[hider=Rhona Amoretto]
[center][h3][B]Rhona Amoretto[/B][/h3]
[hr]
[B]Race[/B]: Breton
[B]Sex[/B]: Female
[B]Age[/B]: 24
[B]Family Origins[/B]: Camlorn, High Rock
[B]Birth Sign[/B]: The Mage
[/center]

[center][url=https://open.spotify.com/user/12146973596/playlist/1WlRixYsuOSdkCQbsFdIQ8?si=Qg1y_xzQQWqsWMDpb5O3UQ]Rhona’s Tomes of Witchy Magic[/url][/center]

[B]Appearance[/B]:
[hider=Rhona Concept]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3c/de/ab/3cdeabd496e5a809027a5cc77b0fcf95.jpg[/img][/center][/hider]

Rhona has striking face as a Breton-Nord mutt, she has the delicate features passed down from her mother, but an angled jaw, straight nose and sharp brows that come from her father. She inherits her father’s swarthy appearance for her hair is dark brown and thick, often hanging loose and free with a crown of flowers atop her head. Her eyes are hazel, though from far away they appear brown, but when standing close to her, one can see that her eyes possess olive green specks.

Rhona stands at 5 feet 4 inches, and weighs roughly 130 pounds. While on the slimmer side, she has slender arms and legs, but an hourglass figure with large shapely hips, a narrow waist, and is modestly endowed in the chest. Her hands are exceptionally tiny and delicate, and still are soft despite the last years spent travelling. She has often been teased for having “witch fingers”, as her fingers are long with knobby knuckles. She avoids red meat, saying that it is bad for the heart, and prefers to eat poultry or fish. She has a tendency to pick wild plants and munch on those as she travels, and even the occasional insect as a snack. She often goes unnoticed in a crowd of people, as her short stature makes her hard to pick out from a crowd. 

She prefers to dress as comfortably as possible, opting for loose linen dresses, or even men’s clothes if her dress is dirtied. Her cloak serves a variety of uses, from a blanket to a towel, as such, it is well worn from use and sports frayed edges and holes. Though she has a pair of leather boots, Rhona prefers to walk barefoot if the weather is affable. Her boots, however are worn down to the soles, and while she could use a new pair, she doesn’t feel that she must give them up. Some might think her poor when first meeting her, but that is a fact that she prefers to keep hidden.

[B]Equipment[/B]:
[list]
[*]137 Septims in a Coin Pouch
[*]Iron Dagger (Soul-Trapping Enchantment)
[*]Staff of Flames
[*]Potion of Healing
[*]Potion of Magicka
[*]Potion of Stamina
[*]Cure Disease Potion
[*]Cure Poison Potion
[*]Linen Dress
[*]Leather Boots
[*]Leather Gloves
[*]Wool Cloak
[*]Amulet of Kynareth
[*]3 Lesser Soul Gems (Empty)
[*]3 Common Soul Gems (Empty)
[*]2 Greater Soul Gems (1 Filled, 1 Empty)
[/list]

[B]Misc. Possessions[/B]:
[list]
[*]Flint
[*]Box of Tinder
[*]Box for Potions and Vials
[*]Wooden Pipe
[*]Dried Batch of Herbs (Mugwort & Lavender)
[*]Pouch of Dried Lavender
[*]Pouch of Dried Mugwort
[*]Dried Duck Meat
[*]Water Skin
[*]Extra Change of Clothes {Simple Tunic and Trousers}
[*]Rucksack
[*]Small Wooden Tablet
[*]Charcoal Stick
[*]Ink Pot
[*]Quill
[*]Journal (Filled with enchanting patterns)
[*]Lavender Oil
[*]Empty Vial
[*]Chamomile Tincture
[*]Lavender Tincture
[*]Mugwort Tincture
[*]Small Amethyst
[/list]

