the hearer

a mage.

WHO IS THAT GIRL? Should one chance to glimpse her for the first time, perhaps at the edge of some clearing of sorts, or perched upon a rather crooked fence post – as though she had ever belonged there – they would mark straightaway that she did not sit square within the ordinary shape of the world. Not quite.

❊．nameㅤ lorelei jewele
❊．ㅤmonikerㅤ the hearer.
❊．ㅤageㅤ twenty-five.ㅤ
❊．ㅤraceㅤㅤ hyur, midlander.
❊．ㅤoriginㅤㅤ old gridania
❊．ㅤlocationㅤㅤ treespeak.
❊．ㅤskillsㅤㅤ cnj, alc, arc.
❊．languages common
❊．ㅤaffiliationsㅤ st. allene's fane, the conjurer's guild
❊．ㅤoccupationㅤ apothecary, mage & "archivist"
❊．alignment chaotic good.
❊．ㅤvoice claim princess zelda, botw.

❊     SYNOPSIS        Armed with naught but a humble cane and a curious familiar ever at her side, Lorelei is, at her core, a creature of wonder and inquiry. In the shadow of her mother’s legacy as a master alchemist within the Black Shroud, she treads the path of study and craft with purpose, ever in pursuit of greatness... no matter how peculiar the road may become.Oft regarded as eccentric, the girl weaves her talents in both Conjury and Alchemy through methods most unconventional. Timid by nature and prone to stumbling over her words before thought has time to catch them, she is not one to command a room with ease. Yet what she lacks in worldly poise, she more than redeems in brilliance.❊     FEATURES         Lorelei bears the semblance of youth, yet not wholly so. Not as babes do, no, nor in the fashion of the aged whose summers may no longer be counted upon fingers. Not in the manner wherein youth is measured by the turning of years… but rather, in that she seems untouched by the heaviness of things. Eyes far too old for so fair a visage, yet too bright for sorrow’s stain, hold a light uncanny. A knowing is writ upon her countenance- the kind oft glimpsed in those who have hearkened to that which ought not to speak: wind through keyholes, roots shifting slow beneath the loam, or secrets which pass silent as hart through thicket.She is seldom seen without a great leather satchel, worn and bulging at the seams, burdened by the many oddments one insists upon carrying. Wherever she treads, the soft clatter of glass and metal follows... vials, tools, and trinkets all jostling within. It is a sound many have come to associate with her approach: a gentle herald of a strange woman indeed.

A WITCH?

HARDLY.

WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?
Whether it be a fleeting glance, a long lost friend, or familiar name, here are some options.

VARIOUS THEMES

YES

MAYBE

NO

    CONJURING TROUBLE         Mayhap even within the halls of Gridania’s own Conjurers’ Guild, word has spread of the peculiar girl whose stubbornness is rivaled only by her flame-bright hair. Opinions oft give way to whispers, and whispers, in turn, to quiet judgments passed behind closed doors.The young mage is seldom spoken of in tones of praise... for whether by misstep, misunderstanding, or mere mischief, her name is not oft linked with commendable deed. Be it truth or mere tale, her reputation within the Guild lies tarnished, shaped more by rumor than reason.    ALTRUISM MUST FLOURISH         Many have caught wind of hushed whispers... tales of a wayward band surely bound for naught but the wrath of the Elementals themselves. These bold few, it is said, defy without hesitation the long-held customs of the Twelveswood, placing the needs of the forsaken above the edicts of those in power. To some, their cause is righteous. To others, it is purest folly. For to act against the will of the Wood, against the balance preserved since ages past, is considered no less than blasphemy. Yet still they move, answering not to law, but to conscience.

