Name: Isa (full name Isabella Welbourough, but nobody knows this except her)

Age: Approximately 16, but she's not actually sure.

Species: Human

Rank: Outlaw

Job: N/A. She's an outlaw with a bounty on her head, it's not exactly like she can take up a permanent profession. 

Weapon: Two thin, silver daggers with "I" inscribed into the hilt of one and "W" on the other. She doesn't always use both at once.

Appearance: Thin, straight brown hair cut just above her shoulders. She often pulls it back with a leather band. Isa has sharp grey eyes accentuated by high cheekbones and a gaunt, pointed face. She rarely smiles. Isa wears tan trousers, buckled leather boots, a billowy white shirt, and a black cloak. She also has a belt with a sheath for her daggers, which she hides under her cloak. 

Personality: Quiet, cold, and mistrustful. Isa is sharp, icy, and hot-tempered. She is a cautious planner and always makes sure the ground is safe before she steps. However, she doesn't want to rely on other people and never helps others if it doesn't benefit her in some way. Isa hides her emotions, for an outlaw's feelings are her greatest vulnerability. Isa knows that one false step could send her swinging—on the gallows. She would rather not kill people, but, "Things happen," as she likes to say.  

Background: Isa is an orphan. Her parents (or so Isa has been told) were killed in a fire when she was a baby. She was raised by her aunt, who really didn't want her and treated her poorly. When her aunt died from sickness, Isa was maybe nine. (Her aunt had never celebrated birthdays, so Isa really wasn't sure of when they were, exactly.) Isa lived by herself in her aunt's old cottage in the wood, pickpocketing and stealing petty things to survive. When she was around 13, a skirmish with a young man she tried to steal a watch from left him dead, her on the run, and the authorities in hot pursuit. Nowadays, Isa mostly drifts from village to village, cautiously . The king pins several murders on her head as well, though perhaps a few of them are false accusations. 

Other: Please oh please use her! She could be a sort of villian, per se. 

I'd love to make a character for your book! Here she is. 

Name: Evanlyn Tropia, Evy for short. (Or Lyn, or Eva, whichever you'd like.)

Age: 26

Species: Elf

Rank: Knightish.

Job: She is not only the princess Elf's handmaiden, but her guardian and protector. A knight and handmaiden pressed into one.

Weapon: She has several small daggers hidden on her person for close combat, but her long, elegant bow is her weapon of choice. Crafted by the finest craftsmen it is a long bow, and carved with delicate, intricate details upon its wood.

Appearance: Tall and elegant, she carries herself with utter importance as if she has a place to go. Long, silky black hair falls down her back and ripples like a waterfall, her gracefully pointed ears poking out amongst it. Silver eyes accompany her flawless face, and despite smiles being rare, a sense of humor and jovialness surrounds her. Often her long bow is slung across hee back, with a quiver attached to her belt and hanging off the side of her belt. Her gown is usually long and green, blending well with the forest, and she wears similar leggings underneath.

Personality: Although being serious most of the time, her rare laughs top even the trill of a Nightingale singing under the moon. She is loyal, and trustworthy. Always following orders, questioning them is beyond her, unless it in some way brings harm to several people. Occasionally, people are surprised by a sudden joke, or silly pun from her, and it usually startles them so. She speaks only when needed, and her words match that of her stealth, as in she only makes sound when needed.

Background:  Her life was as normal as the average elf, albeoit rather boring. Elven children were rare, so often she had to keep herself occupied. She did so with learning. The stars always fascinated her, and her favorite, the Elven Archer, is what truly inspired her love for fighting. Her mother and father at first were frightened by her odd choice of hobbies, but eventually the idea eased in their minds, and after some further prying, they found a suitable job for their odd elfling. A handmaiden. The rest of her life was spent watching over the younger princess of fifteen years, and they have become inseparable. 

Other: she plays the lute, and has a lovely voice.

Abigail and Katy! I'm sure I can work your charries in at some point.

@Aquina, I have already inserted your charrie into my book! 

Right now I'm working on a group picture of the pictures! I will post it once I'm done.

Hey Cho, do you have room for a couple more charries in your book? 

