FifthHouse

Welcome to Drumvar: A Slice of Life RP (Always Accepting)

Ellen Nancy

Name:

Ellen Nancy

Age:

33

Appearance:

Ellen's a right-out understated bohemian type, often wearing throwback-influenced clothes as a form of self-expression. Her chestnut-brown hair is long and more on the auburn side at times. Occasionally she wears horn-rimmed glasses, but lately wears contact lenses more frequently

Family:

n/a

Occupation:

Graduate Art Teaching Assistant, Drumvar University / Musician (psychedelic rock guitarist/drummer)

Personality:

Ellen is a vibrant human being. While being extremely intelligent, she’s rather ruled by her emotional nature. While the quality is a terrific asset in her approach to art, it can color her social interactions somewhat unpredictably. She might react hastily to a situation that she wasn’t prepared for, or lose her temper easily if too frustrated too quickly under just the right conditions. She’s old enough by now that she’s developed enough self-control to mitigate most potential disasters of such nature, but it doesn’t prevent her from having an incessantly busy and taciturn inner monologue during such instances. Ultimately, though, she’s got good intentions. When not in conflict, Ellen can be charming despite also being rather absent-minded, eccentric, and occasionally clumsy by way of both body and speech.

History:

Ellen grew up as the oldest daughter of an American infantryman, moving frequently around the world until she graduated from high school and double-majored in both Journalism and Art History at the University of North Carolina. After graduating, she worked on and off as a producer in various newsrooms before tiring of the conflict-heavy environments and then began work as a graphic designer at a small firm in Austin, Texas, then in New York City. All the while, she developed her abilities as a songwriter and musician, taking influence from mostly U.K. acts such as The Beatles, T Rex, and David Bowie. After a great deal of encouragement from friends, she applied at the age of 32 to pursue further studies in art at NYU and was shocked to be accepted. A year into her studies, she was offered an opportunity to do a graduate student exchange at the University of Drumvar, with a chance to earn experience as a teaching assistant. Not at all one to spare an opportunity to not visit the homeland of another musical hero of hers, Donovan Leitch, Ellen enthusiastically went. She's been in Drumvar for approximately five months, and while she still has yet to truly carve out her social network in town, she dreads the idea of leaving. Life in Drumvar has been rather peaceful but also pleasant and exciting; teaching has been going smoothly, gigs aren't hard to get, and people are generally very friendly.

Other:

n/a

Aethre Nalah /

"Miss Avis?"

The voice broke Saska's stare off out of a nearby window. She blinked, and was surprised when she looked up. "Captain Hellen?"

The tall, broad figure was, indeed, looming high up over the wooden bench and table. Still dressed in his armor, it almost looked as though he was there to arrest her. As though picking up on that fear preternaturally, he held up a palm and nodded carefully as he made eye contact with the woman seated before him. "I'm here to apologize to you, Miss Avis." She blinked up at him as his bright eyes bounced down to check the unoccupied seat at his knees. "Do you... mind if I sit down?" Clearly he chose his words carefully.

Saska blinked again, and gestured her fingers toward the spot across from her. She had certainly not expected to see him again so soon, but she wasn't about to betray any surprise of hers via her face. "I'm not expecting anyone. By all means."

He nodded politely, and adjusted the sheath of his sword so that he could swoop around the empty stool and take a seat. He snapped his fingers audibly, and almost as quickly as the noise sounded, a new mug of cider appeared in front of Saska. She shrugged, and sighed. "Two drinks and I'm howling at the moon like a forest wolf."

"Well, you always end up making it home. And if you don't, well..." he trailed off, "... your sister's squad could always let her know that you need her help heading home." He watched her carefully during a long pause that followed. "Miss Avis. May I call you Saska?"

"Depends. May I call you by your first name?" she answered.

He paused. "Do you know my first name?"

She shrugged again. "No." Her tone was rather doleful as she took a hold of the mug anyway. Clearly, she could have been in a far more cheerful mood.

Captain Hellen furrowed his eyebrows, then took a breath. "Miss Avis," he continued, "you're a seamstress."

Saska's earthy eyes peered into the surface of the cider as she held it close to her face. "That's true."

He nodded slowly. "But you don't particularly love what you do."

