InsaneJournal

Bébhinn Haarthen

IC
Name: Bébhinn Haarthen
Age: 849
Race: Sylvan Elf

Current Residence: Anfauglith; Black Deer Plains. She lives inside a hut on the outskirts of her tribe's small village.
Current Occupation: Shaman for the Oiolaire Tribe of Sylvan Elves
Religious Following: Lorien; She believes that the elements of the world are different aspects and moods of the Goddess. Each one has it's own qualities and importance to their world and to the Goddess which gives them the right to use them, to live with them, and to be born from them. The elements teach Elves how to be and how to act. The elements have both their good qualities and their bad qualities, and from both lessons are Elves suppose to learn how to live. She respects and honors those elements instead of the traditional praying in a temple.

Family: Roon Haarthen (Father, Dead.), Arìerah Haarthen (Mother, Alive but has taken to wandering in her later years.) , Fenian Haarthen (Brother, Dead.)

History: Bébhinn was the first child of Roon and Arìerah Haarthen. Arierah was the primary caretaker of Bébhinn because Roon was always off defending their tribe. Her mother's job within their tribe was primary caretaker for most of the younger children. it wasn't so much schooling as practical learning. By the age of 25, which is still a child to most walks of life in Elvish terms, Bébhinn was learning to fish and to use a tomahawk. The children of her tribe were expected not only to learn the basic things that most children learned, reading, writing, and things like history. They were expected to learn either to fight, or some trade that would dictate their place among the tribe.

Bébhinn's father was a warrior, and she wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. By the age of fifty Bébhinn was skilled enough with the Sylvan's weapon of choice, the tomahawk, so she began to train with a long pole. First just a stick, eventally the pole was fitted with a length of sharp heavy rock, meant to copy what it would feel like if made of steel. Around this time her brother Fenian was born. Bébhinn spent the earlier years of her brother's life training to be a warrior among the ranks of warrior women in her tribe. But by the age of 150 Bébhinn was already being sent away from the village along with other elves to fight against Orc, Drow, and of course between the different tribes represented.

Bébhinn took it upon herself to train her brother to use a Tomahawk, and the siblings became somewhat inseparable. Fenian preferred to use a bow, over the more heavy handed weapons that Bébhinn used. Their years split between the dense jungles of Astarii and the long summers spent in the high grass of the Black Deer Plains. Fenian grew to be a proud and somewhat foolish young man. His antics and fierce pride often won him much praise from their fellow tribesmen, but Bébhinn worried that her brother wasn't thinking anymore. She became strictly overprotective of the brash young elf. Following him off into the deep woods where he sparred with his friends, and watching their boyish games. There were those she approved of and those which she found foolhardy and dangerous.

One in particular had all of her scorn. The game was that of poaching the best beasts off the lands of Lords. Such things boys thought were a rite of passage, but Bébhinn knew that such things more often ended in a wrongful death or worse. Her father would chide only playfully and speak of the days when he had done such things. Claimed to have killed a Lion on the edge of the King's own land. Nonsense her mother had whispered and forbade Fenian from doing anything so foolish. Bébhinn was called to settle a disagreement between two of her best friends over a particularly fat cow one day when Fenian shot and killed a boar on the estate of one Lord Voronwé. He dragged the beast home himself and his father did little else but ruffle the youth's blond hair away from his painted face.

Word spread like wildfire in the dry plains, before too long Fenian found himself standing not two yards form the Young Lord Voronwé, and his brother. They had heard the rumor and had come to collect the price that boar would have taken in market. Fenian, like the rest of her tribe, hardly dealt with money in the traditional sense, and Fenian being a youth had no cattle in which to trade the price for. The young Lord was as full of pride as young Fenian and challenged him to a duel then, for the dishonorable thing he'd done. Fenian accepted, what could this young Lord do to him? Lord Voronwé named his brother as the one who would fight, and should Fenian wound him, then the Lord would fight. They asked to whom would be his second and Fenian simply laughed and stated that no real Sylvan needed a second, those rules were for the weaker High Elves.

The insult was enough. Fenian and Ilúvatar dueled, and it was a quick thing. Bébhinn had never witnessed such cold calculated violence. Fenian was dead before he'd known what exactly had hit him, and the young Lord simply laughed it off. The price paid, and both retreated back to their estate. Bébhinn and a group of other Sylvan youth carried Fenian's body home.

In the growing silence of their home, her mother hacked two jagged pieces of bone from Fenian's arm and braided one into her hair and the other into Bébhinn's hair. The ritual itself was common with some of the more barbaric tribes of Sylvan elves, but not one Bébhinn had ever witnessed before. Her mother and she hardly spoke a word to each other afterwards but she did not rip the bone from her hair.

