Aurora Flemming

I posted this girl awhile back, but I've modified her rather LONG bio (not so long now), and added some weaknesses as per the new qualifications. Enjoy:

Name: Aurora Flemming
Age: 17
Race: Half-Elf
Sex: Female
Height: 5’6” (five feet six inches)
Weight: 128 lbs.
Eyes: Hazel w/ flecks of gold
Hair: straight, dirty-blonde hair w/ white-blonde streaks; hangs to mid-back (shoulder blades); short white-blonde bangs frame forehead/eyes and hang to cheeks; hair is combed and tied in a ponytail and arranged so the streaks all run to the ponytail
Appearance: Heart-shaped pixie face; delicate and small features; rosy cheeks; slanted pencil eyebrows and slightly pointed ears (as per elf heritage); large, expressive eyes; long hands and feet; limbs are slender but hard and strong; small and petite

Clothing: tight, sleeveless, wide-shouldered white shirt; wide, baggy, white pants that hang to ankles—flows like a skirt but it really just pants; broad, black sash w/ gold embroidery encircling waist and covering the seams of both shirt and pants; a long, flowing, lavender silk kimono—covers shoulders w/ wide sleeves that hang to wrists, hangs to mid-calf, the design across the back is a rearing detailed outline of a unicorn in silver thread, the horn, hooves, mane, and tail are worked over in gold thread, has diamond eyes that flash, small six-pointed stars dance around the unicorn in silver very few in number and spread apart, ivy design is worked into the hem in gold thread, edging the bottom and wide collar and open two sides of it, and also the sleeve-collars, both inside and out, does not tie and is left open and loose; a small pendant of an amethyst five-petaled star flower w/ a diamond center and outlined and worked over w/ ivy etching is gold hangs around her neck; a simple gold earring adorns the top of her left ear; black leather gloves and mid-calf boots complete the outfit

Armor: None

Weapon(s): long, elven, black, ashwood bow strung w/ a gold unicorn tail-hair, gilt threads running along a flowing pattern, worn over right shoulder; black, waterproof leather quiver w/ beechwood arrows fletched w/ osprey feathers, also worn over right shoulder; both of these are worn over the kimono; short rapier w/ simple ivy/vine design etched into the thin blade and simple yet elegant hilt of same motif, the cross-piece holds a small violet amethyst, and the vine/leaves of the hilt spiral out from it, worn under the kimono on a simple braided black leather cord around the sash on hips

Personality: sweet and gentle, compassionate and innocent; can be very decisive and headstrong and stubborn; has pride and tends to show it; poised and accomplished yet down-to-earth; a gentle woman in all exterior behavior, yet a fighter lurking beneath the surface

Strengths: Excellent marksman (or woman, if you prefer); keen hearing and eyesight, but not as developed as a full-blood elf might have; minimal skills has a tracker; diplomatic and tactful; resourceful
Weaknesses: hand-to-hand combat and close-range fighting—her rapier is more ornamental than anything else, and is used only when long-range attacks are useless; because of her half-elf blood, innate elven magic is a struggle for her; she relies more on physical skill than a magical one; very touchy about her dual blood; not strong enough yet to pursue her dream as a tracker i.e. still “new” at being a warrior

Skills/Abilities: marksmanship being her strong point; martial art and agility; minimal skill in elven light magic, mainly conjuring harmless balls of light; accomplished on the harp and voice, along w/ ballroom dance

History: Aurora’s mother, Elana, had been an elf from up-country. She, a noble of the elvish court, had taken a trip down through human territory to visit relatives of another clan. Humans and elves at that time had friendly, though confined, relations. It was a peaceful time. A marriage between a human and elf was rare, even looked down upon, but not unheard of. While down-country, Elana met a human while riding out in the woods one day. They fell in love, and despite both their families deep misgivings, Kenan Flemming and Elana Atrichae were married. Her family, however, quietly estranged themselves from her. They were embarrassed for her choice, and never spoke of her. They never truly forsook her, and kept relations open, strained though they were. The autumn after, Elana gave birth to a son, whom they called Gawan. A year and a half later, Aurora came into the world.

Elana’s choice to live in the human world taxed her greatly. The foreign society and customs repulsed her, and their rougher ways saddened her. Even her beloved husband and children did little to comfort her deep-abiding sorrow. Her family had deserted her, and ostracized her from their happy home. Slowly, Elana wasted away. Kenan knew this would happen some day, but he had hoped she might be content for a long while yet. He was deeply sorry he had ever convinced her father to let her come. When Aurora was two years old, Elana departed the world forever.

