CeeJay
The Side with the Best Artillery
General Information
Name: Gavrila Princeps
Gender: Female
Race: Dragonkin
Age: 27
Appearance
Visual Appearance:
Physical Appearance: Just about the definition of lithe and graceful, Ms. Princeps carries herself with all of the comfortable authority and arrogance that one can only come to expect from a dragonkin. Her fur is immaculately well maintained, and she seems to shine constantly, taking a great deal of time to keep herself in good appearance when she is not working on "business".
Personality Information
Likes: Gold, Jewelery, dancing, blades, Religious prayer, Darkness and dimly lit areas, fancy clothing, attention, opening throats, intrigue, being treated properly.
Dislikes: Bright areas, being interrupted while speaking, unnecessary shows of magic, being treated as if incompetent
General Personality: Acts very much like a proper Pre-Victorian lady, in that she's polite, demure towards men, takes no qualms with being treated as a second class woman, but takes great offense to being considered incompetent - she's not a man's equal in political or social stature, but she is the best at the jobs she does, and she does them with excessive efficiency. She is very much polite and clean and spares her talking for things she understands. The bulk of that being religion and "intrigue" (spying and assassination, for those more uncouth than she), and the workings of social politics in political courts.
Equipment
Stuff: Theological Codices, Hashish, parchment, quills, pipe.
Equipment: Blade (seen in picture), Garrote, various poisons, daggers, padded clothing ("light armor" worked into various outfits)
Money:
Powers
Racial Powers:
Wisdom of the Wyrms: The natural, instinctive knowledge of the universe flows through their veins. Magic research and development times are significantly lowered.
Draconic BloodLine: The Magic in their blood comes naturally, causing all Dragonkin to count as Adepts.
Dragonkin have thick scales that make them hardier in physical combat.
Unique Powers:
Skills/spells/talents/other: Can Read and write in most civilized languages, but can only speak Draconic. Can fight with that terrifying weapon that she has shown, along with small blades. knows how to keep herself light on her feet and use darkness to her advantages. Has a "silver tongue". Practices basic physical arts. Perfect housewife on top of all of this (cooking, cleaning, etc.)
Career
Class: Warrior 1 (because there's no real option for the espionage)
Job: "Spymaster/Priest for hire"
Legend: None, yet
Rank:
Spymaster (*----)
Mystic/Priest/Archbishop (*----)
Character's History
History: Now, as logic would come to state, there are many types of dragons, and as such, there are many types of dragonkin. Of course, the Draconian Empire doesn't like to talk about some of their minorities, due to their... very obvious lack of cohesion with the rest of the otherwise 'harmonious' empire. Their appearance is markedly different, they speak different, they act different, and they don't "worship IO correctly". This lays largely in the marked rejection of IO as a singular, mortal coil, and rather passive though heretical ideal of a singular being who through his sons and daughters created and spread the good word of him through life. Of course, IO is one of those sons, yet the heresy and borderline 'obscene' words of such people represent a marked struggle with many, and such a struggle was into which Gavrila was born.
A young child of the head priest in a duchy outside of the stricter discipline of the immediate Imperial seat, Gavrila was immersed into religion and court politics at an early life - So much so, that she, by the time she was a mere 6 years old, was considered a prodigy of the spiritual and the intrigue of courts, both the face shown to the world and their darker, more subtle sides. Of course, a young child of such status was placed into training to become a monk of sorts, though she was quickly reallocated in the programs she had been placed in as it was found that her skills were much more in the realm of the mind and the hidden blade. As she grew in age, her teachers instilled into her both the importance of her religion and her skills, but the importance of acting as a proper female in the court, and acting like an adult woman should - most definitely instilling into her that attempting to act like a rough and tumble warrior was not only unwomanly, but inappropriate for her as such a delicate and dangerous beauty. This was something she accepted happily, and as such, became much untoward the foxglove flower - beautiful and splendid, but lethally poisonous and destructive in the right environments...
