Name: Mena <Last name long forgotten>
Age: 618
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice: Lasso
Personality: Strong and caring, she has learned not to waste words on those who will not hear them, so she can be silent for a very long time. If she knows you will listen, however, she can chat seriously and amiably. She is a kind, motherly soul.
Place of Origin: Ireland
History: 618 years ago, Mena was born into a poor family, who made their money in farming. Her mother was intelligent, despite never having gotten a formal education, and taught Mena much that even adults of her time were unable to comprehend. As the place she lived in became more populated, they lost land to more wealthy settlers. Soon the farm was more of a garden, and their house was nearly all they had left. Still the newcomers wanted more. When her father refused to sell the last of his property, refused to be located, he told them to be ready for violent retaliation. He didn't take into account how violent.
At 18, Mena awoke to smoke in her lungs and her parents' screams in her ears. Frightened, she attempted to get to them. Running down the hall, arm over her nose and mouth, Mena reached their door where she heard them inside. She reached for the handle and opened the door. Flames licked her face, burning her flesh as she ran in. Her feet were burned and raw when they hit the grass outside her house, her mother in her arms. She wasn't breathing. Mena ran back towards the house for her father, but a club to the back of her head had her out cold. As her mother took her last breath into her ash filled lungs, her father burned to death inside. The settlers left Mena to die.
She awoke to a bright light assaulting her eyelids. She thought it was daytime, and slowly opened her eyes, wincing in pain at the slightest of movements. The sky was still dark but there was a silver orb of light hovering around her uncertainly. She tentatively reached her arm out and the orb shot into action, wrapping around her, the cool essence soothing her burns, she closed her eyes once more. With her safely cocooned, it shot off into the sky, flying with the injured girl for what seemed like only a few minutes.
Mena's eyes shot open again when she felt cool water encompass her. She attempted to struggle before noticing the lack of pain, and how she could breathe despite being under the water. A hand breached the water and gently guided her to the surface. There, standing in a silver and white dress of unknown fabric, was a beautiful woman, glowing with a silver light. She introduced herself as Andraste, the goddess of the moon and keeper of the healing Falls. She had Mena explain the story of her burns and listened in with sorrow in her eyes.
"You may stay with me child, though I warn you of those who use harm to fulfill their greed." The goddess offered. Mena, with a determined glint in her eye, slowly stood.
"You saved me, I wish to protect you."
The goddess smiled softly.
"Then so it shall be."
And for the last 600 hundred years, protecting her goddess has been Mena's life. And she loved it.
Quote: "The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to."