[ brackets or prose are a-ok, feel free to assume CR, mostly finished app here ]
1;
"Bloody fucking dwarves," Andra growls under her breath as she sits just inside the mouth of a cave, attempting to coax a fire to life from some damp kindling and debris found in the back of the cave after giving it a sweep to make sure it was devoid of bears. She is generally not someone sent on a rescue mission. She infiltrates, and gathers information. For some foolish reason, she volunteered for this. Maybe it has something to do with one of her companions.
Either way, she's regretting it, now.
"Have you found anything drier than this? I can't catch a light."
3;
It's not often that a rogue will face off against a bear, but Andra found herself in a position where she had no choice. It was too far to run for someone with more weapons, and there were unarmed refugees in the tents she stands with her back to.
"Maker guide my arrows," she breathes as she hastily dips her arrowheads into poison she'd prepared for much different reasons. She's hoping it'll be enough to stop the bear.
The first arrow loosed goes wide, as she doesn't take time to line it up. Swearing she grabs another and takes a moment to get the charging bear in her sights. That one hits, but it doesn't seem to do much beyond make the bear angrier.
4;
Taverns are more Andra's natural habitat, regardless of how crowded they are. She can slip between and under outstretched limbs and thick bodies easily, and find a comfortable perch just about anywhere- even someone's lap. She'll smile and flirt with just about anyone who speaks with her, especially if they keep the drinks coming so she doesn't have to go and get them herself.
The smell doesn't even bother her, although she might make fun of particularly odorous individuals. Any who reject her friendliness for being a knife-ear may find a pint cheerfully smashed over their head.
5;
[Wildcard! Soaking wet, cold elf lady, looking for warmth in whatever shape or form. take pity on her she looks so sad.]
Andra Riveris | dashing city elf rogue
1;
"Bloody fucking dwarves," Andra growls under her breath as she sits just inside the mouth of a cave, attempting to coax a fire to life from some damp kindling and debris found in the back of the cave after giving it a sweep to make sure it was devoid of bears. She is generally not someone sent on a rescue mission. She infiltrates, and gathers information. For some foolish reason, she volunteered for this. Maybe it has something to do with one of her companions.
Either way, she's regretting it, now.
"Have you found anything drier than this? I can't catch a light."
3;
It's not often that a rogue will face off against a bear, but Andra found herself in a position where she had no choice. It was too far to run for someone with more weapons, and there were unarmed refugees in the tents she stands with her back to.
"Maker guide my arrows," she breathes as she hastily dips her arrowheads into poison she'd prepared for much different reasons. She's hoping it'll be enough to stop the bear.
The first arrow loosed goes wide, as she doesn't take time to line it up. Swearing she grabs another and takes a moment to get the charging bear in her sights. That one hits, but it doesn't seem to do much beyond make the bear angrier.
4;
Taverns are more Andra's natural habitat, regardless of how crowded they are. She can slip between and under outstretched limbs and thick bodies easily, and find a comfortable perch just about anywhere- even someone's lap. She'll smile and flirt with just about anyone who speaks with her, especially if they keep the drinks coming so she doesn't have to go and get them herself.
The smell doesn't even bother her, although she might make fun of particularly odorous individuals. Any who reject her friendliness for being a knife-ear may find a pint cheerfully smashed over their head.
5;
[Wildcard! Soaking wet, cold elf lady, looking for warmth in whatever shape or form. take pity on her she looks so sad.]