{Name}: Alys
{Race}: Aerisian Elf
{Height}: 5'1"
{Build}: Elven, Callipygian.
{Scent}: Warm spice, peach.
{Native Plane}: Kirthalis, Throne of Hyr

{Contents}: -

I. Flavour Text - Some brief character fiction.
II. Character Description - What you see before you.
III. Other Fluff - More detail for divination.
IV. Lights - For those who like their ears pointy and their butts thicc.

{I. Flavour Text}: -

The Price of Conquest: The elf tore at her restraints one final, desperate time, she heard the leather creak and the shackles rattle - Yet no true movement.
Alys heard the deep chuckle of the orog as he flicked a few switches and twisted the dials on one of their vile, industrial devices. Alys didn't recognize this one, it wasn't one of the kinds they carried to war. She could hear a high-pitch, ominous buzz, her pointed ears perked. "What are you doing, orc?" She snarled, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

"Just makin' sure you know your place, blondie..." He rumbled, looming over her so she could see the dark skin of the orog's face curl into a crooked, cruel smirk. "You're a pretty one, so I'll give you a nice flower... You probably like flowers. Fuckin' flowers." He snorted, moving back out of view.

Alys twisted her neck, and tried to glance back towards him. She couldn't see any plants. what the hell did he mean 'give her a flower'?

The moment the tattoo gun touched her skin Alys' eyes widened at the scratching pain; she was certain of one thing in that moment. This wasn't a damn flower! She grit her teeth, curled her toes and swore at him with all the colour she could muster. He laughed, "Your mouth ain't so pretty is it? Keep still, knife-ear. Else I'll decide to ink somethin' that'll really piss you off." Whipping a hand across her backside roughly, he let his weight shift to pin her down a little more, before continuing to line and colour the elf's lurid tattoo.  

From that day forth, Alys couldn't bring herself to enjoy the sight of a rose.

             ~<~<~@

A Desperate Escape: Her feet beat against the cobblestones, she could hear the cries of the Iron-Shields behind her, her fingers still curled about the wet grip of the bloodied knife. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind racing with a cocktail of thoughts and adrenaline, 'Can't go back now, they'll toss me into the death-shift at a mine... Dross, I wish I'd planned this!' The looming orog buildings and narrow alleyways making getting her bearings difficult - she figured she was heading east. Her bare feet already regretting their lack of shoes in her hasty escape, she sprinted along. Only pausing to rip the cloak away from the back of a chair outside of a grotty looking goblin bar. They were getting closer, she only had the pouch she'd stolen from the dark elf, though her hands were still stained with her blood. With a shaking grip she withdrew the item she'd spotted the dark-elf use to arrive outside of the harem; the reason she'd risked this entire endeavor - a magical rod! Frantically looking it over, she knew it would take her somewhere, twisting runes into place on it's surface would create something - co-ordinates? Alys didn't have time to think, she could hear the snapping jaws of the warg-hounds now. She twisted them into something she thought would take her far, far away from this dross-pit. She activated it, forming a shimmering event-horizon a few feet distant - and threw herself inside.

{II. Character Description}: -

Hailing from the Plane of Kirthalis, this elf looks less waif-like than most of her ilk from other worlds - like the Wild Elves of Faerûn she seems to have a little less grace, and a little more substance. Blonde hair is pulled back into a casual ponytail, styled with the odd braid and most often adorned with feather decorations, it spills about her shoulders in wavy tresses.
Her face is pleasantly symmetrical, with the high angular cheekbones and slightly almond shaped eyes that make a face uniquely elven; this is accentuated by soft, full lips and a cute nose.
As life leaves its mark on history, it often does the body in turn - her left cheek is marred by a scar, that curves up towards her eye, a septum piercing adorns her nose with a slender golden ring. She'll often wear a number of additonal piercings in her ears, as the mood strikes her.

Her body is fit and healthy looking, with a pleasantly toned stomach contrasting the subtle swell of breasts above, and the hourglass curve of her hips that grant her a decidedly gorgeous backside. This thick bubble the engine for a pair of long, tapering legs. Thighs being soft, and firm beneath the touch, and calf muscles having a decidedly worked shape - suggesting this woman keeps a reasonably active lifestyle.
About her legs clasped just above the ankles are a pair of burnished, almost decorative looking bands of metal, that seem to have been locked firmly in place. On their surface, yet more runes twist across it's surface; though this variant of orcish seems oddly refined. Some might say civilized, for orcish that is.

Finally, at the base of her back is inked a reasonably well-drawn, but decidedly crudely themed tattoo. 'Love Slave' is printed in the back-drop of a deep-red rose, the base of which sits upon a nest of thorny vines.

{III. Other Fluff}: -

Racial Quirk: In addition to excellent hearing and keen sight Aerisian Elves also have a famously accute sense of smell and are sensative to scents and aromas as if having the Scent(Ex) trait.

Legend Lore: Targeting this woman with this spell, reveals her to hail from a prime material plane where orcs have undergone an industrial revolution of sorts. Elves and humans forced to the wilds to survive, as the dwarven kingdoms hold out in the mountains; the only other race to discover the terrible wonder of steam and black-powder. Though elves have magic, their numbers are thinned by the simple nature of attrition. Their most mighty heroes have already fallen and elves are considered in a shameful decline. Those that find themselves unlucky enough to be captured during raids, end up thrust into smoggy orcish cities. Living as an underclass with few true liberties.

{Additions}:

If your character has the scent ability, be it from spell or racial advantage, Alys seems to carry the thick scent of something demonic about her. Lewdly so. For most humanoid noses, this would register as something ashen or slightly 'strange' amid her usual scent.

{IV. Lights}: -

- I consider lights to be for ERP only. With that said, I'm relatively tell-friendly though if you bombard me with thirsty tells I might ask you to stop!

ERP Themes: https://www.f-list.net/c/alys%20wanveryn

Reds: Poop, Heavy Gore, Vore, Infantilism and anything involving something which seems child-like.