Character Proposal: Simryn [Accepted]

Submitted by MrDave on Thu, 01/29/2004 - 22:59

Posted in

LABN Character Proposals

Type of Character: An Elemental borne of blood, tears and the earth

Gender: Female

Name: Simryn

Birth Date: Unknown

Position: A Lady Warrior of the Hindu Kshatria class

Character Description: 6'2" tall with strong, willowy limbs. A small heart shaped face with big, lush green eyes and black hair falling straight to her waist.

Simryn is played by Aishwarya Rai.

Items: A Kattar

, and a Tulwar

Powers: The daughter of Goddesses, she understands people's thoughts: the language of their prayers which is universal and not subject to the Tongues of Men. Though she cannot read minds, she can know thoughts that are directed toward her. Although she is not impervious to harm, she does have heightened strenght and agility.

Weaknesses: She is not Immortal but can be killed and die of natural causes. Because she only posesses a half-soul, she is more susceptible to the lures of evil than most. Her stubbornness and pride do not make it easy for her to accept help and this often leads her into trouble in this strange, new world.

About *me*: I am a 20 year old Chinese-Canadian, an English Major and I love both Tolkien and Buffy with with a passion!

Story:

“A war raged once, not so very long ago~ at least in the eyes of the Gods, and the land was sown with the blood of its people so that even eons after the earth would bear no fruit. The weeping of a hundred mothers filled the air, their tears filled with the bitter-sweetness of their sons’ young lives lost on the battlefield. As the wailing of a hundred grew to that of thousands, the sound reached the abode of the Trinity Goddess and the cries of her people pierced her heart. Timeless ages seemed to pass, and in the stillness the three aspects of the Great Goddess reached a decision: A woman, borne of woman alone to turn the tide of battle.

By full-moon light, the Goddess reached an invisible hand and drew up an earthenware doll~ a girl-child’s toy and drew it to her. Then did Parvati the aspect of maiden and goddess of Valour cry a single silver tear whence it fell and was soaked up by the red clay. Secondly, Kali the mother aspect of Vengeance released a drop of blood from her heart’s vein to join the tear. Finally, Durga, the crone goddess of Wisdom gathered it to her breast and blew the breath of life into the figure. Given life by these magicks, the stiff clay limbs began to limber and glow with the warmth of the blood that flowed within her being.

They named her Simryn, shaped of vengeance, valor and wisdom and she was the first of her kind. With hair black as the dark before the dawn, and skin the colour of desert sand, her fathomless, verdant eyes promised both retribution and Hope. As the eastern sky brightened with the approach of dawn, her Mothers prepared her for the first battle. They bathed her in milk and scented oils and lined her eyes with kohl, and bequeathed upon her a fierce tulwar and kattar that glinted in the furious sun, blinding the soldiers as Simryn rode on the wings of retribution down to the battle and razed the armies of the enemy.

With a fierce courage that brought fear into the hearts of all men this daughter of woman fought beside the sons of her people and the invaders fell at her feet though none after could say for certain that they had gazed upon the terrible beauty of her face. The war drew to its end, as all battles must and dust soon settled after the enemy’s feet had passed out from the land. Simryn found herself alone, unmarked by the battle but for the quiet sadness that lingered in the depths of her eyes. For the Kshatrani there was no peace, for she had been created for revenge and warfare and now both had been had and neither was left…”

************
“What did she do, father? What happened to Simryn, the Lady warrior?” A small voice asked trembling in awe and excitement. Putting down the ancient scroll from which he had been reading, the man looked down into the trusting eyes of his son and gave a sigh of despair. For how many more years must his family suffer? All because of the actions of one man who had lived in the long ago time that the legend told of, his son’s life would be forever changed, just as his had been and his father’s before him and his father’s father even before that, a cycle of betrayal and penitence weaving through the epoch of his bloodline.

“Hush, my son and listen for it is this next part that reveals our own task in the tale,” he said softly, kindly. The child quieted and rested once more at his elder’s knee as he was enfolded within the story once more.

************
“Now, while the conflict had ended the affects of the confrontation resounded still within the people’s lives and for love and pity of them, Simryn joined the mortal women in tending to the wounded. In the encampments, the Kshatrani healed those that she could, brought peace to those she could not and cried with those who had been left to live. For those last ones she could do nothing, for their hurts went far deeper than even her skill had the ability to reach.

One night as Simryn sat weeping silent tears by a river, she was startled to discover that she was not alone. Looking across the moonlit waters, her verdant eyes touched the amber gaze of a stranger who stood warily watching her, his entire body trembling and poised to flee. Though the Kshatrani recognized him as a soldier of the enemy for none of her people had eyes that burned like liquid starlight, she did not sound an alarm. Neither did she raise her weapon to him for the heart that had been given her recognized his pain and his peril. She crossed the river slowly, wading in till the icy waters rose beyond her waist and though the stranger tensed further, he did not flee for he too recognized the kindness within her heart.