So Aurora grew up without a mother. Living constantly in the presence of men, she picked up many boyish habits. Her father didn’t know how to relate to her, so she took to following Gawan around. Gawan looked after her, for her mother’s last wish was that he always keep her safe. He kept is word, and he taught her how to wrestle and ride a horse, and how to string and fire a bow. Gawan was Aurora’s role model. They had their regular squabbles that all siblings do, but their closeness wove a deep bond at a very early age.

When Aurora turned eight, Kenan thought of sending her away to an aunt, her mother’s sister, for what he called “lady’s training”. Elana had wished her daughter to be an accomplished woman, and Kenan felt that Aurora was becoming too boyish. He had no proper lady in his household to train her, so he wrote to the elves up north, his distant family-by-marriage. Aurora stubbornly refused to go, stating that she would hate her daddy forever if he made her. This cut Kenan deeply, for he wished to be close to his daughter, who reminded him so much of his departed wife.

It took Gawan’s resolute feelings to persuade her. His little blue eyes were cross as he said vehemently, “Mother always wanted a little lady of the house. She never wanted to have two boys – she already had a perfect one.” Tears came to his eyes. “And you should honour her request, because she’s dead!” His words stung Aurora into shame. Her mother was a foreign person to her, having died when she was young, but Gawan remembered her, and anything Gawan did or said should be respected. She decided that, to honour the mother she never had, she would go.

At her aunt’s house, Aurora soon learned that she was only there because of a beloved sister’s dying wish. Boyish ways and manners were not tolerated in any form. Aunt Seleona did not pretend to like her, or to make her one of the family. She was looked down upon because of her human blood, and was there strictly for cultivating femininity.

Aurora’s lessons were hard under her grueling aunt, but she learned a great many things. Once such thing was to rule her emotions and not let them rule her. Aurora learned dance, manners, poise, and elegance under her aunt’s strict tutelage. Gone were her boyish ways and mannerisms. In their place stood a young lady.

Aurora also learned magic during these long years. Being half-elven, she naturally came by the innate magic that all elves had. The problem was that she was not full elf. Her human and elven blood dueled about inside her, each demanding complete control, which hindered her efforts in magical ability. After one particular failing lesson Aunt Seleona coldly and factually explained this phenomenon to her, telling her all elven noblewomen possessed great skill, and that Aurora’s own mother had been quite gifted in Earth magic. She told Aurora to practice what she could, but to no expect to be a magician. So, Aurora, after the stinging criticism was dealt, worked her mind to accomplish something magical. For her efforts, she found her meager talent to be in Light magic, and learned most base spells to a working order.

One day, when she was eleven years old, she was walking out in the woods, enjoying the breeze and feeling free from her aunt’s hard grasps for a while. She was admiring a flower, when she heard the most beautiful music her delicate ears had ever heard. She followed the sound and came upon a quiet glen, where she saw an elf, blonde hair blowing in the breeze, delicate, strong hands that all elves possessed lightly strumming a glorious golden harp. His eyes were sky blue and they watched a small brook that ran its merry course alongside him, singing softly to himself while he strummed. He seemed totally oblivious to anything else around him. All that mattered was the brook, the harp, and the song. She didn’t think he had seen her. When he looked up, those eyes pierced her soul.
He stopped strumming, and the notes faded into the gentle wind. He called out to her in elvish, and she responded quietly, excusing her intrusion and turning to go.

