(will draw her later - for now, I know that's fanart of Urbosa, but it will have to do)
Name:
Nadijah of the Razordancers; second daughter of Farajah, the One-Eyed Watcher of the Sands. Or Nadi for short.
Race:
Gerudo
Age:
21
Gender:
Female
Height / Weight:
7'4'' / 175 lbs
Appearance:
Nadijah is a striking sight to behold - literally, because she's liable to thrust a weapon your way before offering a hello. Dark skinned and built with lean muscle, she stands at an imposing 7'4' - tall among her people, taller yet in the eyes of foreigners. As is expected of a proud Gerudo, Nadi carries herself with the poise and pride befitting a warrior - most of the time, anyway. It doesn't take much to make her drop into a battle pose when startled, or down into a squat to pet whatever strange fluffy creature she comes across.
Nadi's hair is a fiery red as is common for her kind, tied back in a messy ponytail. The deep bronze of her skin is contrasted by the green of her eyes; light, like saplings. Or so she's been told - sapling are a rare sight in the desert. She doesn't carry much in the way of clothes, her heritage ensuring that she needs little protection even in the hot summer sun of the desert. She does have a cloak on her person for when she needs to keep a lower profile or shield herself from the cold (or her understanding of cold, anyway - please don't let her ever see snow) but in general she finds armour and heavy clothing constricting. Anything that makes her movement less fluid must go. This does mean that the signs of battles past lay bare to the naked eye; burns from fire magic, cuts from claws and blades. Most notable, perhaps, is the damage done to her hands - repeated use of fire magic has left the skin of her palms white and somewhat numb.
One would think that the many weapons she carries around would be more a hindrance than another layer of leather, but her priorities are rather set in stone. Her twin scimitars, bow, and dagger mean the world to her, and if she could have strapped her warhorse to her back to carry it around on her journey, she would have. No, really. She would have.
Personality:
Nadi is first and foremost a warrior of her tribe, duty-bound to protecting her land and people come what may. She's prideful and matriotic, and is liable to react violently to any perceived insult towards her country or kin. Xenophobic and mistrustful of 'outsiders' - particularly those of voe variety - she is difficult to approach and even more difficult to befriend. Not that you'd likely want to befriend her at first glance anyway; she's stubborn, hot-headed and lacks the common courtesy not to voice unpleasant opinions out loud in polite company.
With that said, she's well aware that she is to celebrate peace at the moment, and tries to act accordingly. She is attempting to tone down her crudeness and behave in a manner that better represents her people, as her tribe elders instructed her to. She's-- just not always successful at it. Impatience is her greatest sin, and she wasn't blessed with much forethought; if she wishes something to happen, it ought to happen now. Consequences be damned.
But though she's ridden with faults, she is no monster. Nadi's bluntness ensures that you will get an honest opinion should you ask for it, and it also makes her a poor liar. She fiercely cares for her own, and is willing to risk life and limb for a cause she believes in. And though she holds no love for foreigners, she at least holds an immense amount of curiosity towards them, being both willing and eager to learn about them and theirs. True, this willingness stems from the thought that one should know their enemy to best fell them, but could eventually, perhaps, lead to grudging respect-- maybe even friend-acquaintanceship.
Of course, as often is the case with Nadi, she takes this curiosity a tad too far. Rude and intrusive questions aren't uncommon of her, and neither is downright poking, prodding or snatching things that she wishes to examine closer. So keep your fancy gadgets and especially unique weapons far from her. She will get aggressively giddy over the latter and pelt you with questions until her curiosity is sated. This also goes for critters of the grasslands. Many of them she's only seen in storybooks, so don't worry if she tries to precariously pet a wolf. It's the latter that's in danger.
Biography:
Nadijah's tale begins and ends on the scorching planes of the Sand Sea. Her mother was a renowned warrior, her father a mere flicker of a presence within a society not meant for his kind. Come with the dusk, gone with the dawn, Nadi never asked for his name - and her mother never offered it. To her tribe, people who were at a constant war with the elements, the past did not matter; the future did.
As far as Nadi can recall, her early years were spent in normalcy. She played with others her age, practiced swordplay with wooden blades, shot dulled arrows at immobile targets and learnt to sit atop a horse without fear of falling. It never occurred to her to wonder why such things were important for children to learn. She had heard of the monsters that occasionally wandered close to Gerudo settlements, and the tribal struggles that sometimes erupted among her people. Fighting, as far as she was aware, was a skill as necessary as breathing - and from an early age, Nadi was determined to get good at it.
So when she was chosen on an expedition to a newly secured oasis in the east, she was beyond ecstatic. Doubly so once she heard that she was the youngest member of the party, to be accompanied by a dozen other Gerudo. The trek was long and exhausting, but she refused to let show any weakness. She was determined to prove herself.
The first week at the oasis went by quickly. The area was small and the winds heavy, so most of Nadi's days were spent building makeshift walls and helping fend off beasts that dared wander too close. She was particularly fond of the latter task, often chasing away monsters far longer than was necessary - something she got reprimanded for on many an occasion.
Then one night, Nadi caught sight of strangers among their tents. Voe, with pale skins and gold for hair. She didn't like the look in their eyes. They were smiling at their Gerudo partners, letting slip a hearty laugh when they thought no one could hear, but beyond their exterior amicability lay something sinister. Anger, Nadi called it. Not the kind she felt when her quick temper took the best of her, nor the kind she felt when she fell of a horse or hurt herself fighting. It was something more. Something scarier. Something personal.
At fourteen, she was old enough to understand why they were here - but it did not change the fact their presence was forbidden. No outsiders were allowed to newly set up oasis camps; water was precious to the Gerudo, and securing it could mean the difference between life and death for many a family. Anything that distracted the Gerudo warriors on duty from that goal had to wait until after they returned home.
And yet, Nadi said nothing. Not wanting to earn an ill reputation among them, Nadi deferred to the judgment of her senior tribeswomen. Just one night - that's all it would be, anyhow. Come morning, no one would know the voe were ever here. With that thought her lullaby, she retreated to her tent and fell into slumber.
She awoke to screams.
As Nadi ran outside, she found the world ablaze. To this day, she remembers the flames; in the sky, on the heads of braced arrows, dancing on the fingertips of the voe - and above everything else, burning behind their blue eyes. Back then, she didn't understand why.
Nadi found her own anger among the blaze, and with a blade in hand, she charged.
Come morning, the camp was in shambles. The fire had long since been doused, but it had done a number to their camp. Three Gerudo lay dead, with a few more injured. Every time Nadi happened to glance upon the dead voe, she felt the fire return; not in the camp, nor on the sands - but in her heart.
She came home a woman changed, filled with confused scorn. From there on out, she trained harder, fiercer, angrier, to a point that her mother, Farajah, became worried. It was during their talk that Nadi finally asked the question that had haunted her ever since that night; why? The answer brought her no solace. To be hated for things long past - it sounded both ridiculous and cruel. And though her mother promised that most of the world no longer harboured ill will towards them, Nadi was not convinced. Those voe had. Who was to say there weren't more like them? She had to become strong enough to protect her home from them all.
In the end, unsure how to help her daughter otherwise, Farajah sent Nadi to the village shaman. Well-versed in spirit magic, she hoped the old Gerudo would be able to offer her daughter comfort. At first, it seemed to work. The old soothsayer knew her way around words, magic and rituals, and had ways to directly connect with Nadi's troubled spirit. But then, one night as they sat around a campfire and the old lady encouraged Nadi to look into it to find a promise of a peaceful future, things went awry.
After a while of watching the flames dance, Nadi begun to see flashes - not of the future, but of the past. Of voe, filled with hatred, and a campsite engulfed in a pyre. They persisted for a moment, then burned away, replaced by another set of figures. She saw herself, older and wounded. She saw her mother, lifeless. And she saw fire.
Startled, Nadi looked away. She told the shaman she saw nothing and thanked her for her help - then never set foot in her tent again.
Now, at the cusp of the centennial anniversary of the Hylian Peace Accord, Nadi receives word that she is chosen to be among the attendees. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would help bring peace to her heart as well.
