Here's just another character bio of mine.

Name: Zora
Age: 20ish
Race: Human

Appearence: Average height; short cropped brown hair, very tomboyish, dark brown eyes, a slightly tanned complexion. A small scar along the inside of her left arm from her elbow towards the base of her hand. A bit taller and of slighter stronger build than the average female peasant of the time.

Skillsets: Fairly athletic from spending so much time tramping about in the woods (explained beblow). But quick-tempered and sometimes forgets to think before acting. She's not very good with hand to hand combat (swords, daggers, ect) but is fairly capable with a bow. She can play the lyre and is well-versed in the ways of domestic living; cooking, sewing, ect, though she avoids such tasks if possible. (Explained below)

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Zora had a privileged childhood. She was the only daughter of the wealthy Lord of Hymir, a nation far from Erecia. Her parents loved her dearly, but had funny ways of showing it, or so thought Zora. At a young age, she showed strong will and determination, as well as a lack of respect for the rules of society.

As a little girl, rather than sit and learn to sew and cook, which she eventually was forced to do anyway, she would sneak out into the forest behind the family's large estate. There she would visit the games' keeper, an elderly young man whose job it was to look after her father's horses and hunting dogs. With him, lived his young grandson, just two years older than Zora.

The games' keeper and his grandson were the only ones with whom she felt she could be herself. The old man told them stories of a far off land called Erecia, from whence he came. He told her of all it's glory and it's people. Zora often dreamed of it; dreamed of noble knights and their fantastic feats, of a land where good prevailed and evil was kept at bay. Zora and the grandson would often invent games based on these inspiring tales, games that often led in quarrels, as such young children do. Their favorite thing to do, though, was to pretend that they were knights, off on a quest to rid the town of a dragon, which was played, unwillingly, by the games' keeper's dog. Despite their bickering, the two grew quite close, confidants for eachother's woes.

As the two children grew, so did the bond between them. And eventually, it took a more romantic turn. The games' keeper always put on a smile about this, but secretly, it disturbed him greatly. Nothing good could ever come if it, he thought. They were only setting themselves up for heartbreak.

It happened in the Winter, the worst Winter that had passed through in decades. It was on one such blistery day that their fears were realized.

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As a the daughter of a lord, now a young woman, Zora was "forced" to wear frivilous attire and dainty little shoes that squished her feet; she was made to attend balls with the young noblemen of the land, who always tried to monopolize her time when she only really wanted to do was go out to the balcony and admire the little town that her father ruled over from afar.

She had many suitors, but she always suspected it was only because of her father's wealth. She despised the lifestyle of the aristocracy and all the corruption and hypocracy that came with it. She hated how, when the young men looked at her, they saw not her, but her inheritance.

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The games' keeper, of course, was right. As Zora spent more and more time with the games' keeper and his grandson, her parents became aware of prolonged absences. Curious, her father ordered the asked the young lord neighboring county to follow her into the woods. This young man was the suitor, of which there were many, whom Zora's father approved of most. And it was assumed by all, save Zora, that he was to be her husband.

The young lord quickly found them out and reported to Zora's father. Zora's father waited for two days, for in two days, Zora was being taken by her mother to have several new dresses fitted in town, a lengthy process that would take the better part of a day. When they were out of sight, Zora's father and the young lord, along with a small group of men, set forth into the woods with torches. They burned the cabin down and decapitated the games' keeper and his grandson, leaving their bodies to rot and burn and freeze, or be eaten by animals; whichever came first.

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Upon her return, Zora saw a great tower of smoke from behind the manor house and was set immediately at unease. But, of course, she had to hide her alarm. She excused herself, saying she was going up to her room after an "exciting" day in town, and quietly snuck out the kitchen door, where the groceries were brought in.

She began to run, as quickly as she could, towards the burning cabin that was more of a home to her than her own. But she was running with a lavish winter coat and thick, woolen boots, and could only go so fast through the deep snow.

When she reached the clearing where the games' keeper's cabin was, the house was in ruins. The fire was starting to die out. The roof had caved in and all the glass of the windows at been broken. She searched for the two men, but with limited success. She was about to give up, when she sat, brokenhearted, on a fallen log. As she was sitting down, she saw a trail of blood that led around to where the dog pens were. Hysterical, she followed the crimson drops until she came to the gate.

At the foot of the gate, she saw it; the games' keeper's severed head, face down in the red snow. The only sound she could manage was a hoarse gasp. Her eyes continued forward only to find that of the grandson's, in the same conditions.

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Then she heard footsteps behind her and a voice called out. She turned... It was her father.

"You will thank me for this later," he said, his voice calm and void of emotion. All she could do was stare in horror at the stranger who claimed to be her father. "It would have never worked," hecontinued. "And you know that. You should be thankful for what I did; I saved you from cutting him off yourself. I saved you from public humiliation."

Still, she could find no words.

