[font=Dauphin, serif]

St. John’s Kingdom, England 1320’s

“No father, please don’t go!” she screamed; her mother had her arms around her, holding her back. “Father! Don’t leave me and ma!” she called out, tears streaming down her face. She watched as her father slowly led his horse over to her. Her mother let go of her; thus, she ran into her father’s secure arms. “Please father, don’t go to war! Please..” She cried, burying her small head into her father’s neck.

“My dear, sweet Claire,” he paused, wrapping his arms ‘round his daughter and held her close “ I must do this. It is an order and a job for me to complete. I must protect this Kingdom. If I keep the Kingdom safe, then that means I keep your mother and you safe..” Markus murmured softly; tears were now stinging the corners of his eyes. The 37-year-old did not want to leave his wife and child at all, but alas King John has ‘asked’ him to do so to go and fight.

“Father!” she screamed out as she watched her father ride off with other knights. Tears streamed from her deep, evergreen eyes as she watched in sadness. Once her father was out of sight, she turned and ran from her mother’s grasp.

“Claire! Come back!” Lilly called out as she took off after her daughter. “Claire!” she called out once more, but got no reply. She stopped for she had lost sight of her daughter; tears streaming down her cheeks. “Claire, where are you?!” She called out, looking around.

The sun was soon replaced by the night’s ever-glowing moon. It’s rays cascaded upon the Earth’s forests and kingdoms. It cascaded upon a hut. The only light was the flames that were coming from the hearth. Lilly sat there awaiting for Claire’s return to home. She stood instantly; in fear, though, for she watched as the door busted from its hinges and around six men slowly walked in. One was the King from the distant lands; the enemy her husband had went off to fight.

“Well look at what we have here..” the King spoke; his voice was thick with evil. “Lilly Monroe I presume?” He murmured as he slowly unsheathed his sword; the sharp tip of the blade was now beneath Lilly’s chin. Without a moment’s hesitation, he began to bring his sword back to swipe; though, something blocked the swing. Claire angrily stood there; the eleven-year-old held her father’s old sword; anger was ablaze in her eyes.

“Get away from my mother!” She hissed angrily. She was not scared at all; and it took guts to stand up to six men, one who is a king. Claire was mad, nay, more then mad; outraged was more of the word for it. The king went forth, slamming the hilt of his sword into the side of Claire’s head.

Her world began to go black; her mother’s scream was faint as she blackened out and fell to the ground. [/font]


Claire Monroe awoke from the horrid dream; the same dream that haunted her for years now. She sighed heavily, running a hand through her long, curly red hair. Tears still fell from her evergreen eyes as she sat up. Her gaze wavered about the forest; blackness was all she saw for she was blind. The night the King had hit her was when she had lost her sight.

Six days after that night, she had been accepted by the most wonderful of creatures; the Elves. They had trained her to where she could fight swift and fast; like a snake launching out with great speed to capture a mouse. They had given her a gift; something that would become her eyes. A small, silver hawk it was, and a true friend to Claire.

It had been seventeen years since the night she had lost her father and mother; and her sight. Claire was now 27 years of age. Her atire was mostly of Elf clothing. She stood about 5’6 and; like said before she has evergreen eyes and long, curly red hair. Her face was adorned with freckles. She had a strange mark upon her left-hand palm. It looked most like this: -}õ{-. She knew not what it meant, and had been searching for answers upon what it was, but found nothing.

She was a strong woman at heart, and was not scared of anything; just like she was not scared the night the enemy King had came to her home. She had left the Elves around the age of seventeen to travel and find that blasted King who had killed her mother. She slowly stood; by the warmth she could tell that it was morning. She reached over to her left; her hand now grasped her father’s sword of might. It was passed to her after her father had died.

“Go and take flight, Trânte. Stretch your wings for another journey..” Claire said softly before she turned and started to walk along the Earth’s dusty path. Trânte clicked his beak to Claire; a code that told her which direction to walk. Neither knew whom she would bump into or what was to befall upon her path.

As one could tell, her past was horrid and rigged. Losing both parents was tough upon her; losing her father was as if someone had taken a knife and stabbed her over and over again. She had always been a 'Daddy's lil' princess' when she was young. She had always loved her father so dearly; never wanting to leave his side. She loved her mother the same way.

Now was her time to get revenge; and kill the King who had killed her mother. The King's name was Kind Leon, a great enemy of King John. Claire, even though blind she was, would do anything in her willpower to find and execute King Leon. Hopefully she would find some companions to help her do of such a thing. She had been alone all her life; save for having Trânte by her side.

Hmm..I'll join

Name-Elenmir Lothelen
Race-Half-elven, half-man
Age-23
Appearance-When one looks at her, one sees a young girl. She appears to be around 16 years of age, though her true age is 23. Her hair is the color of silver, and her eyes are unique-shaped like a hawk's eye, and a golden color.
Attire-Elven garments given to her by her elven friends
Weapons-Elven longbow with a quver of arrows, and two twin blades.
Bio-Born of a female of an unique race of man, and a male elf, she was basically an outcast. Her parents died when she was five years of age, and the Elves took her in, though relucant. She made a few friends, but not many, and she soon left her homeland, and now travelsaround the forests

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Aisling walked cautiously through the woods, then the Irish girl heard the sounds of a horse, she stopped, pulled her forest green cloak around her and dropped down beside a bush where, unless you were looking for something, you could not see her. She waited there, she was terribly frightened for in Ireland her people were very superstitious and even though she believed in the One True God the childhood stories she had been told still creeped into her mind, the stories of enchanted forests, witches, and monstorous beasts. But the stories of the Elves frightened her most for if the Elves were angered in anyway she knew not what would happen to her....

Name-Turwaithiel
Race-Elven
Age-14(in human years, about 1008 in elven)
Appearance-When one looks at her, one sees a young girl. She appears to be around 14 years of age and her hair is the color of dark brown, and her eyes are an silvery color.
Attire- She wears an pair of old breeches andshe wears an undershirt and an chain mail. She is an warrior.
Weapons-Elven crossbow with a quiver of arrows, an sword, and an wrist dagger
Bio- She was born in an elven realm, but when it was ambushed, she escaped. Now, she lives in disquise of an young slave girl for an mean merchant in the city, yet she is an trueborn warrior and wishes to fight in battle. She has no friends yet many enemies and seems to get in trouble all the time.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly