Kieara Macraith
Appearance
She has a curling, mischievous smile, and her cheeks grow redder under squinting, merry eyes when she laughs. A long dagger rests in a sheath at her hip, along with several pouches and a satchel hanging down from her shoulder. When it rains, she dons a bright green cloak with a pointed hood. And in her hand she hefts a long, knobby walking stick.
Skills and Abilities
Gift of Mana - Due to the circumstances of Kieara's birth, she has become attuned to the realm of magic for as long as she can remember. Almost every commoner from Cork sees a faerie or a spriggan or a gwall in their lifetime, but Kieara can't help but notice them in all the little nooks and crannies of the world. However, her curse has kept her from pursuing any kind of formal magical training. She has been taught to reject and fear her ability.
Hard Worker - Her father taught her from a young age to never squander her time when there's work to be done. Life on the Isle of Cork is filled with toil and Kieara is no stranger to hardship. She is a relentless force when she has set her mind to something.
Belle of Bluirstede - Though her red hair marks her curse, that hasn't stopped the younger, brasher lads to come courting her favor. She's had more than a smidge of practice flirting with the young and naive farmer's sons who cross her path. Kieara is well aware of her simple beauty and isn't afraid to use it to her advantage, though her mother often scolds her for her vanity.
Poacher's Daughter - Kieara knows how to hunt, trained with bow and sword by her father. She can track a deer, kill it, gut it, and tan it for it's hide. She has never learned the fineries of man-to-man combat, but she's sly and quiet when she needs to be.
Hard Worker - Her father taught her from a young age to never squander her time when there's work to be done. Life on the Isle of Cork is filled with toil and Kieara is no stranger to hardship. She is a relentless force when she has set her mind to something.
Belle of Bluirstede - Though her red hair marks her curse, that hasn't stopped the younger, brasher lads to come courting her favor. She's had more than a smidge of practice flirting with the young and naive farmer's sons who cross her path. Kieara is well aware of her simple beauty and isn't afraid to use it to her advantage, though her mother often scolds her for her vanity.
Poacher's Daughter - Kieara knows how to hunt, trained with bow and sword by her father. She can track a deer, kill it, gut it, and tan it for it's hide. She has never learned the fineries of man-to-man combat, but she's sly and quiet when she needs to be.
Personality
Kieara's father likes to compare her to the sea. Clear as crystal one moment, and choppy and vengeful the next. Kieara is known to often have wild swings in mood in the span of day. Some times she is melancholy and wistful, other times promiscuous and youthful, or even stubborn and biting. Her only consistent trait is her inconsistency. Folk that face her wrath on a bad day cross their breasts and say a prayer to the gods that their children stay far far away from the her and her fiery curse. Any mention of her curse puts her in a foul mood, though her parents do their best to shield her from the gossiping of the locals of Bluirstede.
Kieara is a curious girl, but she's also not the most brave. She knows she is no match for a monster or brigand along the road, so she has learned to be incredibly cautious and skeptical about the world around her. She will outright avoid conflict unless under the most dire of circumstances, or on the off chance she happens to be in a boisterous mood. She also tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Her anger, or sorrow, or frustration is bound to fall on the nearest ear willing to listen.
Kieara is a curious girl, but she's also not the most brave. She knows she is no match for a monster or brigand along the road, so she has learned to be incredibly cautious and skeptical about the world around her. She will outright avoid conflict unless under the most dire of circumstances, or on the off chance she happens to be in a boisterous mood. She also tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Her anger, or sorrow, or frustration is bound to fall on the nearest ear willing to listen.
Biography & Lore
WIP
She was out hunting again. It was father's birthday, and Kieara was determined to surprise him with a fresh, young, summer buck to feast on. All the usual trails had disappointed so far. Fresh boot marks were stamped into the soggy dirt trail she followed. Crakus or Paddrik's oafish lumbering through the wood had scared away all the game no doubt, but she had come too far to turn back empty handed. Perhaps could run along the path to Gradely's farm again.
A devilish thought suddenly crossed her mind. She knew father crossed over into the lord's lands to hunt when they needed to. He'd even taken her a time or two. All the biggest stags she'd seen had been from the lord's forest, and the taste was better than any meat she'd ever had. Her feet had already carried her into that forbidden glade before her mind had made a decision. The brush was thick for a while until she pressed through into a sparse forest of evergreens.
I think this was a mistake She thought as she crept further from the edge of the boarder. Poaching was punishable by hanging. Father had only ever done it when it was that or going hungry for a week. This was just for frivolous reasons.
But before she could talk herself out of it, she spotted a wide-eyed buck through the trees ahead. Instinct kicked in as she lowered her body and untucked her bow from her shoulder. It was big, but still small enough for her to carry, thank the gods. Every fiber of her being was calm, her movement deliberate. She fought off a shiver as an eastward wind blew lazy, wet summer snow down from the mountains. She knocked an arrow, the deer's ear twitched, and Kieara winced.
Gods give me luck, just this once. I'll never ask for anything again.
Suddenly, the buck bolted. She saw a streak of blue as she loosed her first arrow.
She was out hunting again. It was father's birthday, and Kieara was determined to surprise him with a fresh, young, summer buck to feast on. All the usual trails had disappointed so far. Fresh boot marks were stamped into the soggy dirt trail she followed. Crakus or Paddrik's oafish lumbering through the wood had scared away all the game no doubt, but she had come too far to turn back empty handed. Perhaps could run along the path to Gradely's farm again.
A devilish thought suddenly crossed her mind. She knew father crossed over into the lord's lands to hunt when they needed to. He'd even taken her a time or two. All the biggest stags she'd seen had been from the lord's forest, and the taste was better than any meat she'd ever had. Her feet had already carried her into that forbidden glade before her mind had made a decision. The brush was thick for a while until she pressed through into a sparse forest of evergreens.
I think this was a mistake She thought as she crept further from the edge of the boarder. Poaching was punishable by hanging. Father had only ever done it when it was that or going hungry for a week. This was just for frivolous reasons.
But before she could talk herself out of it, she spotted a wide-eyed buck through the trees ahead. Instinct kicked in as she lowered her body and untucked her bow from her shoulder. It was big, but still small enough for her to carry, thank the gods. Every fiber of her being was calm, her movement deliberate. She fought off a shiver as an eastward wind blew lazy, wet summer snow down from the mountains. She knocked an arrow, the deer's ear twitched, and Kieara winced.
Gods give me luck, just this once. I'll never ask for anything again.
Suddenly, the buck bolted. She saw a streak of blue as she loosed her first arrow.
The startled deer scampered away over a bank, lost forever, and Kieara dropped her bow. She moved in a trance to the body. He was one of the lords men, no doubt. Pierced in the eye with a red feathered arrow, hand covered in a smear of red from grasping at his mortal wound. The red-haired girl had killed him. Kieara's chest heaved as the snow began to fall. They'd all been right. She was a monster. The curse of Tyr Na Roog, the devil-haired girl with a black heart who brought endless misfortune. She didn't know what else to do except run far far away. And she did.
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