“Wait, don’t go!” he called, raising a slender hand, as if to hold her back. He got up, and leapt nimbly across the narrow brook. “After all, we have not been properly introduced,” he said upon reaching her. She was able to see him more clearly now, and his stocky yellow hair was closely cropped and neat, a few renegade hairs escaping the neatly tended mane. Long bangs fells to his cheeks, framing his glorious blue eyes, which, on closer inspection, seemed more alive than they had from a distance. His face was angular and oval, narrow, with penciled, thin, slanted eyebrows, and long, pointed ears characteristic of the elven race. He was taller than she by a good half-foot, and his light tenor voice rolled down from above. “I am Kei. Pray, to which young damsel do I have the pleasure of addressing?” His manners were polite, and friendliness gleamed in his kind eyes.
“I am called Aurora,” she replied shyly, dropping her gaze.
“Your manner and appearance mark you a noble. What house are you from?”
Aurora beamed at his observation. Despite her aunt’s misgivings, she had persevered and could be mistaken for an elvish noblewoman. “I reside with my Lady Seleona Atrichae. She is my aunt,” Aurora said, forgetting a little of her shyness.
“Then you must be quite a noble indeed.” He smiled at her charmingly, and they began chatting amiably, as only new acquaintances can. She asked him to play is harp, which he readily complied to, and offered to teach her a few chords. She hardly believed him until put the beautiful instrument in her arms and pressed her delicate fingers to the right strings.
He walked her home at twilight, and her inquisitive and obtrusive aunt spotted them coming though the garden gate, arm-in-arm like old friends. He was telling a joke and she was laughing, completely at ease in his company. When he said good-bye, and paid his compliments to her aunt, she had immediately retired to the older lady’s parlor, fully unaware of the trauma she had caused.
“I’ve expected many things from you, Aurora, but this is the worst,” snapped the elf, her back facing the girl as she looked out the full-length window into the deepening night.
“What is, madame?” asked Aurora, completely unaware of the older lady’s vexation.
“Kei of Beschelle, how could you?!” her aunt exploded, turning fiercely from the window.
“Who?”
“Kei Mandorellan Beschelle, only the heir to the third richest family in the whole elvish court, and of a most prestigious and prominent family! Do you know how far below him you are?”
“No, madame. I hadn’t any idea who he was. He introduced himself as Kei only,” Aurora replied in girl-like innocence, looking hurt and crestfallen all at once.
“I even bet you never told him of your dirty blood as well,” her aunt hissed, her face livid and deadly.
Aurora bit her lip and looked at her hands, trying not to cry.
“I can’t believe you! You don’t really think he would associate with such a low personage as yourself?”
“He seemed not to care what I was, only who I am,” came the meek reply from the bowed head.
“Tch!”
Her aunt moved from the window, striding distractedly to the bookshelf, her face a myriad of various states anger.
“He’s too old for you, you know,” she continued, straightening a book here and there. She had checked her outburst and her voice was deadly hushed. “He’s ten years your senior at least. It isn’t proper.” She came to stand before the chastened girl. “I don’t want you to see him again,” she commanded. “Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Now go and dress for dinner, and we’ll not talk of this obscene matter any longer.”
The girl turned, head still lowered, a tiny tear splashed on her small hand. She walked sedately to the door under her elder’s wrathful and uncaring eye. As soon as the door was shut Aurora fled to her room in tears.

The next day, Lord Kei came calling for her. Kei had secured it with his father that she was allowed to come and visit him at his estate. Lord Beschelle sent a grave letter to the Lady, softly and kindly reprimanding her hasty action in separating Aurora from society, and quietly demanded that Aurora be allowed to visit and be visited by his son, her friend. Seleona could not refuse someone so high, so she grudgingly allowed Aurora to visit Beschelle Hall and return the invitation for Lord Kei to come to Atrichae, however displeased she was at this turn of events.
Kei saved Aurora from her pit of despair. His joviality and openness brought life back into her face and bounce into her step. She regarded him a wise and caring older brother, and stand-in for her own departed sibling. He was her companion and confidante, and above all, her friend. He continued to teach her to play his harp, and her aunt had to admit the girl was a natural at it. Whenever she gave balls, the Lady would allow Aurora to play, just to have the satisfaction of the compliments she received from her gossiping friends.

Aurora used to sit and watch Kei practice with his sword, and one fine summer, she demanded that she be taught. Kei, taken aback by such a request, found it terribly funny that a noble lady would want to pursue such things. Aurora argued that lesser houses’ women practiced the sword, and that some of the best elvish hunters were women. Kei finally agreed, and taught her to wield a blade. Unlike the harp, however, the sword in her hands was awkward. She gained more experience from the actual routine, and decided that sword practice was just another exercise in grace. She did better in the martial art of it, than in the actual practice.

A few months after the sword-dance initiation, Kei met her in the woods like always. He was carrying a large ashwood long-bow over one shoulder, and a light beechwood one on the other. In his hand was a quiver full of arrows.
“Kei, what are you doing?” Aurora demanded, filled with burning curiosity.
“Since you’ve taken such an interest in mortal combat,” he explained, stringing one of the bows, “you should learn to shoot a bow and arrow.”
“Oh, I already know how to do that,” Aurora said. “My brother taught me.” She hoped she could remember the technique from those long-ago days.
“Oh? We shall see.”
He led her to a clearing, where a few tree stumps and hay bales were strategically placed at various paces. He handed her the beechwood bow and an arrow.
“Ok, shoot.”
Aurora took the bow uncertainly, then steeled herself to the task. She drew and shot, her arrow narrowly missing the target. It whizzed away into the long grass.
Kei chuckled, and she whirled to him, blushing slightly.
“Ok, so it’s been awhile. Give a girl a break!”
Kei laughed and said “Oh no, that was a great shot. Only, you shoot like a human.”
That caught her off-guard. She looked at him with a small threatening glance, as if daring him to mock her half-blood. He only smiled at her, and said, “Come, I will teach you the right way.” So began her marksman training, for which she found her other natural talent. Soon, she could out-shoot even Kei, whose eyes and experience were his only assets. She took a small pride in this fact.