They said that after that Roon became irate to any Lord he met afterwards. For Bébhinn it only made her more eager to battle fiercely for her tribe in her brother's absence. Her mother fell to silence and weaving. Nothing could replace their only son. Not even a strong willed daughter. Roon eventually met nearly the same fate as his son. A disagreement with traders from the Free Cities ended in a duel. Roon was brought home by the other elves there to trade, and her mother wept for a week straight. On the seventh day she repeated the ritual which she had preformed on her son and braided that length of bone along with that of her son's. She repeated this with Bébhinn.

Arìerah Haarthen never spoke again and melted into the background of their tribe while Bébhinn returned to her ranks among the warriors of the tribe.

Years passed at a blinding rate. There were tribesmen who would come through their village and try to barter her hand in marriage. With no father, or mother to speak of, Bébhinn was left with the decisions herself, but disliked the idea of leaving her own tribe which her family had loved in order to marry so she rejected a great many suitors. Instead she enjoyed the peaceful time between wars with her friends spent fishing along the Arato, Seldarine, or Sleeping River. They said it became like a second home to Bébhinn. The cool refreshing waters that seemed to take away the world.

The visits from different tribes never did seem to stop. One day Bébhinn was called to meet with the Tribal Elder and he introduced her to a very odd elf by the name of Noosh. Noosh spoke of a vision he had of Bébhinn, and that the world told him to take her away on a journey. The Tribal Elder made himself more clear. Noosh was a Shaman from a neighboring tribe. Shamen were, a strange but important sort. Her own tribe's shaman was long dead from a strange sickness and everyone had been waiting for something like this to happen. It would have been an insult to refuse, enough that Bébhinn would have been banished from her tribe forever, and even though Bébhinn thought this was nonsense she went with Noosh.

There was a severe sort of boredom inside of her those first weeks journeying with Noosh. He would ask her the oddest questions and ask her to sit in the middle of ice cold rivers in little but paint for hours on end. It was a chore, entertaining his whims. Carrying his pack when he felt too tired, and dealing with the various animals that inhabited the forests of Astarii when Noosh himself carried no visible weapon besides an old tomahawk that had never seen a drop of blood, let alone the hide of an animal that was out to kill him. She wondered how any elf could survive such things without being surrounded by his tribe at all hours of the day.

Noosh spoke of listening, actually listening, for the spirits of the forest. For the wind, the water, the earth, the sky, fire.. as if such things were as alive as them. Bébhinn knew that Shaman believed an odd assortment of things, but she had never tried to listen too hard to them. Saying a rough prayer to Lorien before battle was more of a High Elf thing to do, but she had heard her own people in their own tongues do it as well. But this was unbelievable. As if the trees would suddenly whisper answers to them, or the wind would call out a warning for about a troop of Orcs in the wood. Noosh believed such things and begged that she listened. And when she sat for hours listening and stretching herself out hoping that everything would just convince Noosh that he had the wrong Elf he'd take sticks and rocks and throw them in her direction for trying too hard.

A month of this and Bébhinn was ready to smother the shaman in his sleep. It took every bit of her patience and her sincere wishes not to be thrown out of her tribe not to do so. He took them out of the forests and sat her in an open space of grass and told her to sit there until it rained. And then when it rained he told her to ask for guidance, for help. For direction and for purpose. And then Noosh was gone. Bébhinn considered simply leaving, but the man had taken all her provisions with him. He'd even took her weapons. Unless she sat here fashioning a rough spear, or at least some jagged rocks she would be defenseless.

She did as she was told. A day and she was thinking of her brother. Thinking of how foolish she appeared to be sitting here with an open mouth hoping for rain. At night she'd think of her parents and wonder where it was her mother had wandered off to. The next day she was paranoid and thirsty. But she didn't move from her spot. The elf had to be somewhere nearby watching her. If she moved he'd make her start all over again. It was summer, it would not rain for weeks.. she would starve, or die of thirst. Perhaps that's what the shaman wanted. What her chief wanted.. Night fell and again she was visited by the thoughts of her family. About all that she'd lost and all that she hoped to gain just by continuing the life she had. What were her goals? Her options? Die a fierce warrior in a duel like her brother? Find her own sort of revenge against his murderer? Or that of her father? To take the teeth of a dozen humans and make a rain stick so it might rain because she was so thirsty now!