"We must not have a repeat of this... this little interlude, shall we say."

"You're a monster. They did nothing wrong and you killed them. You.. You slaughtered them like animals!"

"And so I did. Because you are," he answered coolly, but with a hint of anger seeping through. "As I said, this must not happen again. And to prevent such, you shall be married in the morning to-"

"What?" Zora asked incredulously, cutting him off, outraged.

"You heard me. You shall be married tomorrow you shall be Lady Grantham. You will thank me for this later."

She glared at him.

"Have you nothing to say to me, your own father?"

"You are not my father," she spat. "You don't know me at all."

"Enough of this foolishness; you WILL do as I say!" his voice grew to a shout. "You may have the rest of this day to mourn your pathetic little 'lover' and then I refuse to hear that traitor's name so much as whispered in this land." With that, he turned swiftly and marched back to his house.

Zora stood there, silent but trembling, her whole body was shaking with a mixture of fury and despair. She watched her father disappear through the trees. It was the last time she saw or heard from her so-called family.

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It was then she decided that she could no longer stay. She would not endure the false life of an aristocrat. But unsure of what to do, she walked into stable to hide from the cold. As she sat, tears streaming down her face, she heard a little whimper. It was soft at first, but she sat still and listened. She walked towards the source and saw it was coming from a basket. The basket was the bed of the games' keeper's dog, and she had, only days before, had a litter of six puppies.

She lifted up the blanket and saw them, lying peacefully asleep. She stared at them, unbelieving that they could just sleep through all that had happened. She reached down to pet one of their small furry heads, but recoiled upon touching it.

The puppies were cold, too cold to be alive. The poor things had frozen to death. Zora felt sick and took a step back, when she heard the whimper. She stopped herself and listened, but could not find it. She stood there in the middle of the room, but could not locate the little orphaned dog. Finally, she realized that it was still in the basket, with its dead brothers and sisters.

Zora went back over to the basket, hands trembling with cold, and searched in the little sea of black fur. After a moment, she saw something move. She pushed the dead bodies aside, hating herself for it, and reached down. Carefully, she felt around until she found the one whimperer. She lifted it up and held it close to her; it was cold, and was on the verge of following it's siblings along the dark road of death.

She took the small shivering creature and placed him carefully in a pocket on the inside of her thick winter coat. She looked around the stable for anything that could be salvaged, anything that might be of use.

Zora walked over to the wall, where the tools were kept. She saw a hunting knife with a sheathe, laying carelessly on a table. It was decorated with the emblem of her family, for it had been a gift from her father to the old games' keeper. She picked it up with great difficulty as her fingers were just about frozen, and placed it in a different pocket.

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Then she left the stable and trudged through the snow towards the town. As she walked along the barren streets, a man opened his door called out to her: "Hey, you! What on earth are you doing out here by yourself? Are you crazy?"

A woman's head peered over the man's shoulder. She spoke scoldingly to him: "No need to yell at the poor girl!" Then she looked at Zora, who had stopped and was now standing in the road.

"He didn't mean it like that. Did you?" She raised an eyebrow at him then looked back to Zora. She took a step out of the door. "A young girl like you shouldn't be traveling alone in weather like this. Why don't you come in, sit by the fire?"

Zora, not used to having to undergo such great difficulties, obliged. At dinner, they asked her, as was expected, who she was and where she was going. To which, she replied, "Where am I going? Far. Far away from here..." At that, the couple, noting that she had chosen not to answer the first question, felt slightly uncomfortable pressing her for details, so they rattled on happily about their own lives.

"Why couldn't I have been born the daughter of someone like them?" thought Zora. "They are so happy, so content... in a way that I could never be."

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The next morning, Zora woke up at the crack of dawn. She bolted upright, forgetting what had happened. A moment after, she remembered the horrors of yesterday. She cried silently, not wanting to wake the nice couple who's house she now found herself in.

She quietly got up and exchanged her own lavish winter coat with a raggedy one that hung by the door. It belonged to the woman. Then Zora crept around the kitchen drawers until she found the knives. She examined the array and finally chose two; one shorter and one longer. She took out the games' keeper's one with the family emblem and placed it on the table. She noticed a small pouch laying there on the table, that must have been placed there sometime after dinner.

Curious, she opened it and found it to be full of gold coins. She sighed, feeling guilty accepting so much from them and giving so little in return, but she could see no other way, and so she stuffed the small pouch in the empty rucksack that she had found at the foot of her bed in the morning.

At the door, she examined her winter boots. Even the boots might give her away as woman of wealth. Keeping the boots could mean risking someone uncovering who she was, so she switched those, too.

Now, with completely new dress, she set off, careful not to make a sound, lest she disturb her gracious hosts. Zora felt a bit guilty about taking their possessions, but she hoped they could sell the things Zora left behind and perhaps make a profit off them.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she closed the door behind her and set off into the snow.