Skill set:
⚔ Gerudo Warrior | Fighting, fighting and-- hm, fighting? A one-trick pony as far as skills go, Nadi excels at combat and little else - but when it comes to combat, she shines like the desert sun. She's adept at archery, both on horseback and off, and can wield two scimitars as if they were extensions of her own arms. She's extremely nimble for someone her size, displaying a fierce kind of grace when she dances with a blade or two in hand, and can pull out a hidden dagger faster than most eyes can follow. She is also particularly adept at climbing, and enjoys high perches - they offer her ample chance to aim her bow, after all. Like the rest of her tribe, she's also used to surviving in harsh weather conditions, and is thus quite hardy and difficult to wear down, both in combat and outside of it.
⚔ Fire Magic | A 'gift' said to have been bestowed upon her on a certain faithful night, it's more likely that she always had an innate knack for fire magic, yet only found the spark for it in her teenage years. She can create and control powerful bursts of fire, but has little control as to when - her emotions control her magic usage far more than her conscious mind does. This means that when in the heat of battle, she is liable to quite literally start to burn. It tends to start from her hands, lending her the ability to use blades or arrows coated with flames or heated edges, then gradually spreads unless she manages to seize control. She has melted a few swords this way, both her own and her adversaries'.
⚔ Spirit Magic | Or at the very least, what Nadij believes to be spirit magic. Ever since the village shaman started to try and soothe her worries with divination, Nadi has been able to see dancing figures wherever there's flames; campfires, hearths, even torches if she stares long enough. She believes these figures to give her glimpses of events yet to come - but whether they bear any truth is unknown. It is likely they're nothing more than phantoms, given form by her fear and mistrust.
Miscellaneous:
To be filled later!
Writing Sample
One more.
Nadijah swung her sword, feeling but a moment of resistance from her victim; her blade cut through with one clean motion, like a heated blade sinking into butter.
A head rolled to the floor.
One more.
The Gerudo warrior turned around to face another assailant, emerald eyes locked onto its featureless face. Right there, between where the eyes would be, she would--
"Nadi?"
At the sound of her sister's voice, Nadi froze.
"Have you been at this the whole night? Again?"
Nadi looked around the sea of ravaged dummies by her feet, then back to her scimitar. Strands of hay still stuck to edge of the blade - like blood from a fresh kill, but solid. Nadi brushed them off angrily, even if it made no real matter. She stood surrounded by evidence.
In defiance, she turned to her sister and mumbled out a lie so transparent it came out as a question. "No?"
"Right," Saye rolled her eyes, resting her shoulder against the door frame of the practice hall - a gesture some might interpret as a sign of relaxation. Nadi knew she lingered in the doorway so as to block her path. Saye had done it since they were children, always insistent on talking things through whenever she caught a whiff of worry. Either the woman had the sharpest damn nose in the entire tribe, or Nadi reeked of worry.
"Nadi, please, it's called the Peace Festival for a reason."
"I know," Nadi spat in answer, sounding twice as tired as she looked - and considering the dark circles under her eyes, it was saying a lot. She had not known the caress of a good night's sleep in days, always too busy to either train, worry or chance to do both at the same time. Last night had been a case of the latter; one could tell by the dummies. She only decapitated them when she was anxious. "I'm not going to cause trouble. I promised." She caught the look on her sister's face and quickly corrected, "I promise."
With a sigh, she gestured towards the mess she'd made, then to the weapons she'd stacked against the wall. Another scimitar with a dark sheen, a well-used bow and a quiver, with half a dozen daggers in all shapes and sizes. "This," she let her hand guide Saye's gaze through the assorted equipment, "is just in case it's needed. You never know."
"You don't," everything Saye said always sounded like a quip. She'd mastered the art of retorts, and Nadi both admired and hated her for it. "But Lady Laera does. She said everything would be just fine."
That's not what the flames told me, Nadi thought - but left unsaid. The visions she saw writhe in the family's hearth were hers and hers alone. She doubted Saye would believe her anyhow; if Lady Laera, the Eyes of the North, had gotten a differing vision, her words were little more than the neigh of a colt in comparison.
Speaking of...
"Is Sinai still outside?" Nadi tried to peer past her sister more to illustrate her point than to try to catch an honest glimpse outside. It was still dark; the black coat of her horse would be nigh indistinguishable from the shadows that surrounded him. It wasn't the best hour to ride on horseback, but if it got her away from her sister's scrutiny, she'd chance galloping into a wall or two.
