Got my sheet done!

Is it Worsenthian or Worsenthine? Or something else? I couldn't quite figure that one out myself.

[hider=Veatrix of Merlake]
[b]Name:[/b] Veatrix of Merlake
[b]Age: [/b] 26
[b]Gender:[/b] Female
[b]Birthplace:[/b] Merlake, north-eastern Worsenth
[b]Nationality:[/b] Worsenthian
[b]Affiliation:[/b] House Merlake
[b]Attunement:[/b] None

[b][u]Physical Appearance: [/u][/b] 
	Veatrix’s face is a rounded and kind-looking, her long blonde hair usually tied in some variation of braids. She has brown eyes, betraying a hint of south-western heritage, but her fair skin displays no such influence.
	Standing 5’8 tall and weighing a little over 150 pounds, she does not have a figure she herself considers feminine: her breasts are too small, her hips are too narrow and her shoulders too wide. Her mind exaggerates these things and in the eye of the beholder, her reserved nature helps enhance her feminine traits. Yet still, years of forced training and healthy eating has given her a more powerful build than most women, and her rough palms are those of one who has been made to hold weapons from a young age.

[b][u]Personality:[/u][/b] 
	Like with a broken bone, the words of others may hurt Veatrix more than the exterior suggests. She was brought up in a household where talking back earned Mother’s scorn, and so she learned to keep her emotions hidden: quietly storing them away until the pressure from within grows too strong, leading to impulsive and sometimes even destructive behavior. She has always kept silent in her mother’s face in fear of admonishment, but has challenged herself to speak more freely now that she must walk her own path, in fear of what she may do should she let her pent-up emotions control her. In afterthought, she fears that joining the Godwastes expedition may be one such foolish endeavor, but after looking back at her past she realizes that something drastic must be done to break free of her self-imposed cage.
	In others she is quick to see strengths, but in herself she sees weaknesses first. In her mother she sees ambition, assertiveness, strength of mind and a pride in her country; in her brother, Veatrix saw many of the same qualities. Yet in herself she sees weakness and cowardice, indecisiveness and frailty, and a mind fragile and unwise. In focusing on these things she fails to acknowledge her potential for great kindness, benevolence, loyalty, and devotion, but maybe she has yet to find something to guide it towards? And wisdom and fortitude are, perhaps, things that can be learned in time.

[b][u]House Merlake: [/u][/b]
	In the far north-east of Worsenth near the border to Vallake lies the great lake Merr, a name which meaning has been lost to time. On Lake Merr’s western shore lies the city Merlake, from which the surrounding region takes its name. A family lives there so old that it hails back to a time long before even the Fall. It was once aristocracy, but the Euphian Treatise put an end to that. But the Merlake family still holds a firm grasp of the region’s economy thanks to its great wealth. Despite losing its status of nobility, House Merlake still rules the surrounding land much like nobles of times past did, and the family has defiantly kept its crest: a shield, on it a blacksmith’s anvil with a sword stuck through it, and on top of the sword a raven sits perched.
Merlake was once a city rich from iron mined in the mountains north, but the mines have yielded less in recent decades and the town’s economy seemed to be on a steady course south for some time. But with the new matriarch instated some thirty years ago it was reversed: land was sold and bought, and prospectors discovered new ore deposits. Metal is always in high demand, and the family once more grew rich on Merlake steel.
If only the next matron would show as much promise as the current one…

[b][u]Skills and talents: [/u][/b]
[list]
[*][b][i]Educated[/i][/b]
Hailing from a wealthy family, Veatrix has received education from a young age in all manner of subjects. Even if much of what she was taught did not stick, she commands a formidable grasp of the written language and an adequate knowledge of a broad range subjects including history, economy, mathematics, and at least a theoretical knowledge regarding the workings of modern machinery.[/*]

[*][b][i]Animal Handling[/i][/b]
Veatrix has a way with animals, and they often let their guard down near her. Perhaps they simply don’t see her as threatening, but it has helped her in cultivating her pastime of horseback riding, which she would often indulge in as a reprieve from her mother’s expectations. [/*]

[*][b][i]Trained in Arms[/i][/b]
Veatrix has been trained by some of the best teachers money can buy, and as a result is proficient in hand-to-hand combat and the use of most basic weapons. Her specialty, however, lies in polearms, with which she is a force to be reckoned with in sparring.
Despite her expertise, she has little experience in actual matters of life and death, and may falter under pressure. [/*]
[/list]

[b] [u]Possessions and items of note: [/u][/b]
[list]
[*][b][i]The Crow[/i][/b]
Despite its unimposing name, this 6’6 polearm was designed to inflict damage through even the toughest of armour. The design is sleek and void of ornamental effects, save for an intricate corvid’s head inscribed in the side of the steel hammerhead.
The top of the wooden haft is fitted with a four-pronged ‘hammer’ with a thick, slightly bent 6-inch spike on its reverse. On top of the head is a 9-inch straight spike, and below the head the handle is reinforced with langets about 15 inches down. On the bottom end of the haft a small spearhead is attached.
The entire weapon weighs about 6.5 pounds, most of that weight concentrated in the head.

