Limited UO experience but lots of RP experience.
Are you 18 years or older?:
Yes
Have you read our rules?:
Yes
Character Portrait:
- Awenyr image.jpg (218.16 KiB) Viewed 4 times
Character age: 24
Physical description of your character:
The girl is graceful, her movements fluid and quiet, like the ebb and flow of the ocean. When she allows herself to smile, there’s a warmth in it that contrasts her usual reserve. Even when she is lost in thought or wrapped in silence, there’s a quiet beauty about her, one that draws the gaze without seeming to try. Her eyes are large and expressive, the eyes of someone who has experienced more than their fair share of hardship yet remains unbroken. Her dark hair has a subtle sheen, as though kissed by salt.
Notable personality traits or skills:
Resilient - she has a quiet strength. She doesn’t show her emotions openly but endures hardships with an unspoken resolve. Her silence often gives off an air of mystery, and people who don’t know her might see her as cold, but in reality, she’s just learned to protect herself.
Compassionate - She may appear distant, but there is compassion buried deep in her core. She may not speak of it, but she has a quiet empathy for those who suffer. She’s careful about who she lets close, but when she does, she’s fiercely loyal.
Elusive - Her past, her emotions, even her thoughts remain a mystery to most. She’s not one to open up about herself, preferring privacy. As a result, she has an enigmatic air around her that can be unsettling.
Skills: survival instincts, keen sense of the sea, ability to endure extreme physical hardships, observant.
Where is your character coming from? : I did this like a story to lead into the jail theme, but TLDR, she’s from those islands at the northeastern tip of the map.
The old woman sat on her crate, her gnarled hands working slowly over some salted fish. Her eyes, sharp and glassy from years spent staring into the sea, drifted over the crowd as she began her tale. The young sailors leaned in closer, the women with their children paused to listen, and even the bustling traders quieted, drawn in by a voice that held the weight of secrets.
"Ah, the Nameless Islands, you say? Up north, beyond Wyreland’s cold shores. where the wind howls like a beast and the waters are as dark as the night. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t ye?" Hard to get there, harder to live there. Those islands—well, they say they’re cursed. The storms are like no others. The sea crashes against the cliffs like a beast, and the winters, well, they never end."
She paused, letting the words sink in. A chill breeze swept across the market, and the crowd gathered closer.
"Now, the girl—they say she was born in Jadara, a village so far north no one travels there unless they’re lost or desperate. Don’t know if that’s true, mind ye, but that’s what they say. Far enough from the coast to feel the real bite of the storm season, where the wind never stops howlin'. Not a place for the faint of heart. Her father? A fisherman who talked to the sea like it was his kin. Her mother? Vanished, or went mad, depending on who ye ask."
The fishwife’s voice lowered, as if she were revealing something she shouldn’t.
"They say the girl was different. Quiet. Would sit by the shore, watching the waves. Some said she could feel the storms coming, like she was connected to them. Maybe she could, because one winter, the sea changed. A great storm came, worse than any before it. The village, the ships—they were lost to the waves. But the girl? She survived."
She gave a knowing look, leaning in.
"After that, the storms seemed to follow her. They called her Sea Child, they did. Said the sea claimed her, and everything she touched turned to ruin. Her village grew afraid. And when the storms came, well, they say she saw them coming before anyone else did."
The fishwife’s voice became graver, as if warning them of a danger they couldn’t quite see.
"Don’t know if it’s true, but they say the girl’s still out there, haunted by the sea that never let her go. If you meet her, be careful. The sea doesn’t forget, and neither does she."
How did your character find themselves in jail awaiting trial?:
“Ah, ye’ve heard of the wrecks, eh? Everyone’s heard of them, by now. But there’s a part of that tale what no one speaks of proper-like. It’s the one about the girl who cursed two ships, though she wasn’t no witch, mind ye.”
The fishwife paused, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing.
“Now, I’ll tell ye this, and ye may not believe it, but I don’t much care. It’s the truth, mark my words. She were a young thing, barely a woman, they say. They found her floating on the waves after the first wreck. No one knew how, no one knew why she’d survived. It was a ship bound for Wyreland, and it were caught in the teeth of the storm. The sea just opened up, a monstrous wave swallowing that ship whole. No one left alive but that poor girl. They picked her up off the water, they did, and brought her aboard another ship. Thought she was lucky, thought she’d seen the worst and lived to tell the tale. But what happened then? That’s when the real trouble began."
She gave a low, guttural laugh, flashing her crooked, stained teeth.
“Now, the second ship was a fine one, she was. Full of cargo, full of hope. But the girl, she sat there at the bow, staring out at the sea like she was lookin’ at somethin’—somethin’ no one else could see. Silent as a ghost, they say. Couldn’t even get a word outta her after that first wreck. The sailors thought she was mad, poor thing. But none of ‘em thought much about it until the waves came back."
She leaned back, her voice softening, almost wistful.
“The waves were wrong, ye see. They weren’t like the usual storms that come off the sea, no, these were tidal waves. Mighty great ones. Some said she could feel ‘em coming, that girl. She’d been through the worst, and maybe, just maybe, she sensed the storm before it hit. She tried to warn ‘em, some say. But who listens to a girl with eyes like a fish? She didn’t shout; she didn’t cry out. She just… waited.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. The fishwife’s voice dropped lower.
“Aye, waited she did. And when the waves came, they came with a vengeance. The second ship—the Pride of Riatto, they called her—was caught in those monstrous waves. The hands, they were swept overboard. Cargo lost. The ship broke apart, just like the first. And when the storm passed, there she was again. That girl. Alive, like some sort of cursed sea creature, pulled from the wreckage of yet another doomed ship.”
She shook her head slowly, her voice becoming more bitter.
“But it weren’t enough for her to survive. No, the storm had done its work, but folks needed someone to blame. And they weren’t just gonna let the sea have its way with ‘em, no sir. So they looked to the girl.”
Her tone darkened, the edges of her words sharpening.
“They said she was the one who brought the storm, Sea Child - the one who sank the ship. ’The girl was no better than the tempest itself,’ they said. ’Two ships, ruined, dead men on the waves—all because of her.’ And they believed it, too. They say that every misfortune after that was laid at her feet. Animals dying, crops failing, ships breaking apart on calm seas—she was blamed for it all. And the worse the luck, the more the rumors grew.”
She leaned in closer to her audience, eyes gleaming.
“Poor thing. She was too broken to defend herself, they say. She couldn’t speak a word in her defense. She’d been through too much already. All she could do was sit there, like a stone on the shore, while the whole world pointed its finger at her. By the time they took her to court, well, they’d already decided what the verdict would be. No one cared about truth then, only the need for someone to blame. She were sentenced, they say, to rot in a prison. For the wrecks. For the bad luck. For everything that went wrong.”
She paused, letting the silence hang in the air before giving a final, ominous warning.
“Some say she’s still alive, somewhere out there, wandering the world with that curse followin’ her. I don’t know if it’s true. But if ye ever meet her, ye’ll know. You’ll feel the weight of the sea on her shoulders. And if ye’re unlucky… well, you’ll know it too. Some say she’ll bring the Maelstrom wherever she goes.”
