Freya Thrakin
Appearance
Freya, as do many of the nords, has pale skinned that seems to blend in with the near constant bombardment of snow and frost. Her hair hangs free, red and warm across the backdrop of her homeland. The armor she often wears is simple and plain, cloth reinforced with steel and iron. At her back lies her preferred weapon: a long spear, with images of a dragon carved into its blade. Two maces also hang at her hips, for when combat forces her to the ground.
Her side is rarely left alone, however, almost always being accompanied by Oris; A large, light grey dragon young by the standards of his peers. His eyes are typically a piercing white, but when bonded to his companion, they turn to an iridescent green.
Her side is rarely left alone, however, almost always being accompanied by Oris; A large, light grey dragon young by the standards of his peers. His eyes are typically a piercing white, but when bonded to his companion, they turn to an iridescent green.
Skills and Abilities
Few who get to see a dragon live to tell the tale, and fewer who get to ride atop one ever have their bodies found. Freya is one of those few. Few can match her prowess when it comes to riding a dragon, both due to the rarity of dragon riders and her skill at the task. Freya's skill at taming the beasts come from one particular ability: the ability to bond.
When one becomes close to any beast, even one as mighty as a dragon, a bond is formed. Some are weak and frail, while others can last a lifetime. The bond between Freya and Oris goes beyond the natural limit of these bonds, allowing them to understand and communicate with each other to a new degree. With this bond, they can act in near perfect unison. Thoughts, images and emotions can all be sent through this bond, without a word spoken between them. Their movements contain an unnatural similarity, as one's pace seems to always match the other when they are near.
From the maw of Oris, searing hot fire can escape as his breath, able to lay waste to those that cannot escape. He is young however, and his size pales in comparison to the elder dragons. Freya is skilled in combat both atop Oris and on the ground, using her spear and maces respectively. When they are together, a fight can seem almost like a choreographed routine, fluid and planned as they wordlessly cooperate.
When one becomes close to any beast, even one as mighty as a dragon, a bond is formed. Some are weak and frail, while others can last a lifetime. The bond between Freya and Oris goes beyond the natural limit of these bonds, allowing them to understand and communicate with each other to a new degree. With this bond, they can act in near perfect unison. Thoughts, images and emotions can all be sent through this bond, without a word spoken between them. Their movements contain an unnatural similarity, as one's pace seems to always match the other when they are near.
From the maw of Oris, searing hot fire can escape as his breath, able to lay waste to those that cannot escape. He is young however, and his size pales in comparison to the elder dragons. Freya is skilled in combat both atop Oris and on the ground, using her spear and maces respectively. When they are together, a fight can seem almost like a choreographed routine, fluid and planned as they wordlessly cooperate.
Personality
Serious and calm, Freya rarely lets her appearance crack around those she doesn't know well. Her humor is nearly always played with a straight face and the occasional smile. However, with Oris, her demeanor immediately shifts, the stoic figure swiftly becoming friendly and jovial, almost like a sister.
Oris, despite his imposing figure, is deeply curious, especially with other people and dragons. He's content to observe and watch, occasionally coming in to inspect or question something. The dragon is also deeply protective of Freya, as is she of him, and any action deemed harmful is quickly scrutinized.
Oris, despite his imposing figure, is deeply curious, especially with other people and dragons. He's content to observe and watch, occasionally coming in to inspect or question something. The dragon is also deeply protective of Freya, as is she of him, and any action deemed harmful is quickly scrutinized.
Biography & Lore
In her village, dragons were a thing of myth and legend, a part of stories made to terrify children into staying inside. Pure fiction, nothing more and nothing less.
Freya was young when she met Oris, perhaps only 10 harsh winters old. Her grandmother was the first to see them, the owl she always kept at her side letting out a haunting screech that drew the whole village near. Her mother told her to stay in bed, that it was simply a bear that had startled him, and went to check. Pillars of smoke billowed off into the distance, the light of fires streaming through the forest. The villagers had little time to react before warhorns pierced the silence, as the sound of dozens of footsteps became louder and louder. Freya could only hide and listen as screams began to ring out, cut short by the strike of metal. A muffled shout filled the air, a commanding tone around his words. The smell of smoke began to sting her nostrils, and as she peeked out from the covers, black clouds were trailing up her window. The village was burning.
