Illyria Vera

ILLYRIA VERA

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Name: Illyria Vera
Age: 24
Birth Season: Fall
Rank: Knight
Occupation: Soldier
Kingdom: Rodale (Roville)

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Body description:
Illyria stands at only 5’4” with a somewhat slim build, though her muscles are well-defined from years of hard labor and a soldier’s life. Her pale skin is marred in places by clusters of small scars from her time as a squire, especially along her back, though the most notable is the now partially faded remains of a gash along her left eye. Rich dark wavy hair is often left to cascade across her shoulders, while her blue eyes shine with warmth.

Illyria prefers simple, practical clothing in earthy tones, though nowadays is never more comfortable than when in a suit of good armor.


Personality:
Illyria is a country girl at heart, and it shows. She is what many in the cities would call “rustic” – simple, honest, a bit crude and blunt at times, and she still struggles with aspects of city life – but what she lacks in refined decorum or tact she makes up for with a big passionate heart. The woman is genuinely kind-hearted, sometimes naively so, and her primary motivation to joining the military was out of a desire to protect her homeland and the people within it. This warmth can be a bit more reserved nowadays with everything that has happened in Illyria’s life, but she is still able to enjoy good company with an ale, a bawdy joke or two, and a bit of carefree fun, a more relaxed side which was originally brought out by Sida.

However, outwardly, Illyria more than anything is committed to the military life. Since childhood she has had a strong determination to succeed where her father failed, fiercely tenacious both in her training and in her desire to prove her worth and the worth of her family’s name, which bleeds into all aspects of the woman’s life. A level of commitment that can come off as aloof to those less familiar with her. This tenacity can also border on sheer stubbornness, with a headstrong attitude that, especially given her complicated position in Roville, often leads to some contention with those authorities above her, as the soldier is prone to acting with more independence than others might.

Finally, Illyria is extremely loyal to her homeland and those she loves. A loyalty that now causes a great deal of pain for her as she lies split between Mont Daegal and Roville, but in the end the woman will not stop at anything to protect what her heart cares for, even if that protection comes at the cost of her own health and happiness.

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Magic: NA

Combat experience:
Though newly risen to the rank of knight, with a decade of training and some limited combat experience serving in the Mont Daegal and later Roville militaries, Illyria is already a skilled soldier. This is even more so the case given her fervent dedication to perfecting her military prowess and proving her worth to those above her station, often keeping just a cut above similar peers as a result.

While having at least a basic familiarity with most conventional arms, Illyria’s preference lies in the more “rustic” ones – battle axes especially – which feel comfortably familiar from her childhood living in the Rodale wilderness, and the young soldier is even a half-decent shot with a bow. Illyria’s signature weapon, though, is the spear. Since first learning how to wield one to help in hunting game and warding off predators from her parents’ farm, she has practiced extensively in fighting with military spears, both with and without a shield, nearly her entire military career, honing a fighting style that compensates for her smaller stature. While a far cry from the greatest soldier in Idrenor, with a stout spear in hand she can give most in the sparring ring a good run for their money.

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Family:
Father – Gentius Vera (51 / Farmer)
Mother – Teuta Vera (44 / Farmer)
Additional Unnamed Siblings – Two Brothers (24 and 16) and Three Sisters (17, 9, and 7)


History:
Illyria’s life nearly ended as soon as it had begun. Born the daughter and first child to two Rodale citizen farmers living in a hamlet near Mont Daegal, a particularly difficult birth left an infant Illyria sickly and frail, so much so that the older women of the community quietly advised her parents to prepare for the worst. To them, it was all but certain that their daughter would pass before the autumn leaves had even finished falling. Her mother Teuta, however, fervently refused to give up on the couple’s first child, spending many long nights cradling Illyria by the hearth as the child weakly wailed from cough and fever, only able to silently pray to the starry sky beyond their windows that somehow, by some divine miracle, her dying little daughter would survive. And…she did. Autumn would soon pass into winter and then spring and summer, and yet still, by the time the leaves again began to fall, Teuta’s daughter was still there. Still sickly, but seemingly getting stronger with the passing of each season. It was in that second autumn when Teuta, feeling her prayers had been answered, finally decided to name the child Illyria – “from the stars”.

Illyria would go on to be raised in that unnamed hamlet for the first fifteen years of her life, eventually becoming healthy and fit enough at age three to enjoy a mostly normal childhood, though one still notably plagued with occasional bouts of illness which would see her bedridden for weeks at a time. The child of farmers living in the wilds outside the safety and prosperity of Mont Daegal and the other Rodale cities, Illyria’s early life would be simple but hard. Education in the hamlet was limited – rudimentary concepts of bartering in the market or listening to oral stories of embellished Rodale history mostly – with most of Illyria’s time instead spent assisting her parents and eventual siblings on the family farm, sowing and harvesting the fields, tending to livestock, and helping Teuta gather firewood and water and make simple crafts for their one-room cottage. The young girl’s favorite activity, however, would be the few hunting trips her father Gentius would permit her to join him on as she grew older, the man not hesitating to teach his eldest child how to wield a stick or simple spear or shoot a short bow to provide some extra food for the family.

