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Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 4:02 am
SPECIAL CHAPTER: Amrita's Journal gaia_crown Knight's Name: Amrita Baital gaia_crown Chosen Faction: Black gaia_crown Rank: Knight-Apprentice gaia_crown Battle Dice Stats: 1d4 gaia_crown FRAGMENTS OBTAINED LOG: - - gaia_crown SEALED CARDS OBTAINED LOG: - - gaia_crown BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTER: Amrita was born to parents that could barely support themselves, let alone a child. Most of her upbringing consisted of hard work and having her station drilled into her head, and as such she developed a very keen sense of self-deprivation. She is meek and nervous, but is more than eager to work and please. When given the opportunity to join the knighthood she went willingly, hoping to finally be of use to something and someone. It was the only 'selfish' thing she had done in her life.
Physically, she is dark-skinned, grey-eyed, and had long ago cut her black hair for the sake of ease; the shorter it was, the less she had to take care of it and the more time she had for other things. She has small scars over her body from accidents in her youth, and some bruises mottling her skin as she continues to be a little clumsy on the draw. Clothing wise she prefers something simple and loose enough that she could move easily, with a pouch around her waist to carry the few things she needs to get by.
gaia_crown For my reference: 
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Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 6:04 pm
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Posted: Thu May 07, 2015 5:51 pm
Pre-Siege Solo
The castle was trembling as she ran from the banquet hall, following the Great Knights as they made their way to the gates. Along the way she paused at the armoury (though it was less her pausing on her own, and more of one of the higher ranking knights who stopped and ordered them to prepare themselves), and went inside to arm herself. She latched and strung her crude armour, fitting metal plates over loose fitting clothing. Everything she wore was black, lined only in dark greys to break up the colour. Even the armour she donned was solidly coloured, announcing her faction even before any one had a chance to ask.
Before she put on her helmet, she slicked her short hair back. Trembling fingers pushed thick, uneven locks of dark hair back along her scalp, the ends managing to knot in her haste to get it done. Of course she'd manage to knot her hair. of course. She was useless, and that only solidified it. It took a bit of a struggle to free her fingers, and she slammed the helmet down on her head before her hair could protest further.
Next, her weapon. Without a second thought she reached out, grabbing the handle of a nearby claymore. The minute her fingers curled around it, the minute she felt something. A sense of foreboding. A memory on the tip of her tongue, trying to warn her of something important. It faded quickly, but it left her with a sense of concern. Now she knew that something was wrong, but…what…? She remembered the sky being dark, and the way the blood turned the mud on the land a deep, disturbing red. There was something else though, something terribly important.
It was there, on the tip of her memories. At the forefront of her mind, blocked only by a solid wall.
She shook her head to try and remove the alien feeling, and belted the achingly familiar sword around her waist. Then, still feeling the uncomfortable sense of the lingering memory, she left to help the barricades.
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