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------ code by LEVIATHAN.
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❝ The Last Morganagh ❞
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[/comment]❝ cursory information. ❞
[centerblock=80]
【full name】— Maevyn Ambrose Morganagh[/centerblock][centerblock=80][/centerblock][centerblock=80]
【nickname(s)】— Vyn, Maeve, or Morgan
【gender】— Female? (Refer to as "pretty" at your own risk)
【age】— 21
【sexuality】— Lesbian
【d.o.b.】— October 31st
【height】— 5'10"
【build】— Slim but incredibly well-built from years of obvious training
【species】— Human[/centerblock][comment][/comment][comment]
---SECTION 2---
[/comment]
❝ background. ❞
[centerblock=80]
Morganagh was a well-respected name among the Tyrrish nobility before the rebellion wiped the entire family (save for one) off the registry. Once, the name was synonymous with the power that came from the dragons they rode and the powerful signets each of the family's Riders boasted. Maevyn was born out of one of the most potent Rider pairs seen in centuries, both her parents being renowned officers seemingly loyal to a fault. It shocked the entire kingdom when both Riders turned traitor during the rebellion, choosing to betray the kingdom which gave their family the very power it was known for. For their betrayal, the Morganaghs were sentenced to death by Dragonfire, alongside Morgan's only sibling - her older brother Valkyn, who had graduated the Rider's Quadrant only weeks before. Only 11 years old at the time of her family's execution, the last remaining member of the Morganagh family was granted her life in return for unwavering loyalty, which would be drilled into her by the staunchly loyal Navarrian Officer who took her in as in orphan in the days following the sentence- Burton Varrish. Ten years have passed, and now another Morganagh stands poised at the gates to Basgiath War College, with nothing but her worthless name and everything to prove. She will see her family name restored, even if she has to kill and burn her way to graduation.
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[comment]
---SECTION 4---
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❝ concept. ❞[centerblock=80]
Beautiful things had no place in House Varrish. Hair was to be cut short and kept neat, rooms were always to be spotless and unadorned, and orders always obeyed, even if they seemed impossible. Failure was never an option, not when the price for it ranged from the loss of meal privileges to weeks trapped underground in the vile darkness of Burton's "classroom". It was all to forge her into the perfect soldier, he said, to redeem her worthless family name back into some semblance of value. Morgan would do anything to achieve it, or at least to avoid the horrific fate that awaited her should she dare to fail at anything Varrish put in front of her. When your options are to succeed and live or fail and suffer, then you understand the reality of war. There are no options in the real world, only obedience and annihilation.
[/centerblock]
❝ headcanons. ❞[centerblock=80]
— Finds difficulty in forging any sort of relationship built on truth or trust
— Always covers her upper arms and chest, where twin Rebellion Relics twine from elbow to collarbone. One for each Traitor Parent, and (supposedly) a third somewhere else, for the elder brother whose death occurred before he could even be officially stationed at a permanent post. Beautiful tattoos cover nearly every visible stretch of skin (save for her face) to distract from the relics no one sees.
— Owns very few personal belongings, and sees materialism to be a weakness
— can't cook for shit and is easily impressed by good food
— works out every morning and occasionally very late at night
— Can see incredibly well in the dark
— Very fond of cats, terrified of dogs
— Flirtatious as a defense mechanism
— Obsessed with chocolate
[/centerblock]
[comment]
---SECTION 5---
[/comment]
❝ psyche. ❞
[centerblock=80]
【vices】— Beautiful women, whiskey/wine, loves to watch the stars, puts duty over just about anything out of fear, can be too analytical, selfish, trusts no one, always expects the worst, will use others when needed[/centerblock][centerblock=80]
【virtues】— If you somehow manage to earn her trust, she will kill for you without a second thought. Incredibly good at keeping secrets and withstanding torture of many kinds, frighteningly intelligent and perceptive, isn't afraid to fight for what she wants
【fatal flaw】— Morgan is utterly terrified of Varrish and will do anything to keep from being sent back to him
【happiest memory】— Before her family was eradicated, they were incredibly close. Even though it was almost unheard of, her mother's dragon was rather fond of Morgan. A few months before the rebellion began in earnest, on the last real night of peace she experienced, her mother took Morgan on a flight high above their family home deep in the mountains to see the stars she loved so much. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
【a secret】— Despite being a bit notorious for her looks and sexuality, Morgan has never actually been in love[/centerblock][comment][/comment][comment]
---SECTION 6---
[/comment]
❝ abilities ❞
[centerblock=80]
【rider skills】— As a Morganach, Morgan learned all about dragons from a young age, information most cadets wouldn't have access too until their second year. She wouldn't share any of this information with much of it being classified, but she uses it to her full advantage. She's also in fantastic physical condition from living and training under Vice Commandant Varrish, who personally oversaw her progress after being charged with ensuring she became a useful asset to the Navarrian military. As such, she has undergone extensive training in multiple forms of combat, her specialties being in unarmed combat and long-range archery. She's not too bad with a sword either, though this is still something she's working to improve. [comment][/comment][/centerblock]
❝ rp sample ❞
[centerblock=80]
【post】— "Again."[/centerblock][centerblock=80]
Morgan's fists trembled slightly as exhaustion seeped into her bones, weighing her down after that eleventh set. It didn't surprise her though that Varrish expected another, not when he loved to see just how far she could be pushed. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her stance before the Vice Commandant, whose beady eyes glinted with challenge and malice as he held out his padded hands, utterly unphased.
