Hey. My friend wanted a background story for a long time Roleplay character and asked me to help by writing a background. She also asked me to create a weapon description for her bow as well. Which I did.
Hope you enjoy. (Yes. It is completed.)
Chrysanthe was born in a small encampment in the middle of a forest. Her parents were Forest Bandits. As she grew up, her brown hair grew too. Coupled with her Cerulean blue eyes, her Father quickly introduced her to the life the bandits led. She believed many of the lies her father told her. “We are doing a service to everyone my little girl. By helping us you keep the world from going dark and dangerous.” As a little girl, she knew no better. She followed her parents wishes and would sit on the side of the road, waiting for the caravan that they already knew was coming. Seeing a little girl on the side of the road, they inevitably stopped to help her. About halfway through her story of how she had been left behind. The bandits would strike. Bowmen first, followed by any cavalry they had. Course, the horses would of come from earlier raids during the day. The result was always the same. Disaster for the caravans.
As Chrysanthe grew older, her mother began to tell her the truth. Stories of the world outside and what it was really like. She had trained with a bow from the moment she was strong enough to hold one. First small bows and then increased in size. Eventually she could shoot better than most of the bandits in the group. Over the years, the numbers had dwindled of course. Some fights being harder than others. Chrysanthe knew the truth of the world now, but also saw the hunger for food that was occurring in the campsite. She began to help on the attacks. This time, as a Bandit herself.
Chrysanthe was only thirteen years of age at the time. At first all seemed to go well. Except Chrysanthe wasn't shooting.. As well as she could anyways. She had never killed a man before. Only hunted for small game, sometimes even deer for the camp. Killing a living human being was different. She could shoot the horses, sometimes the fall would kill the fighter. Her father eventually found out and demanded that she actually shoot to kill. Chrysanthe of course, did as she was told.
Half a year passed and they were still struggling. They planned an attack and set it all up. They had not planned it well. A caravan was passing, so they would hit it. It wasn't well defended they said. It will be three to one odds in our favour. It came rolling along. The odds seemed even better than originally thought. One man on a horse rode at the front. The rest were all behind the caravan. She looked at her father, right as he loosed his arrow. It was aimed for the young man leading the caravan. She drew her arrow as she aimed for one of the horses pulling the wagon. She loosed in shock, missing majorly as the young man burst out of the saddle. There were dual scimitars in his hands. Wings sprouted from his back, whirlwinding the air around him. She had never seen such a display of power. By now the Bandits were attacking the rear of the caravan as well. No doubt this particular group had another person just as powerful as this one. She knew of the angels that roamed this realm. From stories of course. Her father drew his blade and ran at the man. She screamed after him. She ran along the edge of the tree line, watching as the bandits were killed. Some drew back deeper into the forest. Some outright ran. She called after one of her Father's best men, a man who knew her well. “Rally who you can around us. We run.” He did as told. Her eyes turned back to her father, just as one of the young man’s scimitars sliced his head off easily. She stood in shock. One of the men from the back rode forth, calling a name. It was all she heard as she was dragged away. “Daz!”
Eventually the small group stopped running. There were eight, including Chrysanthe herself. She ordered them to keep walking. One man in particular disagreed. Eventually Chrysanthe won out and they moved on. The man continued to grumble though, silently to others.
Chrysanthe was fourteen now. The group had stayed together. Some had begun to grumble though. Among them, as always, the one man who grumbled from the start. They set up camp for the night, the watch set. She fell asleep easily, exhausted from the day’s hunting and continued moving.
She woke with a start, the sound of a man being stabbed, almost directly above her. The man’s eyes were glazed over, a dagger falling to the grass beside her head. She got up instantly. Her right hand, as people called him, was shoving him away and cleaning his blade now. They ran that night.
The two of them continued to survive easily. Living off the land. Another year had almost passed. Chrysanthe turned fifteen in only a few weeks. The sound of wolves had them running through the night again, hoping to not get caught. They were weaker now than they had been. The continued running.
Eventually they couldn’t keep running. They could see the wolves through the trees behind them. Her good friend now told her to keep running, drawing his sword. She ran, upset by his sacrifice. As she ran she could hear the fight. Sound carried during the night after all. She made it away somehow though. She kept running, finding food when she passed it. It was only a week later that the wolves returned. She had managed to rest and find proper food now, returning her strength. But now she had to continue running. She did so. Suddenly she had to stop. Cut off by more wolves. They had never known how many there were in the first place.
She had all but given up when the Elves appeared. The first sign of them was the seemingly glowing arrow appearing in the ground before the wolves. They backed off slightly. Slowly they appeared out of the trees. They said something about claiming her under their protection. That was all she heard as she collapsed from exhaustion. All she remembered hearing that night as she slipped in and out of consciousness was the Elves talking about the behaviour of the lycans and what to do with her.
Another year passed, the Elves having taught her about the realm around them. They kept her secret though, making sure she was well trained in all the arts. It only took a year. On her sixteenth birthday, Chrysanthe stepped out into the world.
Bow (Gift from the Elves):
Chrysanthe carries around a bow, gifted to her by the Elves during her stay. The bow itself is made of only basic woods known to the elves. Crafted in the design of an old English Longbow, the elvish craftsman carefully carved the designs of the elven forests. In the traditional Elven way. The design had the travelling branches of the tree, sweeping up along the wood. Carefully carved into the bow to leave the ‘trunk’ of the tree where Chrysanthe would grip the bow. This expert craftsmanship allowed a smooth handle to be shaped out of the wood, seeming to be lots of the branches melding together. The wood had a silver colour to it, as most things elven made do. The spell weavers made sure to imbue the bow with only a small amount of power, that of heightening the senses. To gain this feeling, the hand would have to grip the area crafted for the safe area. The quiver was crafted with similar designs to the bow, making a matching set. The were no additions to the quiver though. Any arrows would need to be bought or salvaged. Or even crafted specifically for the bow itself. That they left up to Chrysanthe herself.