire”, as played by VitaminHeart

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

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Character Portrait: Maeve Winterborn
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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.


......



A little way up the stairs, there was discussion regarding the events of the day...and certain concerns which accompanied them. It had been a decision that that day would be an event of some note, a day that permitted visiting of the imperial palace by the lower orders. Much of the lower floors, unoccupied by the Empress for the majority of the time, were effectively a public building, and the intent was to display how open and magnanimous the new order was. Events and stalls, performers and talks were being held there, partially to give the residents of the capital a good impression of the experience... and partly for a slightly less admirable reason.

Locking doors without good reasoning was a sure way to encourage unfavourable speculation, as was why there were no plans to obstruct access to the palace's power core, though golems would have to be placed to intervene at any attempt at tampering. The trouble was, that while, among the esoteric academic circles the usage of a dragon power core was considered a spectacular breakthrough and created such an elegant solution to the problem of powering the grid, and while lawfully they could not conceal nor deny that the work exists, it was feared that less educated individuals may see the sight as being somewhat...unappealing... and people were wont to let sentimentality ruin progress.

As such, with preparations beginning they had done their best to direct all points of interest away from the great chamber. They suspected that few would venture so far, and those that did would not linger long in the atmosphere there. Hopefully the irritating presence of the former rider would not work to spoil what could otherwise be a very pleasant day.

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Character Portrait: Maeve Winterborn
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The noise of the door caused the woman's sharp gaze to snap round in alarm, only to set upon the square face of Tyrin, one of the younger members of the guard. He had a plate of bread and cheese clasped in his gauntletted hands. The young man had taken to bringing Maeve food from the kitchen when he was on duty. Whilst he was aware they had no qualms about giving her things to eat and drink if she went and asked, she was still, officially, a guest of the empress, he also knew that it was a walk away in a different level the once-rider preferred to go hungry than to leave her friend's side for any extended amount of time. The room abandoned upstairs in place of a few threadbare blankets up against the wall. Whether it was out of respect for what she'd been or out f pity for what she was now, he'd taken it upon himself to relieve her of the decision of eating or staying with her dragon.

Evenso, he was a little wary of the woman, giving her a look a little resembling someone offering scraps to a feral dog that he wasn't certain would not bite him.

"Got some bread, apple, blackberry jam and a nice bit of goat's cheese." he explained, in a cheery tone, setting the plate down and regarding Maeve's general disinterest.

Unsettled by the silence, he started talking.
"You heard the open day's going on today? To commemorate the anniversary liberation of the north, the ground floors are being opened up. Been a real hassle. Got to have twice as many guards on in case people get sticky fingers, you know how it is. All kinds of unsavoury types round town right now..."

Maeve gaze snapped up to the man as he said the first thing in weeks that had actually interested her.
"People are coming here?"

Tyrin nodded.
"Aye, open to anybody."

Maeve almost seemed to smirk. The youth felt moderately unsettled. Both by the rather joyless nature of Maeve's smile, and the fact that it was possibly the first time he'd ever actually seen her do it.
"So, you planning to come talk to people today?" he asked timidly.

"In a sense." the rider responded darkly.
"In a sense."