Eventually, the sweet young girl reached the ripe age of 16, and was "freed" from the training and teaching she was placed under, and told that she must find employment and a proper suitor outside of the duchy, where she could be more safe and more open with her skills and herself. Her hope was, of course, to be employed in one of her two very intimate skills, and as such, she began her search for a court in which she could have her skills employed to their fullest.
Role Play Sample:
The heels made only a soft tap on the solid stone as the young girl stepped and walked, the tapestries hung about the castle muffling the otherwise minute echo that came from each step. She had to say, the old count had a sense of taste... and a lot of money, despite his growing dementia. It was almost sad in a way that things oftentimes came to this - old men refusing to yield their power to their younger and better successors because of a misguided or greedy sense that they are the only ones that may hold such power. Almost sad. It wasn't her job to care for the morals of it, though - she was paid to do her job, and that was it, there wasn't any business in worrying how the old count may feel about it.
The dragonkin stepped through the doors, smiling warmly at the count, who was facing away from the door, looking off into goodness knows where. She hadn't needed to worry about guards as the son who had paid her to do this had already dealt with them using money, so it was simply a question of the act itself. She pulled her gloves a little to make sure they were seated properly, the silk design rolling up to halfway up her upper arms. It made her smile a little to watch the man working tirelessly still, focusing on the most tiny minutia of a barony much large than the individual ducats he seemed to care so intimately about. She took her garrote out, and stepped up to the body, wrapping his throat with the cord and then tightening aggressively, thin arms suddenly tightening with iron sinews that made her only shake a little as she held the tight squeeze. The old man wheezed and struggled, but with his windpipe shut, he was unable to cast upon any words or skills he had learned, wriggling about in his chair until suddenly, slowly, his struggles lessened, movement slowing and becoming less aggressive, mouth opening and closing less, eyes opening and then drooping closed...his lips turned blue, and his motion ceased wholly, fingers twitching for the last time.
In the silence, she nodded to herself, before reaching over the counter and picking up a large sweet and then gently placing it into his mouth, pushing it back into his throat and letting it wedge in, leaving him looking as if he had eaten one too many, and had paid the price... With that, she alighted, as quietly as she had come, disappearing out the door and into the night. Her work was done, and payment was to come soon.
Name: Gavrila Princeps
Gender: Female
Race: Dragonkin
Age: 27
Appearance
Visual Appearance:
Physical Appearance: Just about the definition of lithe and graceful, Ms. Princeps carries herself with all of the comfortable authority and arrogance that one can only come to expect from a dragonkin. Her fur is immaculately well maintained, and she seems to shine constantly, taking a great deal of time to keep herself in good appearance when she is not working on "business".
Personality Information
Likes: Gold, Jewelery, dancing, blades, Religious prayer, Darkness and dimly lit areas, fancy clothing, attention, opening throats, intrigue, being treated properly.
Dislikes: Bright areas, being interrupted while speaking, unnecessary shows of magic, being treated as if incompetent
General Personality: Acts very much like a proper Pre-Victorian lady, in that she's polite, demure towards men, takes no qualms with being treated as a second class woman, but takes great offense to being considered incompetent - she's not a man's equal in political or social stature, but she is the best at the jobs she does, and she does them with excessive efficiency. She is very much polite and clean and spares her talking for things she understands. The bulk of that being religion and "intrigue" (spying and assassination, for those more uncouth than she), and the workings of social politics in political courts.
Equipment
Stuff: Theological Codices, Hashish, parchment, quills, pipe.
Equipment: Blade (seen in picture), Garrote, various poisons, daggers, padded clothing ("light armor" worked into various outfits)
Money:
Powers
Racial Powers:
Wisdom of the Wyrms: The natural, instinctive knowledge of the universe flows through their veins. Magic research and development times are significantly lowered.
Draconic BloodLine: The Magic in their blood comes naturally, causing all Dragonkin to count as Adepts.
Dragonkin have thick scales that make them hardier in physical combat.
Unique Powers:
Skills/spells/talents/other: Can Read and write in most civilized languages, but can only speak Draconic. Can fight with that terrifying weapon that she has shown, along with small blades. knows how to keep herself light on her feet and use darkness to her advantages. Has a "silver tongue". Practices basic physical arts. Perfect housewife on top of all of this (cooking, cleaning, etc.)
