Anja
Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 2:39 am
Age: Anja Jovavich
Race: Siren
Age: 50 (forever appearing to be age 23)
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 125lb
Physical Description: As a child, Anja could easily have called herself beautiful. But age, in its callous wisdom, had corrected her misconception. Could evil truly be beautiful, a beauty so flawed and horrible in a flowered face? Her skin is silken and as bright as new moonlight. Her eyes edged in dark circles that give her an eternal look of exhaustion. Her body is long and lean, curved in the right places. But as the eye lingers, the small imperfections grow. Pale freckles line the corner of her grim cheeks, her entire face set in the sullen look of pain and loss. Longhair falls in ringlets down her shoulders, the scarlet color blending oddly against her pale visage. If Anja were honest about her eyes, she’d say they were the most amazing part about her. But in fact, they are the last remaining human quality she has. They are simply brown, full of cold unfeeling silence.
At one point in time Anja was a true lady, her clothes a decadent morsel of graceful sophistication. Long dresses, lace gloves, set hair, gold jewelry and perfectly sewn cloaks. But that day is long gone. Her brown dresses are no longer a lady-like length, falling just short of her calves. Her loosely laced, hunter green bodice falls somewhere in the category of “worn”. A black cloak fastens just under her chin, falling down to the back of her knees. Anja’s choices for shoes are an unpolished black, simple pair of lace-up boots. She no longer cares much for the thoughts of others. This may explain her total lack of concern put into her wardrobe.
Years of practice have made Anja graceful. Her movements all slow and well considered, her actions quiet but never truly spontaneous. And it is this fact that makes her dangerously predictable.
A faint scar stretches from the tip of her left shoulder to just below the nape of her neck. It was from the first-ever real brawl she got into, a reminder to choose her battles. The fight was a silly little thing between her and a young human. Neither truly won, both leaving with their tails tucked firmly between their legs. The only other scar she possesses is a thick rope burn that wraps snakelike around her ankles and twists nearly to her thighs.
Possessions: Anja dwells in a small shack perched precariously close to the Ofriyu Mar’s edge. The house may have started at a much safer distance but time has closed the gap greatly. The mud sinking as the river rages. She owns very little jewelry, her only constant piece being a silver family crest worn tight along her throat. She carries a crossbow and small dagger. She owns a short sword that she has very little experience with. Despite her luxourious upbringing, Anja may have 50 Bishani to her name. At most.
Powers and Strengths: As far as strength, Anja is hardly over-blessed. She is deadly with a crossbow, but when it comes to hand to hand combat she is greatly lacking. Her eyesight is perfect but beyond that she enjoys no other supernatural senses. The only true magic she possesses is the same power every siren has: her voice. It is more powerful against male attackers than female but still can only entrance an aggressor for several seconds. But this pause often proves enough. She is fast in movement and unnaturally quiet. Aim and distance are her greatest allies. Able to shoot accurately is her most impressive quality.
Weaknesses and Flaws: Anja’s actual strength is no greater than most and often proves less than adequate in a close up battle. She is cursed to forever return to the waterside making her easy to track. While intelligent she is often hot-blooded and stubborn; unwilling to run from even the most unnecessary battles.
Weapons: Slung across Anja’s back is a constant sling filled with sharpened arrows. Each arrow designed perfectly for her large, carved crossbow. The crossbow was made from a dark oak, making it sturdy and difficult to damage. Tucked in her boot is a small dagger, the hilt set with a small-carved depiction of the same crest that adorns her neck. She owns a single-handed sword that is kept sheathed at almost all time. Its hilt carries no decoration.
History:
Life: Anja Jovavich was born to a powerful family, a family that provided her with more luxuries than many Tar Shaddins enjoyed. She grew up privileged, her life moving from happy home to respected boarding school and back again. She was a beautiful human, a catch for any gentleman. She visited foreign lands and learned to speak several languages. Her favorite location being the exotic shores of Naka Shaw. It was this shore that would change Anja’s fate forever. On the twenty-day ride home Anja did something she rarely did…wandered up to the star-deck of the very large ship. Her mind soared as she stared out over the gorgeous green-blue waves, each beating the boat with the power of a thousand-pound bull. The sway began to make her seasick, her stomach churned and her lunch rose inside her. She leaned forward to wretch, her hands grasping at the wet wood. The moment her head extended overboard the entire world lurched forward, the water rising far to fast, the boat slipping away below her. Anja screamed, her entire body searching for ground. She let go of the wooden side just as a particular powerful wave hit the boat, sending a terrified Anja plummeting toward an icy ocean. She screamed in vain, her heart pounding in her ears, her light body caught in the propeller wave of the ship as it passed… forcing her down at an unnatural speed. She kicked outward, begging her body to move upward. It didn’t. Her ankles caught in a long rope dangling behind the fast-moving ship, ripping her even deeper beneath the surface. A rope that would forever scar her thin ankles. Cold. Fear. Desperation. The last things Anja would ever remember about her life.
Death: Anja traded her soul for her survival. When she finally drowned beneath the cold water, a woman, a beautiful, evil woman, gave her that choice. Anja Jovavich chose wrong. She chose to exist. This reality would last for an eternity now, an immortal and desperate existence. Anja became a siren: a creature responsible thousands of destroyed ships and dead sailors. She hates the life she chose but more than anything hates the creature that gives it to her. She exists in the hope of being more, of climbing the ever-filling ladder of life. Being more than what death has dealt her. And she is willing to fight for that chance.
Anja spends her days traveling and dueling, her path set along the Ofriyu Mar. Occasionally enjoying the dark atmosphere that edge along the outskirts of Marn.