Name: Aaron Nightwing

Age: 27

Species: Human

Rank: Knight

Job: He is a blacksmith, and works hard to give his siblings food for the day.

Weapon: He prefers to use a sword that he created which has a dragon bone in it, which he inherited from his father when his parents both died. (See backstory.) 

Appearance: When he was a teenager, he had a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, but that was before the dragons. (See backstory) Now his eyes look blue, because they are clouded over with the memories of the past. Tall, and swept brown messy hair. 

Personality: Patient, rarely smiles, (except when he's with his family) and he's very stubborn. He's ok to get along with when he's talking about anything else BESIDES the dragons. If dragons are even mentioned, his expression grows dark, and he grows very hateful.  

Background: He was only 17 when his parents died, supposedly from a dragon attack. From then on, he's sworn to take revenge on his parents death, and is always trying to find where their secret hideway is. 

Other: He takes care of his 2 twin brothers, both 10 1/2 yrs. old.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cho, I have 1 question: Are we allowed to make more than 1 charrie? Because I saw that there is no royalty humans and was wondering if I could make a royalty.  

I posted a charrie on BaB, did you get it?

Aquina, I'm sorry, but I had to take your charrie out. I destroyed his personality when writing with him. Bleah. It was horrible. *shudders* To help pacify you lot, here's the first chapter!

Chapter one.

Ruineth glared at the customer who entered the shop. She closed her eyes. Great. Nice way to scare off a customer Ruineth.

“Is Damdær here?” The woman asked. Ruineth bit her lip. Of course he was here. He's always here. He's just not at the front of the shop.

But she forced herself to stay polite. She curtseyed before continuing. “Yes ma'am he is. Do you wish for me to fetch him?” Well I still sound cold. She thought to herself.

“Would you be a dear and go fetch him?” The woman asked, as if she had just thought of the idea herself. Ruineth couldn't stop herself from glaring at the woman this time.

She stomped off into Damdær’s office.“Damdær, someone's here to see you.” She said with a scowl.

“How many times have I told you, don't go around with that sour face. It ruins business.”

Damdær was usually a jovial man, but Ruineth did have a way of making him upset. “Well maybe you should stop letting me stay here.” Ruineth mumbled. “What was that dear?”

“Nothing.” Ruineth lied. “Alright. Stay in here until I finish conducting my business.”

Ruineth glanced around the room. Chock full of thread, cloth, and needles. She had pricked herself too many times with those same needles. She glared at them.

I wish I hadn't been dumped on Damdær’s front step out of all the people who live in Silverspring. She thought bitterly. If only I hadn't been left on his step at all.

Damdær stepped back into the room. “Well, I'm glad you didn't scare Lady Miniel.” Her face flushed.

She would have been in trouble if she had scared off Lady Miniel. Their most influential customer. Who she had never met until today.

After all, she had never come in person before. She had only sent maids. “She wants us to make a special gown for her daughter, the Lady Arien.”

“I'll get started on it.” Ruineth offered, grabbing a nearby needle. “No! You will not. She specifically wanted Gobes.” Damdær said.

“Gobes?! Why her?”

“Because,” Damdær said, grinning. “She said that she had the steadiest hand in all of Nicytha! Not to mention, one who has an eye for intricate design!”

“Damdær. Whenever I make a dress, you always claim that Gobes made it.” Ruineth said, scowling at Damdær. “Well…”

“Damdær, if you don't let me make this dress, your business will fall apart! The only reason we have all these costumers, is because there are only three threadress shops in all of Silverspring!”

“True…”

“Please Damdær! For the business!”

For me. So that I become respected enough as a threadress woman, so that I can get away from this dreadful place, and travel up to the capital and start my own threadress business. And then once I've earned enough money, I could train as a knight, so that I can kill dragons. Ruineth thought, setting down the needle.

“Fine. But you will be finished with the dress in a week or less.”

“A week! That's far too little time.”

“Lady Miniel specifically said that it had to be done, in a week or less.”

“Well, as soon as Gobes gets back, I’ll need her to get some more fine fabric. Silk, or muslin. Wait! Could I get some thirin?”

“No! Thirin is much too expensive.”

“Oh fine.”

“And it's harder to work with.”

