Rings of Honor

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Junior Adventurer

Username:

Faye Random

Groups:

Registered users

Character:

She Who Tends the Dead

Character Race:

Ethereal True Fae

Gender:

Appears Female

Location:

Presently Here

Character Portrait:

Art Credits:

Neelam Gil

Character Age:

Endless

Profession:

She Who Tends the Dead

Appearance:

Everything your eyes see is false.

Not all fae are faeries, just as not all cats are lions. Conversely it is true that all faeries are fae and that all lions are cats, but the order of the wording is important. Do not make the same mistakes so many other foolish creatures do. She is fae. To call her otherwise is to insult her.

She is not a woman, though all eyes who look upon her are easily deceived into believing otherwise. Her glamour is not the sort that inspires worship and adoration. Those who look upon her are not immediately ensorcelled to feel love for her. She is not an exceptionally beautiful woman, though nor is she a gnarled and wrinkled old hag decorated in fearsome warts and boils. There is something to fear about her, however. For she is the embodiment of Nature's one inalienable truth.

All things must die. And in the end she is there to sweep the dirt under the rug, discard the refuse, tend to the shells that the living leave behind. She is eternal. She is ethereal. She is ... She Who Tends the Dead.

She does not smile. She does not frown. She does not bother with extravagance nor charm. She does not lie. Death has no room for feelings or falsehoods. Her features are timeless and perpetually taciturn. As a woman, in this form, she is no taller than five feet and three inches on bare feet. She never wears shoes. Her hair is long and brown, the darkest shade near to black there could possibly be, and it is always braided neatly down the length of her spine. Her eyes, too, are the darkest, blackest shade of brown. Her skin is the shade of caramel-copper that suggests a lifetime spent being licked by corrosive desert sands. All she wears is a simple silver-white dress with frayed edges about her ankles. Nothing more and nothing less, and nothing to see beneath her gown.

Hers is the scent of autumn, for those with strong olfactory senses. Dried leaves, old bones and dried blood. Underneath it all a tang of copper.

Wish to know more about her? Ask. Those who seek the truth may be surprised by just how easy it is to find.

Skills:

Avatar of Death. Spirit of Decay. A touch can be a fatal mistake.

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