[B]Family and Associates:[/B]
~ Cezare Amoretto - Estranged Husband, Alive
~ Gwynhyfar Motierre - Mother, Alive
~ Asbjorn Eardwulf - Father, Presumed Alive
~ Holbert Motierre - Stepfather, Alive
~ Uthred Eardwulf - Brother, Presumed Alive
~ Lysanna Motierre - Half Sister, Alive
~ Sayyid - Childhood Love, Unknown
~ Vanozza Calabria - Mentor, Tutor
~ Aurelia - Lover
~ Eranas - Friend 
~ Asirelle - Friend
~ Viras - Friend


[B]Favoured Skills[/B]:

[b]Enchanting[/b] - Highly Proficient
[b]Speechcraft[/b] - Moderately Proficient
[b]Two Handed[/b] - Moderately Proficient
[b]Provisioning[/b] - Moderately Proficient
[b]Destruction[/b] - Somewhat Proficient
[b]Restoration[/b] - Somewhat Proficient



[Indent][B]Spell List[/B][/Indent]
[list]
[*]Flames
[*]Frostbite
[*]Sparks
[*]Healing
[*]Lesser Ward
[/list]

[B]History[/B]:


Born 4E 183 on the 27th of Rain’s Hand in Camlorn, to parents that married out of necessity, Rhona would grew up to be a confused and troubled woman, one that had a cowardly disposition and avoided responsibilities. Her mother, Gwynhyfar, was a Breton through and through, and that made her a Breton as well; she inherited most of her mother’s features, her mousy brown hair, delicate hands, small nose and mouth, and hazel eyes perched under thick brows. Her father on the other hand, Asbjorn Eardwulf, was a tall Nord man, dark and swarthy. Even though her homeland was High Rock, her parents moved south to Bruma for Asbjorn. He had family in the city, and his brother offered him a job at the lumber mill. Her mother on the other hand found work at the local bakery. She was not the only child by any means, there was her brother Uthred, and while their parents worked, the two children played at home.

Rhona knew that the finances troubled the household even from a young age, there were countless nights where her parents fought like cats and dogs. She hide under the covers with Uthred, terrified that her father’s anger would turn on them. Asbjorn had proved a violent man at times, and did not hesitate striking his children if they acted out, nor did he refrain himself from striking Gwynhyfar. She could hear her mother crying after these vicious fights, her father gone to “[i]cool off[/i]”, Rhona and Uthred would creep from their bed to comfort her, they wiped away her tears and held tight to her. Despite all this, Rhona still believed her father a good man, because that’s what fathers were supposed to be, right? All fathers were good men who loved their children and wives, even if it they didn’t show it all the time. However, fate played its hand in her life.

On 4E 192, Gwynhyfar roused her from her sleep, and told her to be quiet. Rhona went to protest, what of Uthred? But her mother put a finger to her lips and beckoned her to follow. Without a single word, a very young and confused Rhona slipped away from her family home and outside where a wagon with a mysterious man waited. She could tell he was wealthy from the red velvet cape he wore, along with the shiny black boots on his feet. This man, she would come soon to know, was her stepfather, Holbert Motierre. He lived in the Imperial City and had met Gwynhyfar on one of his travels north to Bruma. They had fallen in love, despite the fact that she was married to Asbjorn. That was the last time Rhona saw either her father or brother again. They arrived days later in the city, where the wagon pulled to a stop outside of a beautiful stone house in the Nobles District. While Rhona was beside her with confusion and despair, her mother clung to Holbert like they were lovers. It wasn’t until later that evening, once settled in her new chamber, that Gwynhyfar approached her and explained what had transpired. She had grown tired of Asbjorn’s abuse towards her, and she wanted a better life for Rhona. When questioned why she did not bring Uthred as well, Gwynhyfar gave her the excuse that, “[i]I could only take one of you[/i]”, though that didn’t satisfy Rhona.

9 months later Lysanna came into the world. She was a beautiful babe that garnered the devoted attention from Holbert and her mother. Rhona felt betrayal. Here her mother had run away from their home in Bruma, married a new husband, had another baby, all the while forgetting about Uthred, and she too, felt forgotten. Even though she was young in age, Rhona understood the wrong her mother committed. Rhona refused her sister, she wanted nothing to do with her, and offered not a lending hand. This was a habit she would develop, a lack of responsibility and cowardice. Holbert found her a tutor, an Imperial woman by the name of Vanozza, and while Rhona wasn’t the most studious or attentive student, she respected Vanozza enough to complete the work assigned to her. She learned how to sing and dance, how to read and write, how to solve simple arithmetic equations, and useful skills such as sewing and cooking. Her mother wished nothing more than for Rhona to become a well-rounded lady, and often spoke of finding her a husband when she came of age. 