Freya darted out from her room, hurriedly unlatching the window before the raiders could realize she was there. As she slipped out of her room, she could only stand still as the sound of roaring deafened any other noise. It was a sound that caused her bones to shake, even the flames wavering at the unleashed sound. Against a backdrop of orange flames, she saw the raiders: not imposing or even frightening, as they all stood petrified as they watched the black skies. Her body shook as she turned her gaze upward. The stars filled the sky, brilliant and bright, until one moment, they vanished. A silhouette crossed the starry expanse. Freya ran, ran as fast as she could for the forest. She could hardly turn back to watch the beast rain down hellfire. The raiders' shouts turned to screams, and then to a thick silence.
When she next opened her eyes, the village was gone. Reduced to ash and smoldering ruins. She moved to walk amongst the remnants, seeing the corpses of those she knew, each marred with blade wounds and arrows. She saw the fallen bodies of those that had caused it, almost unrecognizable as anything more than ash. A voice came from the bodies behind her, gruff and sharp: "You're going to pay for what happened to my men." She didn't turn around. "Look at me, girl. I don't know what that thing was, but somebody's gotta get punished." Shuddering, she glanced back. A heavy, muscular man looked back at her, fur adorning his clothing as his hand tightly gripped an axe. Her eyes glanced up. A figure lurked behind him, not human but not quite a mere animal. It rose to its full height, as great wings unfurled from scaled skin, its eyes a white that threatened to outshine the moon. "What you lookin' at, girl?" The girl said nothing. The creature tilted its head, almost asking what she wanted. After a moment, a low rumbling emanated from the beast. The raider's skin turned pale at the sound, his demeanor falling to rubble. A claw rose from the ground and, grasping the raider, forcefully pushed him to the ground, earning the sound of grunts and moans, all while watching the girl.
Freya was young when she met Oris, perhaps only 10 harsh winters old. Her grandmother was the first to see them, the owl she always kept at her side letting out a haunting screech that drew the whole village near. Her mother told her to stay in bed, that it was simply a bear that had startled him, and went to check. Pillars of smoke billowed off into the distance, the light of fires streaming through the forest. The villagers had little time to react before warhorns pierced the silence, as the sound of dozens of footsteps became louder and louder. Freya could only hide and listen as screams began to ring out, cut short by the strike of metal. A muffled shout filled the air, a commanding tone around his words. The smell of smoke began to sting her nostrils, and as she peeked out from the covers, black clouds were trailing up her window. The village was burning.
Freya darted out from her room, hurriedly unlatching the window before the raiders could realize she was there. As she slipped out of her room, she could only stand still as the sound of roaring deafened any other noise. It was a sound that caused her bones to shake, even the flames wavering at the unleashed sound. Against a backdrop of orange flames, she saw the raiders: not imposing or even frightening, as they all stood petrified as they watched the black skies. Her body shook as she turned her gaze upward. The stars filled the sky, brilliant and bright, until one moment, they vanished. A silhouette crossed the starry expanse. Freya ran, ran as fast as she could for the forest. She could hardly turn back to watch the beast rain down hellfire. The raiders' shouts turned to screams, and then to a thick silence.
When she next opened her eyes, the village was gone. Reduced to ash and smoldering ruins. She moved to walk amongst the remnants, seeing the corpses of those she knew, each marred with blade wounds and arrows. She saw the fallen bodies of those that had caused it, almost unrecognizable as anything more than ash. A voice came from the bodies behind her, gruff and sharp: "You're going to pay for what happened to my men." She didn't turn around. "Look at me, girl. I don't know what that thing was, but somebody's gotta get punished." Shuddering, she glanced back. A heavy, muscular man looked back at her, fur adorning his clothing as his hand tightly gripped an axe. Her eyes glanced up. A figure lurked behind him, not human but not quite a mere animal. It rose to its full height, as great wings unfurled from scaled skin, its eyes a white that threatened to outshine the moon. "What you lookin' at, girl?" The girl said nothing. The creature tilted its head, almost asking what she wanted. After a moment, a low rumbling emanated from the beast. The raider's skin turned pale at the sound, his demeanor falling to rubble. A claw rose from the ground and, grasping the raider, forcefully pushed him to the ground, earning the sound of grunts and moans, all while watching the girl.
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