Time passed, as it always does. Seasons came and went, trials given and mastered. Aurora grew into a beautiful creature, having the grace and elegance of an elf, along with the hardiness and strength of man. Even Aunt Seleona had to agree that her niece, though undesirable to herself, was a winning lady. She was secretly very proud of her own accomplishment in raising the girl to perfection. At age sixteen, Seleona allowed Aurora to be introduced to the elvish court. From then on, Aurora thought she understood her aunt better, who, having no children of her own, had tried her best with her sister’s child. Aurora thought better of her hard aunt from then on.

The day of Aurora’s parting drew near. She avoided Kei like the plague. She could not explain it to him, but saying good-bye would make her parting a reality. Somehow, in her subconscious mind, she reasoned that by not having to say it meant she would not have to leave him, the only thorn in her otherwise happy departure. But, three days before her departure, a large crate arrived, addressed to her in an elegant, flowing script. She ordered the box to her room, where she shooed the servants away and opened it herself.

Inside lay a large ashwood bow, gilt lacings curving around it. It was unstrung, but a gold unicorn hair was wound gracefully around one end. Astonished, she set it aside and reached in the crate again. She knew whose bow that was. Next, she pulled out a parcel wrapped in paper. Inside the parcel lay an embroidered lavender cloak, a pair of loose-fitting white pants, and a black embroidered sash. Unfurling the cloak, she almost dropped it at seeing the superior design of the rearing unicorn with diamond eyes that adorned the back. The silver and gold thread flashed as it caught the sunlight from the windows, and the hooves appeared to strike out at her, and the eyes seemed to roll. As she twirled it, a letter sealed in blue wax dropped out. Trembling, she opened it. It read:
“My Dearest Aurora,
Ever since I first saw you, I knew you were the one. You complete me, and I feel as though even the stars cannot limit what I feel for you. I wish I could say this to your beautiful face, but some things are left better to writing. I leave you these gifts, as proof of my love, and to the memories we have made that I will cherish forever. I meant to give the cloak to you for your birthday, but it had not been finished yet, so I saved it. A unicorn is a most noble creature. She has wisdom, beauty, strength, and grace. She is a gentle creature, but not afraid to defend what she believes in. She combines her strength and poise to be one of the most beautiful creatures in all creation. She maintains her pride and dignity, even though the hard blows fall. Remember this always.
“The harp…”
Aurora dropped the letter and flew to the chest. There, wrapped carefully in green velvet, lay the golden harp. She dared not touch the scroll-work and leaves etched into the gilt frame. She retrieved the parchment and collapsed into a chair.
“The harp I leave to you, to make your lovely music with. I hope it will bring you joy in the sorrowful times, comfort in the lonely ones, and peace in unpleasant ones. It always has for me.
“And now, I must leave this last line. Words cannot express what I’m trying to say; they hinder me. I know you will understand. I love you, and will always remain forever,
“Your truest Friend,
“Kei Mandorellan Beschelle”

A tear dropped from her cheek to the letter blotting a small, wet dot in the middle, as her finger traced the etching on the harp frame.

Her home-coming was as lavish as any royal ball. She hardly recognized Gawan, who, now almost 20, was a tall, strong man. He had a thatch of sandy-brown hair, and his ears, though slanted, were not as “elvish” as hers. He also sought to hide them often. He had broad, muscled shoulders, and stood a full head taller than she. Her father had not changed much. He had more grey hairs than brown streaking his thinning hair and beard. The lines around his face were more pronounced. Kenan Flemming, whatever his older appearance, was still active and himself. Her joy at being home almost made up for the loss of her best friend. Her father showed her off like a porcelain doll, and her brother good-naturedly fought off potential suitors in true big-brother style.

All good things cannot last, and Aurora’s contentment dwindled after the first few weeks. She tried to be happy, but she found a longing in her, dying to break free. Her servants did not know her habits, and she really could not relate to her brother or father, both of them having led such different lives the last ten years. The only joy she found was riding out to the woods, and playing her harp, and reading Kei’s letter. It was wrinkled and creased, so much had it been read. Gawan declared she was “more elf than human” jokingly, but he didn’t know how true his statement was.

