Casswyn Déorhild Láidir

[cassiopeia]

CASSWYN DÉORHILD LÁIDIR

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THE BASICS:

Name:
Casswyn Déorhild Láidir
Age:
20
Gender:
Female
Race:
Human
Birthplace:
On her family's farm, situated south of Edoras at the foot of the White Mountains (Rohan)
Current Location:
Travelling
Weapon(s):
An old yet sharp short sword that once belonged to her father and a small, practical hand-knife that she keeps strapped to her right boot. She carries these for her protection but in truth is not overly skilled with weaponry.

APPEARANCES:

Facial Appearance:
Casswyn has bright green eyes, dirty blonde hair that falls in waves (which never really behaves and which she almost always wears loose), a neat nose and feminine features which do not really match her independent character.
Build:
Casswyn is long-legged with a medium build and a curvaceous figure (not that you would know it in the tunic and cloak she wears). She stands at around 5'5" and is quite strong for her size.
Distinguishing Marks:
There is a scar on her left wrist from Casswyn being trampled by a horse in her youth.
Face Claim:
MyAnna Buring

A LITTLE MORE IN-DEPTH:

Personality:
Casswyn is a truly caring individual but the tragic events of her life have forced her to toughen up and have given her a certain astuteness that she might never have developed otherwise. Casswyn is now fairly quick to assess situations and how, or if, they can benefit her. That is not to say that she is selfish, in fact quite the contrary is true. Those close to Casswyn are held at the centre of her world, it's just that those that she once held dear are deceased and, having been travelling the past two years, she has not had the opportunity to develop any lasting relationships. If Casswyn was honest with herself, she might say that she is afraid to - is it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? That said, Casswyn is an outgoing girl, confident and willing to run risks in order to make gains. Despite her heartache (or perhaps because of it) Casswyn loves to be light-hearted and can often be found in the alehouses drinking her winnings - but never to excess, she despises drunken louts. Casswyn has a real thirst for adventure and a life on the road suits her but at the moment she feels she needs some direction, something more solid, in her life.

History:
Casswyn was born on her family's farm, south of Edoras, near the foot of the White Mountains. Her parents had struggled to conceive and her arrival was considered nothing less than a miracle and Casswyn was much loved throughout her childhood. As such, they were rather indulgent and allowed their daughter to behave in ways that others might have considered unbecoming of a young lady. Casswyn's mother, Heruwyn, was a renowned healer gifted in herblore, and ran an apothecary from their home. Heruwyn taught her daughter her craft and, although Casswyn learned well, never would she be able to supersede, or even match, her mother's exceptional talent. Where Heruwyn taught her daughter the properties of plants, Fastred, Casswyn's father, taught her horsemanship in addition to hunting, trapping and farming. As a result of this upbringing, Casswyn quickly developed into an independent, bright child with a thirst for adventure, who was known for her tomboyish disposition.

Change came to Casswyn's life at the age of fourteen, when her mother fell unexpectantly pregnant. It was a horrendous pregnancy that saw Heruwyn bedbound for much of it, fearing each day that she might lose the child. At this time Casswyn became more tied to the house as she took up her mother's roles; cooking, cleaning and dealing with her mother's clients. Eventually, after a prolonged and difficult labour, Heruwyn gave birth to a poorly little girl, whom they named Éohild. Heruwyn was in a bad way following delivery and, despite receiving the best care Casswyn could give her, languished and died five days after the birth. It was only three days later that Éohild followed her mother into the next life.

The loss flattened Casswyn who was then expected to continue in her role as the woman of the household. Though it made her feel painfully stifled and trapped, Casswyn had the resilience and inner strength to rise to the challenge. The same could not be said of Fastred, who lost interest in the farm and found solice in ale. Casswyn had no choice but to quickly learn to fend for herself whilst doing the best she could by her father. Casswyn not only managed the house, the farm, the apothecary but also her father's affairs and, for a long time, did all she could to cover his illness. Fastred was a loving man with a heart much too big. His life had revolved around his wife and the loss of his true love and their new baby destroyed him in the truest sense. He stopped eating, washing, caring and, eventually, would not speak. By the time Casswyn was eighteen years old, despite all her efforts, she had been forced to sell the farm's livestock and her father had drank himself to death. Once her father was in the ground, beside her mother and sister, Casswyn turned on her heels and left the farm with her horses, a colossal 18hh black mare by the name of Uvaer.

