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 [lipsofsweetdeceit] Lyralei "Lyra" Mordes

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Posts : 41
Join date : 2013-01-20
Age : 25
Location : California

[lipsofsweetdeceit] Lyralei "Lyra" Mordes Empty
PostSubject: [lipsofsweetdeceit] Lyralei "Lyra" Mordes   [lipsofsweetdeceit] Lyralei "Lyra" Mordes Icon_minitimeMon Jun 24, 2013 9:46 pm

Young, Angry and Poor.

Name: Lyralei "Lyra" Mordès

Alias: The Red Rider

Personal Quote:
"They say that out of the sun there shall come a white dragon, and with the white dragon a red rider. Thieves and liars shall quiver and weep, for the rider's name shall be Justice, and the dragon shall be Vengeance. They were wrong for it is a white horse that shall carry the red rider to avenge all crimes against mankind. I am that Red Rider, and my steed is Vengeance"

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Alliance: The Brotherhood without Banners

Role to Alliance:
She upholds a role in the Cavalry of the Brotherhood without Banners

Physical Description:
Lyralei is a beautiful young woman whom would rather die before she is to be garbed in a long flowing dress that accentuated her raw, strong beauty and radiating fiery hair; instead she has taken on a more "thuggish" appearance, or so that is what her mother had called it. Instead of luscious silks, Lyra prefers the cold touch of chain mail links against her body, reinforced by a single pauldron strapped over her sword arm's shoulder, while a thick wolf's pelt is thrown over the other and slung around her form. Around her neck sits a multitude of trinkets, each bearing a specific meaning; for example, the bone-tooth necklace acts as a place to store her trophies after an adrenaline pounding hunt, while the finer silvery represents her faith and continues to be a reminder of who she is, where she came from, and what she has now set out to accomplish within her life. 
However, regardless of her boyish choice of garb, there is still some femininity reserved as Lyralei is not ashamed of her gender, but, instead has learnt how to flaunt it to her advantage on the battle field; while considered as a tactical disaster, she goes into battle bare-bellied with a short black crop top hiding her necessities along with a skirt of mail. 

Lyralei possesses a fiery red coloured hair that often whips back and forth wildly within the winds when galloping across the plains; she takes little care in its appearance, finding it a trivial aspect to care for when the thrill of battle is upon her, but she does keep it neatly trimmed with her fringe being an appropriate length to allow for a good visibility, while the length remains long enough to reveal her feminine ties yet short enough so that it does not get in the way when she is hacking down upon her enemy. To enhance this rare beauty of a strong, barbaric sort of woman, Lyralei possesses a porcelain skin obtained from her native lands: Bear Island, which is located within the waters of the Northern coastlands. Another marking is found on her left arm, this one resembling an old ancient script meaning "justice and vengeance" that has been circled with a beautiful tribal design going down her arm.  

Regarding distinguishing features of this lovely young woman who may be considered a gem to the eye, Lyralei possesses a strange marking inked into her skin, spread over her neck onto her lower jaw. Few know what this marking truly means, while others only speculate that it is the mark of doom and disaster; however, for this young vindicator, this symbol resembles a tribal impression of a bear claw merging with a running abstract horse, which precisely sums up her life in a nutshell and brands her as a warrior woman of Bear Island come forth to bring a swift justice and vengeance to a world overshadowed by thieves and murderers. Another breath-taking aspect of this young woman would be considered to be her eyes; her eyes are like none other gazed upon. They are large and perfectly shaped, with irises that consist of a dual colour: blue with touches of gold/amber. This hetero-chromatic behaviour often leads to the misconception that her eyes are a classical green