Accompanying her father on those hunts or just to sell produce in the local market, however, would expose a young Illyria to another aspect of their family. A less pleasant one. Older and more aware by then, Illyria caught on to the disapproving looks, hushed whispers, and outright disregard many in the local community would show Gentius, and though they were quick to change demeanor with Illyria herself, it was hard not to feel like even then her family’s name still carried a weight to it. It was a haggard Teuta, beaten by a harvest’s worth of incessant questioning from her daughter, who would finally tell Illyria why. Gentius had once been a bachelor knight in the Mont Daegal military. Rather than rise to a full knight, however, her father had instead been demoted back to citizen after an “act of cowardice”, one that even Teuta did not know the details of. Regardless, demotion itself, let alone one of such nature, was a large stain on anyone in the more militaristic Rodale society. It was shortly after when Gentius left Mont Daegal for the countryside, met and married Teuta, and started their farm, but the mark of what he did was still carried by them nearly two decades later.

It was a revelation that troubled Illyria deeply. Not because she loved him less for it, but on the contrary, having always adored her father as a role model and believing him to be a good man, it felt unfair to the young girl to still carry something so heavy for so long. So it was that, at the age of fifteen, Illyria suddenly surprised both Gentius and Teuta with a long-withheld choice: she would join a Mont Daegal troop and train to become a knight, just like her father had once been, and finally redeem their family name. It was a choice the girl had ultimately been thinking long and hard about, since the day Gentius had first placed a sharpened stick in her hand and instructed her to protect their herd. Illyria adored the wild hillsides of her home, the rugged people of her community, and especially her beloved father and family, and protecting all of it was something the girl had long felt she was meant to do, now more than ever after learning of Gentius’s own burden. After all, if the story of her birth was true, if something out there truly answered her mother’s pleas and saved her life that first autumn, then it was only right that Illyria do the same for others.

Though heavily protesting the decision at first, their undeniable pride in Illyria ultimately saw Gentius and Teuta give her their reluctant approval, and the girl’s father would risk taking her as far as the city boundary before tearfully having to turn back. Illyria’s first glimpse that day of the full mountain and expansive city at its base was…breathing, and only slightly dampened by the grueling selection process she had to undergo. Though recognized by the recruiters as being part of a nobody citizen family from outside Mont Daegal, years of farmwork and hunting saw her physically fit and capable enough to just barely be accepted into a troop despite their hesitations, and an eager Illyria would soon after officially start her military training alongside a handful of other new squires. A stern middle-aged knight of more affluent origins, Morgan Pellegrin, would be appointed as her mentor.

The training was immediately harder than anything Illyria had experienced back on her family farm. Both by its very nature, but also by what even Illyria noticed was a desire from Morgan and some of the other trainers to weed her out from the troop in favor of other, more prestigious local recruits. It was a problem made only worse by the occasional flare-up of her childhood sickness and records of her father’s history, both things which the older soldiers saw as a sign of glaring weakness in the girl. But, fiercely determined with her choice and too stubborn to give in, Illyria would instead throw herself fully into the training, often being the first to volunteer and practicing long into the night despite her struggles. Though this earned her a fair share of scrapes and bruises in the process, it left Morgan and the rest little excuse to have her removed.

Beyond this physical hardship, however, the social isolation Illyria faced was almost the more difficult. One of only a few girls there her age and with even fewer recruits similarly from outside Mont Daegal, the young squire had little opportunity to make real friends, a situation not helped in the slightest by her often now obsessive commitment to training and overall difficulty adjusting to a more urban lifestyle. That was, at least, until she met Sidalee. A local girl the same age as Illyria, the latter had found herself feeling drawn towards Sidalee almost the moment she had laid eyes on her. Not just for her elegant and charming attitude, a far cry from Illyria’s own awkward bluntness, or even her endearingly wild energy, but more than anything for her fiery spirit, one only matched in brightness by the girl’s gorgeous red hair and striking emerald eyes. She was unlike anyone Illyria had ever seen. As it were, the two girls would often end up finding themselves the last ones in the training yard, either sharing a spar together or practicing side by side or even simply talking long into the night until the moon rose high in the sky, and Illyria quickly found herself growing more comfortable around Sidalee than she had ever been since first arriving at Mont Daegal. Unlike with the other recruits and especially the higher ups, with “Sida”, Illyria felt like she could relax and truly be herself. She could breathe, and not have to prove the worth of every single breath.

An inseparable partnership soon grew between them. This was true both on and off the field, for not only did the pair spend most of their downtime together, but even their fighting styles became complimentary. Where Sida was proficient in knives and other small blades Illyria had long favored the spear, now using its defensive reach to cover for and allow her new sparring partner to angle for an opening and swiftly finish the bout. The two became a force to be reckoned with in the training yard as they fought in sync, and soon they started to distinguish themselves among the other recruits. At least, until things changed. For with each new fight, with each new season, something different would grow between the two girls. Touches would start to linger after each spar, time spent alone together became more common and intimate, and the flutter in Illyria’s heart now felt that much stronger each time she spotted those familiar emerald eyes looking back at her. Though, in truth, Illyria had always felt a special way about Sida. It was a confusing feeling, an intoxicating feeling, and one that had left the girl hesitating for a long while.