It is a versatile weapon, allowing the user to keep an enemy at distance using the bottom end like a spear and then swing around with the hammer end when an opportunity presents itself. The sturdy wood can parry and redirect blows from lighter weapons, and where the haft is reinforced with langets near the head, it can block hits head on without suffering notable damage.
The back-spike and hammer, unlovingly called the Crow’s Beak and Talons, can in addition be used to parry and redirect an enemy’s weapon. They can also hook an opponent’s legs or neck to sweep then off balance, opening them up for a lethal thrust with the head-spike. [/*]

[*][b][i]Vallaken Arming Sword[/i][/b]
There is not much to say about this simple sword sporting a one-handed cruciform hilt and a straight 30-inch blade, totaling at a weight of 2.5 pounds. Upon inspection it is clear that the sword is of excellent make, but it bears no ornamentation on either the hilt or the blade, nor does it show signs of use. 
The name comes from the particular design which is popular in Vallake, even though the sword was forged in Worsenth.

The sword is carried in a leather scabbard by the waist, and is not Veatrix’s weapon of choice, but rather a secondary arm in case the Crow is lost. [/*]

[*][b][i]Dagger[/i][/b]
A simple double-edged dagger with a sleek 8-inch blade. It is useful more as a tool than as a weapon, and is carried in a small scabbard next to Veatrix’s sword. [/*]

[*][b][i]Worsenthian Armour[/i][/b]
Underneath the armour, Veatrix wears a dark green padded linen arming doublet with mail sewn onto the underside of the armpits and inner side of the arms, as well as around the lower waist and covering her down the upper third of her thighs. The purpose of the mail is to protect the areas that the steel plates do not, in particular the armpits, the underside of the wrists, and the groin. Gold-coloured embroidery of an intricate design lines the doublet’s edges, which together with the expensive-looking fabric gives off an impression of wealth.

The armour itself consists of a fluted cuirass with faulds to protect the lower waist, with interlocking steel plates protecting the shoulders and outside of the arms down to the hands. The gauntlets consist of leather gloves with steel plating on the back of the hand, including a small, rounded plate protecting the knuckles half the way down to the first finger joint. The fingers themselves are guarded by tiny interlocking pieces of steel, a marvelous piece of armouring, allowing each finger near full range of motion.
The front halves of the thighs are covered with steel cuisses, but the back thighs are left open, save for a pair of burgundy-coloured woolen trousers. The knees are protected with poleyns that interlock with the cuisses and greaves, and the insteps are guarded by sabatons of small, overlapping plates to allow the foot flexibility.
A long-necked padded wool coif is worn for warmth and to reduce the discomfort of wearing the split-visored close helm. A mail collar is sewn over the coif to protect the throat and neck as well as the parts of the shoulders the pauldrons do not cover.

The entire set of Worsenth-crafted armour weighs roughly 40 pounds and offers excellent protection for its comparatively light weight. The lines along the edge of each metallic plate are gilded and the armour is polished to a silvery shine and shows very little sign of wear.
To keep warm for the journey north, Veatrix has acquired a simple light-brown shin-length wool cloak, contrasting the dazzling armour it is worn over. [/*]

[*][b][i]Castor[/i][/b]
The name Castor refers to the large, gelded Vallaken highland horse that has been raised by Veatrix since he was a foal. He can be recognized by his dark brown coat and the diamond-shaped white marking on his forehead. 
At eight years of age, he is strong and healthy, and capable of carrying both Veatrix and her armour, as well as a few dozen pounds of additional supplies. His strength is made use of, and strapped to his saddle he carries most of Veatrix’s supplies as well as the Crow. 

Veatrix has cared well for the mild-mannered steed over the years, and has built up a strong attachment to him. Caring for Castor has been one of the few respites from her stressful life of unmet expectations. [/*]

[*][b][i]Trinkets and Rations[/i][/b]
Strapped to Castor’s saddle are two leather bags filled with food rations enough to last one person perhaps a week, as well as three waterskins, holding about a liter each.

