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Old September 15th, 2012 (07:57 PM). Edited September 16th, 2012 by Claire*.
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Claire* Claire* is offline
Here's to the crazy ones.
 
Join Date: Jul 2012
Location: USA
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Nature: Sassy
Posts: 554
I wanted to go ahead and submit my sign-up into the mix. I understand if this is not the type of character you were looking for, as she is not an "established" hero. I wanted to go with someone who had the potential to be a hero, someone who grew into the role and was chosen for her underlying potential. I've always been drawn to characters who do not readily exude greatness, but find it within themselves.

I readily admit that SUs are not my strong suit when it comes to RPing. If there is anything that can be fixed or tweaked, please let me know. :D

Character's thematic music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1S81JN7rLk&feature=related
Name: Iora Oriole
Nickname: People close to her refer to her as Io. (Pronounced “Eye-O”)
Age: 23
Race: Rito

Weapon: Bow and Arrow (An acquired skill through her father and school, primarily only used in sport.), Grappling hook (She knows how to use one, but is not perfectly proficient with the Grappling hook.)

Perks: Excellent eyesight, coupled with tremendous agility and fluidity. Her natural grace renders her capable of dodging more brutish attacks with almost effortless ability. One day the ability of flight. Average intelligence, neither a genius nor a neanderthal. Due to her eyesight, she has excellent awareness and danger sense.

Faults: Below average strength, and a surprising paralyzing fear of heights. Even though she has obtained her wings, she can not successfully fly, either due to her inability, or her resulting fear of high places. Her lack of physical strength renders her powerless to lift thing of substantial weight, or ward off enemies in a melee.

Appearance: Iora is a petite, lithe creature of very small stature. Her height is no greater than that of a Hylian teenager. To put a number on it, her height is roughly 5’2”. She has retained her species naturally light and “airy” body, her weight being minuscule in relation. One would not describe her as voluptuous, but she does retain some slight curvature on her body.

Her pale skin and amber colored eyes, contrast her bright fiery red hair. Oftentimes, said hair is managed in a boring ponytail, the length of which comes down to her lower back. Her golden, small, hawk-like beak sits upon her face, resting only slightly above her more human-like round mouth. The pointy ears of her species, rest hidden, tucked under her hair. Iora is not one for makeup, or any artificial appearance enhancers. Although many would consider her beautiful, Iora would never admit it to herself.

Her voluminous white wings lay on her arms while dormant, almost resembling the sleeves of a great trench coat. When extended, the faint speckles of red are visible in the sunlight.

Her customary garb includes: One loose fitting grey tribal styled robe, a small white chevron pattern is stitched into the main weave. Her red sash accents the wardrobe by being neatly tied across her waist, just above her hips. Her talon-less birdlike feet are completely exposed, she does not wear shoes of any kind.

Personality: Iora is a person of many qualities. An idea and people person, who sees everyone and everything as having value. She both likes and desires to be liked by everyone. Typically, she is well liked and thought of. Her outgoingness and warmth are exuded at every possible opportunity. Her behavior often has her labeled as zany and humorous.

To her benefit or detriment, she wears her heart on her sleeve. She is easily affected by others with words and actions. One could say that she is easily wounded emotionally. As a result, her temperament at times boils over, only to become angry at herself later for losing control.

A strong sense of right and wrong wrestles together in her head. Trying to avoid conflict at all times, these senses combat with each other to try and procure a solution with the least amount of confrontation possible. Even if conflict is not something she desires, she posses a natural “mothering” instinct. One that is over protective of her friends, and the ones she loves. Were someone to threaten anyone in her circle of trust, any fears and inhibitions would be pushed aside.

A serious detriment to her wellbeing, is that she has a very short attention span. If she were to linger on one task for too long, her attention will wander and her boredom made manifest. Combine this with a tendency to act before thinking, she often finds herself in many a difficult situations.

