Name: Arnþóra, daughter of Þórbrandr
Gender: Female
Age: 10 and 6 springs
Species: Demi-god
Family: Father is Þórbrandr, mother is an unnamed goddess
Personality: Quiet, deep thinker. A pensive young woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her life is a difficult one, as is anyone else's honestly, though she, like the others in her village, was raised to be strong and independent. Often seen as a very serious woman, she has a habit of distancing herself from others. This is because she struggles to understand humans, more alike her goddess of the beasts mother than her human father. Simply looking into her eyes will tell one of the intelligence she wields, though her battle skills are also quite admirable. Whatever hobbies or tasks she takes on, she does not work on them half-heartedly. She is a determined person, stubborn even. She does not talk much, conveying her thoughts more easily with her piercing grey eyes.
History: It is said that her father Þórbrandr was hunting in the great forest that flanks this tiny sea-side village when he chanced upon a deer. A perfect specimen of a doe, her fur perhaps a bit more golden than it should have been. And although Þórbrandr had been cautious and witty, keeping himself down wind of the gentle beast, she still rose her head and gazed directly at the tree from behind which he was peering. Her deep black eyes reflected back at him a look of intellect beyond the capability of beasts, and so he was drawn out from his hunting spot, hypnotized by her communicative stare. As he approached her, she did not run. Instead, it is said, that she became enveloped in a surreal glow so bright that Þórbrandr was forced to avert his gaze. On the return of said gaze to the doe, he was surprised to find standing in her place, a most elegant woman...
And from that point onward, for a while at least, Þórbrandr would search the forest for the woman, hoping to meet her just once more. On one such a trip, he arrived at the spot in which they'd met and from the sky descended a large hawk. In it's talons it clutched a tiny bundle, which it gently set upon the earthy floor before taking to the sky once more. Þórbrandr approached the bundle, only to find a child wrapped in cloth and fur and quietly cooing up at the sky.
This was how Arnþóra came to be.
Women in this village are not treated the same way the men of the west treat their women. Here, women are taught to fight just as the men are, to wield weapons, to embrace pain, to bite back when bitten. As such, Arnþóra grew from child to young woman, trained in the art of battle. However, because she was considered a motherless child, she was often avoided. Her unnatural beauty and grace, coupled with strength and speed which seemed to contridict her build, often held her in a different league than the rest of the children. She could hold her own against the boys. She was unnaturally level-headed even in the heat of battle. She was different and the village does not like different. Singled out, she wasn't given the chance to become social or to grow her conversational skills. This is the reason for why she is often alone and hardly ever speaks outside of necessity.
And now that she watches her father's funeral boat blaze reds and oranges and yellows against the gloomy fall backdrop, she is truly alone.
Current Goal/Purpose: It is said that despite being a woman, should she die in battle, her chances are high that a Valkyrie shall take her to Valhalla where she may once again see her father. To live, to die. The cycle of humans. But a part of her wishes to know if there is more attached to her fate than a human's life. How many battles is she fated to live through? Is she intended to love and have a family? Or will she be called to Valhalla by her mother for some greater purpose? Answers must be sought. Perhaps Urd, Norn of fate, will know...
Appearance: Golden hair, braided over one shoulder. Fair skin, always cleanly outside of battle. A strong build, but still very much feminine. Five feet and seven inches in height. Cool grey eyes with long lashes. A narrow nose and slightly slanted eyebrows. A dusting of freckles, very faint but there. A scar from a sword runs from her right ear, down the crook of her neck to the middle of her collar bone.