“I know.”

“So why did you ask to use it?”

Ruineth allowed herself the tiniest of smiles. “Because I like challenges, unlike you.”

“Better safe than sorry!”

“Humph. Like I believe that.” Ruineth said, then immediately started pacing.

“And thirin is really hard to find.”

“Okay, okay! I'll stick with plain, old, boring silk and muslin.”

“It's better than cotton.”

“You know what's better!? Fighting dragons!”

“Now Ruineth…”

“No!” Ruineth yelled. “That's it! I will not stay here anymore! You never listen to me, or let me decide anything on my own!”

“Ruineth,” Damdær said sharply. “What?!”

“What do you want to do for a living, if you could choose?” he asked, his voice now softer. “To kill dragons,” Ruineth said immediately.

“Now Ruineth, you know I don't like promoting violence…”

“But you wouldn't be! Just let me go so that I can make enough money to train as a knight!”

“Ruineth, you know that knights start training at about seven years old. Right?”

Ruineth stopped. “What?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

“They start training at about seven years old.”

“Liar. You just don't want me to go and train as a knight.”

“No! I'm trying to explain this whole thing to you!”

The bell rang at the front of the shop. Damdær and Ruineth glared at each other, then walked out to the front of the shop. “Gobe!” Damdær exclaimed joyfully.

“Whöler Damdær,” Gobe said happily. “Gobe, I have important news for you!” Damdær said.

“Oh, really? What is it?”

“You were asked by Lady Miniel herself to make her daughter, Lady Arien, a dress for some special occasion!” Damdær exclaimed jubilantly.

“That's wonderful Damdær dear. But I was going to start making dinner,” Gobe said, frowning slightly.

“Damdær…,” Ruineth said in warning tone.

“Oh… yes. That,” Damdær said with a sigh. “Before you continue Damdær, you should know I don't sew,” Gobe said sternly.

“Yes…but should we lie to Lady Miniel?!” Damdær said.

“Yes,” Gobe said firmly.

“But that's dishonest!” Damdær said, astonished.

“You've been dishonest with your customers in this way ever since Ruineth was old enough to sew, and her creations turned out better than any of either of ours!” Gobe protested.

“And now if you changed it up, nobody would believe you!” she added, handing her basket to Ruineth.

Ruineth scowled and put the basket on the floor. “Ruineth, please go upstairs,” Damdær said with a scowl.

“Fine,” Ruineth growled. She walked up the stairs, then sat down on one of them. “She was talking about becoming a knight.”

“Well, that wouldn't surprise me. She's always been a violent little girl.”

“That's the thing. She wasn't a violent girl a few years ago. In fact she never had been!”

“Yes she has. In fact, I heard a rumor from Achadis, that elves wander around all of Necythia once they become adolescents, until they find a suitable place to settle down.”

Elves? Ruineth thought. Why would she mention that?! Elves are dirty little beasts!

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We need to let her go Damdær.”

“You just want to get rid of her!”

“No Damdær. It's for her own good.”

“We'll let her decide for herself.”

I'd better get up into my room, Ruineth thought, getting up and walking to her room.

“I'll go tell her.” Damdær’s voice floated up from downstairs. She flopped onto her bed, waiting.

“Ruineth?” Damdær asked softly. “Yes?” Ruineth asked, sitting up on her bed.“Gobes and I have decided that-you can-if you want, we thought that you are now old enough to strike out on your own. You know, make a life for yourself,” Damdær said sadly.

Ruineth smiled. “Thank you Damdær.” Damdær lifted Ruineth’s reddish-brown hair up to his face and kissed it.

“I'll miss you,” he said, lifting his head up. His tear-streaked face almost looks pitiful. Ruineth thought, shaking her wavy locks out of her face.

Gobes came up the stairs. “I can make you a knapsack if you want,” she offered through her own tears.

“I would like that, Gobes,” Ruineth said, forcing a smile onto her face. “I'll miss you child.”

“Where will you go?” Damdær asked. “I think first I'll go to Goldenwell,” Ruineth said as Gobes ran downstairs.

“Well, pack your bags,” Damdær said, his voice rough with emotion.

Oh I will. I will.