Due to her sincere love of others, she is apt to neglect her own desires and wellbeing, making her prone to the selfish desires of other less sensitive people.

History: Born on the picturesque Dragon Roost Island, Iora grew up how many Rito would. The primary events of her life were unspectacular and pedestrian. One of three fledglings, she was the only daughter to her parents. Being the middle child, she often played intermediary between her youngest and oldest brother.

Her school years passed uneventfully and without worry. It wasn’t until she reached the verge of adulthood that problems began. Ever since she was little, for reasons beyond her explanation, or maybe reasons repressed, Iora has had a tremendous fear of heights. This paralyzing fear was unique among her species, especially since their primary means of transportation was flight and grappling hook.

Although a big deal was not made of this fear in public, whispers of her oddity made its way through the island. When many young Rito were progressing through their right of passage and gaining their wings, Iora remained wingless. Many of her friends became couriers for the mail service, her older brother included. Obviously, her inability of flight left her grounded, her position inside the mail room as a mail sorter seemingly forever cemented. Her (then) wingless state, although she was popular with everyone on a personal level, separated her as different from other adult Rito.

She would often sit on the beach alone, a place where she would practice her singing. She loved to sing, but she would never let anyone hear her.


Ally: She does not currently posses an ally.

Password: All hail Vaati!

Proof of Loyalty: Although I know it is impossible to alleviate all doubt when it comes to loyalty. I can assure you that I am dedicated to any and all RPs that I am a part of. I try to contribute and many times, if a RP is sinking, try to breathe new life into it. I have RP'd here before and on other sites. Although my account shows as being relatively new here, I assure you, that I do no quit things that I start and am (almost obsessively) dedicated to my RPing.

RP Sample:
Spoiler:
“Local bound, export, local, local, export.”

Iora let out a muffled moan as she leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck with her hands as she did so. No matter how hard she tried, she could never finish a day of work without having a sore neck. Sitting in the central mail room of Dragon Roost Island, numerous packages and letters strewn about the floor and every visible surface imaginable, this was the heart of the postal service. Postmen moved about the area with effortless finesse and determined purpose. Everyone of them familiar with Iora, for reasons good and some genuinely unusual.

Standing from her desk, the old wooden chair issued a horrible screech as it rubbed on the poorly maintained floor. Another day done, the same old same old. Nothing ever changed. As she shuffled to the door, she tightened the sash around her waist, her right hand drifting over to touch the sign by the door.

“No late deliveries for 42 days”

As silly as it seemed, that was her purpose. A ridiculous record that meant nothing in the grand scheme of the world. She had such a hard time focusing with this job, if it weren’t for the fast pace, she would probably go crazy...er.

“Hey, Sis!” Rollo, Iora’s older brother flew up to her as she locked the door behind her. Rollo was always much bigger than Iora, by about a good foot, his frame and wingspan dwarfed her in his shadow. She always envied him, it seemed like he had no fear, no worries. From the outside, his life seemed perfect. A postman, happily coupled, a respected member of the community.

“Hi, Rollo!” She called out to him, her arms trying to wrap around him in a genuinely warm embrace. “How was your route today? Anything exciting happen?”

“Aren’t you a curious little fledgling?” He cooed at her, tapping her beak with his finger playfully. She hated when he called her a fledgling, a subtle dig at her for not having wings. “In fact, something very exciting happened today,” he lowered his voice, his hushed whisper barely audible to her ears. “But I can’t show you here, come with me.”

Without even an opportunity to say otherwise, she was dragged off by his powerful grip, him leading her through the city on foot, respectfully aware of her acrophobia. Through the old playgrounds, past the postmen nesting point and behind her old school. He pushed her down and whipped his bag from off his shoulders, the satchel rest slightly askew on the sandy ground beneath. Opening the top, he pulled out something wrapped in a soft canvas material, an oblong shape tapered at one point.