Saska smirked and took a long sip of her cider. "It's a job. I don't particularly love it. You're right."

"You want to be doing other things."

"What makes you say that?"

"Most other seamstresses I know have a couple of children following them around, or they're angling toward that. But you..." he paused, and took a quick breath, "you don't seem to even be looking for a husband."

Saska took another long, long draw from her mug. "If you must know," she started, the alcohol clearly beginning to hit, "I am a *terrible* seamstress."

Captain Hellen blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The WORST!" she clarified emphatically while keeping her voice down. "I'd rather be doing other things. But, no, everyone else does all the other things!" She took another sip, then squinted her eyes at the Captain. "Why do you want to know, anyway? I don't really *like* admitting to you that I'm a bad seamstress."

"Your clothes look fine."

"Ahh, because I made these at *home.* *Myself.* By moving the needle with my mind. But put a needle in my hand? Forget it." She took another sip. "Besides, I still would rather be doing other things." She blinked. "Hey, I just remembered that I haven't eaten all day."

Captain Hellen blinked back. "You do seem to be drinking rather quickly," he observed carefully.

"And why are you even asking me about being a seamstress, *anyway*?" she chided curiously, picking the mug up in her hand and letting it dangle precariously on a finger. The beverage sloshed helplessly inside. "Is this part of your apology?"

"Well, I wanted to ask, and try to make an effort to show I actually mean what I say." He paused. "And also to just ask. You haven't been outside of the township much, from what I understand."

"Nope. Every time I try to leave, I just find something to keep me here," she lamented slightly. "People from outside come and go all the time."

"And you're here all the time, too, but you don't leave." He raised an eyebrow as he gestured his hand at their surroundings. "What is it you're asking about in here?"

Saska tilted her head. "If you didn't know, you wouldn't ask," she responded, quite clear for the hazy road her brain was fast headed down.

He nodded. "Well, then I'd like to ask about what brings you to ask about Mantha." Her ears perked up reflexively. "You're rather known for it. But your sister and your father don't have these questions you have. What is it you're trying to find?"

Saska shrugged, and opened her mouth to say something, then her eyebrows knit together in concern. "Where's your ale?"

Captain Hellen shrugged back. "I'm on duty. No drinking. Poor for image."

Saska rolled her eyes and then steadied herself. "I wouldn't have taken the drink if I'd known you weren't going to have one, too!"

Captain Hellen held up a hand. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. But Mantha." He clunked his elbows on the table and leaned in, hushing his voice low. Saska leaned in, but a little quickly thanks to her building intoxication. "Why Mantha?"

Saska purses her lip before furrowing her eyebrows at the man opposite her. "You know Bin-... Captain Avis. Our mother was from Mantha."

"Manthans never come here," he said flatly, then took a breath. "Not unless they're sent here."

"My father left Aethre Nalah and went on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Amançay. Well, when it still stood. My mother was guarding the Shrine. She was a Mantha Starkiller."

His eyes widened in curiosity. "Your mother was a *Starkiller*?"

"One of the finest!" Saska took a long sip of her second pear ale. "Five thousand, seven hundred ninety two combat kills." She rapped her knuckles on the bow by her side. "All done with this." She paused and took another drink. "All before I was born. I was why she left Mantha. She and my father met during his pilgrimage and, well... they're both impatient people."

"Sounds like a Manthan. But an elf from Aethre Nalah?"

"Have you met my father?"

"I can hardly imagine him charming a Mantha Starkiller."

"I understand my mother had a weakness for blond-haired men who played the lute."