    THE WOOD UPON DEAF EARS         Being but a babe newly swaddled in the embrace of the Twelveswood, it was not long after Lorelei's first breath that it became suspected that the Matron, in her unknowable wisdom, had once more marked an innocent soul with a gift both wondrous and grim. To both hear and translate the voices of the Elementals is a gift many covet. Yet not all blessings are so easily borne. For some, the burden of such a gift weighs heavy, and what was meant as boon may grow to be bane. And there are those who come to find that the forest’s song is not always sweet, nor its whispers kind.    A REMARKABLE FAMILIAR         Whether nestled beneath the folds of a gown or perched with no small amount of pride upon her shoulder, one shall find a curious creature ever in Lorelei’s company... a familiar by the name of 'Albert'. Small in stature yet vast in spirit, the impish being is possessed of a tongue as sharp as any blade, ever quick with jests, barbs, and ill-tempered commentary. A Poro-Roggo not easily tamed - if at all- Albert stands as proof to either bold brilliance or... a woeful lack of preparation in his conjuring. None can say for certain whether his existence was wrought of design or, well, Lorelei's failed enchantment, for he seems to abide by few of the rules that bind most familiars, let alone men.

    BY ANY ALCHEMICAL MEANS        Lorelei bears a most discerning eye for all things alchemical. This unyielding curiosity she tends with care in the form of a modest, home-kept apothecary nestled within the North Shroud. Though her name is but mildly known, her craft speaks well enough for itself... for few are the ailments or quandaries she cannot brew a remedy to match.To the casual passerby, her trade may appear a mere pastime, ever-shifting with her whims. Yet those who have sought her wares and left with ailment eased, do indeed know better: beneath her unassuming manner lies a rather practiced hand.

mun.

WHO AM I?
I am just a girl, guys...

DISCLAIMERS

HEY! THANKS FOR READING.

Lorelei is not a set-in-stone character and as always, is a constant work in progress.I am an 18+ American and do live in the PST timezone, and work full time in healthcare. I am usually on after life's various responsibilities and am typically up late on weekends.

PREFERENCES

If you are going to do anything that warrants as questionable, please send me a /tell first and let me know beforehand.I love to RP with anyone, as long as boundaries are not severely pushed, BUT... I am not keen on overly dark, or edgy concepts off the bat, but if it applies to the storyline or character, I will most likely be open to it. I am NOT interested in ERP or erotica. Do not ask.IC INTERACTIONS DO NOT EQUATE TO OOC ONES. EVER.
This is huge. Nothing I say ICly is to be taken in an OOC light. If my character does something that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know.

CONTACT ME

I always am up for making new friends, so if you are ever curious as to if you can message me or send me a tell, go right ahead! I love hearing from people.I do not give out my Discord on Carrds, if you are interested in RPing or chatting there, let me know in game! I'll most likely say yes. :)

hello.

SO, YOU'VE FOUND US.
Do you have what it takes?
“Better to be called mad, than to let the people burn.”

WHO IS SAINT ALLENE?

Allene was but a humble farmer. Gentle of hand, and placid of heart. Yet upon a certain festival day, her manner did change... for she perceived that which none other did: a storm. Nay! A calamity, born of the land's unrest.What is a woman to do, when reason proves too slow and words fall like chaff upon deaf ears? Thus did she turn to desperate measure. Grasping her harvest scythe, she did set upon the revelers... shouting, bellowing, her breath afire as though possessed. Wildly did she swing, not with intent to wound, but to drive them forth in fright.And so the villagers, believing her touched by madness, fled unto the fields. No sooner had they scattered than the calamity struck, and the village square was torn asunder.Allene’s deed, though fierce and frenzied, did indeed save them all.In time, she was venerated as a saint, seen as holy omen... a divine warning, sent by The Matron herself.

WHAT IS THE FANE?

Not all who listen to the forest serve the city.Beneath the boughs of the Twelveswood, past the reach of Gridania’s paths and the ever-watchful Wailers, there are those who claim the Elementals do not speak as the Hearers say they do. These are not anarchists nor warmongers, but those who remember another voice...older, stranger, and vastly more honest than the one now forced through temple halls and council chambers.They call themselves nothing. But among frightened villagers and wandering hedge-priests, a name has taken root: St. Allene's Fane.This scattered band of outcasts, dissenters, and true believers does not seek to burn Gridania down. No, their rebellion is quieter than that... woven through whispers, half-forgotten rites, and the stubborn refusal to believe the forest has chosen politics over its own.They say the conjurers have shaped the Elementals into something palatable, useful. That the will of the forest is now drafted by committee and enforced by law. That “the spirits say” has become a weapon... used to exile, silence, control.