She resented the idea of marriage and a husband particularly when she met a Redguard youth from Hammerfell during 4E 199, just turned sixteen, Rhona had entered a rebellious stage. She resented not only Lysanna, and Holbert, but her mother as well. She had never received a letter from her father, and knew not if Asbjorn or Uthred were still alive. So she turned her spite to work in her favor. That Second Seed, she met Sayyid in the Market District peddling flowers to any woman that glanced his way. He was strikingly handsome, and appeared no older than her. His hair was knotted in long black braids, his eyes were just as dark with long lashes, he had large lips and a crooked nose. But she remembered his hands most of all. He had offered her a Tiger Lily, for free. His voice sounded of sand and silk, and it added to his exotic nature. Rhona frequented the market square thereafter in an attempt to see him more. She found him there every day, and before long, they had formed a close bond, one that had her sneaking out of her house out at night to spend the evening with him on the shore of Lake Rumare. He wrote her poems, serenaded her, and aptly explained that he would, indeed, die for her. He expressed such devotion that she did not doubt him. Sayyid consumed her days, and for once, made her feel happy, wanted, love, and alive. 

Rhona would make the first mistake of her life but a month later. Sayyid pleaded to her, begging her to runaway with him. Holbert had discovered their relationship and threatened to have him arrested if he did not abandon his pursuits for Rhona. Believing wholeheartedly that Sayyid meant what he said, they stole away into the dark of night days later. She had taken her valuables, an amethyst gifted to her from her mother, a jeweled necklace, a silver garnet ring, and a pair of matching earrings. Rhona decided that she would sell the items for coin when they reached Kvatch. Except two days into their journey to Chorrol, she woke up one morning all alone. Sayyid was gone. And so were her belongings. He had seemingly robbed her blind. She panicked, and called to him for hours on end, screaming his name until her voice had gone hoarse. Rhona fell to her knees, disbelief and shame enveloped her. She couldn’t believe that he would just… betray her! Alone and afraid, she began the walk back to the city. There were several thoughts running through her head, one wondered if she would fall victim and end up murdered before she got home, another wondered why Sayyid would betray her. Was Holbert right about Redguards all along? Despite these anxious thoughts, she made it safely back to the city without further trouble as she had kept off the main road until the bridge to the city came into sight.

Her return home was a defeating blow. Her spirit was crushed, her hopes dashed, and moreover, her faith in true love obliterated. Just like her family, who had abandoned her physically or emotionally, so had Sayyid. When she pushed open the door to her home, she could do nothing but cry in defeat. Lysanna had been playing in the main hall with her dolls when Rhona crossed the threshold, and alerted their mother with a cry of joy. While she welcomed their embraces, she fell into a state of despair. Life returned to normal as much as it could, her lessons with Vanozza continued, and it was during this time that Vanozza instilled the idea in her that would come to serve her later down the road, [i]“A woman’s worth is not based on how many children she bears, nor how many dresses she owns, but her set of skills she has to offer.”[/i]. Compelled to learn something useful, a skill that would serve her well beyond a husband, Rhona turned to enchanting. On behalf of Holbert, who had forgiven Rhona for audacious choice in a lover, he agreed to help her pursue her interests in enchantment and purchased Rhona her very own table and a small supply of petty soul gems. She tinkered with learning new enchantments, and applied them to inexpensive pieces. 

While she busied herself with her soul gems and enchantments, Holbert and Gwynhyfar had settled on a potential husband for Rhona. His name was Cezare Amoretto, a handsome and intelligent Imperial man that faithfully served the Legion. Between his parents and Rhona’s, they settled on a predetermined date. Six months after his service ended. When Gwynhyfar revealed the news to Rhona, she resisted the idea of having a husband. After all, her heart was far from healed. Sayyid had left her heart and soul in a blackened state. Yet the idea had begun to grow on her, perhaps it was her naivete that overwhelmed her again, or perhaps it was the desire to be loved wholly, Rhona wondered more and more what Cezare looked like. She would find out, on the day of her marriage.