Since being on the road Casswyn has been using her skills in healing, horsemanship and hunting. As she is gifted with horses she has been able to earn money by breaking in, training and dealing with problem horses. In addition to this she has dabbled in gambling, racing horses on the dusty tracks of some villages. Her horse, Uvaer, is of a draught build but her muscular quarters which makes her both fast on the roads and sure-footed on the more mountainous trails. The mare's temper is often short but Casswyn knows how to handle her. With Uvaer in her possession Casswyn has been able to find employment in delivering messages and letters from time to time. Casswyn will also occasionally gather herbs and sell them at markets, offering healing services - but only when pushed. Her reluctance to embrace these skills stems from its painful connection with her mother.

On a deeper level, Casswyn has concerns over her own fertility and the issues that a pregnancy might bring. The events of her past mean that she does have some trust issues and at times can be deeply insecure.

Roleplay Sample:

Beneath a poster of the Irish National Quidditch Team, Tristan was sprawled out in his bed, fast asleep, his breathing slow and even. He lay on his back with his muscular midriff bared, his arms above his head, his hair tousled and the sheet tangled around his waist. Tristan was dreaming. He didn't realise this, of course, in the way that most people don't realise their visions aren't reality until after they wake.

In his dream, Tristan walked the lane that led away from his farmhouse home, heading up the hill, with a shovel slung over his powerful shoulder. If he had thought about it, Tristan would have realised that he couldn't recall leaving the farmhouse and that he had no idea where his twin brother or father were but, as is the way with dreams, these thoughts didn't cross his mind. The sun was riding high, it was deliciously warm and there was hardly a cloud in the beautiful Irish blue sky. It was a good day to complete his task, though Tristan wasn't yet sure what that was exactly.

Eventually, Tristan came to a plot on the hillside. It looked familiar but he couldn't quite place it. It was the perfect spot and so Tristan began to dig. He was digging for what seemed an eternity, a chasm growing in the earth where he worked. A sweet breeze licked his skin and ruffled his hair but the sun did not move across the sky. It was hot, Tristan's shirt clung damply to his skin but he felt no thirst. In time, he peeled his shirt off and hung it on a fence post, before continuing with his work. He dug and dug until blisters were threatening to appear on his already work-hardy hands - but there was no pain.

Tristan paused, holding a hand up to shade his eyes from the sun as he looked at the sky and savoured the wind. A pair of seagulls, flowing low, went gliding past crying loudly to one another. A storm is coming, Tristan thought. They lived only a ten minute walk from the beach but Tristan knew from experience when seagulls flew low like that, braying, it could only mean one thing. He knew he had to hurry.

The young farmer turned his attention back to his project only to see it was suddenly completed. Before him was a rectangular hole in the earth, six foot deep. Glancing around, Tristan finally recognised the plot as the O'Sullivan family graveyard - but the tombstones, graves and even the old yew tree were missing. No matter, in a dream all things are accepted. Besides, the job was done.

Tristan jumped into the hole. Down here the air was damp, earthy and sweet. Tristan lay flat on his back, the dirt feeling deliciously cool and soothing against his hot skin. From this spot he gazed up at the sky, watching the occasional seagull glide past, and felt a great peace wash over him. Tristan crossed his arms across his chest, like a cadaver laid to rest, and closed his eyes. He felt no fear.

That was when Tristan woke up.

