"I can hear the drums now, y'know? Nice an' loud. There's killin' to be done an' that's a fact." [i]-Quote attributed to Red Myra[/i] [b]Name:[/b] Myranda "Myra" Tavellan [Meer-an-duh Tuh-vell-en], also known as "Red Myra" [b]Race:[/b] Elf [b]Age:[/b] 216 years old [b]Nationality:[/b] Whitestone Village, The Empire of Tolos [b]Occupation:[/b] Hired swordswoman, bandit, and former captain of the White Hands mercenary company [b]Religion:[/b] While she claims to worship the Tolosi gods, nobody has actually seen Myranda pray. [hider=Appearance and Personality] Myranda Tavellan is an unusual-looking elf, and that's putting it lightly. Standing at a menacing 6'2", the elven berserker is heavily muscled and covered in scars of every shape and size imaginable. Her lean, hungry face, which might have been beautiful at one point, is marred by three particularly nasty scars that barely avoid her mud brown eyes. Half of Myranda's right ear has also fallen victim to the ravages of her bloody lifestyle, and she scratches at the scabby lump from time to time. A tangled mass of dark brown hair frames the warrior's battered face like a curtain trying to hide some monstrous sideshow attraction. The elf's nose is also decidedly crooked and her smile is full of gaps, another testament to how violent her life has been thus far. Perhaps in hopes of mitigating the impact of her ominous appearance, Myranda is always slightly hunched yet even her shoulders, broad and powerful as they are, suggest this isn't some pampered Tolosi aristocrat or beloved elven servant. This is someone who'd happily rip your throat out for looking at her the wrong way. Normally, the mercenary wears a mangy white lion skin cloak over her shoulders despite the faint smell of blood clinging to the ratty garment. Two long, muscular arms extend down from Myranda's shoulders and end in a pair of rough, callused hands. While Red Myra doesn't normally wear gloves, every now and again she'll produce a pair of black iron gauntlets from her travel-stained knapsack. These gauntlets have tiny bronze spikes set into the knuckles. Needless to say, being punched by Myranda while she's wearing her gauntlets is only slightly less amusing than being punched by Myranda without her gauntlets. Moving past her small bosom, Myra's stomach is toned to the point where she almost appears malnourished like a wolf that hasn't hunted in weeks. Considering how often her meals consist of alcohol and whatever she can find nearby, this isn't surprising. Wide hips and powerful, long legs complete the image of an elf few people want to tangle with. Typically, the mercenary can be seen wearing a studded leather chestpiece over a greasy linen undershirt along with black iron leg-guards as daywear. She almost always has her spiked buckler strapped to her back unless she absolutely must remove it. A simple leather belt wraps around the hired blade's waist and her sheathed black iron longsword hangs from it. A wineskin, which is always full, and several pouches also dangle from the berserker's belt. Each of these pouches has been dyed a different color so Myranda can quickly access them. For example, her blue pouch contains an old wooden pipe adorned with worn images of prancing reindeer while her purple pouch is bursting with wraith leaves, Myranda's tobacco of choice. Last but not least, Myranda's black iron sabatons have certainly seen better days and appear to fall apart a little more every time she puts them on. Myranda's personality is as unnerving as her appearance. She doesn't actively seek the company of others, but she can be surprisingly pleasant when approached. Especially if she's approached with a tankard of Etruscan ale. Courage, determination, and a love of anything crass, obscene, or irreverent make her an interesting traveling companion if not an overly loyal one. Despite her normally boisterous behavior, however, there are times when the elf will fall into long spells of silent, almost melancholic, contemplation. Her thoughts often wander down the old, painful roads to the experiences that shaped her into the woman she is today. Still, the berserker tries to live in the moment and doesn't spend too much time dwelling on the past. She finds her pleasures where she can whether it's the simple joy of walking along an unfamiliar road or the wonderful burn of dwarven spirits. Of course, when the opportunity for wantonness and excess arises, the mercenary is only too happy to take full advantage. The nastier and fouler the deed the more likely she is to do it. Despite this, however, Myra often tries to do what she believes is right in any given situation. An interesting trait for a mercenary to have. On the other hand, Red Myra's demeanor completely changes whenever she gets angry or finds herself in the midst of battle. There are those among the elf's few friends who believe Myranda's "normal" behavior is merely a facade, hiding the truth of a woman desperately struggling to control herself. To keep herself from her one, true addiction. The addiction of shedding blood and inflicting pain on other people. Myranda's claim of trying to be a better person notwithstanding, there is always a savage joy in her eyes and a smile on her face when battle is joined. And