On 4E 202 the 11th of Midyear, Cezare and Rhona were united in holy matrimony under the eyes of Mara. While Rhona had reached her nineteenth name day two months prior, Cezare was 23 years in age. As her mother had told her, Cezare was indeed a handsome man. He had dashing good looks, and towered over her at 6’0. His body was lean, and well muscled. His eyes were a dazzling sky blue, and his skin was tanned from his early years of service. His hair fell to his shoulders in brown waves. He had an aquiline nose, paired with thin lips. The wedding ceremony left Rhona with butterflies in her stomach, and more so when the priest commended them to exchange wedding bands, and to kiss one another. She remembered the feeling of his lips against hers, cold and rough, unfeeling. The day lasted with a feast held at Cezare’s home, now Rhona’s to share, where their families were in attendance. She thought naught of her father or brother, they had long since abandoned her, and now it was her turn to make her own family. 

However, that wouldn’t come to be.

Within months of living together, Cezare had turned cold and aloof towards her. He disregarded her words, and made her feel insignificant and small. He laughed at her worries and fears, he mocked her whenever he found a chance. At first, Rhona simply doubted her circumstances. Surely this was his character? Surely he meant her no ill-harbored feelings? Surely… She found herself longing for companionship in any form, and even when they went to bed together to share the sheets of intimacy, she told herself that that was all she needed to be happy. Just a fleeting minute or two of skin-to-skin contact. Just a moment of when he would kiss her before falling into a deep sleep. In truth, Rhona was falling apart at the seams. Again, she felt that familiar claw of abandonment encircling her, a cold grip around her heart. She struggled internally, but wore an outward mask. During this time, Rhona focused on bettering her skills at enchanting. While she did not own a shop, Rhona would offer to enchant items for family and friends of the family at a discounted price. Eventually, she learned nearly every standard enchantment, and kept the patterns written down inside a journal.

By 4E 203, their marriage had become strained a great deal. Cezare turned to drinking, greatly affected from his service during the Civil War in Skyrim. While he never spoke a word of what he experienced, he burdened the trauma on Rhona. She did her best to ignore him, however that only seemed to fuel the fire burning within his heart. There were days on end when Rhona would clean the countless bottles from the tables and floors. When her mother came to visit, Rhona feigned ignorance, she pretended all was well, and pretending was a skill she had developed fully. It was easy to lie behind a smile, it was easy to brush off a mother’s concern, because, after all, did her mother really care for her as she cared for Lysanna? She reassured her mother that all was well, and pushed away the questions of when she would bear them a grandchild. A simple, [i]“We’re trying.”[/i], was all it took to placate her. And yet the years passed, Cezare’s anger grew, there were no children to grace their home, and Rhona’s disposition weakened. 

Late 4E 205 Rhona had sat down to balance the ledger, one of the responsibilities that Cezare had praised her for maintaining. That was until she began to notice a troubling pattern. The numbers didn’t add up. When she ventured to the bank for a clear explanation, they were surprised that Rhona was unaware of the fact that Cezare had run out of his inheritance, and had taken several loans from the bank, none of which he had paid back in full. When she returned home later that day, she awaited Cezare’s return where she then questioned him about their financial situation. Perhaps it was a bad idea that she had asked when he was in such a stupor, for she became his target. He flew into a violent rage, demanding to know what business she had snooping around in [i]his[/i] finances, and just who did she think she was to ask him such insulting questions. Rhona ran as he lunged for her, instead he grabbed the nearest dinner chair and hurled it at her. The chair connected with her back, knocking her to the floor. She could hear his lumbering footsteps approaching her, prompting her to rise despite the pain, and fled up the stairs into their chamber where she locked the door behind her. She cowered in fright as Cezare pounded on the door, slurring drunken words at her, demanding to be let in. He did not relent, and in his anger, he broke down the door, finding her hiding in the corner of the room with a candlestick gripped in her hands. She tried to hit him, tried to protect herself, but he wrenched the candlestick away, and hoisted her off the feet. No one heard her cries for her help, her pleas for him to stop, and she believed that she would perish that night. Yet she survived, bruised and battered, her spirit beyond crushed. His entire demeanor changed from that day on. His drinking increased tenfold, and Rhona began to hide her money from him. The responsibility of being his wife, much to that of a drunkard that had run into debt, overwhelmed her. All she dreamt of was escape. How could she escape this all? She wanted nothing more to be free, to be far away from Cezare, from this accursed city, from everything she knew. Rhona desired nothing more than to lose herself in the wonders of Tamriel. 

