Viara Clovenoak Bio
Two entries in a day! Pure craziness, eh? Well, this is for Jill, but other people can read it too, I guess.
1200 words! Didn't quite expect that. I meant to just sort of sum things up, but once I get started writing, stuff just occurs to me, like rare fish and red dye. And Viara's first use of spontaneous magic. And what kind of childhood she had to have to become who she is today. All very important character bits, and I'm glad I wrote them.
(Scia is pronounced See-uh. Everything else is pretty much how it looks.)
The end, of course, leads up to our first RPG session, so it's a bit abrupt.
Viara Clovenoak Bio
Viara Clovenoak grew up in the lake country northeast of Lyseria and west of the sea. The human village she lived in is called Scia, or sometimes Scia-on-the-Lake, for the rare fish by the same name that the villagers netted from Lake Bethemar for sale in the southern countries. Scia scales produce a rich, vibrant red dye, and the flesh of the fish is also sweet and nutritious. Traders are known to say, while purporting the fine attributes of the bolts of fabric they sell, that "There is no red like a Scia red." Buyers agree.
Viara refuses to wear red, now, and is not fond of the taste of fish, as she ate it almost every day of her childhood and adolescence. (One of her rare exceptions to the "red rule" was her first masterwork guitar, which had dragon designs and flames painted on it. Having recently defeated a red dragon with her companions, she carried this guitar proudly. Until it was too big for her.)
Her mother, Martha Wright, was imminently proud to have a half-elf child. Though she had only been with Viara's father for one night, she insisted that their daughter carry his name, not her own, and picked an elven-sounding first name for her, too. Martha also strongly encouraged Viara in every "elf-like" interest she showed, such as her enjoyment of the outdoors and affinity for music.
Viara's childhood was quite happy, all things considered. Her mother never married and they were not well-off, subsisting mainly on their garden, herb patch and small herd of goats, but they never lacked for anything, either. But Viara was constantly aware that she was different. Her mother never forgot it, and neither did the rest of the villagers.
All of the village children wanted to be Viara's friends. The adults were kind to her, the shopkeepers sometimes giving her small gifts when she came in to buy supplies for her mother, and she never lacked for fresh fish from Lake Bethemar. The teachers and clerics listened to her attentively, no matter how long and nonsensically she prattled. Even travelers passing through noticed her quickly and watched her closely.
Viara accepted all of this attention with cheerful goodwill. Even now, as an adult, she expects to be liked and is not surprised when, as usual, she is. It isn't vanity--she doesn't consider herself to be at all beautiful, nor intelligent or interesting--merely a pleasant outlook on the world. (This does sometimes cause her to be unintentionally rude, though. She wasn't corrected much as a child.)
It wasn't until Viara was a teenager that it occurred to her that all of this was a bit too much. She knew other students who were right more often than she, yet the instructors usually called on her. Everyone praised her musical ability, but she, as a true musician does, could evaluate herself accurately and knew that it was nothing special (yet). She knew village girls who were much prettier than she, yet most of the boys gravitated to her. Viara had no desire for anything but friendship with these young men, and the constant courtship (unspoken as it was) began to wear on her. As time went on, it grew to be a burden. All of it.
And then she noticed that the mayor of Scia, Jud Aleson, was watching her too closely. He seemed to be trying not to be noticed, peering at her through windows, over his mug at the tavern, and through the crowd at town social gatherings. Once she even saw him in their front garden early in the morning, though he never spoke to her. Then he came by one evening and asked to speak with Martha alone.
Viara was sent to weed in the farthest corner of the garden, and her mother closed the shutters. But it seemed that Martha didn't know that her daughter's elven heritage gave her hearing a slight edge over ordinary human abilities. Viara heard the mayor talk about diplomatic advantages, and the need to keep up appearances, and assets to the village, and her mother hemmed and hawed and objected. And then the bargaining began.
As Viara listened to the two adults begin to decide her future, a great desperation began to build in her chest. The mayor said, "Never lack for anything," and her mother protested, "My only child in the world," and Viara felt the expectations pressing down on her, harder and harder until it seemed that she could not breathe.