thanks to over one hundred years of combat experience, Myranda is an incredibly skilled, not to mention vicious, fighter. Still, rumors persist that she has a hard time telling friend from foe when she's fully enraged. There are also certain individuals who are convinced Myra has become some kind of death-seeker, waiting for the day when someone puts an end to her brutal, chaotic life. Some even suggest the sellsword is mentally unsound since she constantly talks about hearing drums when she fights. Even when there aren't any drums to be found on the battlefield. Regardless, Red Myra's deep, rasping voice has been the last thing many warriors have heard before their souls were sent howling into the afterlife. [/hider] [hider=Biography] Myranda was born in the winter of 3434 to an impoverished earthroot farmer named Eldrath Tavellan. She spent the first twenty years of life living in her father's small shack, which was about half a day's journey from the border separating the mighty Empire of Tolos from the dwarven lands of Coromis. Just to the north of the Tavellans' home, Whitestone Village sat as pretty as any rural painting done by the world-renowned Tolosi artist, Atilian Kalivas. Young Myra always looked forward to the days following the harvest because her father would hitch the family oxen to their rickety wagon and take the year's crop to Whitestone Village's market. While most of the money they made was spent ensuring Eldrath had enough liquor to last the rest of the year, some of the coin went towards things like a basic primer on the Tolosi tongue and even an old, battered atlas depicting the entirety of the Empire. These items became some of Myranda's most treasured possessions, and she often dreamed of leaving the monotony of her father's farm behind. Of course, even suggesting such a thing was guaranteed to send Eldrath into one of his black rages, which always ended with Myranda on the floor and him staggering off to find another bottle of corn whiskey. Another topic the two elves never discussed was what happened to Myra's mother. Despite these moments of brutal unpleasantness, however, the Tavellans lived a simple, peaceful life on their farm and nobody bothered them overly much. And then the Battle of Havendall ended with the Empire of Tolos suffering its first defeat in recent memory. Thankfully, Whitestone Village's small size and relative anonymity meant it wasn't drawn into the conflict. Unfortunately, the battle between the Imperial legions and the allies of God-King Oromis would have far-reaching consequences for Myranda beyond the formation of the Etruscan League and the Empire's gradual deterioration. On the eve of her twentieth name day, when elves were said to have reached the "age of reason," Myranda came in from a hard day's work in the fields to find her father waiting for her, a knife clutched in his hand. Wordlessly, the old, withered farmer pointed towards Whitestone Village and his daughter peered curiously out the window. Whitestone Village was ablaze and Myra's sharp eyes could almost make out the fleeing specks of villagers running for their lives. One of the numerous mercenary companies hired by the remaining Tolosi nobles to guard the newly-formed border separating them from the Etruscan League had apparently decided to do some "foraging." Foraging, in this case, meaning looting, burning, and pillaging in hopes of supplementing the pittance their employers were paying them. Regrettably, Whitestone Village was receiving the brunt of the sellswords' wrath. It was a nightmare. Inevitably, the rogue mercenaries made their way southwards and stumbled upon the Tavellan farmstead, their eyes shining with glee as they set fire to the earthroot crop and savagely killed Eldrath's oxen. Myranda has never spoken to anyone about what happened next, but her father was slain by Captain Kurdan "The Butcher" Sokolov, the dwarven leader of the mercenaries rampaging through the southern reaches of the Empire. Instead of sending Myra to meet her father in the afterlife, however, the captain gave her a place at his side, calling her his "lucky charm." Thus, Myranda Tavellan joined Kurdan's Sabers, a mercenary company comprised mainly of Coromoisans, Tolosi deserters and traitors, and even a few madmen. The company was being paid by a small coalition of Tolosi aristocrats to watch the border they now shared with both the Etruscan League and the Republic of Jadis. Luckily, or unluckily as it were, the only real threat to the Empire was from the Jadisi since Oromis' war had been taxing on both the Etruscans and Tolosi, who were content to lick their wounds for the time being. So, for the next thirty years, Myranda was raised by Captain Kurdan and his three hundred mercenaries, learning lessons practical and wildly impractical unless you just so happened to be a soldier of fortune. Basic arithmetic, how to read and write, and even the basics of single sword combat were all part of her curriculum. In the year 3484, however, the First Border War began, though it wasn't a war so much as a series of brutal skirmishes between the Empire of Tolos and the Etruscan League. Each nation wanted to push their common border one way or the other. After nearly forty years of constant