She remembered the day she left. 

4E 206 17th of First Seed. Rhona had gathered her most prized possessions, taking her gems and jewelry with her, along with the soul gems she acquired. She lifted a pair of Cezare’s clothes to use for travel, and slipped away from her home when Cezare had gone to find more alcohol once the house supplies ran dry. Her heart pounded as she walked through the city, heading for the main gate, what if Cezare spotted her in the streets? What if her path crossed with his? What would she do then? More importantly, what would he do when he discovered her gone? Would he even care? Would he come looking for her? It felt so surreal, she couldn’t believe that she had had the courage to make it this far. Her fears were quieted when she crossed the threshold of the Imperial City. She found herself then stricken with panic as she realized that she had not thought out her plan so well. [i]Where[/i] would she go? Anywhere. That was the answer. Anywhere but the Imperial City. And so she set out for Cheydinhal, after all, it was one of the closest cities, and she had no familial ties to the town.

It was a hard journey on foot, as Rhona had never travelled any such great distance, she was unaccustomed to how her body ached, but this was her life now. She could not turn back. She would be a coward, and weak if she did. She reached Cheydinhal footsore, but despite that, she marveled in the city’s architecture. Rhona had read in her lessons that Cheydinhal held Dunmeri characteristics, and for that she was not disappointed. For a week, she operated out of the inn, offering her enchanting services at a discount price. Rhona ended up renting the room for nearly three weeks before she decided to set out from Cheydinhal, part of her growing paranoid with each passing day. The idea of staying in any place for too long didn’t sit well with her. After all, she was uncertain if Cezare was looking for her. Part of her believed that he didn’t have the coin to rouse a search party, but part of her worried that he would go to her mother or Holbert, and that they would provide the funds. So she set out for Leyawiin, again she had no ties to the city, so why would anyone look for her there? She bought what supplies she could, along with a weapon for self-defense, including a dagger enchanted with soul-trapping and a staff of flames, and a handful of empty petty and lesser soul gems to fill. 

The first week journeying south proved tiresome, she slept little, unused to not having the comfort of a bed, though the staff helped light her campfire’s. She ended up running out of food by the end of the week, and resorted to foraging. With it being so early in the year, the trees were just starting to bud fruit, but nothing edible. One evening, as Rhona  had set up camp and settled down for the night with an empty stomach. Rhona had discovered that she did not need an enchanter’s table, so long as she used the same enchanting patterns, she could recharge her staff and dagger. Laying out a smooth wooden tablet, Rhona drew the runes and diagram for recharging her dagger, where she drew the runes and diagram on a smooth wooden tablet, placing the dagger in the center with the soul gem on top. Energy crackled and the runes began to glow purple before the soul gem fractured, turning into dust and tiny fragments. Just then she heard a curious sound, one that didn’t belong in the quiet of the night. She heard laughter, singing, and music. Rhona was rooted in fear, if there were people nearby, would they harm her? Would they murder her and rob her blind? As she listened on, the musical tune of a flute carried through the air. Perhaps she would go and take a peek? Taking her staff and dagger, Rhona headed off towards the sound of such merriment. It didn’t take her long before she arrived at a clearing, a large fire illuminating the darkness where she could see four figures moving in tune with the flute, their hands raised high.

