Yomila

by **Yomila** on August 6th, 2020, 4:16 am

E S S E N T I A L S

Race:
Ethaefal of Leth [Drykas]

Gender:
Female

Age:
Seven

Birthday:
61st of Winter, 514 AV

Birthplace:
South Suvan Sea

Profession:
Wandering Marassa

L A N G U A G E S

Fluent Language: Common

Basic Language: Pavi

Poor Language: Tukant

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:47 am

A P P E A R A N C E

D A Y:

Syna rises and she shrinks. Diminutive and lesser, a mere human by all appearances: Dark hair, wind-chapped skin and intense black eyes. Windmarks of old and waist-length windblow braids serve as echoes of what this form once was: Drykas.

Pride and grit from this past life bleeds forth under Syna’s rays. Moving with the stride of someone more comfortable on a horse than on foot, she is a whirlwind presence, coming off far taller than her average height of 5’7”. Survival sings in the blood of this form, flesh and bone sculpted by the sky god Zulrav. Svelte in body with small callused hands and long, weathered fingers.

She stares at them often. These hands that aren’t hers.

Intricate sweeping inkwork wraps her right arm and shoulder and left hip and leg; her body, a patchwork of scars.

So many stories told on her skin.. Her face.. Her eyes.

But she can’t remember.

Her frustration with this form burns in her: gritted teeth, furrowed brow and flare of her crooked nose.

N I G H T:

Syna sets and she’s free.

Towering seven feet tall and otherworldly, she moves with purposeful ease, wrapped in marble-like skin that glitters and glints in Leth’s glow. She is an imposing statue: A face with exaggerated features, broad shoulders, narrow hips and sculpted limbs chiseled from the finest stone.

She is refined; harsh in her celestial beauty and wholly inhuman.

Thick, glossy stone-like horns frame her face, sweeping back from temples, arching gracefully towards the nape of her neck before ending in a single tight spiral. The color changes with the season: The new year finds them a shimmery white followed by a verdant green. Then comes a molten gold that is the envy of all minters and, lastly, an obsidian as cold as Morwen’s lost winters.

Lustrous locks reaching her thighs follow a similar, even changing pattern. Braided and plaited and wound round this wreath of horns to be kept of out her way. The frosty blue of spring is chased away by a warm liquid black that fades and shifts to mirror the dying leaves before bleaching out to a bone white.

Molten silver eyes flicker in the pale moonlight, critical gaze searing hot. Trying to understand. Trying not to be disgusted.

Even in this near-perfect form she is unsatisfied. It is not what she was. It is not what she should still be. It is earthbound, corporeal; it is wrong.

And so she is quick to scowl, quick to judge; her chronic dissatisfaction marring her ethereal beauty.

[/quote]

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:49 am

C O N C E P T

Withdrawn yet present. Loathing all yet full of love. Equal parts awe and disgust. Driven yet distracted. Yomila finds herself still much like she was when she plunged back into this world, turning over and over in waves long gone, desperate to find which way is up, to break the surface, to breathe.

Like the majority of young Ethaefal, she is grappling with her earthbound situation. She is tenacious, burning with a desire to find out why. As a child of Leth, she is a creature of deep thought, reflection and craves understanding. She believes she must have been ripped from her celestial home for a reason; this could not be a mistake, could not be by chance, so she strives to seek what it is she must achieve, what purpose she must fulfil before Leth welcomes her back with open arms.

Like the deity that blessed her, she is mercurial, feeling all things too keenly for her liking, and struggles with bonds with other earthbound entities. She is not one for rash actions except in extreme conditions yet the emotions elicited are often palpable to all around her. What she lacks in a poker face she more than makes up for with patience, but even this can be ground to dust when tested.

As a former celestial being, Yomila is well aware of how different she is. Proud and stubborn, this fact has not always been kind to her so she uses it to further drive her. She needs to be better than her peers, to out-perform, to out-think. Competition and difficult situations are fuel for her drive, bringing out the best - and worst - in her.

MBTI: ISTP

Enneagram: 3w4

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:50 am

H I S T O R Y

The dark sky above stretched out in a dazzling display, its serene beauty only challenged by the rougher, raw majesty of the sea crashing against the rocks below.