"Mantha women are all unique, each and every one of them..." Captain Hellen commented sidelong with a chuckle, then shrugged. "But it makes sense to me. In Mantha, boys and girls get swords or bows put in their hands as early as four. If they can't fight, they're sent to the slaver ships, so all mothers encourage the fighting. The weakest face themselves to avoid being torn from what and who they know. It's not like Aethre Nalah at all." His eyes bore intensely into Saska's. "Mantha lies in the middle of No Man's Land. Elves are shackled or murdered upon sight there and in the lands neighboring. Never in recorded history has Mantha known a time without famine, without war, without water, or without hope. Some of those things at the same time. In Mantha and in other lands, it's not guaranteed that the sun will rise every morning, as the smoke after a fire attack takes weeks to clear away and those make the night as bright as the day." He cleared his throat and tilted his head. "Your mother likely never had a friend in her life before she met your father. Just battle comrades. And while there are friends to be had among those you're commanded to lay down your life for... the kind of woman who would end up falling in love with an elf on a spiritual journey was never going to find friendship or fulfillment while dodging arrows and giants' spears." He pulled his shoulders back and watched the intoxicated woman pay very close attention to every word he said. "It doesn't surprise me that the daughters of a woman like that would seek adventure outside of the norm. Your sister is a very, very good commander. She's going to be—" he stopped himself, then continued. "She's got a bright future ahead. She's got a warrior's soul but a peaceful heart. People like her have roles to play in the world. Then there's you."

"Me, who likes to play pretend with my mother's old bow," Saska cracked self-deprecatively as she finished off the second mug.

"You're drinking awfully quickly."

"I've had a strange evening. And someone keeps talking about Mantha but they're not saying anything." She eyed Captain Hellen somewhat irritably. "What makes you such an expert on Mantha, anyway? Any why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Captain Hellen paused for several seconds, then leaned back in to respond but was cut short by the quick arrival of a couple of his younger soldiers, armor glinting in the tavern's torchlight as one bent ahead to whisper something in the captain's ear. He listened carefully, then glanced back to Saska. "Stay here. I'll answer your questions when I come back." He looked toward the bartender and made a motion with his fingers. "Another drink for your trouble."

With a swish of his long red-and-gold banner cape, he cycled out the door hurriedly with his men and left Saska sitting alone. The world was spinning around her. So Captain Hellen had been to Mantha before... and knew something about it. In an instant, somehow, the third ale materialized before her. Someone had probably placed it there quite routinely, but alcohol hit the small woman faster than most and she hadn't spotted it. She sighed and gripped the mug, and sipped a bit at it. She'd gladly wait for more answers.

Knighthood (Sci-fi/Fantasy)

This looks interesting!

Aethre Nalah /

Aethre Nalah was famed for its riveting colors. The shoreline village had stood solid against the sea for over two thousand years, its structures and people hardly changed over the stretch of time the town found itself in existence. Despite the stillness, the sun and the moon seemed to be perfectly positioned overhead to roll in the clouds as the coral/mineral-rich depths of the waters crashed up against the earthy-white cliffs refracted back upon the water, creating the most stunning sunsets anyone in Teren would profess to see in their lifetimes.

A small figure draped in a green cloak stood overlooking the southernmost—and more isolated—end of the small town's cliffside access. In its hands was a longbow that from nock to nock almost seemed taller than the entire person grasping it. A slim arm would idly wind itself back and in its hand would gracefully conjure a luminescent arrow that would latch into the string of the bow, pull it back, and let the little glowing projectile zip out over the edge of the cliff. It disintegrated and fizzled out by the time it reached the surface of the calm waters below. Another arrow would follow another, and then another.

Saska Avis was bored, and she hated to admit it. But Aethre Nalah was safe. Attacks from pirates and various seathings weren't unheard of, but the local garrison was well-armed enough to ensure that there not only was no panic in the town should anything occur, but also that the threat would become soundly eliminated, and quickly. Safety was always restored at a rather satisfying pace. Those who visited the shoreside town would share stories about the horrors of war or famine or worse tragedies and injustices that ran rampant across Teren—but not Aethre Nalah. It really was a beautiful place. Growing up there had been peaceful, calm… even pleasant, despite losing her human mother not long after the birth of her younger sister. Staying curious and busy kept Saska occupied, more or less. In the past, she wouldn’t hesitate to sniff at "boredom" as a symptom of a dreary personality. Now she began to understand that fidgety feeling that others would try to articulate in discussions here and there. And as she grew older, she begrudgingly had to admit that having the gift of magic enabled her to see things from a whole other perspective than those who didn't possess that ability. She could summon light out of darkness in her palm and turn it into a heatless flame, among various other small manipulations of the environment. Draw figures in the air. Float off of the ground for several seconds at a time. Make glowing arrows to shoot from her bow… silly, harmless stuff. It had certainly made her a unique figure in Aethre Nalah, along with her quirky, somewhat painfully genuine nature.