Career
Class: Warrior 1 (because there's no real option for the espionage)
Job: "Spymaster/Priest for hire"
Legend: None, yet
Rank:
Spymaster (*----)
Mystic/Priest/Archbishop (*----)
Character's History
History: Now, as logic would come to state, there are many types of dragons, and as such, there are many types of dragonkin. Of course, the Draconian Empire doesn't like to talk about some of their minorities, due to their... very obvious lack of cohesion with the rest of the otherwise 'harmonious' empire. Their appearance is markedly different, they speak different, they act different, and they don't "worship IO correctly". This lays largely in the marked rejection of IO as a singular, mortal coil, and rather passive though heretical ideal of a singular being who through his sons and daughters created and spread the good word of him through life. Of course, IO is one of those sons, yet the heresy and borderline 'obscene' words of such people represent a marked struggle with many, and such a struggle was into which Gavrila was born.
A young child of the head priest in a duchy outside of the stricter discipline of the immediate Imperial seat, Gavrila was immersed into religion and court politics at an early life - So much so, that she, by the time she was a mere 6 years old, was considered a prodigy of the spiritual and the intrigue of courts, both the face shown to the world and their darker, more subtle sides. Of course, a young child of such status was placed into training to become a monk of sorts, though she was quickly reallocated in the programs she had been placed in as it was found that her skills were much more in the realm of the mind and the hidden blade. As she grew in age, her teachers instilled into her both the importance of her religion and her skills, but the importance of acting as a proper female in the court, and acting like an adult woman should - most definitely instilling into her that attempting to act like a rough and tumble warrior was not only unwomanly, but inappropriate for her as such a delicate and dangerous beauty. This was something she accepted happily, and as such, became much untoward the foxglove flower - beautiful and splendid, but lethally poisonous and destructive in the right environments...
Eventually, the sweet young girl reached the ripe age of 16, and was "freed" from the training and teaching she was placed under, and told that she must find employment and a proper suitor outside of the duchy, where she could be more safe and more open with her skills and herself. Her hope was, of course, to be employed in one of her two very intimate skills, and as such, she began her search for a court in which she could have her skills employed to their fullest.
Role Play Sample:
The heels made only a soft tap on the solid stone as the young girl stepped and walked, the tapestries hung about the castle muffling the otherwise minute echo that came from each step. She had to say, the old count had a sense of taste... and a lot of money, despite his growing dementia. It was almost sad in a way that things oftentimes came to this - old men refusing to yield their power to their younger and better successors because of a misguided or greedy sense that they are the only ones that may hold such power. Almost sad. It wasn't her job to care for the morals of it, though - she was paid to do her job, and that was it, there wasn't any business in worrying how the old count may feel about it.
The dragonkin stepped through the doors, smiling warmly at the count, who was facing away from the door, looking off into goodness knows where. She hadn't needed to worry about guards as the son who had paid her to do this had already dealt with them using money, so it was simply a question of the act itself. She pulled her gloves a little to make sure they were seated properly, the silk design rolling up to halfway up her upper arms. It made her smile a little to watch the man working tirelessly still, focusing on the most tiny minutia of a barony much large than the individual ducats he seemed to care so intimately about. She took her garrote out, and stepped up to the body, wrapping his throat with the cord and then tightening aggressively, thin arms suddenly tightening with iron sinews that made her only shake a little as she held the tight squeeze. The old man wheezed and struggled, but with his windpipe shut, he was unable to cast upon any words or skills he had learned, wriggling about in his chair until suddenly, slowly, his struggles lessened, movement slowing and becoming less aggressive, mouth opening and closing less, eyes opening and then drooping closed...his lips turned blue, and his motion ceased wholly, fingers twitching for the last time.
In the silence, she nodded to herself, before reaching over the counter and picking up a large sweet and then gently placing it into his mouth, pushing it back into his throat and letting it wedge in, leaving him looking as if he had eaten one too many, and had paid the price... With that, she alighted, as quietly as she had come, disappearing out the door and into the night. Her work was done, and payment was to come soon.