The third day was that of madness. Every noise, every movement. It was the end. It was the end of everything. She cried out in pain, starving to death, thirsty beyond thirst, it was like her body was dying around her. Those cries fell on deaf ears, if the Shaman was anywhere near, she wailed until she lose her voice. But still she did not move from her spot. In her madness she was determined still to listen and obey the commands of a man who was superior to her in the ways only the Sylvan people believed. Finally Bébhinn passed out. Too worn to keep herself awake, too worn even to keep her eyes open, she hardly breathed in those hours. In those long hours, lost from the world it happened. The awakening as Shaman called it. It was a very intimate meeting of body, mind, soul, and goddess. Unlike anything that Bébhinn had felt in her entire life. Her body so far from her, her mind somewhere between madness and sanity, but her soul filled with this sense of being. This sense of wonder and mystery.

When she woke it was raining and the rain was filling her open mouth. It was not like any rain she'd ever felt in her life. It filled her with hope. With life. With purpose. It was as if Lorien herself had sent someone down to make it rain. It was then that Bébhinn saw the Shaman sitting not a foot from her head and laughing, though she couldn't hear it over the pounding rain, she knew the man was laughing. His shoulders shaking, rain staining his cheeks like tears, and then she was laughing too. A year in the wilderness with the shaman and Bébhinn understood the meaning of their laughter. Their happiness in that moment. For all things were connected, and the moments of madness were laughable after such a beautiful thing as rain.

How could she have thought of dying there in the plains?

It took a a decade of teaching, learning, and studying those things around her before Bébhinn returned to her village as a full-fledged Shaman. It took two decades for Bébhinn to get used to being a shaman within her tribe. At first everyone was coming to her for help and she gave as much of it as she could. But being considered mystic and all-knowing got boring after the first two decades. She eventually began using her sway in the tribe for her own benefit. Getting what she wanted, purposely scaring other tribe members so they'd leave her alone. Manipulation was just another form of war, and Bébhinn found she was good at it.

But the breaking hit Astaii hard. Elves died in the hundreds if not the thousands. Their great cities were leveled, their tribes and villages rocked against their foundations. Bébhinn spent these years split between trying to rebuild her own tribe, and working with other Shaman to clear their villages of various troubles. There were fires, earthquakes, floods, along with wars that rocked the wild elves for years. Their brothers, the High Elves, seemed to just pull themselves together and build another great city instead of worrying about the dangers of the wild. They formed a council and thought they could pull everyone together politically.

But the Sylvan elves were left guarding their country from the Orcs, what Drow escaped the underdark, and other threats along the borders. There were few high elves running themselves ragged over it. So the Shaman from their various tribes held a meeting. This was specifically over the horrible state of their country, and how little they were represented as a whole. Terestai was a worry, the current seat of power was nothing but a mess of High Elves, or Grey Elves. Their Sylvan representatives appeared to be swayed into the ways of the High Elves, and someone needed to go and straighten this out.

Bébhinn was against all of it. She'd rather busy herself doing things in her village. She especially didn't want to be within a mile of that god forsaken city and the Lords of old. Lords that did as they pleased when they pleased. Especially one in particular. She didn't have a say, being the youngest amongst the old men and women, they thought she would be the one they would listen to. Younger Elves ruled this country now, so it was Bébhinn who left her village to travel to the city of Terestai. Ever brimming with the warnings of war.

Political war. The worst of its kind.

Homeland: Astarii
Physical Description: Bébhinn is like most Sylvan women, she is tall and finely toned. Her skin is normally tan year round, and her hair is bleached from time in the sun. She enjoys little to no clothing when she's out in the hot plains or the dense jungles of Astarii. Her fingertips are normally painted or dyed red with blood or more traditional crushed flowers and powders. Both thumb nails are normally kept long and cut to fine points. She uses these to pierce fruit, animals, or enemies that come to close. Oftentimes both thumbs, instead of simply dyed red, are painted to form fish.

Her hair is long and is often kept in waves and braids. Close to her left ear she had one long thin braid which conceals a sliver of a bone. She carefully braids this into her hair whenever it becomes loose. Sometimes her hair is adorned with beads, or flowers. Sometimes she puts other bones of birds or animals in her hair during different seasons, festivals, or days of importance. Bébhinn has stormy blue eyes that can look dark enough to be grey, or light enough to be a blue sky.

Bébhinn will dress appropriately when going on a long journey outside her homeland, though she does not like it and as such keeps it as light as possible. A loose shirt, or a dress.

She always carries a sacramental tomahawk, her spear, and her buckler. She often carries various pouches filled with different herbs to burn, powders and bones.