Carried from a strap over her shoulder and held in place by a belt around her waist, Veatrix carries a small leather satchel in which she keeps her personal effects. 
Amongst them is a pouch of money, an inkwell and a pen, a leather-bound journal, a pile of folded paper and a few envelopes as well as a letter stamp with the family’s raven crest. 
And lastly, dearest to Veatrix: an expensive looking pocket watch, a memoir from her brother. When opened, one can see that the glass is cracked and the hands have stopped turning, commemorating Corbin’s final hour. [/*]
[/list]

[b][u]Connection to the Godwastes Expedition: [/u][/b]
	Together with her brother, Veatrix was on a trip to Merrifort to negotiate a contract with the officials for House Merlake to act as a supplier of tools and arms, bringing with them a selection of high-quality articles produced by Worsenthian blacksmiths with ore from the family’s mines.
	During their stay, the city was swarmed by the servants of Cibest, and Veatrix’s brother was tragically slain while trying to aid in the city’s defence. Blaming herself for his death, she heeds the Vigil’s call to arms in search of redemption.

[b][u]Writing Home: [/u][/b]

	[i][indent]Dear Mother,[/indent]
	When this reaches you, I will be far away. When you read this, you must already have heard of Corbin’s death. I write to you with a grieving heart.

	On the road to Merrifort I saw a crow fly across the road before us holding a dead mouse in its talons: a bad omen, to be certain. It should have been heeded, for what Fate held in store for us will haunt me for the rest of my days.
	During our stay, the stronghold was assaulted by monsters only heard of in myth and legend! Corbin commandeered our escort and offered help to Lord Norath, and it was no doubt the right and noble thing to do. But I should have been the one to do it, is that not so, Mother? Yet I cowered when they came upon us, I fled as they indiscriminately tore apart those who faced them! That cowardice you criticize me so for, I could not overcome it, and Corbin died for it. I returned later to find what was left of him there before me. I need not describe what I saw, for you must have seen the body by now.
	As I sat there over his mangled body, I wept. I wept for the brother I had thought I despised, I wept as the pent-up despair and anguish of twenty long years resurfaced. And I who thought I had safely locked it away, deep within where no one could reach. I wept myself dry.
	I am sorry, Mother. It is my fault.

	Corbin was proud and wise, like the dignified raven depicted in our crest. Do you remember the old superstition? If the ravens leave the castle’s tower, ruin will come upon us. The last raven has left: I am but a crow, fluttering in the nobler bird’s wake.
	
You have told me many times before about our proud history, when the knights of our house inspired fear and respect across the land for their strength. And the aristocracy, and the chivalric spirit! Since before I could walk, you have told me of these things and to be proud of them. But how can I be? They are naught but relics of a long-gone past!
You are old-fashioned in your values, but you are an embodiment of the values of the Faith. Unlike me. I understand our family is matriarchal by tradition, but for the last few generations it has been ruled by men. When you speak of this, you spit that word so disdainfully, as if it was a fault of theirs that our house nearly faced ruin. Even so we are wealthy still, and you always want more.
But wealth alone is not enough for you, is it, Mother? In your unending avidity you have greater ambitions still! It is our rightful claim, you boast, citing history that is too ancient for me to relate to. Amongst a line of powerful matriarchs and battlefield heroes, where is my place? I am but an insignificant speck on the majestic tapestry that is our history, yet you wish for me to become the next matriarch! I do not grasp the intricacies of politics, nor do I have the ambition, strength and shrewdness to lead our family to greatness. You have had me educated in all manner of things, for it is to be expected from one of high birth to be knowledgeable. You have had me trained in arms so I will carry on the noble traditions of my family, and it builds character, you say. Yet despite all your efforts I cannot do it: I lack the strength and the bravery. Corbin mocked me, rightfully so, for he was superior to me in all these things. Surely he would have been better suited for the role, but you stubbornly refused to give up on me, and I dared never go against your wishes. As the only daughter, the duty falls upon me, and there will be no more daughters, I know. 

	I am sorry, Mother. I had to get these things off my chest. I will return, stronger, but that is not something I can do under your guidance. I must find my own path, and to do so I must break the shackles that bind me. Your shackles, Mother.

	I am sorry about Corbin, it was my fault.

I love you, mother.

[indent]Sincerely, your daughter,
Veatrix of Merlake[/indent][/i]
[/hider]

Edit: I'm sorry about the readability, the formatting functionality is a little limited and /indent is not on my side.
Edit (05/27): Added a journal to her list of possessions.