[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Hey Durelin! Pio, Durelin and I have already discussed my character, and invited me to join in on Dark Seduction.

Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? –Yes, Several. An Audience With the King, Castle Maladil, Kidnapped!, Betrayal of Trust, Search for the Book, Search for the Lost Messenger, Escape from Nurn, Swan Wood, Threat of the Trees, In War, Brotherhood.

Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn or in The White Horse in Rohan? – Yes, The White Horse on a few occasions.


NAME: Jasara

AGE: 19 or 20

RACE: Tribesman (convert)

GENDER: Female

WEAPONS: Jasara, as one of the leader’s daughter, learned from the most ruthless of their warriors how to use the ever-popular broadsword. She is moderately skilled with it, but because most of her power is with her persuasive talking and wit, she prefers those weapons.

APPEARANCE: Jasara stands just over 5’4”, with dark brown eyes and even darker tan-brown skin. Her silky black hair falls in awkward clumps of frizzy curls, which are often tied back in attempts to keep the tresses out of Jasara’s face. She’ll usually be found wearing dirt-stained breeches and comfortable tunics. The hot grasslands of the southlands bid Jasara wear the pair of boots she stole from one of the warriors of the tribe.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Jasara is stubborn and cold, and distrustful to all but a few of her fellow young. She can be arrogant and rude, but is ultimately strong for the sake of the people she represents. Never revealing her weaknesses for others to manipulate, Jasara never portrays a weakling in front of others. Tough is an understatement if used to describe Jasara. She understands the ways of the elders, and is intelligent and patient when she needs to be. Jasara receives snippets of visions and hears a voice inside her mind (belonging to the Eye, but Jasara does not know that). The voice and visions are ever haunting her.

HISTORY: Jasara was born to one of the leaders of the barbaric southrons. She and her father rarely agreed on anything, least of all the way the nomads traveled and lived. When she was twelve she predicted when the next rain would come, and no one believed her. The rain did fall as foretold, and though the elders dismissed the “coincidence”, the younger people of the tribe began to fear and admire Jasara. The tribe eventually became split in a way, when the younger ones revolted against the elders. They unanimously voted Jasara their leader, for they considered her the strongest and wisest. Even though the Nomads continued traveling from place to place as one group, the silent rebellion of young against old continued on, however secretly.

First Post:

“It hasn’t rained in four months,” Jasara’s grandmother spoke, from behind the tent’s curtain. A young Jasara lay scrunched up, under warm sheets that protected her from the night’s deathly chill. The memory was so real; Jasara felt she could almost touch the silky curtain that separated the areas of the tent.

“It will rain in two days. It will flood, or almost,” little Jasara whispered, repeating what something inside the girl had told her. Quick as lightning the curtain flew back, and her father’s worry-wrinkled face was visible.

“What did you say?” Her father grumbled, and the younger Jasara repeated the prediction. Her father dismissed the crazy ramblings of his tiny daughter, and returned to his meeting with the most important leaders of their large nomadic tribe.

Suddenly, Jasara woke from her dream, sweating. The sky was above her, and in the sleep-bag next to hers belonged to her ‘second-in-command’. All around her laying strewn about the short grasslands were the younger members of the nomadic tribe. They had long ago refused to use tents, justifying that they would rather ‘be eaten by the hungry beasts of the Eye than sleep in the way of the elders’.

Jasara remembered the outcome of her memory. The children of the tribe praised her and worshipped her like she was some deity when the rain came two days later. The leaders of the tribe dismissed the prophecy as though Jasara had never spoken up that night. Jasara would not forget that time; the time she had first seen the Eye in her dreams. It had a voice, this lidless eye did, and it haunted her. Whispering to Jasara in her dreams, it would tell her things…things that Jasara would not know any other way. Jasara told no one what haunted her so many nights and days.

The tribe was split in two. The children and the young adults of the wandering barbarians rarely listened to the pride-stricken elders. It had brought fury to the minds of the younger generation that the wisest of their kin would not believe a vision when it hit them in the face. They all thought it was because they were the young, the hopeless, and the stupid. All the young despised the elders, who believed that the young were so stupid that they’d need to be protected forever.

Jasara had become the appointed leader of the Young, and they worshipped Jasara and her ideas…or at least the ideas she conveyed. The girl had become their leader. Jasara did not return to sleep, and sat to watch the sun rise.

“Something wrong, Jasara? We can sleep for almost an hour still,” A boy nearby spoke raptly, and rolled over in his sleep-bag.

“Nothing is wrong. I just can’t sleep.” Jasara got up from under her blankets and pulled on the boots she had stolen from one of the old warriors, who had died shortly after the theft. Jasara rolled up her sleep-pack, and carried it with her as she walked towards the nearby creek. The short, dry grass crunched under her feet as she neared the creek.

Another day begins, I see. A hoarse, deathly whisper sounded in Jasara’s mind. Jasara nodded grimly, and went on to wash her face in the cool, clear stream.


-Aylwen, who has gotten back into the habit of using J names. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]