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not changing the subject, I'm ending it," Nadi folded her arms, annoyance growing more and more visible with each hissed syllable. " I don't need another damn lecture."
"A damn beating is what you need," Saye countered, form unwavering. She was no longer pretending to rest against the door frame; she stood tall and proud to block the entirety of the door. Honestly, Nadijah preferred her this way. Subtlety was for cowards.
"Come give it to me then," she beckoned, scimitar pointed.
As Saye sighed, unsheathing her sword, Nadi allowed herself a grin. Her body eased into a battle stance, and whatever annoyances still lingered in her mind were quickly pushed aside. She didn't have the knack for words her sister did - but her blade sung loud and true, and she had yet to fail to convey her feelings through it.
This time, she'd won the battle of wits.
Saye: 256, Nadijah: 24.
Slowly but surely, she was catching up.
In this world it is commonly accepted that terrible things happen to good people, and that more often than not worse things happen to bad people. And in a village somewhere on the outskirts of the Gerudo Desert a family of tribal hunters known only as 'Sanguine Blade' Infamous for their ritualistic hunting and slaughtering of both humans and monsters alike if they were ever given the chance. Despite being Gerudo they worshipped gods they refer to as 'The Allfathers' in a religion they know only as 'The Eternal Hunt'. To them, life was only a trial to impress The Allfathers so that when they die their souls will continue to run alongside their ancestors in The Immortal Hunt in The Stars. Appeasing The Allfathers was relatively simple. By abiding by a strict code of honor and adopting a highly specific lifestyle those who referred to themselves as 'The Chosen' were a highly skilled and ferocious people. Foreigners from To them, the hunting of larger, more dangerous game was not a duty or a necessity. It was their way of life to walk into the jaws of certain death and emerge victorious...or die trying. A hard way of life bred a family famed for their talents and unusual tendency to tame wild wolves transported from other lands, lions, and leopards. As a 'Tribe' they were highly efficient and mastered the art of the hunt with the tools they had at their disposal, giving little ground to their cousins in Gerudo Town. In their land the fantastical was considered normal as opposed to the other parts of Hyrule In the Gerudo Desert they lived for little else than the thrill of a daring hunt, a way of life that has forced their very religion to the brink of extinction due to the suicidal nature of their mad, cult-like religion. 
Taking the child to Xiva was at the end of the day an impulsive decision. Knowing what he knew about the trials and being one of the few who memorized the nature of their brutality used to create their kind he was in an oddly unique position to train this orphaned child and give her the tools and the wisdom to have a better life than struggling to survive in the desert. And knowing The Gerudo would never accept her due to the distinct 'blonde hair and golden eyes' of her clan she would undoubtably suffer a life of bitterness as her own people rejected her for being born to the wrong family. Something Xiva himself related to... However, knowing the likelihood of the girl surviving the trials were slim, but in his eyes there was something in her that others did not have. She shared a kinship with him that made him remember his home in the cold snowy north as opposed to the scorching deserts of Gerudo Desert. Kindred spirits they seemed to be and they had more in common than even he cared to admit. 
The qualifications for Knighthood in Hylia were...needless to say simple enough to overcome given her specialized upbringing and as such she passed with flying colors, gaining the eye of many Hylian Nobility who had recognized the mysterious hand to hand combatant as Xiva's young apprentice. However, due to Xiva going silent 'Leona' possessed a unique opportunity to fill a role within the Hylian Military as part of a specialized unit within the Royal Guard where she snooped into the disappearance of her mentor for many years. 
They scream, screaming ever still. Louder, louder and louder their screaming grows in manic spires of tenacity. I am running, running but where? My heart is pounding against my chest, readily to rip through my bones if it could beat any faster, any harder. I am running but I do not know where, and I feel them coming. I can feel them coming. So I ran. My legs are burning, engulfed in hellish fires of Tartarus scorned by Hades. His face flashes by in an instance, my heart skips a beat out of terrorized fear. Wicked grin stretched across black lips with chilled whispers of beckoning demise. Run, run faster – faster and faster. Where am I going? My body is on fire. 