While she may look like a soft spoken individual, one could not be so wrong for, unlike many other women whom would find it better to hold their tongue than speak their minds, Lyralei's commanding brusque attitude does not allow for her to bite back the words that are uttered within her mind; her tongue is like a savage whip and often her sharp mind spurs her forth regarding plots and ploys that may be unravelled over the course of time. She also possesses a stubbornness quite unlike another and will refuse to be told that she cannot perform a certain action or dive headfirst into battle because she is a woman; she resents all those whom see her gender as a weakness and will not stop until she proves them all wrong. 
"Why do people say "grow some balls"? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding"
Using sarcasm and cynicism, Lyralei often makes her points loud and clear, uncaring of whether or not she undermines another individual and paints them in an idiotic light. A fool with a sword is deadlier than an enemy rushing at you with all fury in their eyes, or so that is what she believes to be true, therefore why should just any old Tom, Dick, or Harry fight for a cause as great as that which the Brotherhood without Banners fights for? It is with this attitude that she comes to challenge all new entrants with her cynical charisma and flaunting charm spurred on by her cocky confidence that is said to match that of the great lion, now caged: Jaime Lannister. 

Now what is it that could make this bold woman seek the sanctity of a group of renegade warriors instead of set an eye on grander things, such as the knighting like that of Lady Brienne of Tarth?
It is simple. Lyralei holds an undying grudge against House Clegane, in particular, the Mountain; never has she been so disgusted by the sight of that monstrous goliath, never has she felt a hatred she vast as she does for that man, for still that night haunts her; that night when her whole world came crashing down. For as it is always said with these "bitches" there is a past that shapes them into the women they are today; for Lyralei she was a classic example of a soft spoken, well mannered young lady turned bitter and cold by the tyrannous actions of a group of vagabonds. With this burning thirst for vengeance and justice, Lyralei shows more determination than any other member, willing to take on any task given and complete it with an outstanding performance. She has learned the basics of a scholar, able to read and write; however she has also made certain that when the time comes for her to wipe out the Clegane name, she is more than ready with an arsenal of tactical moves against the clumsier oaf. 
However, her disdain does not end there; after a "premonition" seen during her dream, Lyralei has found herself believing more and more in this "prophecy" of the red rider and his white steed. It is with that lurking in her heart that drives her forward with each new day on her quest to bring justice to all the world. 

Weapons and Armour:
This young girl of fiery red hair is one that cares little for the daintily crafted weapons that may be beautiful to the eye, or armour that appears as if it were sculpted by the elves; she prefers simplicity. Simplicity in weapons and armour have won battles and not delicate, fragile little trinkets, therefore, to make her point and show that she is no weakling like many may consider her to be, Lyralei has taken hold of the brutish weapons that a man might possess. Her greatest weapon being the "Judicator", a large sword with a brass crafted pommel and hilt, that would appear far too heavy for a woman her size and stature to carry; however what few know is that the blade was specially crafted for one such as herself, possessing the perfect balance to swing down and hack at the enemy below as Vengeance races forward without a single bit of hesitation.  
She is also familiar with the mace when using a horse-back style of combat.
Regarding the sheild she bears, it is one comprised of heavy wood, reinforced with iron links and bolts and bindings.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
  • Her ability with a sword
  • Her natural ease and balance upon horseback, as well as her excellent horsemanship
  • Her determination to bring justice to the world

  • Her stubbornness
  • Her impulsive natured

Background History:

For the Rider's Name is Justice and the Horse's name is Vengeance

Lyralei awoke with a start; her breathing was shallow, gasping, sweat trickled down the sides of her face, following the contours of her cheeks before being lost in the tangle of fire red hair. Her eyes blankly stared around her; she could not understand where she was, she had no recollection of falling asleep, no concept of the time had passed. All that she could see were the flashes of the dream that had stirred her conscious so; they were flashes of a white horse, and fire. There was so much fire and bloodshed around; but what frightened her the most, or rather, what had caused such a reaction was the fact that it was no mere knight that rode this white steed, but her, with her fire hair holding a large sword and slaying all those who were deemed murderers, thieves, vagabonds, all those whom preyed upon the weak and defenceless without giving them a true chance to defend themselves. 
"Justice! Justice and Vengeance have come." She heard a few of the citizens cry as they flocked around her, each attempting to touch her leg or any part of her, to show their gratitude in these dark times. "They have come to avenge humanity's fall." It seemed a noble conquest, one that made her feel as if she had some purpose within this life. And as she sat there in the brightening darkness of a black morning fading into one of the brilliant pale sunshine found upon the shores of Bear Island, a dawning thought crossed her mind. She knew what she had to do, and she knew that there was only one way to achieve such a task.

