Freya

[Freya]

THE CHARACTER SHEET

FROM HERE TO THERE

FULL NAME: Freya
ALIAS / NICKNAMES: N/A
AGE: Appears to be 18 or 19, actual age unknown
BIRTHDATE: N/A
RACE: N/A
SOCIAL STATUS: Queen of Beasts
OCCUPATION: Forest Guardian

DOWN TO THE FINER POINTS

HEIGHT: 5'8''
WEIGHT: 123lb
HAIR: Black
EYES: Scarlet
GENERAL APPEARANCE: A denizen of the forest, Freya prowls about her domain in the shape of black panther. On rare occasions however, she takes upon the form of a human, but her distinct crescent markings and animistic clothing would distinguish her in any crowds.
PICTURE:
PERSONALITY:
Not much is known about Freya beyond her aloof exterior. There is a certain commanding presence about her that speaks more than any titles would. She walks, and the forest bows in her wake. Words and emotions are a rarity to the majestic panther; she prefers to observe from afar, not interfering in what she deems to be the natural course of things. Only humans, it appears, have ever triggered anything but a nonchalant response from the beast. But unfortunately, rather than anything positive, the pale-hides have angered the great being with their wanton destruction of the forest.

[/b]
[li] Forest
[/li][li] Animals
[/li][li] Napping
[/li][li] Night sky

DISLIKES:
[/li][li] Humans. She equate them with destruction.
[/li][li] Foul odors
[/li][/ul]

BELOW THE SURFACE

SPECIAL SKILLS:
WEAPONS: She fights primarily with her teeth and claw. If the need arises for her to battle in human-form, she can elongate her nails into claw-form.
MAGICAL ABILITIES: She has the ability to switch back and forth between her human and panther forms at will, including partial transformations. While it is not known precisely what race she is, she appears to possess strength, speed, and endurance far surpassing any ordinary humans. Particularly note-worthy is her regenerative abilities - any ordinary wounds heal in mere hours. Furthermore, for as far back as she could remember, she has had the ability to command other beasts. For whatever reason, whether they be unicorns or common rats, beasts in the radius of her voice heed her orders.

FAMILY: N/A
BACKGROUND:
The night was deceptively silent. A full moon lit the sky, casting an eerie glow about the still earth. The normally busy townsfolk were quiet, lost in deep slumber. Even those on guard duty were only half-awake, lounging about in the guard towers, struggling in vain to combat the sweet beckoning of sleep. All was quiet, peaceful, ordinary...

"GRRRRAWRRR! RRRRG!" A series of bloodcurdling howls pierced the silent night. The guards, snapping to wakefulness, quickly took to their posts. Under the combined light of the moon and their torchlights, they saw the source of the howls, and these battle-worn veterans paled. A half-dozen wildkins, half-bear, half-owl creatures easily thrice the size of a man, charged at the town gates.

"Rise the alarms! We are under attack!" Panicked voices joined in mayhem as the town was waken rudely from its slumber.

The townsfolk, confused and bewildered, took whatever arms the they had from their homes and began to rush toward the gates. "What's going on?" "Why was the alarms raised?" Murmurs and questioning floated about the crowd, and they, to a man, watched nervously as heavy poundings ensued on the gate.

"GRAAAAAAARGHH!"

The mighty gate, a wooden marvel that have protected the town times and again, split down the middle. Behind the splintering wood, the wildkins charged in unison. Several faint-hearted townsfolk screamed.

"Don't panic! They are clumsy beasts and we can easily defeat them if we work together!" The seasoned guards captain shouted, instilling courage among the townsfolk. His men, having struggled into their thick platemails and belted their swords, stood in formation behind the captain. Twenty warriors, all fully arms and trained.

The beasts charged.

The captain drew his sword, and, blocking the swing of a wildkin with his shield, thrust his blade toward the side of the beast. He drew blood and the wildkin howled in anger. Encouraged, the townfolks joined in on the fight, and the six wildkins were soon staggering back toward the gate.

A howl sounded in the distance.

"Where-where did these things come from?! ARGGGH!" Shadows appeared to take form as they sprung from beneath the villagers. A pack of dark stalkers manifested from nowhere, and the rank of the villagers fell into chaos. The wildkins, having received direly needed breathing space, regrouped and rejoined the fight.

But the captain and his men were not ready to give up. Slashing left and right, they sought the soft underbellies of the dark stalkers. Several fell immediately. The stalkers, though winning in number and agility, could do naught against the platemail. They circled the knights, growling, waiting for an opportunity.

The howl sounded again, this time much closer. As if urged to strike, the dark stalkers leapt forward, striking at the knights. Tall shields beat them back and drawn swords once more attempted to strike them. One dark stalker was out of position, vulnerable – the captain’s sword slashed mercilessly toward it, thirsty for blood –

“GrraRGH!” A growl, and a streak of black flashed before the men’s eyes. The sword was knocked aside, and the captain pinned onto the earth. A black panther, its fur glistening and every bit of its being bespeaking power, have joined the fight. A swift blow knocked off the captain’s helmet, and another ended his life.

“R-RUN!” The rest of the knights, now leaderless, panicked and began to scatter. Several dark stalkers rose to give chase, but another low growl halted their advance.

Freya, looming over the corpse of her fresh kill, looked upon the fleeing forms with apparently disinterest. ‘Run…run back to your masters. Bring news of my assault; tell them who had dealt them this blow. You’ll learn, pale-hides, that the forest is not yours to command.’