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Magical Ability:

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Anora is undead and has no magical abilities. As an undead, she can physically die again many times but will still remain in her undead state.


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Appearance:

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Anora was quite a pretty young woman. Dying young, she's retained most of these good looks into her afterlife. She stands at 5'9 with a classic hourglass figure and probably would be considered very attractive, if she weren't dead. Because she died of illness, her skin is pale and lifeless but otherwise unmarked. Her once vibrant blue eyes now look pale and sunken. The longer she's lived as an undead, the better she has become at hiding this and is usually always wearing or applying lotions and powders to her face to try and pass as living. Her fiery red hair reaches down to the crook of her back and is usually tied in a braid to stop it becoming tangled and damaged; every year she has to carefully trim it to keep it looking good though it will never grow again. As a result of dying another few times, she has a stab wound to her stomach and a wound to her back - both have been stitched up well (and Anora has become quite the seamstress). To hide these and her deathly pale skin, she typically wears thick dresses, gloves and thick fur coats. For travelling and other activities she has a leather bodice, leather trousers and boots.

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Personality:

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In her life, Anora was a kind and friendly girl. She was a slightly naive and carefree young woman as a result of living her whole life on her family's farm. There was no excitement in the village, she never dreamed of going off on adventures or fighting in wars, those were just stories. She's polite and caring, always willing to help and lend hand and was always approachable.[break][break]

She's not so approachable being undead. It has been hard for Anora as when she died and came back to life, her personality didn't change, she was the same girl she had always been, but her life had been turned upside down. Before she was confident and chatty, happy to make friends with anyone but now she has to be much more careful.[break][break]

What she has learned since being undead is how to be an actress. It is often hard to go against her nature friendly demenour but she has to portray herself as fierce and tough. She has to make threats, stand her ground and try to pass herself off as a hardened warrior - when in reality she's still a niave young woman whose having to grow up really quickly and make her way in a world she never though she would have to. [break][break]

She is often remorseful about being unable to die. Having died a few more times since her first death, she's sad knowing the impending mindlessness that will eventually claim her and that she'll never truly have peace. While she is still in her right mind, she's always aware of that small darkness that is growing and will eventually consume her.
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History:

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Anora was born during the start of the great war. Her family were unimportant farmers who lived in an unimportant village, so villagers rarely felt any first hand effects of the war. The war served as frightening stories, occasionally soldiers past through the village but that was as much of the war as they saw. Her family was large, she had several brothers and sisters and her childhood was happy and uncomplicated. As she grew she continued to work on the farm with her family. She learned the homemaking arts of cooking and sewing but never married. Maybe she would have if she hadn't fallen ill. One winter was particularly harsh, the crops had failed from a blight and what little crops they did have were shared among the village. The war was putting strain on resources and everyone was struggling. The fevers came first, then the chills. Then the vomitting. She couldn't keep food down for a week. From there it went down hill fast, pain spreading from her stomach to her chest and she began to cough up blood and fluid. With no energy, she took to her bed for the last few days, hoping with rest and time maybe it would pass. Her family tended to her as best they could, but with no real medical knowledge or magic, their potions and herbs done nothing to stop the spread of the illness. That night the cold swept over her, no longer able to keep her eyes open, she drifted into the darkness.

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And then she woke up. She felt refreshed, the best she had felt in a long time, nothing like the horrible pain she felt when she went to sleep. Only problem was, she hadn't gone to sleep, she had died that night from the illness that gripped her body and instead of waking up, she had reanimated. Her body was stone cold to the touch and her complexion was a ghastly shade of pale. Her mother had fainted when she came into the room and saw her sitting up in bed. Her father screamed, cursing everything under the sun he could to try and reason with how his dead daughter had come back to life. A small blessing was that he fetched the town healer first before the rest of the town could chase her out with pitchforks and torches. The healer was a old mage, far older than anyone in the village, they said he'd been there since the village was built and well into his hundreds, maybe thousands. He ushered her from the house under the cover of darkness into his shack. Anora couldn't comprehend was going on. He tried to explain it to her but she couldn't cope with the idea. She stayed in the shack that night, and drank a bottle of poison from the shelf. The pain was excruciating, like her stomach wanted to burst from her body, but it eventually subsided and she slipped back into the darkness. Only to wake up again, the same as she had the first time as if nothing had happened to her. That was when she knew her existence would never been the same.[break][break]

She took what little clothes and money she could from the healer and left in the night, they would never understand. For years, she traveled, never staying in any one place too long. They'd chase her out when they discovered she was undead. Some tried to kill her. She died again meeting a group of thugs in the woods; they stabbed her in the stomach, took what little she had and left her corpse to rot in the cold. But she got up and carried on. With every passing year, she got better at it. Better at living a life of no purpose, better at being able to pass her self off as a human. She never stayed in any one place too long, but she could fit in enough to find places to stay and hold down some odd jobs. And she got better at acting, she'd pass herself off as a hardended warrior or a mercenary in the the taverns, and believably threaten those who'd always try to take advantage of her.
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Miscellaneous:

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Anora isn't a trained warrior but she has picked up basic fighting skills since she's been undead for so long. She knows basic hand to hand combat, is quite skilled in fighting with daggers and small weapons that can easily be concealed on her, simple lock picking and can comfortably ride a horse.

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ROBYN

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OOC Notes

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RPG DIRECTORY