-- Profile --
-- Appearance --
Clearly aging. Her fur's a gentle grey. Her paws are a bit wrinkled, but they still work nimbly.
She's happy to dress simply in a blue cloak, and nothing else but the belt/bandolier strapped around her body to carry her many bottles and water skins. She's also in the habit of using a long wooden staff. Perhaps she needs it as a cane or walking stick? Perhaps it's handy for other uses?
-- History --
As a child, Eleanor lived a cozy life, daughter to an innkeeper father and a skilled nurse of a mother. One daughter of many, in fact. It takes many little paws working together to run an inn, especially one in the stronghold city of Burl. Burl, of course, remains a refuge for any mouse, buttressing the ravages of winter cold and fearsome predators alike.
Apologies for the departure from the young Eleanor, but I promise you it proves necessary.
Burl depends on collection and defense to keep its inhabitants safe. Holing up inside the city (most of which lies underneath the earth among the roots of a great tree), is how they stay safe, and comfortable. Food is collected in excess during spring, summer, and fall, so they have enough to stay inside during winter. In the winter, Eleanor's father could count on his guests taking a very extended stay indeed at his inn -- no one wanted to step outside of Burl until the spring thaw.
But as safe as it was inside Burl, it was also, in its own way, a trap. Anyone who fell ill was quick to pass the disease to others in the cooped-up environment, and this went doubly so for the guests of the inn and the family who maintained it.
Fortunately, Eleanor's mother was an amazing doctor, somehow able to juggle the maladies of the inn's guests as well as her one family and friends. During the worst of times, the inn felt more like a sick bay than a hotel, with but one doctor on hand. Well, one doctor plus her assistant.
Young Eleanor loved playing nurse to her mother. The way her mother was able to heal so many people back to health was amazing to Eleanor. When her mother was so busy she was run off her paws, Eleanor would assist her and learn through osmosis. During downtime when not so many mice were ill, her mother would teach Eleanor in a more calm, controlled environment.
Eleanor knew what she wanted to be.
One winter, when Eleanor was on the cusp of becoming a teenager, illness descended on the stronghold city of Burl like never before. Eleanor's sisters fell ill, one after the other, followed by her father, as well as a majority of Burl's inhabitants. Eleanor's mother worked herself ragged, tending to perhaps three dozen patients at one time. With certain patients, she would refuse to let young Eleanor help, afraid that her child would catch the disease's spread as well. Eleanor was insistent, using her own mother's words:
"As long as breath still flows through me, I will keep it flowing through those around me."
And so the two worked together, tirelessly. But Burl's reserves soon ran dry, and winter storms raged on outside. There was no medicine they could give their patients, no herbal remedies, no painkillers to dull their suffering.
Illness took the lives of 40% of Burl's inhabitants in the span of a single season. Eleanor's father and mother among its victims, along with many siblings. Eleanor's sister Viena was her only family left. The disaster had swept its healer along with it. Once spring allowed them to set paw outside again, there was little Burl could do but bury and mourn its dead.
Eleanor, in her grief, lashed out, using a mixture of logic and pained outrage to justify her next action: She protested at the memorial service, in front of what was to be a mass grave. Standing in front of what remained of her city's population, she told them that their loved ones must not die in vain. She demanded they not bury their dead. The city's reserves are empty, and with such a hit to their numbers, ALL of them would need to gather food and medicine, leaving many more mice open to the dangers of predators awakened by the spring thaw. They were all hungry, both mice and beast. Eleanor repeated: they must not let their loved ones die in vain.
The crowd began to catch her meaning: use the dead to keep the predators fed, and to keep them alive. Some began to shout at Eleanor, calling her barbaric, offended that she would be so disrespectful to their dead, using them as mere meat for the beasts. But ultimately, Burl's leaders (what remained of them) found this to be the most logical option if they wanted to keep the remaining half of their population alive. Predators with full bellies do not hunt. They would be free to restock the city with little danger, which was not to be underestimated, since most of their most experienced gatherers had passed on.
But Eleanor was not done, again seeking to turn her grief toward constructive measures. Measures that would prevent such tragedy from occurring again. The problem was that medicine is a finite resource, especially during the winter. The ingredients necessary were inflexible: you couldn't make do with what you had, like you could during times of famine with very little in the pantry. They were hard to scrounge up, some only found on the coast.