"Do I have to repeat myself, girl?"
She fought the urge to avoid his gaze and only shook her head in quick reply as she squared her shoulders and punched, her fists connecting with the pads in a familiar, pounding rhythm again and again and again.
One-Two, One-Two, One-Two One-SLAM!
Her vision went black as Varrish struck, sending her to the stone floor, hands up around her head as she fell to protect herself as the impact registered with a deep, thrumming pain across her cheekbone. Morgan knew better than to cry out, though, and forced herself to breathe through clenched teeth as he circled to kneel beside where she'd fallen, the satisfied smirk on his face as familiar to her as her own bloodied fists. As soon as she saw the promise of violence in his eyes, she lowered her arms and swallowed the panic in her throat.
Nothing would make this go faster, and showing fear would only make it worse. Better to let him prove whatever point he was trying to make.
"What did you just learn, girl?"
Varrish raised a brow at her as if daring her to answer.
Breath, Morgan...He's not angry yet. If you just give him what he wants he'll be satisfied for now.
Blinking through the pain, Morgan forced herself to think through his attack. She'd been neck-deep in a test and hadn't even realized it, like a complete novice.
"I let my guard down and didn't anticipate the strike to come while I was distracted with my form."
Please let that be the answer he wanted to hear...
Varrish's eyes gleamed as he took in her answer, his head tilting to regard the young woman on the ground before him. For a moment, he watched her in pensive silence, as if studying her answer.
Then he stood, offering a hand for her to get up.
Relief flooded her even as her cut lip hissed in protest, but she ignored it and took his hand, her sore muscles aching with the movement as she stood.
Only for him to snatch her by the throat with an iron grip, his lips twisting in a poisoned smile as he turned and slammed her against the freezing stone wall of the cellar, the impact sending stars across her vision.
This time she couldn't help the small bark of pain that treacherously escaped as she forced herself not to fight back, despite every instinct roaring at her to gauge out his hideous eyes.
He merely watched her with that serpent's grin for a long moment before leaning in to murmur into her ear.
"Always anticipate an attack."
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------ code by LEVIATHAN.
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❝ The Last Morganagh ❞
"Fire only scares those who haven't spent enough time trapped in the dark."
[/border][/bg][bg=transparent; background: #000; color: #222; border: 1px solid #222;][scroll=300px][comment]---SECTION 1---
[/comment]❝ cursory information. ❞
[centerblock=80]
【full name】— Maevyn Ambrose Morganagh[/centerblock][centerblock=80][/centerblock][centerblock=80]
【nickname(s)】— Vyn, Maeve, or Morgan
【gender】— Female? (Refer to as "pretty" at your own risk)
【age】— 21
【sexuality】— Lesbian
【d.o.b.】— October 31st
【height】— 5'10"
【build】— Slim but incredibly well-built from years of obvious training
【species】— Human[/centerblock][comment][/comment][comment]
---SECTION 2---
[/comment]
❝ background. ❞
[centerblock=80]
Morganagh was a well-respected name among the Tyrrish nobility before the rebellion wiped the entire family (save for one) off the registry. Once, the name was synonymous with the power that came from the dragons they rode and the powerful signets each of the family's Riders boasted. Maevyn was born out of one of the most potent Rider pairs seen in centuries, both her parents being renowned officers seemingly loyal to a fault. It shocked the entire kingdom when both Riders turned traitor during the rebellion, choosing to betray the kingdom which gave their family the very power it was known for. For their betrayal, the Morganaghs were sentenced to death by Dragonfire, alongside Morgan's only sibling - her older brother Valkyn, who had graduated the Rider's Quadrant only weeks before. Only 11 years old at the time of her family's execution, the last remaining member of the Morganagh family was granted her life in return for unwavering loyalty, which would be drilled into her by the staunchly loyal Navarrian Officer who took her in as in orphan in the days following the sentence- Burton Varrish. Ten years have passed, and now another Morganagh stands poised at the gates to Basgiath War College, with nothing but her worthless name and everything to prove. She will see her family name restored, even if she has to kill and burn her way to graduation.
---SECTION 3---
[/comment]
[comment]
---SECTION 4---
[/comment]
❝ concept. ❞[centerblock=80]
Beautiful things had no place in House Varrish. Hair was to be cut short and kept neat, rooms were always to be spotless and unadorned, and orders always obeyed, even if they seemed impossible. Failure was never an option, not when the price for it ranged from the loss of meal privileges to weeks trapped underground in the vile darkness of Burton's "classroom". It was all to forge her into the perfect soldier, he said, to redeem her worthless family name back into some semblance of value. Morgan would do anything to achieve it, or at least to avoid the horrific fate that awaited her should she dare to fail at anything Varrish put in front of her. When your options are to succeed and live or fail and suffer, then you understand the reality of war. There are no options in the real world, only obedience and annihilation.
