Fleurette Chesnier

Level 1 Rogue
Alhara Human, Highborn
Age: 16
Married to (man in picture below, name TBA)

Attributes

Strength: 15(+2)
Dexterity: 17 (+3)
Constitution: 14 (+2)
Intelligence: 15 (+2)
Wisdom: 16 (+3)
Charisma: 18 (+4)

HP: 6
AC: 10 +3 Dex = 13

To Hit Melee: BAB: 0 + 2 Str = +2

To Hit Range: BAB: 0 + 3 Dodge = +3

Damage:

Saves
Fort +2
Reflex +5
Will +4

Skills

Weapon Profs

Languages:

Class Abilities

Feats:

Equipment:

0 PP, 0 GP, 0 SP, 0 CP

Aspires to:

Fochlucan Lyrist
Warrior, thief, spy, poet, woodland champion � the Fochlucan lyrist is a legendary figure who serves as the herald and teacher to great kings, the champion of common folk, and the keeper of lore long forgotten elsewhere. Only the best and brightest are invited to become Fochlucan lyrists, and those who eventually win the approval of the Fochlucan College�s masters are remarkable individuals indeed, skilled in swordplay, magic, and diplomacy.
Those who aspire to join the Fochlucan College face a long and difficult road. The great bards who lead the school choose only individuals who have demonstrated skill at arms and stealth, learning and cleverness, superb talent with the lute and an ear for the stories of old. Finally, all applicants must first study the lore of the druids, learning the ways of growth and the hidden secrets of nature. Few indeed can stand up to the rigorous scrutiny of the Fochlucan masters.
Requirements
Skills: Decipher Script 7 ranks, Diplomacy 7 ranks, Gather Information 7 ranks, Knowledge (nature) 7 ranks, Perform (string instruments) 13 ranks, Sleight of Hand 7 ranks, Speak Language (Druidic)
Alignment: Neutral good, neutral, chaotic neutral, neutral evil
Spells: Able to cast 1st level arcane and divine spells
Special: Bardic knowledge and evasion abilities

Background Story

Her mother came into the room to shake her. She hadn't really been sleeping, just pretending to do so to prolong the inevitable moment that she must get out of bed. She knew she couldn't put the moment off any longer though, so she opened her eyes to gaze up at her mother with a sad sigh.

Her mother pretended not to notice, as per the usual these days. She chatted on about the preparations for the day going perfectly, despite the tardiness of the bride, as she held up a beautiful white gown with golden trim. Taking a deep breath, Fleurette slid from the bed, allowing the servant to take over her bath.

Her thoughts went back to the night before, when her bridegroom had arrived. She knew from the beginning that they would never suit. How could they when their countries were at odds. It was hoped that two powerful families would end that in a marriage de convenience. And it would work for a while no doubt. She was the daughter of one of the most Notable Nobles, her family home centered in the heart of the capital. Her father was upon the Council of Advisers to the King himself. And she was his only daughter. It was why she was chosen for this 'honor'. All she had been told was that he was one of them, the hated enemy, and she was expected to marry him.

Her suspicions had been correct when she first met him, his look of boredom as he surveyed his surroundings... his look of superiority. His family was from the country, Landed barons, powerful in the way of all families who own half of their country. The problem, of course being, that he looked down upon her and her family as beneath him. Every word out of his mouth showed his contempt, veiled even as they were. She knew a well worded insult when she heard it. He didn't even bother to look like he was enjoying the feast. She had no choice but to welcome them into her home, and him into her bed in but one nights time. Yet she did it with a smile and a nod, showing she had no pretenses of her place in life. She was Nobility and she would do her duty, no matter how lothe-some.

Her servant, Jana, cleared her throat and held up her robe. It wasn't until that moment that she realized that her bath had grown cold. Yet another offense to place upon her betrothed shoulders. She stood to be dried off, sitting in front of the looking glass hung on the wall, she looks out the window as Jana begins to style her hair. "Any where but here. I wish I could be Anywhere but here." she thinks to herself as she dreams of far off places where the night is always there. They say that all sorts of creatures live there, including a race of humans that do nothing but what makes them feel good at the moment. To never be told what to do, and always do what makes you happy. Would that not be a wonderful life.