“Rollo, what is this?” She asked inquisitively, a lump formed in her throat as he forced the parcel into her hands. He didn’t issue an answer, simply nodding his head to command her to open. Her hands shook slightly as she unwrapped the layers, it was heavier than it looked, thin yet substantial. The final carefully wrapped layer removed, the tip of a great reptilian scale protruded from underneath. Iora, for one of the few times in her life, was lost for words. A gasp left her mouth before she could even reel it in. “Rollo, where did you get this? I mean, this is a Valoo scale right?”

“Don’t worry my sister, where I got it is no concern of yours. The only thing that matters, is it’s yours. No longer will you have to suffer the whispers and looks as you walk by without wings.” He looked at her in the eyes, tears forming in the corners of his own. This meant a lot to him, and he risked an awful lot, no matter how he acquired it.

“I, I can’t accept it Rollo,” her voice cracked slightly as she held the massive scale in her palms. “I mean, even if I have wings, I could never use them. I would be...too afraid.” She dropped her head in shame, the scale in her hands suddenly felt like the weight of the world.

“But you have to Io! You, you would no longer be a freak! No, I mean...” His words cut deeply, even as he recognized his mistake and tried to correct it.

“Freak? Is that what you think of me, Rollo? Is that why you did this? Are you ashamed of me?” Tears began to stream from her eyes, the skin of her cheek becoming soaked from them.

“No, you don’t understand!” He pleaded, his composure completely gone. “It’s just, you don’t hear what people say about you, because they’re too afraid to say it to your face. What is a Rito without wings, Io? Just, think about it, ok?” Standing up to leave, he extended his wings, his head hung slightly as he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “I only did it for you Io, I love you sis.” With a mighty bound he leapt into the air, a tremendous flap of his wings and he was gone.

Looking down onto the scale once again, it seemed to radiate some kind of energy. Could she really cheat the rite of passage? Without thought, she grasped the scale tightly, carrying it locked in a death grip as she slowly walked home concealed from sight.

Later in her roost, her eyes remained fixed on the scale. Mental warfare raging inside her head, the figurative angel and devil duking it out for justice and desire. She didn’t want to be a freak, no matter how hard she tried, if she didn’t have wings, she would always be one. Always someone “abnormal”. Without even taking notice, her eyes begun to get heavy, her body falling asleep even in its uncomfortable sitting upright position.

Her night was restless, tossing and turning in severe discomfort. Even through it all, she never woke. That is, until the sun rose. Her eyes shot open as she cast her glance out the far side window. The sun was already high in the sky, a definite indication of it being late morning. She was late.

Springing from her chair, uttering curses and foul utterances as she ran out the door and onto the pathway to the mail center. In all her years working there, she had never once been late. She wasn’t about to begin now.

An unmistakable roar bellowed forth from the mountain’s peak. Valoo’s thunderous voice echoed between the peaks and valley’s like a coming hurricane. Her stride came to a skidding stop, her feet kicking up dust as she did so. “What the hell?” She said under he breath, almost as if she was nervous others would hear. A strong wind blew from the north, stronger than she had ever seen. It seemed to have some unusual grip on her, forcing her back. Trying to break the wind, she placed her arms in front of her, the unusual grip explained as she witnessed why, her arms had a new excrescence, wings.

To her amazement, she studied the newly formed protrusions. Something she thought that would never be on her body. Without further opportunity, another gust came and knocked her from her feet, the wind catching under the plumage and forcing her off the edge. Plummeting to the waiting ocean below, flapping her wings furiously to try and orient herself. The fear of not only her situation but the looming depth of her plunge dawned on her. The crashing waves writhed below, a gapping maw at the ready to swallow her.

With an unceremonious splash, she broke the water, her body going limp and unconscious upon impact. As she sank, the water seemed to boil around her, the distortion and pulse of the current abnormal and foreign. As quickly as she had hit the water, just as quickly she vanished, seemingly into a void...
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