It wasn't the colors of Aethre Nalah that generally enraptured Saska's attention—it was instead travelers coming through Aethre Nalah that would intrigue her. Her father didn't at all approve of her practice of popping into the pub to scan the patrons' faces for an interesting standout, next finding an excuse to talk to them to ask about the latest goings-ons in Teren beyond the seaside town. Even as a child she used to do it. The first time she was caught, her father led her back home, her head between her shoulders as she skulked behind him on the silent walk back, he asked her why she had been out talking to strangers; her answer struck him white in the face as she simply articulated that she was hoping to learn more about Teren, specifically Mantha, deep into solidly human-led territory… her late mother's homeland. Throughout her childhood she stayed out of the pubs obediently—mostly—but in her adult years she found herself returning to ask questions about the faraway region… usually to no avail. Travelers and tourists were from all over, and while she delighted in hearing about those lands and their origins and their affairs—no one had ever told her that they had hailed from Mantha, or any such details that she would have liked to have known.

The green-clad figure swiveled the bow up underneath an arm and turned on a heel to head back to town. Saska was ready to leave. The setting sun wavered back at itself in its reflection on the serene clear water, clouds lilting over the great big yellow orb and reflecting the tapestry of colors along the sea floor and out onto the white cliffs, intensifying as the sun crept further behind a craggy but picturesque set of mountains not too far away—the geographic barrier that made leaving Aethre Nalah without the assistance of a boat rather treacherous and difficult, indeed. Saska kept walking along through a path trodden through tall grass that shimmered a little with seasonal lightbugs. Tourists ogling the colors in the water lined the edge of the town proper's low wall as Saska approached it. She calmly sauntered past the small gathered crowd, her feet rushing her ahead even a little impatiently as she noticed a few stragglers begin to block her way into the central market. She slipped through just in time to get past. The wooden stalls were closing up as she tread past them, beelining straight for the Walking Stork.

"Miss Avis, how goes it??"

Saska stopped for a moment to turn her head to acknowledge a set of smiling bobbing faces as their hands waved at her. She stopped for a moment and adjusted her heavy bow's strap on her shoulder as she smiled. Saska raised a couple of fingers in friendly acknowledgment. "Therin. Kendryl. Captain Hellen. It goes. How about you?"

"Noticed a few of your 'arrows' up over the wall, Miss Avis." The local brigade was usually easy to get along with, but Captain Hellen wasn't from Aethre Nalah. He was from farther off—Saska wasn't sure where, now that she really thought about it… from some place that had far more daily sufferings of war than the peaceful little shoreline hamlet was subject to. Some place that required more enforcement of standards of some sort.

"Oh, they're just… they're nothing."

"'Just nothing,' huh? Kendryl here just told me about how you told Helvern Freternet that you'd turn him into a rat."

Kendryl giggled. "I wasn't trying to get you into trouble," the florist said in a friendly tone.

"Well, Miss Avis, it gives me cause for concern." Kendryl and Therin, a butcher, cringed, obviously regretful that they'd made conversation with the stickler officer.

"Why?" Saska asked plaintively.

"Well, you're getting awfully good at what you're doing, here, from what I understand."

"Well—"

"You think you can turn Helvern into a rat. How do I know you're not going to make real arrows?"

"That's absurd, Captain. I wouldn't do a thing like that."

"She wouldn't!" Therin piped up defensively.

Captain Hellen crooked his eyebrow at Saska. "You? Anything you'd like to do, you can make happen." He stuck out two gloved fingers and tapped them into her left shoulder. "You're not just a kid anymore, you know. You've got to start taking whatever you're doing with… whatever that is… seriously."

Saska frowned deeply as she felt a little sting in her ego get the best of her self-control. "You've only been here for two years," she said slowly, "and I don't think you know me very well at all." She didn't blink.

The butcher and the florist both blinked in unison and took the teeniest of steps backwards as Captain Hellen clearly took offense to the pushback on the part of the diminutive half-elf. "Ever shoot real arrows with that thing on your back?" he questioned expressly, his intense blue eyes boring into her light hazel-brown eyes. "Or is that just a toy you like to play with every now and then when you fancy yourself a real warrior?"