[i]“Nocturnal, mother of Night, hear our song! 
Azura, mother of dawn and dusk, hear our cries! 
Mara, mother of Love, hear our song! 
Meridia, O Lady of Infinite Energies, hear our cries! 
Arkay, Lord of the Wheel of Life, hear our song! 
Kynareth, Mother of the Skies and of the Earth, hear our cries! 
We beseech you, hear our praise, we offer our praise to you!

Born of earth from Kynareth, we grow with Meridia’s grace.
Born of earth from Kynareth, we are held in Mara’s embrace.
Born of earth from Kynareth, Azura rises and sets each day anew.
Born of earth from Kynareth, Nocturnal lays us to sleep under her starry skies.
Born of earth from Kynareth, we return to Arkay in death.

Nocturnal, mother of Night, hear our song! 
Azura, mother of dawn and dusk, hear our cries! 
Mara, mother of Love, hear our song! 
Meridia, O Lady of Infinite Energies, hear our cries! 
Arkay, Lord of the Wheel of Life, hear our song! 
Kynareth, Mother of the Skies and of the Earth, hear our cries! 
We beseech you, hear our praise, we offer our praise to you!

We are the flames of burning fires,
We are the tears of seas,
We are the clay of Nirn,
We are the wind in the heavens.
We are children of the Gods, beloved are we!”[/i]

Rhona had grown up praying to the Eight Divine, but she had never been a devout follower, it was expected of her and she never questioned it. She watched the figures twirling around the bonfire, smiles on their faces, she inched closer when a twig snapped under foot. The dancers stopped, and turned in her direction. It was then a young Imperial woman, perhaps a few years older than her, stepped forward. 

“Blessed daughter of Mara, come hither,” She extended her hand towards Rhona, gesturing for her to step into the light, “Do not be afraid.” Her voice was soft and tender, and it reminded her of her mother. Rhona stepped into the clearing towards the woman.

“What do you call yourself?” The woman asked, she was beautiful. She had a crown of dark curly hair, and dark brown eyes, a circlet of flowers atop her head.

“Rhona…”

She smiled, “I am Aurelia. Come. Join us in our celebration of the Gods.” Aurelia, as she named herself, pulled Rhona towards the circle of people, where she introduced her to Eranas, a Bosmer, Asirelle, a Breton, and Viras, a Dunmer. They resumed their celebration, encouraging Rhona to [i]free her spirit[/i]. And until the fire burned low, and the sun rose in the east, they danced and sang all throughout the night.

When morning came, Aurelia and her companions invited Rhona to join them on their journey, they were headed to Leyawiin, and they would be happy to have her companionship. And thus, Rhona found herself surrounded by acquaintances that soon became her close friends. For over a year, Rhona travelled with them. It was on these travels that Aurelia became Rhona’s lover, and confidant. She exposed her to moon sugar, placing small amounts of the sugar in wine or in food, to help [i]broaden her horizons[/i]. Rhona certainly had a profound experience each time she ingested the moon sugar, the first time she hallucinated an experience where she communicated with Kynareth, cementing her beliefs in the Eight Divine. Along with another experience where Aurelia healed her, and Rhona was convinced that Meridia’s divine energies were enveloping her. Her companions, however, taught Rhona several skills along the way. Eranas taught her how to utilize her skills in provisioning, he taught her what was safe to eat, and what could be used medicinally without making it into a potion, he taught her how make herbal infusions, oils and tinctures. Asirelle taught her how to use Restoration magic, even if it was two simple spells. But it was Viras that taught her how to use Destruction magic. Rhona, having been born under the Mage, had an uncanny knack for using magic, though she preferred to use her staff of Flames as her main form of self-defense. She wasn’t greatly skilled in defense, but she could give someone a good bonk on the head if they tried any funny business. 

