Windsong

[&]Name/Alias: Anna
[&]Age: 22
[&]Experience: Very Experienced
[&]How You Found Us?: Scroll of Colors in Elfquest.com
[&]Member Title: Herbalist



[&]Full Name: Windsong
[&]Soul Name: Clo
[&]Tribe: Wolfrider
[&]Age: Young Adult
[&]Gender: Female

[&]List Of Personality:
- Cantankerous
- Lonely
- Impatient
- Critical Thinker, when sober
- Passionate and kind, after some drink
- Loyal

[&]Skills other than Sending?:
Swimming: Average
Singing: Above Average
Non-Magical Healing: High (Example: Bandages, stitches, taken over time medicine etc.)
Herbology: High
Gathering: Average
Hunting: Extremely Low
Fighting: Extremely Low
Brewing: Above average
Tinkering: Average (Find a need fill a need creativity)


[&]Likes/Dislikes:
+ Raspberry or Honey Mead
+ Roasted Meat of Any Kind (Due to humans and their confounded spices)
+ Peace and Quiet
+ Her Bed
+ Cubs
+ Humans

- Noise
- Interruption
- Travel
- Human Haters
- Warriors
- Non-Drinkers


[&]Family:
Mother: RainShine
Father: Unknown
Brothers: None
Sisters: None
Cub: None (Wishes for one)


[&]History:

Born of a lone mother who was always worrying, Windsong never had the luxury of going out to play with other cubs or learn many physically demanding trades.

"Just stay inside where it is safe and practice!"

That was the most common phrase within their home. Time and time again she would deny Windsong an afternoon of learning to hunt in exchange for practicing her singing or crafting. Though very admirable gifts and skills, total ignorance of a much needed expertise is not usually tolerated  in most communities.

She did however find a small niche to fill as the tribe's fix-it girl. If something were to break or need that little extra something she would put her thinking to the task. Though it was hardly a skill that was absolutely needed in a community, most elves appreciated not having to replace their things when they became wore out.

However, even with this lack of physical skills, she would go to hunt if ordered without question. She may swear and even throw blunt objects sometimes, but never would she even dream about disobeying her tribal leaders.

During her cub years, Windsong ran away a multitude of times. If just to get away from her over protective mother once in a while. It was during one these treks of hers that she came upon something peculiar. Two humans with a wagon filled to the brim with barrels. Though stories of humans plagued her mind, her curiosity won out just enough. And so she observed them from a little ways away, unaware she was a rather terrible hider. They called out to her with high-spirited waves and grand smiles, thinking her a human child. Instincts told her to run. But once again, curiosity won out.

Though her human speech was rusty at best, communication was easy enough. As well as motivation.
Like trolls, though not as greedily, humans value precious metals and jewels. Her tribe just so happens to have some of the most beautiful and exotic jewels known in the lands. A secret she shared with only these two humans who were found to be traveling traders.

Fair and honest, they wished to do business with Windsong and her jewels regardless of what she was. Why should they care? They are men of commerce and trade. If this pointy eared creature can further their wealth in honest trade, why should they care?

Over many seasons they met on that route, Windsong trading her jewels for the same three things every visit. A container of the human brewed mead, advice on brewing her own, and teachings of non-magical healing. Because she holds no magic of her own she was determined to be more than a simple jewel crafter.

And so it has been for many years, elf and human would trade in secret, as the tribe would almost certainly deny her from ever visiting them again. However, as with all relationships with humans, they grew older while she grew more beautiful as she matured. Only one of the men came on the very last trip, bearing a sad smile and a large, sturdy barrel. A gift to her from the both of them.

After a tear filled farewell and an affectionate kiss between old friends she saw her humans for the last time. Almost twenty years of trade spent with those same grand smiles. And though they only met once a season, it was enough to have them call each other friend.

Since then Windsong has kept to herself, drinking that delicious mead whenever duty allows for it. All the while she keeps herself busy with adding to the tribe's collection of ever growing goods and tools.
That was until her tribe fell under attack late in the night. Chaos reigned and the union of elves was broken. Few survived the initial break. Even fewer who wound up alone. Windsong was one of them. All the while the mystery of who and why were never solved.

So much was lost to her. Even the gifted barrel that still holds the best drink she has ever had. Everything, save the cloth over her hair and the knowledge given to her.

In the present she had been surviving on what she could, though she was hardly fighting fit. She is partially starved and entirely defenseless. Easy prey for marauding trolls and their binding chains. She now sits in a cavern, bound and hungry awaiting whatever fate may bring her.


[&]Often seen wearing: A colorful, human woven cloth is tied over her hair similar to a bandana. Purples, blues, and reds cover the surface.
[&]Hair: A light, sandy blond thick and tangled. Her usual style being two rope thick braids framing her face.
[&]Eyes: Hazel

[&]Bonded animal: Growler, age 7, brown fur, low rank, and Sniffer, age 3, grey fur, very curious, low rank.