Written 2003, © Erica 2005

Profile for Realm of Dragons (RPG died and was later purged by Ezboard... sad... I liked this one...)

-Personal-

Name: Erica "Dragonkeeper clan forever"
Ezboard SNs: Azurial, Berlioz Callaghan
Email address: [email protected]

-Character-

Name: Gilraen Anwarünya
Nicknames: Gilly, Runya, Epona
Age: 25 (b-day March 21)
Gender: Female
Species: Elven
Occupation: Ranger
Location: Tarí Ancalímon, though she goes where her duties as a Ranger take her

Physical Appearance: Tall and pale, Gilraen has the "typical" appearance of her people. Reaching about 6 feet tall, she is lean, limber and agile, with long fingered hands. Her long pale blonde hair reaches her waist and is kept half loose and half in various small braids. Gilraen's light blue eyes, the color of the sky on a clear day, are sharp and quick, perfect for archery. And like the rest of her people, her ears are pointed at the top and about and about a inch taller than a human's, making her hearing sharper as well. Gilraen is usual dressed in her ranger's garb, brown and green tunic, leggings and leather boots. Over everything she wears a grey elven cloak, fastened at the throat with a leaf shaped clasp (both her mother's). The strange cloak, woven by elves, has an almost camouflaging property and blends in with almost every surrounding. As befit her elven blood, she carries a bow her father made for her and wears a quiver of green flighted arrows on her back. Gilraen also carries two matching daggers at her waist that had been her mother's. Around her neck and tucked under her tunic, she wears a flat mithril disk engraved with the Silver Tree of the High-Elves.

Personality: Gilraen is somewhat quiet but also a bit more outgoing than most expect from an elf. Insatiably curious, but just as cautious, Gilraen has a taste for both learning and adventure, an unusual combination in an elf. But it suits her pourpose as Gilraen is something of a wanderer. She goes where her Ranger duties take her, and enjoys the view as she travels. Gilraen rarely loses her temper, not that she has much of one, and is able to keep a pretty good grip on her emotions. Most find it difficult to disceirn what's she's thinking. And she wants to keep it that way. Gilraen is careful in who she trusts, and it takes a while for others, even other elves, to earn her complete trust. But once they do, they have her friendship forever. Gilraen loves her friends like family and would put her life on the line for them in a heartbeat.

Brief History: Gilraen was born to Eámanë, daughter of Míriel (mother) and Caranthir (father), and Elerossë, son of Enelya (mother) and Lenwë (father), on the vernal equinox in Tarí Ancalímon. Her mother, Eámanë, was from the clan of elves in the White Forest not far from Dragon Keep. Her father, Elerossë, was from Tarí Ancalímon and was the oldest son of the head of the Elder council. Eámanë was betrothed to Elerossë when she was sixteen and when he was eighteen. Eámanë journeyed to Tarí Ancalímon later that year and the two started to get aquainted. They were married two years after the betrothal.
Gilraen is the only child of her parents, born five years after their marriage. Gilraen began developing her magic at a young age. She could often be found chatting amibly with the trees around her home. Gilraen also loved being with the horses her parents owned. Her favorite was her mother's horse, Nessa, a beautiful white mare. Seeing how much Gilraen loved horses, Eámanë began teaching her daughter how to ride when she was six. Gilraen took to riding like a fish to water. Of course, she rode her pony bareback, and she rode everywhere. The sight of Gilraen riding about Tarí Ancalímon on her little pony became such a common and beloved sight that the elves there nicknamed her "Epona" or "protectress of horses."
When Gilraen was eight, Eámanë took the journey back to the White Forest so her young daughter could meet her grandparents. Halfway there, they were waylaid by highwayman in the middle of the night. Gilraen, hidden in her mother's cloak, escaped noticed and was able to hide in the woods. Despite her skill with the daggers, Eámanë was slain, and Gilraen witnessed it. The young child wandered for days in a traumatized daze, until some elves from the White Forest found her and took her back to the clan.
Gilraen spent the next ten years with her mother's people in the White Forest. And while she's managed to go on with her life, she's still haunted by nightmares of that night. It was because of her experience that Gilraen developed a deep mistrust and strong dislike for humans. Gilraen continued to work on her magic, becoming an accomplished healer, and eventually learning to listen to the ground like she did the trees, though she couldn't speak to the earth like she did the trees. During the time she spent in the White Forest, she trained in the use of the bow and daggers, becoming quite skilled with both weapons. And Gilraen became an excellent tracker and proficient tree climber, as she would often wander off into the White Forest and climb trees alone, in an effort to sort her thoughts.
On Gilraen's sixteenth birthday Míriel (her grandmother), who was still quite active for the age of 65, gave her a white horse, just like Eámanë's mare Nessa. Gilraen named the mare Morwen. Morwen as it turned out, was in fact the a foal of Nessa. It was Gilraen that trained Morwen to be ridden, and for the most part, only Gilraen can ride her. Like in Tarí Ancalímon, Gilraen rode Morwen for hours, going everywhere in the White Forest. Finally, on her eighteenth birthday she traveled back to Tarí Ancalímon. By this point, Gilraen never went anywhere without her mother's daggers belted at her waist and a bow and quiver strapped to her back.
Elerossë had been crushed by the news of his wife's murder. Refusing to marry again, he granted permission for Gilraen to stay in the White Forest, and threw himself into his duties for the Elder Council, which he had been placed on shortly after his marriage to Eámanë. By the time Gilraen returned, Elerossë was the sixth in line for the position of the Head of the Elder Council. Realizing his little girl had grown up, he gave her his consent to live on her own and lead her own life. Because of what happened to Eámanë, Elerossë had avoided betrothing Gilraen, though several elves that would have made fine husbands had offered for her hand. After presenting her with the bow he had made for her and a quiver of green flighted arrows, Elerossë gave her the mithril pendant, a family heirloom. Elerossë then gave her some very strange instructions, and faintly, Gilraen heard her mother's voice speaking along with her father.
"Take what road your heart will choose, it won't lead just anywhere. Find the white tower of ages past, and fate will meet you there.
Seek the soul of purest gold, look for the crown of valour. When the sun shines from the sword of the king, the elves shall have their hour.
Follow the path of woven light, there where the moon meets the sun. Find the way to the forgotten wood, only then will we have won."
The words burned themselves into Gilraen's mind, but when Gilraen repeated them and asked Elerossë whate he had meant later, he denyed having said it, saying they both must have dozed off. Gilraen knew her father wasn't a Seer, but she also knew that once in a long while those on the other side would send messages. Still somewhat puzzled, Gilraen left and joined the elven segment of the Rangers. She was a valuable asset to the Rangers, bring not only her skill with the bow and daggers, but also her healing and earth magic. It is because of her magic that it is difficult to sneak up on her.
During the seven years after she left Tarí Ancalímon, Elerossë has become the third in line for the head of the Elder council. Gilraen has slowly learned not to hate all humans. She spent some time with the Dragonkeepers of the Keep and learned that they at least were different from the humans that had killed her mother. And when on occassion, she did met humans other than Dragonkeepers, she noticed the difference between the two, and very few humans outside the Dragonkeepers and Rangers have her trust. Gilraen is now part of a patrol of both human and elven Rangers, keeping watch on the Dragon Keep boarders.