❝ headcanons. ❞[centerblock=80]
— Finds difficulty in forging any sort of relationship built on truth or trust
— Always covers her upper arms and chest, where twin Rebellion Relics twine from elbow to collarbone. One for each Traitor Parent, and (supposedly) a third somewhere else, for the elder brother whose death occurred before he could even be officially stationed at a permanent post. Beautiful tattoos cover nearly every visible stretch of skin (save for her face) to distract from the relics no one sees.
— Owns very few personal belongings, and sees materialism to be a weakness
— can't cook for shit and is easily impressed by good food
— works out every morning and occasionally very late at night
— Can see incredibly well in the dark
— Very fond of cats, terrified of dogs
— Flirtatious as a defense mechanism
— Obsessed with chocolate
[comment]
---SECTION 5---
[/comment]
❝ psyche. ❞
[centerblock=80]
【vices】— Beautiful women, whiskey/wine, loves to watch the stars, puts duty over just about anything out of fear, can be too analytical, selfish, trusts no one, always expects the worst, will use others when needed
[/centerblock][centerblock=80]【virtues】— If you somehow manage to earn her trust, she will kill for you without a second thought. Incredibly good at keeping secrets and withstanding torture of many kinds, frighteningly intelligent and perceptive, isn't afraid to fight for what she wants
【fatal flaw】— Morgan is utterly terrified of Varrish and will do anything to keep from being sent back to him
【happiest memory】— Before her family was eradicated, they were incredibly close. Even though it was almost unheard of, her mother's dragon was rather fond of Morgan. A few months before the rebellion began in earnest, on the last real night of peace she experienced, her mother took Morgan on a flight high above their family home deep in the mountains to see the stars she loved so much. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
【a secret】— Despite being a bit notorious for her looks and sexuality, Morgan has never actually been in love
---SECTION 6---
[/comment]
❝ abilities ❞
[centerblock=80]
【rider skills】— As a Morganach, Morgan learned all about dragons from a young age, information most cadets wouldn't have access too until their second year. She wouldn't share any of this information with much of it being classified, but she uses it to her full advantage. She's also in fantastic physical condition from living and training under Vice Commandant Varrish, who personally oversaw her progress after being charged with ensuring she became a useful asset to the Navarrian military. As such, she has undergone extensive training in multiple forms of combat, her specialties being in unarmed combat and long-range archery. She's not too bad with a sword either, though this is still something she's working to improve. [comment][/comment]
❝ rp sample ❞
[centerblock=80]
【post】— "Again."
[/centerblock][centerblock=80]Morgan's fists trembled slightly as exhaustion seeped into her bones, weighing her down after that eleventh set. It didn't surprise her though that Varrish expected another, not when he loved to see just how far she could be pushed. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her stance before the Vice Commandant, whose beady eyes glinted with challenge and malice as he held out his padded hands, utterly unphased.
"Do I have to repeat myself, girl?"
She fought the urge to avoid his gaze and only shook her head in quick reply as she squared her shoulders and punched, her fists connecting with the pads in a familiar, pounding rhythm again and again and again.
One-Two, One-Two, One-Two One-SLAM!
Her vision went black as Varrish struck, sending her to the stone floor, hands up around her head as she fell to protect herself as the impact registered with a deep, thrumming pain across her cheekbone. Morgan knew better than to cry out, though, and forced herself to breathe through clenched teeth as he circled to kneel beside where she'd fallen, the satisfied smirk on his face as familiar to her as her own bloodied fists. As soon as she saw the promise of violence in his eyes, she lowered her arms and swallowed the panic in her throat.
Nothing would make this go faster, and showing fear would only make it worse. Better to let him prove whatever point he was trying to make.
"What did you just learn, girl?"
Varrish raised a brow at her as if daring her to answer.
Breath, Morgan...He's not angry yet. If you just give him what he wants he'll be satisfied for now.
Blinking through the pain, Morgan forced herself to think through his attack. She'd been neck-deep in a test and hadn't even realized it, like a complete novice.
"I let my guard down and didn't anticipate the strike to come while I was distracted with my form."
Please let that be the answer he wanted to hear...
Varrish's eyes gleamed as he took in her answer, his head tilting to regard the young woman on the ground before him. For a moment, he watched her in pensive silence, as if studying her answer.
Then he stood, offering a hand for her to get up.
Relief flooded her even as her cut lip hissed in protest, but she ignored it and took his hand, her sore muscles aching with the movement as she stood.
Only for him to snatch her by the throat with an iron grip, his lips twisting in a poisoned smile as he turned and slammed her against the freezing stone wall of the cellar, the impact sending stars across her vision.
This time she couldn't help the small bark of pain that treacherously escaped as she forced herself not to fight back, despite every instinct roaring at her to gauge out his hideous eyes.
He merely watched her with that serpent's grin for a long moment before leaning in to murmur into her ear.
"Always anticipate an attack."
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&&— ❝ The Traitors' Daughter. ❞
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