Race: Siren
Age: 50 (forever appearing to be age 23)
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 125lb
Physical Description: As a child, Anja could easily have called herself beautiful. But age, in its callous wisdom, had corrected her misconception. Could evil truly be beautiful, a beauty so flawed and horrible in a flowered face? Her skin is silken and as bright as new moonlight. Her eyes edged in dark circles that give her an eternal look of exhaustion. Her body is long and lean, curved in the right places. But as the eye lingers, the small imperfections grow. Pale freckles line the corner of her grim cheeks, her entire face set in the sullen look of pain and loss. Longhair falls in ringlets down her shoulders, the scarlet color blending oddly against her pale visage. If Anja were honest about her eyes, she’d say they were the most amazing part about her. But in fact, they are the last remaining human quality she has. They are simply brown, full of cold unfeeling silence.
At one point in time Anja was a true lady, her clothes a decadent morsel of graceful sophistication. Long dresses, lace gloves, set hair, gold jewelry and perfectly sewn cloaks. But that day is long gone. Her brown dresses are no longer a lady-like length, falling just short of her calves. Her loosely laced, hunter green bodice falls somewhere in the category of “worn”. A black cloak fastens just under her chin, falling down to the back of her knees. Anja’s choices for shoes are an unpolished black, simple pair of lace-up boots. She no longer cares much for the thoughts of others. This may explain her total lack of concern put into her wardrobe.
Years of practice have made Anja graceful. Her movements all slow and well considered, her actions quiet but never truly spontaneous. And it is this fact that makes her dangerously predictable.
A faint scar stretches from the tip of her left shoulder to just below the nape of her neck. It was from the first-ever real brawl she got into, a reminder to choose her battles. The fight was a silly little thing between her and a young human. Neither truly won, both leaving with their tails tucked firmly between their legs. The only other scar she possesses is a thick rope burn that wraps snakelike around her ankles and twists nearly to her thighs.
Possessions: Anja dwells in a small shack perched precariously close to the Ofriyu Mar’s edge. The house may have started at a much safer distance but time has closed the gap greatly. The mud sinking as the river rages. She owns very little jewelry, her only constant piece being a silver family crest worn tight along her throat. She carries a crossbow and small dagger. She owns a short sword that she has very little experience with. Despite her luxourious upbringing, Anja may have 50 Bishani to her name. At most.
Powers and Strengths: As far as strength, Anja is hardly over-blessed. She is deadly with a crossbow, but when it comes to hand to hand combat she is greatly lacking. Her eyesight is perfect but beyond that she enjoys no other supernatural senses. The only true magic she possesses is the same power every siren has: her voice. It is more powerful against male attackers than female but still can only entrance an aggressor for several seconds. But this pause often proves enough. She is fast in movement and unnaturally quiet. Aim and distance are her greatest allies. Able to shoot accurately is her most impressive quality.
Weaknesses and Flaws: Anja’s actual strength is no greater than most and often proves less than adequate in a close up battle. She is cursed to forever return to the waterside making her easy to track. While intelligent she is often hot-blooded and stubborn; unwilling to run from even the most unnecessary battles.
Weapons: Slung across Anja’s back is a constant sling filled with sharpened arrows. Each arrow designed perfectly for her large, carved crossbow. The crossbow was made from a dark oak, making it sturdy and difficult to damage. Tucked in her boot is a small dagger, the hilt set with a small-carved depiction of the same crest that adorns her neck. She owns a single-handed sword that is kept sheathed at almost all time. Its hilt carries no decoration.
History:
Life: Anja Jovavich was born to a powerful family, a family that provided her with more luxuries than many Tar Shaddins enjoyed. She grew up privileged, her life moving from happy home to respected boarding school and back again. She was a beautiful human, a catch for any gentleman. She visited foreign lands and learned to speak several languages. Her favorite location being the exotic shores of Naka Shaw. It was this shore that would change Anja’s fate forever. On the twenty-day ride home Anja did something she rarely did…wandered up to the star-deck of the very large ship. Her mind soared as she stared out over the gorgeous green-blue waves, each beating the boat with the power of a thousand-pound bull. The sway began to make her seasick, her stomach churned and her lunch rose inside her. She leaned forward to wretch, her hands grasping at the wet wood. The moment her head extended overboard the entire world lurched forward, the water rising far to fast, the boat slipping away below her. Anja screamed, her entire body searching for ground. She let go of the wooden side just as a particular powerful wave hit the boat, sending a terrified Anja plummeting toward an icy ocean. She screamed in vain, her heart pounding in her ears, her light body caught in the propeller wave of the ship as it passed… forcing her down at an unnatural speed. She kicked outward, begging her body to move upward. It didn’t. Her ankles caught in a long rope dangling behind the fast-moving ship, ripping her even deeper beneath the surface. A rope that would forever scar her thin ankles. Cold. Fear. Desperation. The last things Anja would ever remember about her life.
Death: Anja traded her soul for her survival. When she finally drowned beneath the cold water, a woman, a beautiful, evil woman, gave her that choice. Anja Jovavich chose wrong. She chose to exist. This reality would last for an eternity now, an immortal and desperate existence. Anja became a siren: a creature responsible thousands of destroyed ships and dead sailors. She hates the life she chose but more than anything hates the creature that gives it to her. She exists in the hope of being more, of climbing the ever-filling ladder of life. Being more than what death has dealt her. And she is willing to fight for that chance.
Anja spends her days traveling and dueling, her path set along the Ofriyu Mar. Occasionally enjoying the dark atmosphere that edge along the outskirts of Marn.