fighting, the so-called "Years of Sorrow" ended and the First Border War concluded with a draw, though there were still small pockets of resistance to be found. Kurdan's Sabers, along with their allies the Blue Plume Brotherhood and the Half Moons, spent another ten years locked in a vicious struggle with a group of Etruscan fanatics calling themselves the Children of God. It was during the spring of 3550 that the Battle of Ursol's Spine came about. Pinned down behind a ridge bearing the same name, Kurdan's Sabers managed to carry the day and ultimately crushed the Children of God completely. The losses, however, were staggering and Kurdan himself lost his right eye during the conflict. The wound soured quickly, and the venerable dwarven sellsword began to descend into feverish madness as his body tried to fight off infection. Myranda had only recently celebrated her 100th name day, and she was now considered an adult in the eyes of her people. She spent the next fourteen years watching over the dwarf who'd been more of a father to her than Eldrath grow weaker and weaker. Meanwhile, several would-be usurpers attempted to wrest control of the Sabers away from Kurdan only to be cast down by their equally ambitious contemporaries. It seemed as if Kurdan's Sabers was doomed to fracture without their charismatic leader to guide them. And then the dwarf's health began to improve, though he was still weak. It seemed as if he might pull through despite the loss of his eye. Until, on a cold morning in winter, Myranda and Captain Kurdan met for their daily sparring session for the first time since he'd been injured. During the bout, the elven woman "accidentally" ran the dwarf through with the black iron longsword he gave her for her 100th name day. This is the first time Myranda was ever called "Red Myra." Several of the older and wiser mercenaries, having decided to put aside their differences in the name of controlling the company, saw how skilled Myranda was and how ruthless the others now believed her to be. Capitalizing on this, and wanting to place a figurehead in the captain's seat so they could run the company without taking any blame for poor decision-making or losses in battle, these sellswords claimed that Myra had "earned" the right to be called captain. To the shock and horror of the so-called Inner Council, Myranda proved to be a strong, decisive, and competent leader, embodying all of Kurdan's positive traits with only one major flaw. She seemed to crave violence like an alcoholic craves strong drink. Under the pretense of removing Kurdan's supporters from the company, Myra purged the Inner Council and their allies before spending the next fifteen years recruiting more mercenaries to bolster the Sabers' ranks. She also changed the name of the company to the White Hands, a reference to Kurdan's habit of "keeping his thoughts black, but his hands white as driven snow." Meaning, he'd enjoy gorging himself of fine food and drink in his captain's tent far away from the battlefield while his men died in droves. It is worth mentioning that during this period, in the year 3534, Oromis emerged again from obscurity but Myra's power wasn't anywhere near consolidated enough for the White Hands to participate in the conflict. Besides, the Tolosi highborn were barely managing to hold out against the Etruscan League let alone call any mercenary company under their banner to task on the matter. Of course, the White Hands still visited any town or city they could find in order to "forage" for more food, supplies, and valuable loot. After numerous battles such as the Battle over the River Tamras and the short-lived Second Border War, Myranda's lieutenants managed to convince the elf it might be worthwhile to approach the League's leadership for work. Not only were the Imperial forces far too scattered and weak to support the White Hands in battle, but their payments were starting to come further and further apart. Nothing makes a mercenary nervous like delayed payment. Despite her misgivings about betraying her homeland, Red Myra approached a group of Etruscan lords the evening before the battle of the Celebron Fields in the spring of 3578. She offered to change sides during the battle in exchange for a promise to ignore the company's previous Imperial loyalties. All she wanted was a chance to prove the White Hands could be an asset to the war-torn Etruscan League and its members. They agreed. The Battle of the Celebron Fields marked the first White Hands victory as allies of the Etruscan League. They spent the next fifty years happily battering the Empire's border on behalf of the League, and the gold was said to have flowed like a sweet, clinking river through the White Hands' encampments. Their reputation, and that of their savage leader, was growing to epic proportions with songs and tales of their deeds reaching as far south as the Orkantor Desert. Everything was going marvelously despite the rumors. Rumors about how Myranda would just as happily butcher her own men as she would the enemy. Rumors about how easily she'd been convinced to betray the Empire of Tolos. Rumors about "drums" and madness. In the year 3630, a young Jadisi man named Pajaan Farimi was recruited by the White Hands after the