-Character Name: Enaldie ('Just' Naddie) Nildale
-Profession: Hyperbole Machinist
-Character description: Standing at an average height, for an elf, most humans tower over Naddie. Her statue was very un-statuesque, but her temper and foul mouth blended her in perfectly with the surrounding merchants of Morbourne. She wore grimy, dusty leathers and pulled her long hair and even longer ears back with bands she could always find around her wrists. A hazard for her type of work since she was always snagging her hair bands on gears.
-Hair color: Black
-Eye color: Bright blue
-Body type: shapely, curvy with athletic proportions (no she-Hulk though). lightly tanned skin
-Race (Human, Elf, or other...yeah anything goes in this Steampunk world, just keep in mind that Elves are the magic wielding race, tho half elves could have latent abilities as well) : Wood Elf, long pierced ears that are tied back out of her way while working
-Rating (G, R, anything goes!) : Anything goes
-Desktop size: 1680x1050
-Please include either screenshots or reference pics of your character, unless you want to leave it completely up to your fellow artist:
-Feel free to add anything you thing might be helpful to the person portraying your character. General ideas for attire would be good, like whether your character prefers casual or formal look.
-Tell us your tale (optional as always of course):
'Oh for...Corellon's sake!'
The newcomer, formerly dubbed the stranger, watched with interested eyes as he sat in the saddle of his steam mount. It was, for all intents and purposes, a horse, but they were scarce on this world. This world being one of man and machine, but mostly machine. However, with all the technological advances, the culture could not seem to move into a more sophisticated time. An interesting story, this 'Steampunk era', but the Newcomer was more interested in the female working on another mount in one of the merchant shacks.
Looking around the Newcomer caught the attention of a passerby. 'Hey.'
The passerby stopped, taking his dirty bowler hat off and scratching his head in what appeared to be a salutation. 'Hail and well met, stranger.'
He was a stranger again. Oh well, he thought. Pointing to his steam mount, he asked the bald man about the surrounding merchants. 'I need her looked at. Recommend someone?' His eye left the bald man's squinting face and fell on the non-to-softly cursing female again.
The bald passerby followed the stranger's gaze and nodded in that direction. 'Just Naddie.'
'She's a machinist? But she's...'
'Ayup. Just Naddie.'
'Ok.' He mumbled. 'Naddie, then.'
'No. Her name is 'Just Naddie.'
Perplexed the Newcomer threw his leg off his steam mount and leaned on the neck of it. 'I don't understand.'
'She's 'Just Naddie.' The bald man replaced his bowler and nodded again. 'Good day to you, stranger.'
'Are you Naddie?'
She didn't even bother to look up. The steam mount she was working on was being a big bitch and she was already annoyed just waking up in the morning. With a sigh, she did reply after a few moments.
The long pause came and a shuffling of feet. It always made her grin.
'I asked who would be the best person to take my steam mount to, I clearly remember hearing them say, 'Just Naddie.'
'But you said you're not Naddie.'
'That is correct.' A gear pinched her finger and she let out a colorful expletive. 'Fuck me,' she murmured.
'I'm Just Naddie. Not Naddie.' Sliding out from beneath the mount, she threw a wench on her work bench and pointed up to the sign. 'It's 'Just Naddie'. You heard right and I reckon wrong.'
The stranger was a tall, male human with dusty, brown hair that was a little longer than the trendsetters in Morbourne and had the tiniest bit of a curl. It lay along the nape of his neck in sweaty dark strands and dusted his shoulders. He was wearing off-world leathers and his mount was a newer model. It stood stoic just outside the opened entrance of her merchant shack, dusted with red dirt.
'Well I...' He began again, but she cut him off with a shrug.
'Just read the sign.' Turning away from the man, she walked over to her work bench and picked up another tool, only this time she chanted just under her breath and hoped for the best. The air around her turned cold and the tool oddly sizzled and then froze in her hand. With a roll of her eyes, she put the tool back down as the man read the sign. The sign being a battered, greasy piece of wood with very clear wording that went something like this.
Yes, you heard right.
Yes I am a hyperbole machinist.
Yes, these are elf ears.
No, I do not take credit.
Wiping her cold hand against her leather jacket that she wore over her very non-traditional elven outfit - dirty tank and rough leathers that hung at her hips. Her knee high, steel-toed boots were black but scuffed and scored. The only thing elven about her were her almond shaped eyes and long, pierced ears.
'I hope that covers the although inquisitive but still annoying questions?'
It probably didn't, but she didn't really care. This human was hardly any different than the idiotic and uneducated others that came in and she treated him as such. She hardly looked at him after her initial cursory glance. Just Naddie, exiled elf of the Nildale's who had an innate ability for hyperbole mechanics - the most chaotic of steam mechanics - was a rare thing in Mobourne. Where she lacked in grace, she made up for in street smarts and a foul mouth, although her elven magic skills were...temperamental, anyone choosing to learn the arts by themselves got what they deserved.
Or so they kept telling her.