One evening, Aurora was returning from one of her many expeditions out into the forest. Her harp was on her saddle, and she had her magnificent kimono hanging loosely over her small frame. A smudge and smoking essence reached her senses as she rode closer to home, and a dull orange colour could be seen above the trees. She set her horse into a canter, then a full-out gallop, riding into the stable yard, horrified at what she saw.

Goblins were everywhere, about seventy of them, all bearing wicked iron swords, and a few with torches. The stable was ablaze, as well as the cook-house, and the hungry flames were beginning to lick at the house. Gawan and his soldiers were slowly fighting away, a tight knot of defenders, slowly being cornered and prodded to the inferno that had been the barn. The wicked beings laughed cruelly, chasing maids here and there, and creating a general mayhem.

“Aurie! Flee! Now!” Gawan called, catching sight of her white mare. The horse reared and screamed, striking out with its hooves, catching a few unlucky goblins that had advanced to close. She grabbed her bow from the saddle, and sighted an arrow. “Not on your life,” she muttered, picking a target. A detachment of the little enemies slowly formed a semi-circle around her. They grinned at her apparent defense, nodding to one another at their easy prey. They stopped about five feet from her, leering wickedly. As one they rushed in. Her mare screamed again, lashing out with all four hooves. In the time it took for her horse to react, Aurora’s arrow had found a home in the largest, meanest looking brute surrounding her. He gurgled in surprise at the osprey feather adorning his neck, then toppled over with a sigh.

The goblins looked at her, then charged in howling. She sent arrow after arrow, her horse valiantly keeping the little monsters from pulling her from her perch. Finally, she reached to the quiver on the saddle and met empty air. She had run out of her ammunition. Never faltering, she vaulted from her saddle, rolling and snatching a short sword from a dead enemy’s hand. She fought tooth and nail with the best of them, killing foe after foe. She didn’t even think; she just reacted. Catching sight of a sneaky goblin trying to carry off her harp, she darted low, snatched spear from a startled goblin fighter and hurled it at the tiny thief. He dropped the harp and fell.

Soon, it was all over. The flames’ lives were coming to an end as servants rushed to and fro from the well with water. She stood there, dirt and blood on her face, hair loose and grimy, her exquisite cloak blowing about her in a gentle breeze that promised rain. Gawan stood opposite her about 10 yards away, staring at the fighter before him. Around her, goblins littered the ground for a good five foot radius. Her horse, though heroic, lay gasping on its side, a dozen fatal wounds carved into its body. Without a word, Aurora picked up a knife and cut its life vein, a geyser of blood showering her already soiled appearance. Gawan stared in mute horror and respect. She came up to him.
“How many dead?” she said flatly.
“Many, about ten, not including servants.”
“And them? How many?”
“I can’t be sure. Many died in the flames.”
“And Father?”
Gawan looked at her. “Died in the first two minutes of the fight, taken down by an arrow.”
She nodded, and walked away. Tears stung her burned cheeks.
“Aurora…” Gawan called after her.
She turned.
”Gawan, I have to go. I don’t belong here.”
Gawan looked at her, then nodded silently.
She went up to her room, and changed her soiled clothing, and started packing up a few small items. She looked up at a slight noise, and Gawan stood in the doorframe.

“Here,” he said, laying a long ornate box on the bed. It was about three feet long and a foot wide. He opened the clasp. Inside lay a gold and amethyst sword, complete with a simple black scabbard and sword belt. “This was Mother’s,” he said. “I found it when Father was cleaning out her rooms. He finally did, you know.” He smiled sadly. “I took it and kept it. I don’t know why she had it, but it is such a girly sword, that I can’t use it. I want you to have it.” She looked at it, then at him, nodding slightly.
“Oh, and this,” he said, reaching into his breast-pocket and pulling out a pendant necklace. “This was hers as well. I saved it for you.” He gently fastened it to her neck and sat back. “They are yours now.”

She hugged him impulsively, regretting that she had to leave him, when she had just met him again. But she had to go. She could not stay.

Out on the road, her bow and replenished arrows across one shoulder, her sack across the other, and her sword strapped to her left hip, she turned back once, her long blonde hair falling about her. Her brother stood in the doorway, his hand raised in farewell, smoke and ash rising behind as the servants continued to fight the dying fire. With a curt nod, she turned resolutely down the road.


So anyway, c'est ma charactrice. Apologies again for the long reading. I hope the crick in your neck goes away soon.

Fine. *Approved*