Personality Flaws: Bébhinn does not mind making people uncomfortable. She will push their bounds, and invade their spaces in order to see what their reaction might be. Its her idea of a game, and can often lead to conflict with people she does not know very well, or people who do not know her well enough to know it's a game she enjoys. This game is traditionally something Shaman do to High Elves and Humans but Bébhinn finds it so amusing she tries it on just about everyone she meets.

Bébhinn has the heart of a warrior, but because her spirit seems fit to be that of a shaman she often feels very confrontational about her role to her community. She accepts her place amongst her tribe, because it is an honor, but she isn't completely happy with it. This causes her to be temperamental with some of the judgements and decisions that fall into her lap. She will be short with things that appear fickle or a waste of her time. She does not appreciate the greed that is sometimes displayed among the farmers and herders of her tribe and will confront them with a little too much malice. It leads to an almost outcast role for her among her tribesmen, but there is a respect there all the same.

Sometimes she simply cannot understand other people. Their meaning, their logic, their way of living doesn't add up to her. Money had no real meaning to her, even if she understands what it's used for, it's as physical a thing as a board, and wood can break, gold can be bent.. It can make conversations difficult, and make her friendships seem almost fickle and meaningless.

She had no problem with being openly sexual, or physical with a male or female. Her only sense of commitment besides that of friendship and of blood, is that of temperament. If she feels the attraction she will act upon it, which leads to conflicts of interest and often martial spats. She does not like apologizing for either.

Personality Strengths: Bébhinn has a strong love of nature, and natural things. She will go out of her way to protect a forest, a sacred animal, or a group of people to which she feels a connection. She may only have a seasonal devotion to someone or something, but if it's the right time she will bend over backwards and exhaust herself in order to see something through.

Because she has little qualms with the way people percieve her she does not often get caught up in emotional conflicts. She can focus on the situation at hand and get things done. This makes her both an excellent warrior and a leader. She is not afraid to take charge, nor is she afraid of upsetting people during such times. She will do what she needs to do to get things done.

She has a weird sense of humor, but most Sylvan Elves find her hilarious in her certain amount of craziness. She has a way of keeping some people close to her, so close that they will do anything for her. It takes a certain amount of manipulation on her part, but she's only outwardly unfriendly to people she dislikes. To someone who isn't already on her list she'd probably be a fast friend.

She is always willing to help someone who is weaker than her, no matter the cost to her own self. If the person cannot defend themselves, and she doesn't hate them, then she would defend them. Some would call it heroic, she would simply call it her duty.

Natural abilities:
Acute eyesight - She uses her acute eyesight both in battle, as well as a tracker and searcher.
Heat Vision - Because she spent most of her life in the forest, plains, and jungles of Astaii this skill is used often when on the hunt.
Silent Movement - Bébhinn grew up in jungles where it was eat or be eaten, she learned quickly that moving silently would keep a lion from having you for lunch.
Ambidexterity - Bébhinn can use her weaponry in either hand. She favors her left for her spear, and her right for her tomahawk.

Skills:
* Magic: Water - Level 5 - Archmage. Bébhinn is able to call upon an assistant in some form of water.
-All Shaman have the ability to channel part of their magic through their blood into various objects to give to other shaman who might need them. Bébhinn carries various objects with her which contain what she precieves as 'spirits' of the other shamen. Air, Earth, Fire, Light, Dark, Ice, and Lightning. These objects are normally small clay jars which she keeps in her pack.

* Combat: Bébhinn has an ornamental Tomahawk which she carries and can use. It's handle has holes in it and when spun by looping her wrist in a leather band hanging from the end, it will whistle. It also whistles as it sails through the air at a target. She is profecient with tomahawks just as any Sylvan elf should be. But she hardly uses hers. It is merely a way of greeting, or if stuck without her spear, used for attacks.

Bébhinn has a long spear made of rough sturdy oak, thrice treated to never break. The blade of it is nothing more than roughly cut steel that's been chipped away to look like stone. Traditional in a way, but made to hold up in long battles. Bébhinn has had the blade of it since she was a girl, and it is permenately stained in blood. She keeps the blade covered with cloth unless she is going to fight. Oftentimes she will also make sure to poison the blade itself before covering it.

Bébhinn carries a shield made of three turtle shells wpven together by brass loops. Through one of the holes which originally had been there so the turtle could retract it's head, is a loop for her to put her arm through. She can hold it either like a buckler, or hold the leather strap in the middle of the inside of it as a traditional sort of shield.

* Other: Languages: Elvish; All forms. Common, and some Orcish.