For months now she had been thinking about the rest of world, wondering what it was like, pondering who her father was, wishing she could learn more music than the people of the lake country knew. She wanted to visit a city, talk to a dwarf or a gnome, travel through a forest, maybe even fight a monster. She wanted to see a dragon. Any dragon! She did not want to be tied to anyone, least of all a man three times her age who wanted her solely for her status as the only half-elf in a region of humans.
Viara caught her breath and made the first decision that was hers, truly hers, of her entire life. The power of this decision sparkled inside her like pure light. She closed her eyes and whispered under her breath, her fingers moving in motions that she had never learned. She sang a simple lullaby, very softly, as if to the lettuce and beets around her, and felt her newfound magic flow out to the two humans in the cottage.
They would not hear or see her now, lulled by music they had not heard. Viara sneaked into her room, gathered a few prized possessions, and left. She traveled south, disappearing into the deepening twilight. Topping a hill, she paused for a moment and turned back to stare at Scia, the warm-lit houses, the lake sparkling beyond. Viara impressed the image in her mind, for she was certain that she would never return. She did not look back again.
Within days she was lost in the plains of Escalon, and might have died of starvation if she hadn't been found by a kind ranger named Thanas Brenn. He befriended her, taught her something of getting along in the world, and helped her finally reach the cities of the south. There, at last, she met a real bard, and was instantly lost.
She traveled the roads, learning everything she could. Sometimes she would stay awhile with a bardic college, listening, singing, enjoying herself mightily, but she never truly belonged anywhere. Occasionally she thought that it would be nice to find one certain bard who could take her as an apprentice and teach her all she needed to know, but she never found him or her. Used to independence and making much from little, she was content with the few silvers she could earn from a day's performance.
Though she didn't seek adventure, Viara did learn to use weapons, and occasionally met a bandit or two on the roads. Never monsters, though--not even a goblin. She met gnomes and dwarves, but no dragons. She saw a few forests, but she never traveled off the roads.
And then she received the first letter of her life, from a man she didn't know. His name was Phineas.
1200 words! Didn't quite expect that. I meant to just sort of sum things up, but once I get started writing, stuff just occurs to me, like rare fish and red dye. And Viara's first use of spontaneous magic. And what kind of childhood she had to have to become who she is today. All very important character bits, and I'm glad I wrote them.
(Scia is pronounced See-uh. Everything else is pretty much how it looks.)
The end, of course, leads up to our first RPG session, so it's a bit abrupt.
Viara Clovenoak Bio
Viara Clovenoak grew up in the lake country northeast of Lyseria and west of the sea. The human village she lived in is called Scia, or sometimes Scia-on-the-Lake, for the rare fish by the same name that the villagers netted from Lake Bethemar for sale in the southern countries. Scia scales produce a rich, vibrant red dye, and the flesh of the fish is also sweet and nutritious. Traders are known to say, while purporting the fine attributes of the bolts of fabric they sell, that "There is no red like a Scia red." Buyers agree.
Viara refuses to wear red, now, and is not fond of the taste of fish, as she ate it almost every day of her childhood and adolescence. (One of her rare exceptions to the "red rule" was her first masterwork guitar, which had dragon designs and flames painted on it. Having recently defeated a red dragon with her companions, she carried this guitar proudly. Until it was too big for her.)
Her mother, Martha Wright, was imminently proud to have a half-elf child. Though she had only been with Viara's father for one night, she insisted that their daughter carry his name, not her own, and picked an elven-sounding first name for her, too. Martha also strongly encouraged Viara in every "elf-like" interest she showed, such as her enjoyment of the outdoors and affinity for music.
Viara's childhood was quite happy, all things considered. Her mother never married and they were not well-off, subsisting mainly on their garden, herb patch and small herd of goats, but they never lacked for anything, either. But Viara was constantly aware that she was different. Her mother never forgot it, and neither did the rest of the villagers.
