Bio

Profile

A seemingly-simple woman living a seemingly-simple way of life, Od meets the world with little more than a dour air and a steady work ethic.Compared to the soft, colorful hues she typically dons, the woman tends to come off rather cold, if not downright abrasive. That low, flinty voice certainly doesn't help- Nor does that stern roseate gaze do her any favors. She's far more akin to the blades on her hips than the flowers in her hair.

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Key Traits:
Perpetually Grumpy | Arrogant | Hard-Working | So So Gravely Serious | Distant | Loyal to a Fault | Good-Intentioned & Terribly Lonely

Lost Lamb (In Wolf's Clothing?)

_{[ Trader - The Azim Steppe ]}

_{“I am made of naught but promises, elder. Promises and memories both."}

While life with the Bolir is largely all she has ever known, Od was not born amongst their ranks- She was found. The young girl was only about eight or so when she stumbled upon the tribe traveling to their winter camp, and they were quick to take the shaken girl under their wing. The circumstances that led her there, like most things, is something she has always kept close to her chest.
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On the Steppe Od is a Reunion regular, selling her tribe's famous charcoal as well as a rotating stock of colorful wool products and carved bone instruments.

From Mine Own Hands

_{[ "Blessed Traveler" - The Azim Steppe ]}

_{"I've heard the story! I even found the doddard old woman asleep outside, the one who supposedly heralded you as of the divine!"}

Some Ugundi warriors, in their maddened ramblings, claim that a Boliri shepherd danced back and forth through the rivers of time itself. Radiant winds billowed across the Sea of Blades. Solemn vows were made as relic weapons were taken. A goddess of war was lost to the mountains.
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Od definitely doesn't have the air of anything holy or mystical- It could very well be the nonsense one expects from a tribe oft drunk on headmilk and portents.

Shepherd-Turned-Sellsword

_{[ Mercenary - Etheirys ]}

_{"And do remind me, why is it you wish to learn the finer points of misery and conflict? Some big dzo buck you, was it?"}

The woman has recently taken to wandering the star at large... For reasons she's been pretty vague about since the beginning. From handmaiden work to spy work to returning to her roots as a trader, she has explored all sorts of odd jobs (heh) to make ends meet. Whatever it was that urged that newfound wanderlust, it often keeps her armed and blending into the midst of merchants and mercenaries. Or, you know. Criminals.
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Those twin blades, speaking of 'armed', rarely leave her side- If they're not tucked gracelessly into her sashes or obis, they're laid right next to her as she sleeps. What do swords even dream of?