At least, until the first time Sida kissed her.

Though Illyria had experienced a few temporary crushes before, what she had felt towards Sida that night and in all the nights since was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Everything about that first kiss had just felt…right, and many, many more would follow in the days to come. In the end, those few years spent together with Sida could easily have been considered the best of Illyria’s life even now, as short lived as they had felt. And for as much pain as they had caused them. For it was unfortunately not long until the pair were first discovered mid-kiss after their absence was noticed, and the punishments that came were both swift and, at least for Illyria, far more brutal than she could have expected. Morgan himself took perhaps a bit too much pleasure in that first beating, not even bothering to remove the large signet ring he often wore as he hit the young girl several times for what she did, leaving Illyria struggling to even stay on her feet during the next day’s training session. What hurt Illyria even more than her swollen eye, though, was the horrible realization that Sida had likewise been punished, though whoever had done so had taken far more care in concealing it. However, these beatings would only continue, as neither Illyria nor Sida were willing to give up the love they now felt for each other. After all, despite their sudden loss of favor and the greater hardships of training, despite the punishments and the unfriendly gaze of her mentor, at the end of it all she now had Sida. They still had each other.

That was, until the beatings simply became too much for Illyria. Repeated injuries and the increased strain of training had left the girl far weaker than usual and, when her childhood illness reared its head again, it left Illyria more ill than she had ever been since the first days of her birth. The girl was bedridden for weeks, suffering from a burning fever that threw her in and out of consciousness and threatened to end her life. Then, everything went fully black. The last thing Illyria remembered was seeing a worried Sida sitting over her, pressing a wet cloth to her forehead, before she suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by unfamiliar healers. She was, as it turned out, now in the western city of Roville. Though having survived the whole ordeal, a stunned Illyria could only lay quietly as an unknown man soon arrived to explain – effective immediately, she was relieved from the Mont Daegal military and had instead been transferred to the Roville military, an unorthodox arrangement that had cost Sida’s family a fair amount of wealth and influence to manage. The man, one of Sida’s half-brothers, then told Illyria that if she ever tried to return to Mont Daegal, Sida, not Illyria, would die for it. To her family, the man added, losing Sida to the grave was a far better outcome than losing her to some upstart whore.

Then, he left, and Illyria was alone.

It took a few more weeks for her to make a full recovery, but once she had, true to Sida’s half-brother’s words, the squire now entered service into the Roville military. In many aspects, it was even worse than Mont Daegal had been. While the training itself was not much different, what Sida’s family could not buy (or cared to buy) was the trust of the Roville military in her, and questions about where Illyria’s loyalty lay would persist for years. Though on paper she was a Roville soldier now, many wondered aloud whether the girl was a Mont Daegal spy, or even simply so incompetent that offloading her onto Roville was in itself an act of sabotage. Illyria attempted to commit herself to her training in much the same way as she had before, to prove them wrong, but for a long time it was all half-hearted at best. The other half of her heart did, after all, still lie in Mont Daegal. With Sida. For a short while Illyria did consider returning to find her, of just grabbing her love and running to the Rodale countryside to make a living off the land like her parents had once done, but the plan soon became little more than a dream. Illyria realized, painfully, that she could simply never threaten Sida’s life like that. She was truly gone.

Though it would hurt her greatly to do so, Illyria would try her best to forget about Sida in the following years and instead commit herself entirely to her new life in Roville. After seasons of renewed struggle in the training yard the squire, now a full-grown woman, would eventually manage to prove many of her naysayers wrong and demonstrate her worth as a soldier, though she never convinced everyone. Still, at the age of twenty, Illyria was officially promoted to a bachelor knight. Five years later, after consistent performance and a particularly noteworthy demonstration of bravery on a patrol in the wilds, Illyria was further promoted to a full knight of Roville. What should have been a moment of celebration for the woman, though, having surpassed Gentius and, in spirit, fulfilled her promise to redeem their family name, was instead a somber one. Illyria would spend most of that day crying in her quarters. After all, she was now a knight in a city that in many ways opposed her beloved homeland, serving a military who had little real trust in her, and fighting to redeem and protect a family who, for all she knew, believed her to be dead. And it was a triumph that she should have shared with Sida.

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Illyria continues to serve Roville faithfully as a knight, even as her heart sits split between her old and new homes. Dedicating all her time to maintaining her fighting prowess and training her new squire, a Roville boy from a mercantile family named Luan Deringer, the soldier has, for the most part, managed to move on from her past. For the most part. Unable to wholly forget the love taken from her by another family and the life she lost, Illyria still struggles at times with her place in the large city. Still struggles with dreams of how things could have been.


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