All of the village children wanted to be Viara's friends. The adults were kind to her, the shopkeepers sometimes giving her small gifts when she came in to buy supplies for her mother, and she never lacked for fresh fish from Lake Bethemar. The teachers and clerics listened to her attentively, no matter how long and nonsensically she prattled. Even travelers passing through noticed her quickly and watched her closely.
Viara accepted all of this attention with cheerful goodwill. Even now, as an adult, she expects to be liked and is not surprised when, as usual, she is. It isn't vanity--she doesn't consider herself to be at all beautiful, nor intelligent or interesting--merely a pleasant outlook on the world. (This does sometimes cause her to be unintentionally rude, though. She wasn't corrected much as a child.)
It wasn't until Viara was a teenager that it occurred to her that all of this was a bit too much. She knew other students who were right more often than she, yet the instructors usually called on her. Everyone praised her musical ability, but she, as a true musician does, could evaluate herself accurately and knew that it was nothing special (yet). She knew village girls who were much prettier than she, yet most of the boys gravitated to her. Viara had no desire for anything but friendship with these young men, and the constant courtship (unspoken as it was) began to wear on her. As time went on, it grew to be a burden. All of it.
And then she noticed that the mayor of Scia, Jud Aleson, was watching her too closely. He seemed to be trying not to be noticed, peering at her through windows, over his mug at the tavern, and through the crowd at town social gatherings. Once she even saw him in their front garden early in the morning, though he never spoke to her. Then he came by one evening and asked to speak with Martha alone.
Viara was sent to weed in the farthest corner of the garden, and her mother closed the shutters. But it seemed that Martha didn't know that her daughter's elven heritage gave her hearing a slight edge over ordinary human abilities. Viara heard the mayor talk about diplomatic advantages, and the need to keep up appearances, and assets to the village, and her mother hemmed and hawed and objected. And then the bargaining began.
As Viara listened to the two adults begin to decide her future, a great desperation began to build in her chest. The mayor said, "Never lack for anything," and her mother protested, "My only child in the world," and Viara felt the expectations pressing down on her, harder and harder until it seemed that she could not breathe.
For months now she had been thinking about the rest of world, wondering what it was like, pondering who her father was, wishing she could learn more music than the people of the lake country knew. She wanted to visit a city, talk to a dwarf or a gnome, travel through a forest, maybe even fight a monster. She wanted to see a dragon. Any dragon! She did not want to be tied to anyone, least of all a man three times her age who wanted her solely for her status as the only half-elf in a region of humans.
Viara caught her breath and made the first decision that was hers, truly hers, of her entire life. The power of this decision sparkled inside her like pure light. She closed her eyes and whispered under her breath, her fingers moving in motions that she had never learned. She sang a simple lullaby, very softly, as if to the lettuce and beets around her, and felt her newfound magic flow out to the two humans in the cottage.
They would not hear or see her now, lulled by music they had not heard. Viara sneaked into her room, gathered a few prized possessions, and left. She traveled south, disappearing into the deepening twilight. Topping a hill, she paused for a moment and turned back to stare at Scia, the warm-lit houses, the lake sparkling beyond. Viara impressed the image in her mind, for she was certain that she would never return. She did not look back again.
Within days she was lost in the plains of Escalon, and might have died of starvation if she hadn't been found by a kind ranger named Thanas Brenn. He befriended her, taught her something of getting along in the world, and helped her finally reach the cities of the south. There, at last, she met a real bard, and was instantly lost.
She traveled the roads, learning everything she could. Sometimes she would stay awhile with a bardic college, listening, singing, enjoying herself mightily, but she never truly belonged anywhere. Occasionally she thought that it would be nice to find one certain bard who could take her as an apprentice and teach her all she needed to know, but she never found him or her. Used to independence and making much from little, she was content with the few silvers she could earn from a day's performance.
Though she didn't seek adventure, Viara did learn to use weapons, and occasionally met a bandit or two on the roads. Never monsters, though--not even a goblin. She met gnomes and dwarves, but no dragons. She saw a few forests, but she never traveled off the roads.
And then she received the first letter of her life, from a man she didn't know. His name was Phineas.