Opinion on the War: As an Elf, Gilraen knows she's supposed to be neutral about the war, not caring either way. But as a Ranger, Gilraen has had to interact with humans on occasion, mainly Dragonkeepers. She doesn't entirly care one whit about what happens to the rest of the humans, but she does want the Dragonkeepers to be alright.

Writing Sample: Night... a twig breaking... her mother standing... daggers ready... three men... attacking Mother... two fall... fire swirling... a flash of blade... Mother falling... blood... blood everywhere... the man with the cut face... darkness...
Gilraen jerked awake, her breath ragged and unsteady. It had been the nightmare again. Gradually her breathing returned to normal, but she was still troubled. Swinging her feet to the side of her cot, she stood up. Maybe a walk would do her some good. Pulling on her boots and tunic, she left the Rangers quarters and stepped outside. The moon was full and she had no need for a torch. Closing her eyes, she listened to the trees. They were murmuring gently about summer, summer was to be soon. Gilraen smiled slightly and opened her eyes. Summer meant a trip to Tarí Ancalímon, a visit to her father and his parents.
A soft whicker brought her attention to the stables. Pulling up on the latch, Gilraen opened the door and walked in. Greating each of the horses in turn, she made her way down to Morwen's stall. The white mare stuck her head over the door of her stall and nuzzled Gilraen. Rubbing the silver star on the mare's head, she remembered fondly when she had first met Morwen. She had been sixteen and the mare had just become old enough to ride. Gilraen herself had trained the mare and Morwen had served her faithfully ever since. The sound of soft footsteps alerted her and Gilraen realized she had left her daggers on the floor by her cot. Not smart. As the shape of someone stepped into the doorway of the stables, Gilraen slowly reached for a pitchfork that was standing next to Morwen's stall.
"Goodness Gilly, you don't need to gouge me with that."
Gilraen laughed and left the pitchfork where it was. Squinting in the dark she made out the features of Tinehtelë, one of the other elves in her barracks. He was a couple years older than her and from the White Forest. His pale blond hair was pulled back and she could make out the slight smirk on his lips.
"You're lucky I don't have my daggers with me, Tineh, or you might have found one sticking out of your chest."
"I just can't sneak up on you can I? Anyway, I knew you didn't have them with you, as they were laying by your cot..."
Gilraen raised an eyebrow at that statement. Tinehtelë, realizing his mistake, fell silent. 'Too bad he had his back to the moonlight,' Gilraen thought, as she would love to see if he was blushing.
"And just what were you doing in the female side of the quarters Tinehtelë?"

((This was my second writing sample. I was going to use the one below, but that got too long. Hehe..))

It was dark. It was always dark. Gilraen could see her mother on the other side of the fire, sitting up, daggers at her side. Gilraen found it amazing how her mother could stay awake all night and still ride the whole next day. But what Gilraen didn't know was that her mother was asleep, as with practice, elves could sleep with their eyes open. Eámanë kept watch each night, and though she was sleeping like her young daughter, her senses were locked and alert. Snuggling herself deeper into her mother's cloak, Gilraen drifted off the sleep.
The snap of a twig just outside their clearing jolted Gilraen out of her slumber and brought Eámanë to her feet, twin daggers in hand. Gilraen lay still as her mother had taught her, and watched as her mother's blue eyes scanned the night. Perhaps it was only an animal, but the look in her mother's eyes told her otherwise. The step had been to heavy for an animal. Starting to become frightened, Gilraen was glad for the elven cloak that covered her.
There was a sudden rustling in the bushes on one side of the clearing. Eámanë turned in that direction, keeping her back to the fire. Another bush rustled in a different location, then another. Then with a terrible shout, three men lept into the clearing, knives drawn. Gilraen lay still, knowing she was safe under the cloak. Eámanë swept her dagger at the first man, catching him across the face, and leaving a deep cut from his chin to his temple, just missing his eye. He would have the scar forever, as wounds inflicted by elven blades could only be fully healed by elves. The first man dropped his knife and pressing a hand to his face, fell to his knees. Just then the second man grabbed Eámanë around the waist bring his knife to her throat. But Eámanë was quicker and the second man fell with a dagger wound in his stomach. The third man was more cautious than the first two and circled Eámanë like a wild cat that had cornered it prey. Bending down, Eámanë grasped one of the branches in the fire and threw it at the man. Trying to dodge the flaming projectile, he tripped on a tree root and fell.
Then Gilraen heard her mother's voice in her head. ::Run Runya! Now! I'll find you.:: Standing up quickly and keeping the cloak wrapped around her, Gilraen darted into the darkness of the woods. As soon as the night had hidden her, she crouched down and peered through the leaves of a bush, fingering the small knife at her waist. She couldn't leave her mother alone.
As the third man stumbled to his feet, Eámanë flung one of her daggers at him, catching him in the chest. But she had forgotten about the first man. As she was flinging her dagger at the third man, the first man snuck up behind her and slid a dagger into her breast from behind. Gilraen tried to shout, but found that her throat couldn't make a sound. All she could do was watch. Eámanë whirled around, blood already flecking her pale lips, and swing with her other dagger. The silver blade flashed in the firelight and caught the man on the other side of his face, giving him a cut to match the first. The dagger slid from her fingers into the fire as Eámanë slid to the ground. Pulling the knife from her chest, she watched transfixed as her blood seeped into her clothes. The silver-white of her tunic was slowly stained a crimson red. Her gaze then turned to the man, who stood above her. Eámanë's blue eyes began to cloud over, as if they were covered with a misty fog. She drew a ragged gasp of air, and with her dying breath whispered softly to the man. "A curse I lay upon you man, for I shall come again. My life continues in another, And in the end she shall win..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes closed.
Gilraen pressed herself against the tree behind her. No, this couldn't have happened. Her mother couldn't be dead. She wanted to go shake her mother tell her to stop playing, but her limbs wouldn't move, and in her heart, she knew her mother was dead. All she could do was watch as the first man plundered their packs, taking their food and other items. But when he tried to take the dagger that was in his friend's chest, he jerked his hand back as if he had been burned. Gilraen remembered her mother telling her that her daggers had been atuned to her, and that only someone with her blood could wield it. The man, not knowing this, probably thought it was cursed and left it. Gilraen eventually fell asleep exhausted.
When morning finally came, Gilraen keep her eyes closed against the ray of sun that was hitting her face. Hoping it had all been a bad dream, she slowly opened her eyes. No, it hadn't been a dream. It was real; her mother was dead. The voice that had left her throat the night before was working again as she let out an anguished cry. The movement that had vanished from her limbs returned as she scrabbled to her feet and dashed to her mother's side. Her mother lay still, her pale skin almost shinning in the dawn light. She looked like she was sleeping. 'Please let her be sleeping,' Gilraen thought.
"Mother, Mother! Please, please, wake up! Please wake up!" But the crimson stain on the front of her mother's tunic brought her back to reality. Her mother was dead.
Gilraen's head swam. What was she going to do? She had no food and she had no idea where she was. Gilraen knew they were going to the White Forest, but she didn't know where that was. Maybe she could find it. Gilraen rocked back and forth on her heels. No, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. Standing up in a daze, she plucked the dagger from the bed of coals, not caring that she burned her hand a bit, and tucked it into her belt. Then she walked over and yanked the other dagger out of the man's chest. Wiping it off on some leaves, she tucked it into the other side of her belt. Bringing the hood of the cloak over her head, she left the clearing and began walking. Where she went, she didn't care.