Sundavar "Sunny" Wyrda

Full Name: Sundavar Wyrda.
Nicknames: Sun, Sunny, Umbra.
Age: 150.
Gender: Female.
Race: Mortal Half-Elf.
Affiliation: Presently none.
Rank: N/A
Hair & Eyes: Dark indigo blue eyes, long and straight black hair held back with a leather strip.
Height & Weight: Tall (around 6'3) but thin and light with a wiry build.
Specific Details: Nasty looking scar under her left eye, possibly the result of a burn.

Place of Birth: Aurelia, the city of [Insert name here], one of the largest cities in the human lands.
Place of Residence: She has no home, but has a few dens hidden in several human cities.
Parents: Mother- Selena Godwin (deceased). Father- Garlin Wyrda.
Siblings: None.
Children: None.
Other Relatives: None.

Likes: Stars, alcohol, flirting with anyone who will listen and taking the piss out of everyone else.
Dislikes: Any form of imprisonment, wide open spaces, people with no sense of humor.
Personality: How Sunny comes across really depends on who you are and what her situation is. As a general rule she comes across as a cheerful fool, and a bit of a smartarse. Talking is basically a defence mechanism as if someone likes you, they're less likely to hit you. Of course, this doesn't stop her making jokes at other people's expense.
While she is generally friendly, she finds it very difficult to trust anyone. In particular, she hates authority and will often get into trouble talking her mouth off to the random guard who just walked past.
Despite appearances, Sun is not a particularly cheerful person. She can be rather depressive from time to time, though generally hides her actual feelings from most people.

History: Sundavar was born the illegitimate daughter of a poor tavern wench in one of the largest human cities in Aurelia. Her father was a supposedly noble High Elfin soldier who abandoned her mother the moment he knew a child had been conceived. As a result, she was born into a life of poverty and has never forgiven the father she never knew. She rejects elfin side altogether, even hating her own name and constantly referring to herself only as Sunny.

As a child she spent most of her time on the streets, gradually picking up the survival skills she would need later in life. She learned from an early age to keep her elfin heritage hidden, as racism was rife and besides which children will always pounce on any perceived difference. She became very adept at disguising herself and passing unseen in a crowd, and even developed a skill for pickpocketing. Her mother had too little gold to question where the few coins she brought back came from.

Life only became harder she grew older. Though the elvish magic in her blood apparently gifted her with some longevity, her circumstances forced her to mature at a rate much the same as a human. Unable to find employment in the over populated city she reluctantly became involved in a local gang in order to feed herself and her mother.sadly, shortly after her 22nd birthday, her mother died under suspicious circumstances. Though she was never able to confirm it, she suspected she was murdered for objecting to Sunny's involvement in the gang. She was framed for the death and through an awkward and regrettable series of events ended up indentured to the gang.

She spent roughly 60 years working for them doing all manner of shady jobs, from theft to assassination. During this time she became nicknamed "Umbra" on account of her stealth, though she never personally associated herself with the name, simply using it as another mask. Of course though, she was being used as a tool and eventually it was decided she was more trouble than she was worth. Once again she was framed for murder, but this time far more serious- the murder of a local lord's son. However in a way it was the chance she was looking for- she fled the gang and went into hiding, beginning to travel between nearby cities offering the services of Umbra.

She has lived in this manner for a number of years now, working as a freelance thief and assassin for whoever paid the most. The only ties she has to her past are a simple wooden locket containing a small painting of her mother, and the scar on her face; formerly, she bore a tattoo marking her to those who knew as a slave. When she fled, she knew she would only have a chance if she removed the mark, and so was forced to cut off the skin and cauterize the wound with the flat of a heated blade, giving her the scar she now bares. Still, a scar is less damning than a symbol.


RP Sample: The hooded figure leaned back against the bar, silently observing the tavern's patrons. Most of them had the look of sailors, understandable as they were near the city docks. The atmosphere was already rowdy. Normally she'd be in the shadows with a bottle, but she wasn't here for leisure. This was business. The boss wanted a distraction, she gave one wether she liked it or not.

She leaned back and made a gesture to the bartender, who obligingly poured her a second glass of whiskey. Downing the burning liquid, she returned the glass, straightened her hood, and moved towards the nearest drunken throng. She tapped on the nearest shoulder, having to hide a smirk when she was confronted with an incredibly drunk looking bearded brute.
"Here mate are you going to take that? That git over there just called your mother a Lycan!" She waved vaguely to a few tables across, this time unable to hide the grin as the poor sod yelled and started shouldering his way across the crowded room. This was going to be easier than she thought.

Working her way through the room she repeated the insults to the least sober men she could find, getting increasingly creative. In a matter of minutes the room looked ready to blow. It just needed a finishing touch. Leaping onto the nearest table she grinned widely and yelled "Oh, and one more thing. Fuck you all!", and with that punched the nearest person in the face before leaping down and shoulder charging her way to the door.
"Ahh, I love a good bar fight."