Second Battle over the River Tamras. There was an immediate attraction between this smart, handsome southerner and Captain Myra, especially when he managed to bring Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon of Nerwains to the negotiating table with the company. A close friend of Pajaan's father, the leader of Clan Miridon wanted to hire the White Hands to watch the eastern borders of his lands while he focused on dealing with several rival clans to the west. They would be paid in stacks of "Miridon gold bars," which was some of the finest, highest-quality gold in the entirety of Tevrios. Myranda agreed and the papers of engagement were signed. The White Hands were now responsible for protecting the eastern outskirts of Clan Miridon's holdings from the few remaining groups fighting for the Empire of Tolos. Time passed, as it often does, and Myranda and Pajaan became lovers and at one point the elven mercenary even became pregnant. Pajaan had reformed the Inner Council, using his influence as the captain's beloved, and ensured nobody tried to take advantage of Myra's condition. Strangely enough, about three months after little Elanaria's birth she was never seen again. What's more is neither Myranda nor Pajaan would speak about the matter. Some mercenaries even though Myra looked confused when asked about where her child might be. Shortly thereafter, Pajaan became Myranda's official second-in-command, though the two often disagreed and many believed they'd fallen out of love somehow. At any rate, shortly after Red Myra's 200th name day, Lord Miridon asked the White Hands to deal with a group of former allies making trouble near the border town of Mervyn's Crossing. Little did Myranda suspect both Lord Miridon and Pajaan had laid a trap for her. When the White Hands showed up, in an eerie parallel to her betrayal at the Celebron Fields, Pajaan and the Inner Council took command and sent the sellswords to kill their captain. Apparently, Lord Alexandros was a racist of incredible proportions and hated the idea of his family's gold in the hands of a filthy elf. And a Tolosi to boot. He'd convinced Pajaan to turn on his lover in exchange for his promise to help him keep the position of company captain. Aided by a regiment of Clan Miridon soldiers, the White Hands chased Myranda through the thick, twisting foliage of the nearby Wrenlock Forest. Before vanishing into the heart of the forest, Red Myra managed to cut off Pajaan's hand, and he would ever after be known as Pajaan "Goldenhand" Farimi since he replaced his missing appendage with a hand made of Miridon gold. Disgraced and hunted, Myranda fled west and eventually boarded a schooner bound for the home of the Mardochians, the Hamrock Isles. Surely the White Hands would assume she'd died and wouldn't come after her. For a few years, the elf tried to find someone willing to hire a scarred sellsword, though her reputation hadn't followed her flight. She was a nobody again. Desperate and unwilling, or perhaps incapable, of doing anything else, Myranda turned to banditry. As the years passed, the name "Red Myra" was once again spoken in hushed voices by merchants and those they paid to guard them. A monstrous thug. A bandit without conscience. A savage fighter. Still, all good things must come to an end, and, at the age of 216, Myranda was finally caught by the town guards of Taranidorn. Instead of being hung immediately, however, she was given a choice. The choice anyone convicted in the last few years has been given. Swear her loyalty to the newly returned God-King Oromis or hang. It wasn't really much of a choice for someone as steeped in blood as Myranda. So, for the time being, she's joined the God-King's army as a conscript. What her true motives are is anyone's guess. [/hider] [b]Magical Artifacts:[/b] None [b]Motivation:[/b] Myranda seems to be consumed by her desire to destroy the two men who betrayed her: Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon, her traitorous former employer, and Pajaan "Goldhand" Farimi, her former lover and second-in-command. Since these turncoats are both sworn to the Etruscan League, Myra figured joining Oromis' forces meant she'd have an opportunity to deal with them. It was also better than the alternative, which was death by hanging. At any rate, once she kills these two traitors Myranda often boats about how she'll regain control of the White Hands and lead them to victory alongside the God-King's other allies. The truth is much simpler, however. Myranda wants to die a glorious death in battle because the last one hundred years have shown her the awful truth. She's become addicted to killing. She cannot stop. Myranda knows the chances of dying while in Oromis' service are quite good. In truth, She's counting on it. [b]Images:[/b] [hider=Inspirational Image for Red Myra] [img]http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/3/640x800_1678_Path_to_War_2d_fantasy_warrior_girl_female_woman_elf_painting_picture_image_digital_art.jpg[/img] [/hider] [hider=Myranda's Sword] [img]http://i1023.photobucket.com/albums/af356/Shadow_King_Erebus/Short_Sword_zps14f693d3.jpg[/img] [/hider] [hider=Myranda's Buckler][img]http://oriental-arms.com/photos/items/66/003766/ph-0.jpg [/img][/hider]