Eleanor looked into other options. And that's when she found Earl, the boyfriend of one of her late sisters. Earl's grandfather had passed away during the winter to the same malady, and left behind many interesting tomes, scrolls, and assorted notes, which were passed to Earl as heir. Earl didn't know what to make of them, but Eleanor pored over them religiously. They spoke of magic that could be summoned from the natural elements, magic that had the capability to heal, to protect. Magic that called forth the very essence of life from the element of nature it embodied. Water.
"As long as breath still flows through me, I will keep it flowing through those around me."
Studying with a frightening intensity, Eleanor alternated between locking herself away in a room with these writings, and spending stretches of time practicing outdoors at the pond. Earl, Viena, and her aunt became worried that she was becoming lost to some ancient magic -- and in a way, she was -- but she promised it would be for the good of everyone.
This ancient, magical method of healing proved not just useful for Burl, but entirely renewable. From then on, medicinal supplies were all but unneeded. What's more, this method of healing proved quite useful while traveling from city to city on trade, or while gathering supplies, or while the guard was on a mission. Carrying medicines while on foot was not only limiting, but rather delicate, and easily lost in battle, fleeing danger, or simple travel accidents. Water, however, was always carried on journeys anyway, and could be found more easily -- pooled in lakes, or falling from the sky.
Eleanor's new skill made her a prime candidate for healing out in the field
or at home. She was proud, and happy to help the injured and ill with this simultaneously bizarre and natural magic.
As time went on, and the horrible winter passed into the city's history, Eleanor looked back on the event and couldn't help but feel something was strange about it. It felt as if those winter months went on for far longer than they normally do, leading to the whole city running out of medical supplies. But what could possibly cause a series of months to stretch out past their norm?
Eleanor never really got her answer, but in the many years to come, she continued to study more and more about the magic of water and how to harness it in new ways. It became her profession. She became old, and with her experiences healing many mice, came wisdom.
-- Personality --
When she opts to remain quiet, the oldfur can give off a mysterious air.
When she does speak, it's clear that years of experience and work have blessed her with wisdom and ethics. She is no-nonsense, and commands respect. She speaks with forethought, only raising her voice when the situation demands. She can even come across as a caring old lady, concerning herself with everyone's well-being.
Occasionally, a smile will play across her oft-pensive face. In fact, it's not unheard of for the old mouse to prod others with teasing that only an old lady can get away with.
Eleanor tends to give a light swat to mice who treat her like she can't get around on her own because of her age, telling them she's not feeble just yet. But sometimes she has to admit that she's much more easily tired than the younger mice she travels with. She requires more rest.
-- Abilities --
This old mouse is well-studied in the art of "watercraft." It involves drawing magic power from the liquid, and can also involve shaping the substance itself.
Eleanor is only able to perform as much magic as she is carrying water, unless there is a source of water nearby. Her supply would be limited because: they are traveling, water is heavy, and some of it is needed for drinking.
More precisely, Eleanor carries five glass bottles, as well as five waterskins -- a far less fragile container than the glass. Each one, full of water, is fitted neatly into her belt, strapped about her waist. If the water from one of them is insufficient, she would combine two or three. She refills them whenever possible.
Heal - Physically, healing draws on the restorative properties of water in organisms that are primarily composed of it. This can be executed in different ways, but always involves applying the water directly to the patient's body. e.g. Pouring, soaking a bandage, massaging.
Poison - On the flip side, one can use the very same water in the opposite way, tainting it, so that its magic instead poisons who it touches.
Barrier / Bending - Through the ability to manipulate, bend, and shapeshift this magic water, Eleanor can create barriers, like a flat plane of water and/or ice. She could also make surfaces too slippery to tread.
-- Roleplay Sample --
"I was told I would be briefed once on the trail, Madam Eleanor. What is it we're looking for?"
The old greyfur chuckles transiently, looking ahead as she continues down the path. "I don't know if I'm qualified to 'brief' anyone, Josephine." She looks over her shoulder to the younger mouse following just behind her side. "You are not with the guard at the moment, is there need for such terms?" Eleanor looks ahead again, keeping her eyes less on the path and more on the area around them, as if scanning for anything amiss. "A tradesmouse from Thistledown was due to arrive in Burl a full two days ago. He never reached us."
"So... a body hunt?" Josephine asks, beginning to cast her eyes from side to side in search now that she's learned this.