“My love, is that a shooting star?”

Tyak Duskrider studied the pale path of the object in question. It was a strange sight; there was no arc, just an object dropping straight down from the sky.

No.

It was falling.

His light grip on his third wife’s waist tightened as realization hit him. “Fetch my boys -” his hands signed ‘urgency’ “- and the Watch.”

Pelin’e Duskrider rose without question, parting to do as her husband said.

It was only a few ticks later when the thought crossed his mind that he should have also requested a healer. It was too late. He was already on his strider and Pelin’e was already on hers, the creature screaming off like a bolt, and he turned his focus on riding down the narrow trail that would lead to the shore.

It was falling.

No.

She was falling. Plummeting like a stone to that wild sea below.

She had never felt such agony. Such shocking pain and despair. That was until she crashed - hard - into unforgiving cold. Her breath knocked clean from her lungs.

She wanted to cry or to scream but the sea forbade it, filling her open mouth when she felt the urge to test it.

Dying.

She was dying.

But she had already died. What was this?

Her vision and her mind went black, body ceasing to fight and the sea churned her limp body, tossing it about like a ragdoll. A combination of the tide, current and rips eventually pushed her to the surface and she clung to a piece of flotsam.

The days following her being washed up to shore bled together, the Ethaefal listless and resistant to the helpful advances and offers of care that came. The looks of curiosity and worry grew sharp edges as displeasure and even contempt grew from her aloofness.

She didn’t care. She should not be here. Surely she would be swept up back to Leth’s glorious realm if she continued to ignore her situation.

But the reunion she so desperately craved never came.

Seasons passed where she resisted, fought tooth and claw to avoid acknowledging the very obvious fact that, by day, she looked just like those she was surrounded by. But her resolve was steadily ground away, mostly due to the very resilient and patient Tyak Duskrider.

“You shouldn’t ignore their civility,” he urged gently. She clenched her fists and lifted her chin, steadfast in her frigid otherness.

While his two living wives, many of his sons and all of his daughters resented the ungrateful interloper, the Duskrider ankal worked tirelessly to guide the despaired Ethaefal in the right direction, encouraging her to take up skills befitting a Drykas. He taught her to use his shortbow - with little success - and the basics of surviving the Sea of Grass - but cautioned her to never stray far without at least two others in her company. What caused the greatest connection between the two was riding.

The Ethaefal craved a challenge yet her desire to understand and figure things out conflicted with her need to resist so she begrudgingly took on the teachings Tyak passed on to her in all things but the horse. Mounting one of the pavilion's docile - yet large - semes, she found the feeling to be unlike anything she had experienced since her fall. It felt natural. It felt right.

The pair would often ride whenever the seme was free and Tyak did his best to try and break down the Ethaefal’s stony exterior.

He never succeeded, but she would never forget his love and commitment. It was something she cherished deeply.

She would have left sooner if not for him. Looking back on her life, she regrets waiting but his warmth was a boon she was loath to part with.

Her departure was inevitable. She lacked the skills to truly contribute to the pavilion, let alone to the greater Endrykas, and remained hellbent on living a life on the fringe for fear of getting too comfortable. She reasoned Leth would not retrieve her if she made a life for herself amongst the horseclans.

Tyak made the arrangements and the pair set off with three of his sons for the Kabrin road. Her short visits to Riverfall on supply runs had not been her happiest moments and Kenash was to be outright avoided so she had decided on venturing further to Sylira. Tyak had agreed that Syliras, the capital, would be ideal.

It would be his last ride through the sea of grass, the aging ankal perishing when a juvenile night lion male ambushed him after they had made camp for what would be their last night. Syliras had only been a day’s ride away but the lone thing anchoring and steadying her in this twisted nightmare she was stuck in was gone.

His sons rightfully blamed her. She blamed herself.

Her agonizing sorrow felt endless. She was drowning again, lost in that churning, unforgiving ocean.

It took half a day of heated debate between the three sons before they decided whether or not to leave her to her fate in the tall grass, and another for them to get her just far enough to leave her on a portion of the Kabrin road known to be frequented by knights. They left her there with some basic supplies; Tahlto, Tyak’s eldest, offering of his father’s shortbow being the only thing that took the edge of such a cold dismissal.