"This was my mother's!" she fired back in protest as she reached back reflexively to pull the bow off of her back.

Instantly, a hush fell over the formerly bustling scene as even Kendryl and Therin jumped back again and ducked. Captain Hellen remained upright, instead moving to grip the hilt of the greatsword at his side. Certainly wasn't something he used often, but it certainly screamed "authority." "Put that down."

Saska's nose twitched just slightly as she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her head and her heart. "I thought you told me I was just playing with a toy." She'd fight the feeling of nervousness.

"That's a weapon, Miss Avis." Captain Hellen was very serious, his fingers ready to pull the blade from its sheath.

"I didn't bring any real arrows." Saska held the bow up in the air with one arm, and exaggeratedly clocked her arm in the opposite direction. She twirled around like a defiant child, purposefully flipping up the emerald-colored cloak to reveal that no quiver of arrows was strapped to her back. "I'm not a real warrior, remember?"

Just as the far larger man opened his mouth to speak, a set of footsteps clanked on in as a tall, slender figure clad in light armor peeked her head up above his shoulder. "Captain Hellen, I see you've been talking to my older sister this evening."

"She's absolutely charming when she's—"

"Oh, Captain, feel free to permit me to solve this problem in-house." Where Saska took after their human mother, Binnatt took after their elf father. She was long and willowy, with straight ashy-blonde hair that shone white in the summertime when the sun was overhead even into the evening. Her pale gray eyes possessed a hint of the same blue in the water crashing up against the nearby white cliffs. "It appears there's been a misunderstanding, and I wish not to see your evening slowed down."

Captain Hellen blinked, but held his tongue. The chestnut-haired magic woman was unique, but rather well-liked despite her abilities being slightly misunderstood, even distrusted among a select few. Saska was unable to make heads or tails out of the expression on his face as activity began to resume around them. Passersby and merchants continued to pack up their wares for the evening. Even Kendryl and Therin winced apologetic expressions to their friend as they continued their own work.

"Carry on, Captain Avis."

There were perks to being a commander's sister, Saska reflected inwardly, as she watched the intimidating man turn away and leave. She turned to look over at Binnatt, and shrugged. "Sorry."

"Eh," Binnatt responded with a shrug. The three following her offered small chuckles. "Captain Hellen sometimes forgets to check his temper."

"Yeah, but I guess I could do better than that," Saska teethed sheepishly through her suddenly dry mouth. She didn't like confrontations at all.

"He's the one with a weapon. You don't have one on you." Binnatt shrugged again. "I could always teach you, you know."

"Oh, I know how—"

"—with real arrows, I mean."

Saska shrugged, herself, and dug the toe of her soft leather boot into the ground. "Maybe."

*BONG* *BONG* *BONG*

The great low bells of the spiretower began to reverberate throughout Aethre Nalah. The sun was beginning to set. The bells would alert the fishermen to reel in their nets and return to shore before the darkness would take over the landscape. It was also a reminder for tourists and locals alike to begin to head toward the cliffs to watch the sun and the water crystallize light upon the surface. "You coming this evening?"

"No…" Saska sighed. "I think I'm going to the Walking Stork."

"Again?"

Saska sighed and rolled her eyes at herself. "I know. It's stupid. But—"

Binnatt held a finger up, and smiled. "You don't need to explain anything to me. Go, have a drink, and see what you can find out." She smiled wider, and offered a reassuring pat on her sister's shoulder. "Stay out of trouble, Shorty."

"All right, Baby Dragon," she laughed back as the two parted ways. Saska reshouldered her bow and folded her arms against her chest as she began to head toward the pub. Her sister had her back. That was for certain.

It wasn't long before she found herself at her favorite table, with a glass of pear ale parked by her shaky hands. Saska didn't like conflict, at all, especially not with someone like Captain Hellen. It was hard enough to be anyone on the face of the entire earth, but to have magical abilities in a small town, with no one else capable of such a thing, certainly added extra challenges. She rolled her eyes at herself as she took a sip of her ale, challenging herself to not fall into the trap of feeling sorry for herself. There was no time for such a thing.