They travelled across Cyrodiil, and ventured into Hammerfell. Each offered their own services in the cities they stopped, but Rhona came to understand  that Aurelia and Asirelle were childhood friends, and Eranas was Asirelle’s companion. Viras joined the group six months after the group formed as a means of protection. Rhona and Aurelia shared a special bond, they were both women that had suffered at the hands of men, and together, wrapped in one another’s arms at night, they helped heal and comfort their broken hearts, encouraging one another to grow and become confident in themselves. It was a special sight to see, surely, they were the best of friends, two kindred spirits devoted to one another. Viras offered to spar with her on the nights that they weren’t sore from travel, and helped Rhona to understand the importance of defending herself, as well as striking offensively. She was no Imperial Legionnaire, but she could hold her own for a short time. Rhona was happy with them, a feeling she had not felt since Sayyid, before his betrayal. Changed and opened to their spiritual ways, Rhona could not help but feel cemented in her beliefs that she was indeed a daughter of Mara, fueled by the energies of Meridia, born of the earth by Kynareth, watched over by Azura and Nocturnal, and were she to leave this world, Arkay would welcome her soul should that day come. 

By 4E 207 of Frostfall, Rhona and her companions parted ways. Aurelia begged her to come with them, as they were journeying south in Valenwood to see Eranas homeland, but Rhona couldn’t find the courage to take the risk. And so, her relationship with Aurelia ended there, a bittersweet moment as Rhona loved Aurelia, but she couldn’t give up the familiarity of Cyrodiil. What hurt the most was that by morning, Aurelia and her companions were gone. Aurelia had left without goodbye. She felt that familiar grip of loneliness again, and Rhona turned north-east, heading towards Chorrol from Anvil. Her journey had taken her all across Cyrodiil, but now she was alone again. Or so she thought. One evening in Chorrol, Rhona had taken up residence in the local inn for nearly two months, when she recognized a familiar face among the patrons. Cezare. He was too drunk to recognize her, but she quickly gathered up her belongings and fled the city. Knowing that he was in Chorrol, Rhona made for the Imperial City to sell off her wares before heading south for Kvatch. She made it to Anvil where she caught a ship going north into Rihad. There she spent the remainder of her winter of 207, and the first half of 208 until she yearned to see Cyrodiil and its green hills once more, so she made it to Anvil, sold her wares and arrived in Skingrad on the 3rd.



[B]Personality[/B]:

Rhona is a quirky woman, with her devotions to Mara, Meridia, Kynareth, Arkay, Azura, and Nocturnal. She can come off as strange and a bit nonsensical. Majorly, Rhona is a coward. Or, she would call herself a pacifist. She avoids fights and unsavory counters as best as she can. She avoids responsibility, and has a knack of making herself unavailable to perform certain tasks. Responsibilities fuel her inner anxieties, and she prefers to avoid those situations at all cost. She has a habit of smoking out of a wooden pipe, where she occasionally smokes mugwort and lavender. She is a kindred, earthen soul, and connects to the Gods that share similar qualities. She is not one for love as she has had two traumatic experiences in those endeavours, so she may engage in flirting, but don’t expect anything to come of it. She has the understanding that everyone leaves in the end, and she tries hard not to become too attached to anyone that crosses her path nowadays. She tries her hardest to focus on the brightness that fills her days, and doesn’t waste time with regret or holding grudges. 

Rhona has a distinct fear of small places, and of water, though this may come from the use of moon sugar during her time with Aurelia. Sometimes when one holds a conversation with her, it would seem that she is a bit addled-brain, as if she’s not entirely there. Rhona will often speak words that hold no value to the current conversation, or even openly talk to herself. Some may say that her use of moon sugar, though in small doses and sparingly used, and her occasional use of alcohol, are all a cover-up to hide the trauma from her life. 

She keeps her worship of Meridia, Nocturnal and Azura as quiet as possible, and does not mention them unless asked. She’s not the converting type, but she will openly express herself on worship. She has no problem building a bonfire and dancing naked around it during a full moon. Rhona has become more of a free spirit in this sense. She has no sense of direction with her life, and has a motto of “go with the flow”, wherever the wind blows, she’ll follow Kynareth’s call. Rhona would rather sit in a meadow full of flowers and make a flower crown than to actively acquire finances. She’s focused on experiencing life, and being in tune with the energies surrounding her. If you catch her enchanting an item, she’ll mumble to herself, asking for blessings from the Divines, or even talking to the crystal or item of interest.
[/hider]