The Mistakes We Make

[*Spehss Mehreen]

Basic Information
Name: Fiora Delystre
Aliases: Fi, Fiona, Cyan
Gender: Female
Race: Minauran (Pan Gaian equivalent to elf)
Age: 24 Pan Gaian years.
Profession: Ex-Soldier, Adventurer
Languages: Common, "Minauran" (Elven), Undercommon
Accent: Vague celtic influences.
Point of Origin: The Prime World of Pan Gaia
Homeland: Province of Lucavia, in the Aristocracy of Minaur, on the continent of Anuven

Physical Information
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 150lb
Body build: Fairly muscular, toned
Skin type: Rough and scarred
Hair style: Shoulder-length and neatly combed.
Scars: Various battle scars along her frame. Large mass of scarring over and around her right eye.
Tattoos: None.
Colouring:

[b]Hair:[/b] Cyan [b]Left Eye:[/b] Silvery teal in colour. [b]Right Eye:[/b] Slightly luminescent teal crystal, lacking distinct iris or pupil. [b]Skin:[/b] Pale [/li]

Mental Information
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Philosophy: The world is a corrupt mess, and the only thing we can really do is live for ourselves and the people we care about.
Deity/Beliefs: Fiora has a vague reverence of a deific figure she refers to as "The Creator", as well as a hatred for a figure she refers to as "The Shadow".
Personality:

(examples) [u]Cautious and Secretive[/u]: [i]Fiora isn't the most open person. Even when people manage to pry personal information as well, it's usually in a guarded, incomplete manner. Furthermore, she's known to be much more cautious than reckless when fighting.[/i] [u]Calm[/u]: [i]It takes a lot to truly anger Fiora. Usually, attempts to anger her will result in her being amused, or mildly annoyed.[/i] [u]Mildly Misanthropic[/u]: [i]Fiora doesn't believe in peoples' good nature, on average.[/i] [u]Sarcastic[/u]: [i]Sarcasm is Fiora's favourite form of humour. Expect a lot of it.[/i] [u]Unintentionally Condescending[/u]: [i]Fiora has a habit of sometimes speaking in a condescending, jaded manner. She usually doesn't mean it, or even realize she's doing such however.[/i] [/li]

Additional Information
Gear: Possesses a metal prosthetic right hand, which seems to be enchanted to work much like a normal hand, sans tactile feel. She also possesses an enchanted crystal right eye.
Jewelry: Fiora is generally seen wearing a pair of shades.
Habbits/hobbies: Reading, exploring, chatting with others.
General Health: Healthy and fit, missing hand and eye aside.
Favorite Drink: Mushroom Wine
Weaknesses: Sensitive to light. Has a rather large dislike for any form of sun, and seems to view suns as unnatural abberations.

[*Spehss Mehreen]

The Fragile

12.09.502 Fourth Age

Pain mixed with darkness. Pain in her chest, her legs, but worst of all: her eye and arm. She'd lost the feeling in her right hand, any feeling but agony, and her right eye was screaming in pain and dark.

Through her left eye, Fiora saw that she was on the ground, her right arm clutched around herself, ending in a bloodied stump. She saw her hand, on the ground nearby, but more importantly, she saw the sword falling at her right in the nick of time.

Even with reflexes dulled by pain, a sudden surge of adrenaline let Fiora roll out of the way and haphazardly scramble to her feet. The brigand charged at her, grinning, only to find Fiora's left fist collide with his jaw. Fiora lurched forward a little, her head spinning, but she smiled a little when she saw the brigand was knocked onto the ground.

Pulling a knife out of her belt, Fiora let herself fall atop the brigand, haphazardly aiming the blade at his throat. She heard a rush of escaping breath, a gurgle, and then silence.

Everything went black again.


12.13.502 Fourth Age

Fiora awoke again, finding herself in a warm bed with a patch of cloth over the fleshy socket where her right eye once had been. She tried to flex the fingerson her right hand, but couldn't. A cursory glance in her hand's direction showed the cloth-covered stump where her hand should be.

Fiora wanted to scream, but she was too exhausted. This wasn't how her life was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to be this fragile. She was supposed to be a soldier of House Lucavia!

Fiora tried to move, tried to open her mouth, but nothing happened. She didn't have the energy. All she could think to do was to curse herself for being too fragile, too easily broken. She failed. But she was still alive...Did that mean the rest of her patrol fared better?

Ther wasn't much time to contemplate this before darkness found her again. Sweet, comforting darkness, bringing her back to a time before she had failed the House she was sworn to serve, when she still had her eye and hand...

[*Spehss Mehreen]

The Lord's Gift

12.20.502 Fourth Age
Within the barracks in Lucavia Keep

Andreth Lucavia, the family father, leader of House Lucavia and the Lucavia Merchantile Company, sat across from Fiora at a table within the barracks. The other soldiers were all out sparring, practicing, or simply chatting amongst themselves.

"Corporal Delystre, cease this blaming of yourself at once," the stern man said, looking Fiora right in the eye. "You continued to fight until you blacked out from blood loss, that alone goes above and beyond what most would consider the call of duty.

"Besides," Andreth inclined his head towards the exit from the mess hall to the courtyard. "Your fellow patrolmates fought back the rebel brigands. With the circumstances of the attack that cycle, we can only praise the Creator that your hand and eye were the only casualties."

"I...know, my lord..." Fiora forced out, half-stammering as she tried to work up the courage to look the highborn lord in the face, the aging man whose house she was sworn to serve. "But...I cannot fight now. Would it not have brought...more honour if I...had died?"

Andreth smiled. It scared Fiora a little, it was the first time she'd seen him break the stern look when talking to a lowborn. "Nonsense. You may not be able to fight right now, but in recognition of your service we are preparing a gift for you, Fiora Delystre."

Andreth stood up, gesturing towards the stump at the end of Fiora's right arm. "We obviously can't replace it with flesh and bone," the lord began, "but we have hired a Draklyn artificer by the name of Zharqa Cu'vethresh of Inthanqtechiur to create a replacement hand and eye for you. You will be back to punching brigands in the jaw sooner than you realize, perhaps even leading patrols of your own."

Fiora blinked, looking up at the man in dumbfounded surprise. Andreth's smile grew a little wider for a moment, before fading back to the stern look before. "A gift from house Lucavia, Fiora. You are only expected to repay it by resuming your post once you are comfortable with the replacements."

Fiora couldn't find the words to say anything, even a simple 'thank you' escaped her at the moment. With a nod in her direction, Andreth Lucavia turned to walk back out into the courtyard, leaving the dumbfounded Fiora alone.

A...gift?