"Let's not be so pessimistic. After all, Burt has sent their healer, have they not? I am no mortician."
"...My apologies, Madam."
The two ladies trek and search in silence for a time, traveling the route which the tradesmouse would have taken if he were to approach the stronghold city of Burt. The silence only broken up by the crushing of fallen leaves, yellow and crisp, beneath the staff/walking stick of the oldfur.
A raven's caw further pierces the silence. "Do you see anything, Josephine?"
"No... What do we know of this tradesmouse? Fur colour, clothing?"
"I was hoping you might act as lookout for beasts, actually, while I do the searching for our wayward merchant." Eleanor notes, glancing toward the younger again.
"Oh -- of course. Two sets of eyes for two different tasks." Josephine switches her focus to the sky and the surrounding woods, though she's barely begun when Eleanor stops, holding her staff out in front of Josephine to stop her as well.
"The ravine." Sure enough, at the bottom of the nearby ravine, a toppled cart lies, its contents spilled over the ground, a mouse's body half-buried among the goods.
"That must be him!" Josephine exclaims from the edge of the ravine, joined by the old mouse at her side. "Shall I go to his aid?"
"I'm sure you could get down there, perhaps even back up again, but you'd never be able to carry him up with you... The sides are too steep and muddy." Eleanor says, examining the scene as if it were a puzzle. Her snout rises gently, until her eyes hit the opposite side of the ravine. "Do you think you could vault to the other side with a running start, Josephine?"
She checks the distance. "I could, but the other side looks just as slick."
"No matter. You brought a length of twine, yes?"
Josephine retrieves it silently, holding the coiled length out. Eleanor takes one end, crossing to the nearest bush. "Carry your end across as you jump. I'll fasten this side." Eleanor directs, already tying it around the sturdiest of the bush's lowest limbs.
After the more nimble mouse has leapt the gap, she's directed to hold her end of the twine steady and strong, which she does readily. But to her horror, she sees the elderly mouse on the other end abandon her staff and begin to shimmy across the horizontal length of thread. "Eleanor! What are-- you can't!"
"Hush, child! Keep that twine steady! I need it taut, do you want me to join the crumpled cart?" Eleanor barks back. Josephine clams up and holds still, though watching a mouse at Eleanor's age pull a stunt like this goes against all her better judgement.
Slowly and steadily shimmying along, Eleanor reaches a point on the thread about three-quarters across, past the point where she'd be above the victim below. "Now, I want you to slowly let the twine slack. Lower me to him." Josephine does as she says, paw over paw, lowering the strand, letting it bow under Eleanor's weight. The old mouse sags, the extra length pulling her down toward the center and the bottom of the ravine, until she's with the fallen gentleman. She checks for breathing, which she luckily finds, then holds the limp mouse's paw with one of her own, and holds onto the thread with her remaining three limbs. "Now, pull it taut again, Josephine."
Pulling the twine back up to a horizontal line proves twice as difficult, lifting the weight of both Eleanor and the unconscious mouse. Josephine can manage, but it's slow going, peppered with grunts from her side of the ravine. The entire time, she watches her partner and worries that she'll lose her grip on either the twine or the mouse. Once the length is taut again, Eleanor's tasked with the hardest part: shimmying her way back the way she came with only three limbs free, and an anchor of weight hanging from her other paw. The journey is short but arduous. Her arm feels as if it might slip from its socket as the weight seems to grow heavier with time. Finally, she makes it back to solid ground, to the pathway, with the male mouse safe.
Josephine jumps the gap again, joining Eleanor. "How is he?"
"He's broken an arm... possibly a rib. They'll mend." Eleanor answers, already knelt over the collapsed mouse and putting his arm in a splint. Before Eleanor slips the splinted arm into a sling, Josephine notices her remove a vial of water from the strap around her hip, then pour an amount of water onto the splint's material. Just before it disappears into the sling, Josephine could swear she saw the wettened splint give off a dull glow, or glint... A trick of the light?
"See if you can salvage any of the cart's goods, would you?" Eleanor requests, interrupting Josephine's spying. "Burl can't afford to lose any supplies, not with winter already in the air."
---------
P.S.
A song Eleanor sings, during times of duress:
Wolf, hawk, fox, and snake
Can't stand in my way
My body is weak and it may break
But it shan't be today
Wolf, hawk, fox, and snake
Seek to see me slain
My body is weak and it may break
But it shan't be in vain