Like the warrior women of Bear Island, Lyralei began her training in combat, learning the arts and stylistic techniques associated with carrying the weight of a broadsword and using it to smite the enemies before her; and while she took part in her training she could not help but feel the disapproving glares of her mother, often slighted when returning home with tears and rips in her clothes that accompanied muddied splotches. 
"You are acting like a savage." She had scolded her one day. "Don't you want to get off of this island? Marry some handsome young man that can take care of you, whom you can bear children for and carry out his legacy?"
Lyralei was shocked at this. "No mother! I want to fight. I had a dream where I was atop this white horse and together we…"
"Such balderdash. That was only a dream child. Only a dream and so far from reality."
"But mother, all I want to do is defend the weak."
"A noble gesture best left for the warring families and men, not for you dear."
"But we are the women of Bear Island…"
"And Bear Island needs its mothers as well…"
Lyralei bit her lip in silent protest, unable to accept her mother's words, unable to accept a lifestyle of luxury obtained through a marriage where all she would be was a trinket draped over some man's arm when she was so much more. She was a fighter, a free spirit, and a woman with a dream. "Father would let me."
"Your father is off fighting some war for the North." She bitterly cut across. "And while you are under my roof you shall obey me. That is final. Now go and change into something more decent so we can prepare the fish for tonight."
Lyralei bit hard on her lip once again, knowing that an argument was futile. Her mother was right. As long as she lived beneath the roof of a confining household, she would have to obey her rules and her word; but what if she was not living beneath her roof, what if she took a journey far away to join her father in the war waged upon the lions of the Westerlands, against all the injustices of the world. She would steal away within the night and track down the moving host; she would offer her sword to King Robb Stark and beg that he allow her to join her father's side. She would tell him of her dream and hope to the Gods that he would look at her without the mocking eyes of her mother; she hoped that  he would see her as more than a pretty face and more as a soldier that wanted to fight for the ideals that she thought the King associated himself with. Instead of glory and honour, she wanted justice…

So, at first light, she set off, packing only the necessities within a ragged, old leather satchel and stole her father's old fishing boat know that he would understand when she confessed her sins to him, when she told him that she had to get away from her mother so that she could find him, so that she could join him in his endeavours. 