When she finally approached, she could see his nostrils flared in alarm and both their breaths sounded harshly in the still night. As her palm reached out to his face he leaned into her embrace and moved his own fingers to brush away the tears that yet lingered on her cheek. Simryn tended him thus for many moons, stealing away from the encampment when shadow held its sway over the land, bringing him nourishment for both his body and his spirit. And as time passed, she learned a truth about herself that she had not saved him merely because her soft heart had asked it of her but also because her inner-heart had been quietly yearning for something only he could complete… he was the mate of her soul, and their beings called to each other~ a call they gladly obeyed.

However, just as no great hate ever goes unnoticed, neither does a love such as theirs. And the remaining soldiers within the encampment soon heard murmurings that an enemy soldier lurked close by, plotting dark deeds and the fierce hatred that had been banked burst into flame. For one man in particular the seething anger within him roiled darkly, a wound that festered and grew with each passing whisper that reminded him of all the loved voices he would never again hear.

One night as this man kept guard his gaze was caught by a flash of white near the edge of the clearing and with weapon raised he readily followed, thinking it to be the clumsiness of his enemy. To his surprise, he soon saw that it was none other than the Lady warrior of his own people. His emotions churned, disgust mixed in with anger and hate and unthinkingly he flew at the couple in his blind rage, plunging his murderous blade into the lone foe and watching in grim satisfaction as those hated yellow eyes turned blank and blood poured into the earth.”
“Did the Lady’s true-love die? What did she do then? She must have been very angry; she must have killed that bad man. Didn’t she father?” The boy asked again his deep, brown eyes shining with the story’s fervor. “No, she didn’t kill him though she wanted to,” the father replied warily. Standing up, the boy drew out the small wooden play-sword that hung at his side and swung it back and forth at an invisible foe. “I’ll protect her! I’ll kill the bad man!” he shouted unaware of his father’s troubled gaze, following the unpracticed movements of his son’s mock battle.

A noise sounded from outside and in the enduring capriciousness of youth, the child threw down his toy and went to investigate its source, Lady and story both forgotten. Watching his son disappear through the doorway, the man picked up the discarded plaything, thinking with an aching kind of sorrow that he would spare his child the burden of the story’s ending. At least for a few more years, till the child became older and more able to understand the consequences of his fate. Thus, he put away the scroll with it’s damning words etched in faded ink. But the story had been engraved just as deeply in his mind and spirit, and the haunting words followed him.

******************
The man who had killed Simryn’s mate still lived and in her despair she thought that she should have, could have done something to stop him. But even his death would not bring back that which had been taken and she was sick of vengeance. So she wept for that loss, crying and crying till her eyes were raw and dry as an arid wasteland. Her heart was no longer with her people, it had been torn from her and for many long days and nights she neither ate nor slept. One such night as she lay on her lonely cot staring vacantly into the night she felt a soft touch on her brow and the soothing voice of her mothers lulling her into dream.

“Don’t cry daughter, for we have heard your pain and have come to aid thee,” they said taking her into warm arms that were infinitely comforting. They had realized a plan but first they needed her consent, for if she agreed she must sleep for a hundred years till the mate of her soul was reborn into this world. “Anything, I will do anything to find my heart again!” she cried and the strength of those true-spoken words reverberated in the cosmos, willed into being the magicks that would make her wait possible.

And so, the Goddess put their daughter into a deep slumber and wove their spells around her so that she would not age but only sleep in stillness till the time came that the other half of her soul was reborn and grew into a form similar in age to the one that had just recently passed. And the man, who had killed Simryn’s lover, would not go unpunished but would live a long life, within which he would find a true love. But because he had murdered their daughter’s beloved he would live under the shadow of this curse: He would love but never have for his loved one would be destined to die giving him a child. And he would suffer the same pain as the Lady Simryn at a loss so dire it would drain into the lives of his descendants. Each generation was left the task of protecting the Kshatrani and should she wake, to guide her in the ways of the present world, such as it was. They would live under that cursed consequence until such a time that she awoke and found the missing half of her heart..
************
And so generations down, they waited, waiting and yearning for that day that their punishment would be completed and their family free of their heartbroken fate.

The boy grew to be a man, learned in the ways of his people and the destiny of his lineage. Still there lingered within him a desperate hope that the words of his father would not come to pass and throwing caution to the winds he fell in love, finding that which so few of us ever will, the true mate of his soul. They lived happily for a time, and the man reveled in his newfound joy and soon forgot the warnings of his father’s teachings. And the cycle came around, as it must, and a child was borne of their love, a son who came silent and wide-eyed into the world as if even then he knew he would find no comfort in the cold, lifeless arms of his mother. The man wept blood, cursing the heavens that had wrought this familiar fate, his… and that of the child he clutched to his breast.

************
The Kshatrani dreamed of many things, as the ageless sun passed over the land and forests were replaced by villages, villages by towns, towns by cities and so on until the azure sky was obscured by tall towers of glass and steel that rose effortlessly against the horizon. And there, there one soul reborn had come at last! In a city far from where she slept but where she must now go across untold distances and unknown lands. A sigh, almost unheard in the humid air and a flutter like moth wings in the night…

An Awakening.

Character Proposal: Simryn [Accepted]

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