Post by Ceutinde on Jun 23, 2020 21:26:47 GMT
Name: Ceutinde (Keh-oo-tin-deh)
Age: Who can tell with an elf?
Race: Elf
Title: Nothing formal. Lady if someone is polite, madame if they are less polite, "The Widow" in common parlance, quite a few worse options if they are downright rude.
Class: Financier
Attributes:
Strength 20
Agility 40
Health 40
Skills:
Politics
Charm 70
Seduction 70
Espionage 70
Finance 70
Diplomacy 40
Knowledge
Medical 70
Art (Dancing) 50
Language (Imperial) 20
Magic Schools
Healing 70
Enchanting 60
Light Armor
Rolls to negotiate prices or find rare supplies: +25
Background:
Ceutinde and her husband, Lilomeon, came to Bastion as newlyweds with the first wave of elves that answered the call to war and reconquest. He was a warrior of growing renown; she, the scion of long lines of healers on her father's side and (for lack of a precise translation into the human tongue) courtesan-entertainers on her mother's. He stayed barely long enough for a honeymoon before finding a band of companions and riding off to the great continent.
It was some months before Lilomeon returned. He did not come back the same man that Ceutinde had married. Physically whole, save for a few scars, but changed in his mind. He would not sleep without a candle lit in the room, and even then only fitfully. The smallest surprise sent him into a fit of terror. He would not leave the house for weeks, only peering out the windows as though he knew something else was peering back in. Ceutinde did all she could to care for him, to calm him, but in the end it was not enough. Not quite a year after he had come home, Lilomeon threw himself from the causeway.
Ceutinde mourned. Not just for the man who'd ended his life, but for the man who'd never come home. Cliche though it might be, when she emerged, she swore an oath to the (apparently vaguely-defined in this setting) elven gods: she would do all she could to tend, body and mind, to those who defended or had once defended Bastion. Calling upon old family ties among the elf community in Bastion, she made connections high and low, and set to raising funds to open a clinic to care for the veterans of the front.
The patriotic fervor exceeded expectations, and the Bastion House of Peace and Respite for Our Heroes was opened in a wealthy donor's spare manse. It does not cater solely for those wounded in defense of the last gasp of civilization - they receive heavily-subsidized treatment, subsized by the full prices paid by the city's wealthier degenerates.
Age: Who can tell with an elf?
Race: Elf
Title: Nothing formal. Lady if someone is polite, madame if they are less polite, "The Widow" in common parlance, quite a few worse options if they are downright rude.
Class: Financier
Attributes:
Strength 20
Agility 40
Health 40
Skills:
Politics
Charm 70
Seduction 70
Espionage 70
Finance 70
Diplomacy 40
Knowledge
Medical 70
Art (Dancing) 50
Language (Imperial) 20
Magic Schools
Healing 70
Enchanting 60
Light Armor
Rolls to negotiate prices or find rare supplies: +25
Background:
Ceutinde and her husband, Lilomeon, came to Bastion as newlyweds with the first wave of elves that answered the call to war and reconquest. He was a warrior of growing renown; she, the scion of long lines of healers on her father's side and (for lack of a precise translation into the human tongue) courtesan-entertainers on her mother's. He stayed barely long enough for a honeymoon before finding a band of companions and riding off to the great continent.
It was some months before Lilomeon returned. He did not come back the same man that Ceutinde had married. Physically whole, save for a few scars, but changed in his mind. He would not sleep without a candle lit in the room, and even then only fitfully. The smallest surprise sent him into a fit of terror. He would not leave the house for weeks, only peering out the windows as though he knew something else was peering back in. Ceutinde did all she could to care for him, to calm him, but in the end it was not enough. Not quite a year after he had come home, Lilomeon threw himself from the causeway.
Ceutinde mourned. Not just for the man who'd ended his life, but for the man who'd never come home. Cliche though it might be, when she emerged, she swore an oath to the (apparently vaguely-defined in this setting) elven gods: she would do all she could to tend, body and mind, to those who defended or had once defended Bastion. Calling upon old family ties among the elf community in Bastion, she made connections high and low, and set to raising funds to open a clinic to care for the veterans of the front.
The patriotic fervor exceeded expectations, and the Bastion House of Peace and Respite for Our Heroes was opened in a wealthy donor's spare manse. It does not cater solely for those wounded in defense of the last gasp of civilization - they receive heavily-subsidized treatment, subsized by the full prices paid by the city's wealthier degenerates.