“Know I would rather do anything than give you this.” His words were as sharp as the blade on his hip. “I do this only to honor my father’s memory.” The blow struck true, piercing the wall she had worked so hard to build around herself.

An all-consuming sense of loneliness filled her in that moment: she had no one. She was no one. The reality was crippling.

No wonder Leth had abandoned her.

Her prickly pride reared its head somewhere along the slow walk towards her imminent demise. She was a creature born from Leth’s glorious domain. She was more and she would not let this be her end.

Her tears were still drying when a wing of Syliran knights approached her, the Sergeant Knight slowing the group down to inquire into her wellbeing. Whether or not it was required of the knight, the Ethaefal saw it as a sign and she traveled the rest of the way with the wing. She listened as they chatted amongst themselves, one even regaling to her a tale of their latest adventure.

The experience - and the Sergeant Knight - made such an impression on her that she headed to the barracks shortly after settling into the city, seeking out a chance to become a member of the knighthood.

She had spent too much time desperately trying not to live, to escape this mortal coil she found herself thrust into. Now was her time to prove her worth.

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:52 am

G N O S I S

V I T A L I Z A T I O N - K I H A L A

"Vitalization is the gnosis of Kihala, the Goddess of Life. Those marked by Kihala are known as Marassa. Marassa serve as midwifes and commonly bless pregnant women as they are givers of life. They also engage in seeking out those who have died in a manner opposite to what fate has decreed. Those who have died before their time due to murder or accident are targets for the Marassa. Those individuals are seen as having died before their time and the Marassa work to remedy that by bringing said individuals back to life. Marassa are always the epitome of health and vitality and seek to spread that to others. The Marassa are not a formal religion. Instead they are individual marked persons who work to enact Kihala's will. As a result, they are highly respected in numerous cities and work alongside followers of Rak'keli amd Caiyha to encourage health and life."

Yomila acquired her first mark of Vitalization during her trip to Syliras, the Goddess Kihala visiting her on the Kabrin road where she placed her mark upon the top of Yomila's left hand.

Story :

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:57 am

S K I L L S

Skill	EXP	Total	Proficiency
Leadership	10RB	10	Novice
Logic	5SP	5	Novice
Riding [Horse]	15SP	15	Novice
Weapon [Shortbow]	10SP	10	Novice
Wilderness Survival [Plains]	20SP	20	Novice

Resolve: 27
26 [base]
+1 [novice leadership]

L O R E S

Riding [Horse]: How to Use an Yvas
Syna and Leth: Mother and Father of the Ethaefal

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 2:59 am

P O S S E S S I O N S

Simple Shirt
Simple Pants
Simple Undergarments
Simple Cloak
Simple Boots
Waterskin
Backpack
Wood Comb
Wood Brush
Soap
Razor
Week's Worth of Rations
Eating Knife
Flint and Steel
Shortbow Arrows [20]
Quiver
Leather Armor [Drykas Style]
Map of The Outpost

Mykom the Outpost Cat :

Items Previously on Loan :

Heirloom: Simple shortbow

by **Yomila** on October 19th, 2020, 3:00 am

H O U S I N G

Location: The Outpost

House: 400 sq ft apartment at the Khamsin Inn [2gm/d // 180gm/s]

L E D G E R

Purchase	Cost	Total GM
Starting	100.00	100.00
Shortbow Arrows [20]	-1.00	99.00
Quiver	-20.00	79.00
Leather Armor	-10.00	69.00
Bathouse + towel use	-.21	68.79
Trade in housing	+500.00	568.79.00
Common S. Expenses [Fall 520]	-135.00	433.79
Equipment Hire 1S [Fall 520]	-100.00	333.79
Inactive [Winter 520-Fall 522]		333.79

by **Yomila** on October 25th, 2020, 9:02 pm

T H R E A D S

P R E S E N T

Thread Date -- Status

P A S T

Short Breaks 8th of Spring 515 ft Karsynwa -- Unfinished

Saddled 24th of Summer 520 Solo -- Complete

D R E A M S

Sinking 2nd of Fall 520 ft Rohka -- Abandoned

P R E V I O U S

Fall 520 :