Instead, she stood up and allowed her mother and servant to slide the dress over her head. It fit her like a glove and showed her voluptuous hour glass figure off perfectly. She had been envisioning this dress but 3 weeks ago, but her vision had been of standing next to the newly made Lord Chilton. She had walked down the isle toward her besotted and happy bridegroom, her beauty expounded upon by him so often in the last weeks. She would have been happy. This was not that day, however, and the only thing that was worth being happy about was that she would look radiant as she walked toward her doom.

Part 2

Three nights into their marriage and she lay alone in her bed. She didn't wonder what had happened to them, she only was thankful that he hadn't returned since their disasterous wedding night. He had not cared that he hurt her, and she hadn't let him know how badly he had. She hated him as much as he did her, and while their countries were now at peace, their marriage certainly was little more than coldly accepting. She admitted to herself that he was a fine looking young man, when he chanced to smile, which was rarely. He had looked upon one of the girls from his own country at the wedding feast, and had smiled, and she felt a ping in the pit of her stomache. She was almost envious of the girl, for he was handsome in that moment, and he was hers but she would never see that look.

She had a knack for knowing what was going on in the city. Since she was a girl, she was able to gather information from her servants on what went on around her. And a knack for knowing how to get out and about without being found out. She made it to good use this night. She climbed out her window in an outfit borrowed from Jana who cried beside her begging her not to go. Fleurette sighed and climbed down anyway with a whipered, "I have to do this, Jana... I can't stay here. Not now. He's talking of taking me back THERE. Anywhere is better than here.... Anywhere but there."

Taking her bag of clothes and necessities she moves silently to the stable where she wrestles with the saddle and bridle. Usually a servant would help with such things, but she had worked too hard for this to all work just so. Planning since the worst day of her life, and the even worst night after. She rode out quickly, not looking back, not caring at this point who may have seen her flight into the night. She had a party to catch up to. They had given her a specific time and place to meet, and would leave her if she didn't make it. But that is how she wanted it. She wanted to be there just in the nick of time, so that if she was followed, they would not make it to the rendevous.

Had she been more causious, she would have realized that her husband's horse was not in its stall. Had she been more observant in her race to destiny, she would have noticed passing him on the way out of town. Had she listened a little more closely, she would have known he had turned to follow. She made her trip, she met her adventurers, she started out her new life, but closely behind her every step of the way was the one she most wanted to leave behind.

They had just stopped for the night and begun to set up camp when he rode up on his charger. Wild black stallion that suited his dark look, always that disapproving scowl. He swung himself off of the horse and closed the distance. He looked every bit the Noble that he was at that moment, and even with the scowl she felt a moments thrill at seeing him. Still she couldn't let him know that, for it would no doubt spark more of his snearing superiority. She tilted her chin up in definance and looked down her nose regally at him, "You shouldn't have followed. You are not wanted here."

The group she was now with moved to keep him away until he said the magic phrase, "Like it or not, your my wife." She gave him a glaring look, as the other adventurers went back to their business, knowing as well as she did that he had all rights to do whatever he wanted with her. She turned and crawled into her tent, ignoring dinner and just preparing for the night instead. She couldn't ever remember a time when she had ignored food, but then again, she was fat as far as her husband was concerned, so no doubt he would come up with a quick rejoiner to her lack of appitite. Truely, no matter what happened, he always had something nasty to say. She gave as good as she got, without a doubt, but she never came out of the conversation truely unscathed. Part of her truely loved the lively conversation, the attempt to get the better of him, but from time to time, it truely became close to hitting her heart with the mean words.

He moved in after her and the low conversation of angry words began. Hurtful barbs thrown back and forth until he finally grabbed her by the hair and pulled her into a crushing kiss. She drew back to slap him, only to again be pulled, and this time, she didn't just let him... she returned the kiss, angry and passionate.

She turned away from him after they were both well spent. He was staring up at the ceiling of the tent with that same self absorbed bored look that she remembered from the first time he looked upon her. She'd never go back home. Not now. Not with what they have forced her to endure. And she wouldn't go to his home. No. They would continue the course she had planned on. He would follow or he would return home alone. If she had anything to say about it, that is....and she planned to have everything to say about it.