Uniting Justice and Vengeance

Heartbroken by the scene found, the corpses littering the ground, blood staining the earth with an eerie red, Lyralei's mind and spirit seemed almost broken. For a good few hours she remained seated upon the ground cradling her father's head in her lap; tears streamed down from those dual-hued eyes as she whimpered and sobbed, burying her face into the blood soaked mail that still clung to her father's limp figure. How had this happened? How had he been stripped from her so soon, before they could be reunited? There was so much she had to tell him, to share with him. She gritted her teeth together, anger flashing clear upon her visage as she looked toward the skies. "By the Old Gods I shall find whoever did this to you father, I shall make them pay. I shall bring justice and vengeance upon their damned souls. I shall not rest until your murderer has been slain." She screamed toward the heavens, feeling an uncontrollable shaking consuming her body, dulling all her senses of grief and flooding them with that bitter taste of desired vengeance. It was then that she heard a spluttering and cough from nearby. Instantly her head dropped and her eyes darted from corner to corner of her vision searching for the source; there he lay, a shard of wood sticking clear from his chest. A distorted laughter spluttered forth from bloodied lips, a mocking laugh nonetheless. This was enough to cause the young girl to abandon her father and trudge through the dirt, the shit, and the blood in order to find this fool; and when she did she peered down at him without any shame nor pity riddled within swollen eyes. Instantly, she found the golden lion embroidered across his chest, and instantly she felt a series of disdain wash over her being. 
"Poor little flower." He mocked through deep gasps for breath. "Save me and I shall give you a fucking you've never experienced before." 
Aghast and disgusted, Lyralei no longer held control of her actions for rage seemed to spur her forth in every which manner; without a single ounce of hesitation her foot slammed against his throat causing the fallen soldier's eyes to widen and another spurt of blood was sent into his mouth. "You will tell me what happened here, or I swear to you that your death shall be prolonged and even painful than you could have ever imagined." Her voice was grizzled with grief, her tone was laced with the angers of a thousand starving peasants; her eyes seemed to speak of a heresy on their own: merciless, cold, empty inside. 
The soldier sputtered to life once again. "The young wolf did not plan for this. He… he did not know that we knew they were crossing into the Riverlands." He stuttered and stammered. "The mountain was fearless and relentless." 
"The mountain."
"Aye. A man so great that he'd fuck your silly little brains out and you wouldn't be able to walk…" It was amazing how much this man was speaking for the state he was in, yet, the more he seemed to speak the more it drove Lyralei into an inner frenzy that spurred forth amounts of hatred and loathing unlike anything ever felt before. Without thinking, she yanked the spear-tipped wood from the man's midriff and plunged it straight into his throat; a spray of blood erupted from the sudden force, coating her legs in the crimson liquid while her eyes filled with furious tears once again. "Then it is the mountain I must find." 

Later that eve, Lyralei built a pyre to set her father's body on fire: a proper funeral for a man of great valour and loyalty, a man whom she aspired to be more like, especially now. "Justice shall be dealt, sweet father." She whispered through gritted teeth as she held the torch up high. "Justice shall condemn him to a death worse than yours." She vowed before she tossed the torch upon the wood, watching the flames crackle to life spreading over his corpse like the rushing waves upon the shores of Bear Island. 
Time seemed to fade away in brief seconds as she stood before the fires, watching the ashes form and the embers die to a low sizzle; the body had been consumed, the ashes sent across the Riverlands to blow back to the North and toward Bear Island where his soul could be laid to rest; however as she remained before the fires, an interesting sight caught her eye for in the distance a horse of pure white stood, stomping an irritable hoof as ears flickered back and forth. "Vengeance." Lyralei breathed, remembering the white steed that she had rode atop during her battles within her dream, the premonition that drove her forth toward an undetermined future. 

The horse was a wild spirit, untamed and untouched by human hands; it reared high as she approached slowly, yet did not shy away for courage and curiosity seemed to tie it rooted to the spot, regardless of the fuss it put up. Lyralei put forth a hand, her heart was in her throat, beating wildly. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, causing a strange sense of courage to flood her system, spurring her on regardless of the peril she was putting herself within. She had never encountered a horse as such for upon Bear Island mainly donkeys and mules and work horses were found among the community of fishermen. The horse settled upon all fours once again, large eyes darting this way and that while flared nostrils took in the scent of the death and decay around them all; it seemed as if it could sense the dire situation at hand. A shaking hand, so close now, hovered over the beast's muzzle, unsure as to whether or not it would accept her; however, she plucked up the courage to rest a hand on the horse's nose, sure that this was to be her vengeance so she could fulfil her purpose in this life time. Once the connection had been made, Lyralei gathered the tack left undamaged from the fallen horses and placed them gently upon the back of the horse, easing the bit into its mouth; naturally, the unbroken horse was uncomfortable with the situation. 
Night faded into dawn before Lyralei was able to mount the magnificent white steed, and so she ventured forward into the unknown, wearing her father's pauldron and muddy cloak, along with his ancient blade, so that she would never forget her duty to this world, so that she would never forget what she was to do with her life now that her original idea had been purged from the world. 

Deducting 1 200 S.S. for Vengeance (Steed)

Always on guard defending the people’s rights..
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