[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]NAME:[/b][/Color] Ardonne 
[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]GENDER:[/b][/Color] Female (she/her)
[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]AGE:[/b][/Color] 19

[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]APPEARANCE:[/b][/Color] [hider=Image][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/b5275d77190ff27a79e12d96cb99dcba/tumblr_ownrfuvWGR1r0h3a4o1_1280.png[/img][/hider]


[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]BACKGROUND:[/b][/Color] Daughter to a carpenter and a poet, Ardonne was steeped in the fantastical from an early age. She was one of the few girls in her hometown, the village of Bresh, to become fully literate before her tenth birthday; a precocious habit that stuck to her psyche like glue and became one of many damning marks against her. Her father needed a woodsman, not a daughter, and reared Ardonne as such. Her mother valued the virtues of femininity and oft imparted lectures and lessons to smooth the roughness of her eldest's character but only found purchase in deciding what Ardonne would read. Her weapon of choice in securing a steadfast daughter was the fairy tale and with it, the enchantment of the forest heightened to extremes. Ardonne never demonised the woods for taking her father at the tender age of twelve because of these tales. 

The wilderness and the thrill of its stalked borders fascinated the youth and became a symbol of escapism, of paternal guidance, and of immeasurable danger. In her father's absence, Ardonne brought hares and even the odd doe to the table. In the hardships of famine during winter she scraped the lichen off the cairns and chopped the firewood herself. She stared into the depths of the North road and waited to be acknowledged by its fearsome resident, figuring herself as less of a damsel and more of an errant knight. These fancies were dashed quite swiftly with her mother's remarriage and though Ardonne revelled in the beauty and allure of Bresh's transformation for a springtime wedding, the veneer faded into the tight grip of patriarchy. Her younger half-brother was the golden child and placed before her in most aspects of life. Ardonne started to find a bitter satisfaction in the sting of the false father's palm on her cheek because, to her, it signified a step in the right direction. Make no mistake - the villagefolk regarded the biligerent Ardonne as churlish, coarse, and airheaded. She was being stubborn for the sake of stubborn and chased her childhood to its ragged edges. She spent too long replicating her fairy tales and clutching to the ghost of a brave but foolish carpenter who underestimated the horrors in the woods and it was widely believed she'd go down the same path. What Ardonne perceived as mystifying solitude was simply her peers' aversion to her surliness. What she saw as daring skirmishes along the forest borders were dangerous and stupid forays into hostile territory. The only benefit to her gambols came in a sometimes bloodied burlap sack and went unacknowledged into the meals for a few days after, and her shirking of her familial duties resulted in the dictation of her future without her input as she was too busy traipsing in mud to notice.

When Ardonne did notice - when Bresh readied itself for a grand springtime festival, her measurements were taken, and a middling merchant man often frequented her home - she took to her heels and found solace in the one place she'd always flown back to at the slightest instance of discomfort. Only this time, in her typical fashion, she submitted her fate to whatever lurked between the branches; wholly disregarding the very real and not-so-fantastical stories from whoever was lucky enough to crawl out of its murky depths.

[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]MOTIVATION:[/b][/Color] Some short weeks prior to the group's venture into the forest, Ardonne decided that she found death in the jaws of the Beast preferable to life in the arms of the Province. That said, her ambitious escape attempt is distorted and romanticised by her choice in literature; it is far more likely that her dreams will be met with a narrow escape or a rude awakening.

[Color=PaleVioletRed][b]GEAR:[/b][/Color]
-A yew shortbow with a quiver containing 15 arrows.

-A butcher's knife, wholly unsuitable for combat due to its one-sided sharp edge and utilitarian blunt-tipped shape, but heavy enough to be used to skin and dress animal carcasses.

-A field guide for local fauna and flora in the Faro Province, dogeared and kept in a waterproof leather satchel on her belt.

-A bedroll and mess kit.

-Two flasks of water and a bag full of smoked rabbit, dried blackberries and chanterelle mushrooms. Chunks of stale bread.