Name: Freya "Wait For It" Holton
Title: "titles are like titties; you earn them though great deeds" (none; refuses to title herself)
Race: Human
Age: 18
Appearance: Freya stands under average height for a human, at about 5 foot even on a good day, her frame lean and slim, built perfectly for the rougish life she leads. Finding her skin to be a level of white that is not helpful to sneaking, she's taken to lounging about in the sun, bringing her skin to a golden tan, a small scar interrupting her right eyebrow and another small scar on her left arm staying her natural shade (She's dissapointed in how yellow she looks). Her hair can be described as a dull shade of "dead field mouse" blonde, ashy and just brown enough to look brown in normal light, but blonde in direct sunlight. She keeps her shoulder length hair tied back in a high pony tail, several locks on the sides of her head, just before her ears, refusing to stay in. When roughed up, her longer bangs also free themselves from being tucked in, long enough to, if she's breathing hard enough, enter her nose obnoxiously. She's determined to grow them out long enough that they'll stay in her pony tail, after having found that constantly cutting them really, really annoyed her.
When it comes to facial shape, hers is more heart-shaped than anything, with sharp features. Her nose, having been broken once before, has a slight rise in the middle, light freckles dotting it. Her lips are asymmetrical, one side pointier than the other, her bottom lip a little too thick to be thin, but a little too thin to be big. Greyish blue irises sit in her round eyes (which happen to be the softest thing about her), a darker blue circle around where her irises meet the whites of her eyes, and her pupil. They're probably her favorite part about her face, and the girliest as well.
Her typical attire is cloth and leather- cloth pants, with kneepads and leather patches on her hips and calves, leather boots, loosely scrunched around her mid-calf, a long sleeved cloth blouse under a leather vest with steel boning (that she specifically refuses to admit is technically a corset with pockets), several various belts with bags across her chest and waist, and when it's colder, her thicker, knee-length cloak. All of her clothing is either dark brown leather or various shades of black; most are blue based, though her cloak seems to be, as it fades out with wear, a red-based black. This upsets her.
She keeps four silver studs in her ears at all times- three on her right ear, and one in her left. Other jewelry comes and goes, though she's been considering getting a sleeve of thicker armor for her left arm for when she's not sneaking around. On her hips are two knives- the
left one more wicked looking than the right, a survivalist type blade, and her
right more akin to a bowie knife.(I will draw her eventually, do not worry HUMAN)
Personality: Freya, at first glance, has a napoleon complex. A fiery girl, she threatens to fight anyone who is rude to her, though she rarely means it. She's hot-headed, with a fuse shorter than she is, and, when livid, occasionally forgets to think; but, when that fuse isn't lit, she at least tries to think things through- especially if she's trying to be sneaky, or pulling a heist. Her humor is either sarcastic and snarky, to absolutely dumb, with no in-between, depending on who she's with and how well her relationship is with them. She will often joke about doing things she literally can't do, like throwing a much larger person across the room. Typically, she's all bark and no bite- though, if pushed, she can indeed sting.
She finds it easy to forget those who she rarely meets and those who she only meets once or briefly, though, those that she hangs around leave their mark on her. She keeps her friends close, despite how little she shows it. They become almost extensions of her- like family- and an act against one of them is considered, at least by her, as an act against her. She would risk life and limb for them, even, so long as she knew they'd do the same for her.
At a young age, she took the saying "go hard or go home" to heart. It's ingrained in almost everything she does- fighting, eating, sleeping- even her interest is an all or nothing affair. If you can capture it, you won't be able to escape it until she bores herself with whatever you've done, or got, to get her. When she's excited, she's extremely excited, when she's bored, she's
really bored. Some call it the "tinker bell effect", but the few that've said it within Freya's hearing range ended up drugged, stripped, and tied up on the roof of the tavern they were in. Do not make short jokes, unless you are indeed close enough with her that she feels she can interchangeably use dumb jokes and sarcasm.
When not caring about others and not bothered, Freya is typically lax. Her threats are obviously jokes, and when she's not actively adventuring or on a quest, she's likely to be loafing about or drinking. Sometimes, sleeping,too, or practicing her thieving skills (taking and returning items, unless she knows someone to be a dick). She likes to do what feels good to her, and tends to follow what feels right. Honesty is a rarity from her, but if she, or others, are not to come to harm from being truthful, and if it feels right to her, she'll do her best to be so.
Also, when presented with someone 6 foot 2 or taller, she will have at least a thought about riding on their shoulders. If the tall person is friendly and conditions are right, she may attempt to climb them.
((TL;DR: short people are angrier b/c they are closer to hell. This one is, somewhere deep deep down, at least a kind of good person despite that, especially to friends. also, GO HARD OR GO HOME))
Affiliation: to those with good humor, drinks, and adventures (none)
Abilities: She refuses to use her magic, except in dire situations. When she does, typically she ends up teleporting an item about thirty feet away- anything between handcuffs, to a large axe has been witnessed, landing anywhere from in a wall, on the floor, or right above a threat. She has no control where it goes, and very little control of what's teleported.
When forced to tap into her magic, Freya feels exceedingly small and empty; generally, like absolute, worthless, abhorrent shit. She shows the effects of the blast to her ego for a while after casting- and she dislikes it to the point where she would rather risk bleeding out and dismantle a bear trap by hand with no tools rather than open it with a spell. As such, she is unpracticed with her spellcraft, treating it as if she was poorly suited for casting and mentioning it to nobody. If it's witnessed, she denies that it happened, no matter what damning evidence there is.
Magic aside, She's excellent at sneaking. If she were to be in an RPG class, she'd be a rogue- fast but light hits, great sneaking, lock picking dirty fighting moves, and sticky hands. Her pick-pocketing and shoplifting skills aren't all that great, however, she's too short most of the time to "stab a bitch in the eye" and takes time to bring someone down, and taking big blows aren't exactly her specialty.
((TL;DR: snekky, fights dirty, refuses to use the one spell she knows unless about to die b/c feels bad, bro))
History: Freya is, in all respects, just a common human, with a common history among adventurers. She came from a small family of farmers- the middle child of three kids- from southern Drasil. Her parents presented two options to the girl when she had begun to adventure around their farmlands- either be raised a lady, or a farmer. She initially decided to try being raised a lady, but, found staying indoors boring, books to cause her to sneeze, and skirts to be irritating. She tried being a farmer, then, but found the work too hard, the mornings too early, and the smell... unpleasant. But at night, during both attempts to be a lady and a farmer, she would sneak out, adventuring around the village and wilds around, with just a knife at her side in case something happened. By the time she realized she fit neither role presented to her, she was 17, nearly 18, and, grabbing two of the working knives from the shed, and her farming gear, she had set off for an undetermined destination under the the darkness of a new moon, seeking the life of an adventurer. Her family never knew she left, until the morning. She could hear the hell they were raising when they found her missing from over the hills she crossed.
She got side tracked on the way, performing small tasks in the villages she landed at, upgrading her gear and improving the two knives she left with, until her journeys brought her to Oakheim, to deliver a package to someone at the Stone of nine. Being ever the kind to be early and wait, she head out before she should have, to scout out a nice resting place.