Tristan gazed at the canopy of his bed a moment, running through the details of his dream as he passed a hand over his face sleepily. It wasn't a nightmare, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he could not deny that it gave him an unwelcome sense of foreboding. Back home, there was a Muggle woman from the village who once dreamed three nights in a row that she was baking fresh, homemade bread. It had not been a nightmare but it had worried her, so much so that she had confided in her friends (and so, in a sense, had confided in the whole village - in such a small, peaceful community word of such peculiarities travelled fast). After the third night of this dream, her newborn baby had died suddenly of cot death. Some years later, this same woman had had the same dream again, three nights in a row. Fearing the safety of her children, she kept them home from school and forbade them to leave the house. Clodagh, one of her daughters, a bonnie child of only seven or eight years of age, had sneaked out the back door - no doubt thinking it a game. When the woman discovered her child missing, she frantically searched for her daughter, calling on friends, family and neighbours to help. Tristan and Conor had been part of the search party, flying over the fields and moors on quad bikes calling for the child. In the end, they were not the ones that found Clodagh, but found she was - drowned in a creek near her home, which she had tumbled into. It was heartbreaking and, having witnessed these events with his own eyes, Tristan did not doubt the power of dreams - or the overwhelming tragedies that one person could face in their lifetime. If something as innocuous as baking bread could be a death omen, what did his dream mean? Did it even mean anything if he only had it once?

Tristan opened the curtains around his bed. Despite the fact he had been having trouble sleeping he still woke early and, as per usual, he was the first of his room-mates to waken. Ernie Macmillan's steady breathing suggested he was still asleep and Justin Finch-Fletchley's bed was, well, empty and neatly made. Being Muggleborn, Justin had not been allowed to return to Hogwarts. Tristan rather missed his friend but hoped he was safer away from the school.

Tristan paused, glancing thoughtfully at the photographs he kept beside his bed. One was of himself, Conor, Cait and Cass when Cait had come to visit one summer. They smiled happily, arms around each other, the sun kissing their faces. In another, a young Tristan (twelve years old in fact) kneeled with bright, eager eyes smiled up at the camera, his arms wrapped around a small, pretty coloured foal that was lying down on the straw-strewn stable floor. The third was taken by the front door to the farmhouse only a couple of years ago. Bridget stood on the doorstep, her hair tied back, wearing an apron that bore smudges of flour – she must have been in the middle of baking something - Conor and Tristan were sitting on a quad grinning widely, while their father stood beside them, walking stick in hand, flat cap on and his favourite sheepdog, Baron, at his feet. Tristan smiled a sentimental smile. What a suck you are, Ossie, he thought to himself - but the people in these photographs were the centre of his world.

Quickly and quietly, Tristan rose, washed and dressed. Not in robes, it was the weekend after all, but into a worn pair of jeans, a plain t-shirt, his Barbour jacket and boots. A tramp around the grounds was what called to him. That wasn't against the rules yet, was it?

Tristan walked briskly out of the dormitory, through the Hufflepuff Common Room and out of the castle and into the grounds, not seeing another soul along the way. It was a crisp, bright, autumnal morning and Tristan savoured the cool, fresh air and the exercise - that would certainly clear away the cobwebs! As he approached the lakeside, Tristan slowed, shading the sun from his eyes as he identified a bird flying over the lake - an osprey! Tristan had never seen one before and the sight made his face split into a grin. For the moment, his dream was forgotten. He took a seat on a large rock near the water's edge and, after watching the osprey for a moment, turned his face towards the sun and closed his eyes. As its rays warmed Tristan's face, thoughts of Cait warmed his heart. He could still feel Cait's warm body next to him, taste her lips, feel her soft hair between his fingers and, for a moment, he relived those intimate moments the pair had shared by the fireside in the Common Room. That girl had stolen his heart and he couldn't be happier.

Feeling joyous, enjoying the peace and being outdoors, Tristan opened his eyes to watch the osprey, and began to sing quietly to himself. He had a beautiful singing voice, even for an Irish boy (or so he was told), but he was rather reserved about singing in front of others. When he sang he felt like he was baring a bit of his soul and that made him feel vulnerable.

“It's cold and raw, the north winds blow
Black in the morning early
When all the hills were covered with snow
Oh then it was winter fairly...”

BEHIND THE SCREEN:

Alias: Cass
Codeword:
Experience: Four or five years but then I took a long break - I've only been RPing again for the past three months or so
How you found us?: Proboards Support Forum, I went there specifically in search of a Middle Earth role play to join
Other Characters: N/A
How should we contact you?: By private message or by e-mail, preferably the former where possible