[CENTER][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjE0Mi41NjhmODMuUVdKcFoyRnBiQSwsLjA,/american-label.strip.png[/img][/CENTER] [hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/528055544267931661/663987078891307009/unknown.png[/img] [color=#807B84][sup]__________________________________________[/sup][/color] [sub][COLOR=SILVER]Abigail [color=#807B84][sup]_______________________________________________________________[/sup][/color] 17 [color=#807B84][b]|[/b][/color] Female [color=#807B84][b]|[/b][/color] [s]Elf[/s] [color=#807B84][sup]_______________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/COLOR][/sub][/center] [hider=][indent][sub][b]▼ B A S I C S[/b][/SUB] [sup][color=#807B84]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color] [COLOR=SILVER]► [B]Height[/B][COLOR=#807B84] - 5’1[/COLOR] ► [b]Weight[/b][COLOR=#807B84] - 124lbs[/COLOR] ► [b]Build[/b][COLOR=#807B84] - Muscular[/COLOR] ► [b]Hair Colour[/b][COLOR=#807B84] - Pale Blonde[/COLOR] ► [b]Eye Colour[/b][COLOR=#807B84] - Dull Blue[/COLOR] ► [b]Origin[/b][COLOR=#807B84] - The Riverbank[/COLOR][/COLOR][/SUP] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider] [hider=][indent][sub][b]▼ S K I L L S E T[/b][/SUB] [sup][color=#807B84]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color] [COLOR=SILVER]► [B]Agile[/B][COLOR=#807B84] - Fleet Footed[/COLOR] ► [B]Perceptive[/B][COLOR=#807B84] - Sharp Reactions[/COLOR] ► [B]Enduring[/B][COLOR=#807B84] - Always Gets Up[/COLOR][/COLOR][/SUP] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][/indent][/hider] [/cell][cell][b][sub]D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E[/sub][/b] [color=#807B84][indent][i]Short, athletic and hard on the edges, Abigail's physique was a result of countless years of hard work and poor eating. She hasn't got much of a womanly figure because of the malnutrition and makes up for it with her long blonde hair, but even that gets braided and tied up for her duties. She is unconcerned with her appearance but puts care into her armour and equipment. She hardly wears makeup and when she isn't gallivanting around the stronghold in her combat gear, she puts on whatever is easiest to wash and repair - mostly resulting in a good pair of boots and thick, sturdy but plain clothes. She wears her hair loosely tied to frame her face and is fond of hats or hoods to cover the scars of her docked elven ears. She has no tattoos and no piercings but her nose has already been broken, she's missing a couple teeth, and her knuckles, back and arms are littered with smallish scars. Two long purplish lines spread across her back in an incredibly narrow cross shape. [/i][/indent][/color] [/cell][/row][/table][color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][b][sub]P E R S O N A L I T Y[/sub][/b] [INDENT][color=#807B84][i]Abigail hates who she is. This is the crux of her psyche - from it, everything else emerges. Deep down within the guiltiest corner of her subconscious is a tiny, cold kernel of truth that reminds her that she is an elf. The rest of her identity is built around burying that kernel as deep as possible, depriving it of light or food, and praying to the Divine that it'll never become anything more than what it is now. This is not how kernels work. She is delaying the inevitable, and setting herself up for a cruel reality check when it germinates. Because Abigail detests what she is, she's put substantial effort into protecting herself from the truth and hiding it from everyone else. She has the willpower of a stubborn mule and she hinges her self worth on how tough or strong she is, valuing a self-perceived notion of ‘heroism’ that revolves around knights in shining armour and indefatigable warriors above all else - because they aren't mages, and they certainly aren't elves. Because of this, she wrongly believes her strengths lie in her brute strength; in reality, she’s merely trying to avoid elven stereotype at the risk of her own safety. As one of the younger apprentices, she has an inferiority complex and she's quick to anger or get defensive. She has no qualms speaking her mind and in turn feels no shame asking silly questions. Because she's spent all her time and energy in improving her skills in battle, her academia suffers. It's a sore spot for her and the fastest way to ruffle her feathers. Because she does not understand or accept what has happened to her, she cannot truly grasp and live by the theology of the Path. This is her greatest shortcoming, and biggest obstacle to overcome should she wish to become a fully fledged warden. This isn't to say that all Abigail can be is an unintelligent brute - she’s merely an inexperienced one who has a lot to learn about herself. The things she does the most are the things she has finely tuned. She’s so paranoid of being ‘found out’ that she’s become observant and wary. She objectively doesn’t weigh enough to stand her ground against larger opponents so her combat style is erratic, frenzied and unpredictable to compensate. That being said, her most impressive trait is her absolute tenacity. Abigail [I]will[/I] keep trying and keep standing back up until somebody manages to stop her, which isn't as easy as a few stern words or heavy blows. She shows a bravery rarely seen in insecure girls and never shies away from a challenge. In brief, she has a potential for excellence - yet it is dogged down by her delusions and uncertainties.[/i] [/color][/INDENT] [color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][b][sub]O R I G I N[/sub][/b] [color=#807B84][INDENT][i]Abigail was born onto a bed of reeds on the silty muck of a riverbank. She had no father so she had no family name to adhere to, and her mother died of complications during the birth. She was the orphaned child of a slave and an absentee and for the first decade of her life, the foetid camp in which her mother was confined had become her whole world, and her only parental figure was the slave master John Lording. It was he who had chosen her name. He was the one who raised her – and he was the one who would come to ruin her. In this camp, river trout were caught, gutted, descaled, packed with small parcels of narcotics, delicately stitched together, smoked, and shipped out to larger riverside towns and their respective dealers. The workforce was primarily elven, for who would bat an eye if an elf went missing these days? It