Name: Demerara Race: Gerudo Age: 25 Gender: Female Place of Origin: Western Caves PWC: Power: 2 Wisdom: 5 Courage: 1 Treasures and Rupees: 0 Rupees Perks: Flying Broom, Intrinsic Enchantment (Shock) Treasures: Magic Power 2, Specialty (Electric), Magic Bolt. Equipment: Magic Wand: A sleek copper colored wand, comparable to an orchestral baton in length and weight, made of polished metal and bent into a lightning bolt shape towards the tip. Magic Broom: A normal looking broom with a straight and smooth wooden handle, a bushy bundle of straw tied to one end, and roughly five feet in length. Oversized Satchel: Sized like a large travelers backpack, but with only a single strap and worn over one shoulder. Appearance: Demerara stands at five and a half feet tall, and weighs a hundred and fifty pounds. Though small for a Gerudo, she nonetheless is curvaceous and beautiful by Hylian standards. However, there is a frail thinness to her arms and a most unusual lack of visible abdominal muscles on her lower torso. Her hair, a lighter almost pink shade of red, is wavy and freely allowed to drape across her upper back and shoulders. She has eyes with a wide almond shape, which seem to shimmer like molten gold when even the slightest ray of light catches them. She has the characteristically prominent nose and a diamond shape to her face, and her caramel skin has a paleness to it. On her head is a simple headdress with a large, amber stone that sits in the middle of her forehead. Her arms are covered from the back of her hands to just shy of her shoulders, and her feet are clad in simple slipper-like shoes that end in sharp points. She wears a strapless and formfitting top that covers everything below the chest and a pair of loose, poofy pants. Though obscured by clothing, numerous scars are scattered across her body. The most prominent of these are on her arms, legs and lower back. Though all of these scars have faded over time, a casual glance could easily identify the larger and more severe ones. Personality: A deeply empathetic person by nature, Demerara has a strong sense of moral justice. She despises monsters and the suffering they have caused, to the point of fanaticism. The suffering of others, especially at the hands of monsters, never fails to incite a passionate response from her. She loves to protect and help people, even with seemingly trivial tasks, both to help and because of the desire to feel useful. However, she has developed a habit of slinging mockery at the slightest misstep and does so reflexively. Whenever this is pointed out, she is very quick to blame the 'old hag' that she calls master and reassure whoever she directed it at that she didn't mean anything personal by it. As much as she enjoys being helpful, she despises being helped. While she will reluctantly accept aid in a task, someone attempting to do something for her will immediately upset her. Related to this, she utterly loathes being pitied or feeling helpless. Though far from vain and on the whole content with her looks, her physical capabilities are a sore spot for her. Her, as she see it, pathetic lack of muscle is a subject she does her best to avoid. However, even what is meant as a compliment from those who find her appealing for 'not being as intimidatingly strong' as other Gerudo will never fail to set her off. When it comes to her magical training, Demerara has immersed herself in it with more diligence than most Gerudo give to combat. Nearly every waking moment is spent on her studies, to the point of practicing while she eats and reading tomes while running errands. Long nights and early mornings are common for her, fueled by an excessive addiction to coffee to the point of snacking on coffee-candies. Magic is extremely important to her, as she believes it the only way she can make any impact on the world. As such, she desires to become as powerful a mage as she possibly can. Because of this, there is little she won't attempt if she believes it will allow her to once more protect others from monsters. Background: Born in the Western Caves, her mother of course a Gerudo and her father a Hylian of impressive martial skill, Demerara went through the same rigorous training to become an elite warrior that nearly all Gerudo did. This took up the vast majority of her early life, and she took to it naturally and enthusiastically. Around twenty years ago, when Ruto was reclaimed, the only five years old girl had wished to join the fight. Such was simply the whimsical fancies of a child however, though understandable for one raised on tales of warriors and climactic battles. She would not get her taste of true battle for a solid decade, when she was deemed both old and skilled enough to stand a chance, and it would not be in so climactic a way. She became a guardian of her home instead, one of many. Unfortunately, she would never become one of the warriors she had heard of in her childhood. Dispatched to deal with servants of Ganon that were too close to the caves for comfort, Demerara and her fellow warriors were met by far more terrible foes than expected. Though some were slain on both sides, the monsters were victorious. Seeking information on the caves, the monsters held them captive. Subjected to threats, torture and bearing witness to the execution of their peers, not a single warrior gave them what they sought. Demerara was made an example of, as others had been, and carefully and cruelly robbed of her ability to fight and then mockingly let her try to do so anyways. Unable to escape, she and the others resigned themselves to an eventual death once the monsters grew tired of their steadfast resistance. Yet, thanks to the intervention of reinforcements sent to discover their fate, they were instead spared. Rescued and returned home, the slain monsters yet managed to retain some small victory. The manner in which they had crippled her was subtle, but no less permanent. Even what seemed basic day to day tasks had become difficult, and her weakened state left her easily exhausted. Stubbornly she tried for three years to regain her lost strength and dexterity, but the inescapable truth was she would never be able to do so. Those around her were sympathetic, and even praised her for her loyalty to her home in the face of such brutality. Yet, every comment of this nature and every suggestion that she had earned a relaxed life only served to anger her. Intolerant of what she saw as unrelenting pity, and refusing to let others fight and die in her place, she turned to the only thing she could. Magic. No matter the weakened state of her body, her mind and spirit remained as strong as they ever were. It took time to seek out someone well versed in magic that could train her, and trying to learn on her own from what tomes she could find was slow and arduous. However, her determination was rewarded. At twenty four years of age she apprenticed herself under an old and powerful witch, well versed in all manners of magic. Even under such guidance however, spellcraft did not come easily to her. Though she came to be known as a dense, talentless student, she persisted. In her many trials and errors over the next year, she discovered her affinity for lightning magic. It, and seemingly it alone, came easily to her and felt natural to cast. Demerara continues her apprenticeship under the old witch to this day, often undertaking various errands for her. Frequently these errands take her far and wide, to such distant or obscure places that it will be weeks before she returns. Her progress as a witch is almost painfully slow, but she remains determined to master it one step at a time.