just so happened that one of the workers was pregnant and through some small miracle the babe survived the process. The rest of her life was saved by John Lording. He was a man of incredibly loose morals but only the most degenerate could want to cause misery to a child. For a while, Abigail was a catalyst between the elves and their masters. She was fed but without breast milk her growth was ultimately stunted and sickness was not uncommon, at which point the elves provided recommendations of herbal remedies to alleviate the pain. For a while, she invoked a surreal co-operation within a place of misery and torment. She learnt both her native tongue and the language of men. Once she grew older this treaty dissolved and she was taken under the slave master’s wing and turned into something different. If left to the elves, she might become dissident and start an uprising. John was not an inherently cruel and debase man but he believed strongly in a hierarchy and that a certain species could be regarded as property. He took the girl for his own. Abigail was only five when she had her ears docked but she had wanted it to be done because she had been told that it would make her pretty. John explained that elves were dirty, primitive creatures that were better suited to manual labour than intellectual pursuit and that it had been their fault that magic had come to be. Nevertheless, John was charitable and he would try his best to ensure she had a better life. She could not be allowed to leave for she might tell somebody of the camp, and even if she did, what would she do on her own? Where would she go? How would she survive? It was safer in the tents, gutting fish, learning how to read and about the Divine. John would beat his workers mercilessly but only raised the whip in anger against his special child once – and the lash scars were a nauseating reminder of his overwhelming guilt. She was dirty, dishevelled, bigoted and often sick or injured, but she knew no other life and John could not provide anything more for the girl without risking his enterprise. The confusion settled in when a Blackwarden following the trail of the drug problem in the north-eastern provinces of the Southron Confederacy came across the camp. All of a sudden, John’s ‘special child’ was not so special anymore. In his final moments on this earth he betrayed his pseudo-daughter and used her as a hostage, nearly slicing her throat open before tossing her aside and unceremoniously begging for his life, offering names in exchange for his freedom. The Blackwarden did not need names. He needed John’s head and the money that went with it. From then on, Abigail learnt that she had no true father and that the man was manipulating her. She was told that her life was cruel, unjust and a squalid existence. She was granted a chance at a better life. The Blackwardens needed fresh bodies. She was a clean slate if plucked directly from the camp and placed into the stronghold – she could be moulded to suit their ideals. They weren’t expecting the anger. Abigail had no parent, no source of guidance and two vastly conflicting systems of comprehending the world around her rattling around in her tumultuous brain just on the cusp of puberty. She was brought out of her tiny bubble and into an unfamiliar world where she spiralled out of control. She didn’t know who she was, so she doubled down on what she was taught. She didn’t feel like she could contain and control the flood of new and unfamiliar knowledge around her, so she was slow to pick up academia. Since she couldn’t get a say in her life Abigail obsessed over her body but since she was a Blackwarden’s Apprentice first and a girl second, she obsessed over physical prowess instead of superficial appearance. She dug her heels in and fought back against authorial figures trying to dictate her actions; not to send a message but because her sense of identity had been dictated by others for so long that she was desperate to figure out who she was. She kept her birth-name because it was hers but refused to take on any surname until she found one that was worthy. Because of these problems Abigail stagnated in her training. She was confrontational, brazen and frustrated. She had the drive, potential and desire to become better but never had a consistent guiding figure to sit down and decipher her complexities. The situation was a delicate one. If she had more focused, one-to-one tuition there was a high chance that she’d be able to shed some of her childhood trauma and internalised bigotry, which in turn would open her up to the principles of the Path and greatly facilitate her progression into a formidable warden. She could receive that if the stronghold allowed her to begin her proper training as an apprentice under a veteran. But it was a gamble; if she rejected her tutor, or became too reckless in her desire to prove herself and consolidate her identity, she would no doubt incur the horrible consequences that weighed heavy on all the apprentices on the Path. But there were no other options within the Stronghold. She had to proceed; whether or not she would sink or swim was left to fate. [/i] [/INDENT][/color] [color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][b][sub]E Q U I P M E N T[/sub][/b] [sub][color=Gray]Values listed in number of full uses. No value = unlimited use. Uses can be rationed in times of crisis.[/color][/sub] [color=#807B84][b]ON HER PERSON:[/b][INDENT] [i]- Shortsword[/i] [i]- Buckler[/i] [i]- Hatchet[/i] [i]- Hunting Knife[/i] [i]- Dried Rations (7)[/i] [i]- Hip Flask (water)(10)[/i] [i]- Healing Potions (4)[/i] [i]- Soap on a Rope (50)[/i] [i]- Sharpening Stone (70)[/i] [i]- First Aid Kit[/i][/indent][indent][indent] [sub][i]♦ Tweezers[/i] [i]♦ Wound Dressing (12)[/i] [i]♦ Bandages (12)[/i] [i]♦ Antiseptic (12)[/i] [i]♦ Pain-numbing Potions (4)[/i] [i]♦ Burn Salve (5)[/i] [i]♦ Safety Pins (6)[/i][/sub] [/INDENT][/indent][b]FOR A LONG JOURNEY:[/b][indent] [i]- Tent (waterproof)[/i] [i]- Bedroll[/i] [i]- Spare Clothes[/i] [i]- Hammock[/i] [i]- Spare Rations (10)[/i] [i]- Second First Aid Kit (See Above)[/i] [i]- Spare Healing Potions (4)[/i] [/indent][/color] [color=#2e2c2c]---[/color][b][sub]O T H E R[/sub][/b] [color=#807B84][INDENT][i]Can speak passable Elvish, though prone to errors. [/i][/INDENT][/color] [color=#2e2c2c]-[/color][hr][color=#2e2c2c]-A Template by Load Wraith[/color]