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| Sarah Corwin |
| Name: Sarah Corwin Age: 24 Sex: female Race/Nationality: human/British Theme Song: Chopsticks Faction: Neo-Nightblades Likes: Van Halen; Old Norse epics; dancing; reading historical fiction/non-fiction (and the occasional pulp novel); the exhilaration of traveling into the past Dislikes: forgetfulness (a problem with her hubby); losing an argument; people who are over-emotional; disorganization; her father ('twill explain, 'twill explain) Strength: From a young age, Sarah has been fascinated with historical weapons and taught herself (through movies, books, and just random wild swinging) to use swords, maces and even whips. She can handle all of these pretty well. Once she left home for college she also took some fencing classes in order to learn technique as well. She has the less desirable ability of turning off her emotions when she must. Though normally an excitable person, when she needs to she can banish fear, sorrow, hate, and even love. She's also rather good at reading other peoples emotions and detecting whether they're friend or foe. Though at first this seems like mere intuition, it grows stronger with time. Weakness: Though she was on the track team in High School, she isn't exactly a prize runner. She can hold her own, but she was one of the slower members on the team and she won't be running any marathons. Having very bad aim, she doesn't do well with weapons such as guns, bows and slings. She isn't good at hand-to-hand combat even though she works out everyday. Her wrists are weak in the same way that some people's ankles are weak, and a punch would probably render them useless for a very, very long time. Basic Description of how character looks: Around a lightly tanned face, russet ringlets fall, some tucked haphazardly behind an ear, others obscuring the edge of vision, still more brushing against a pair of rounded shoulders. Usually kept back in a ponytail due to the wildness of it's curls, Sarah's hair is a sandy brown that sets off the mottled navy of her eyes. She's 5'7", and somewhat built, sporting a small six pack on her stomach and hardly visible muscles on her arms. Her lips are pale, the color of child's medicine, and occasionally, if she feels the urge to dress up, she'll spread a light coat of lipstick over them. Comfort is more important to her than appearance, so she tends to dress more casual, in sneakers, t-shirts and jeans. She has a small tattoo of an eagle just above her hip. List of items or weapons carried: When doing normal things, such as hanging out with friends or eating dinner at a restaurant with her husband, she carries only a derringer gun in a holster around her waist. While working, however, she adds on a small handgun as well as a pair of sleek knives. From a young age, she was fascinated with historical weaponry and has taught herself to handle many instruments, such as swords, maces, and whips. She can use guns, slings and bows, but she's much less effective with them, as she has an execrable aim. Profile: The house Sarah grew up in was empty. Father often overseas and mother often out with friends, much of her childhood was spent away from home or drowning out the silence with her dad's old record player. Her father was a Colonel, an enlisted man for life. He spent much time away from home, but when his sojourns were expected to last longer than sixth months, he would take the family along with him. Because of this, Sarah has spent some time in a variety of countries and has some knowledge of Greek, Swahili, Punjabi, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, and Portuguese (which sparked her interest in linguistics). But her parents wanted her to stay in one place for her period in high school, so she spent those years at home on Bristol. In high school, she had enough friends--she wasn't popular, but she was well liked and frequented the party circuit. None of her friends were very close. Due to his own military upbringing, Sarah's father was overbearing, strict and unemotional. From Sarah's standpoint, he seemed to care very little about herself and her mother. In truth, he did care for his family, but they often took a backseat to his preoccupation with his work. When he was at home, all he seemed to do was find fault and clamor for his aspired sense of order. The expectations he set for his daughter were high, and if and when she failed to meet them, expiation was to be paid. Her mother, however, was so different from her father that it was impossible to see how the two came to be together. Mrs. Corwin was a carybant compared to her rigid husband. Though she professed to be a devout Catholic, raising Sarah between dawn masses, her lifestyle spoke different words. An alcoholic and a drug addict, Mrs. Corwin's reckless behavior went seemingly unnoticed under her husband's eyes. The family wasn't forced to speak aloud of what they had always known about her until she contracted Hepatitis when Sarah was 17. The Hepatitis worked fast, and within 8 months Mrs. Corwin was dead. At her funeral, Sarah found herself staring at a woman that she'd never known, with an impeccable, serene face. The woman who had never grown up. It was that day, after they saw her lowered into the ground, after their flowers mingled with the dirt as it fell on the coffin's lid, that she finally opened out against her father. "You never see the evil that needs to be defeated unless it's armed with guns and commands," she accused, blaming her dad for not trying to stop the decline of Mrs. Corwin's death. They drove home in silence. Before the night had dissipated beneath the meager rays of dawn, her bags had been packed and she was on the train to London, where she lived with an old friend until she left for college that fall. When the time came, Sarah left Britain for the U.S., where she attended college at Yale. For the first part her stay there, she majored in History and minored in Dead Languages. After that, by her father's pressing (they had started to speak again when she entered college), she switched her major to Law. While at college, she met Randy Seabourne (their first conversation was over his name, which she found funny, as in England it means...ah, yeah), whom she married when she graduated a few years later. Blah, blah, blah. They loved each other, but I'm not going to blather on about it. After Yale, she married Randy and they moved into an apartment in New York. He worked as a chemical engineer and she worked as a sub for high school history classes. Their life was normal. She never saw her father, except when occasionally he would be assigned to the States and they would briefly visit every now and then. He wished for her to join the army and "use her talents for some good", but she refused. She didn't want to emulate him for any pension. Things were going well in her life, until she found herself confronted by a strange man who inquired about her knowledge of history and ancient languages. Before she knew it, she found herself being drafted into the Neo-Nightblades, using her knowledge of the past to close the threads that threatened the world. Strange thing, Randy has no idea. She keeps up her work as a substitute teacher, and, though it's stressing to work both jobs, none of her friends ever know the better. How hard is it to hide when the moment you arrive back it into the present, what you've done has never even happened? The work she does has, in a way, severed quite a few ties between herself and her husband and her friends. She finds herself avoiding him sometimes, feeling guilty when he tells her things because she hides so much from him. Though she was never the most garrulous person, she has quieted down quite a bit since becoming a neo-nightblade. Her manner has changed, become more paranoid and more cold. Worst of all? She finds herself going to her father for help, rather than to her husband. Sacrosanct views of the past are what keep her from questioning the sometimes extreme measures that she and her fellow Nightblades take. For anyone to set trembling the complex web of history is, to her, a crime worse than murder. Nothing is sacred but the past and the present, the solid line of time... The eradication of this threat is a cause close to her heart. All she desires for the moment is for the enemies of time to be destroyed, history to be ordered, and to return to a life where lying hadn't become a daily ritual. But sometimes she wonders...when--if ever--it really is over, will she be able to handle a life rooted entirely in the present? Or has she become too addicted to this privilege to see what no other historian ever has, to hear the roars of the Roman crowds, to see masterpieces created and governments built? What she doesn't realize is that the accusation she made towards her father at her mother's funeral is now beginning to become true for herself. |
| Skills: Skill 1: (Impressions--the ability to tell who is friend or foe, and to read auras) Level One Skill 2: (swordmaster--ability to handle a sword) Level One Skill 3: (Confabulation--ability to alter peoples memories) Level One |
| Stats: Strength: 6 Endurance: 2 Speed: 5 Dexterity: 8 Agility: 5 Intelligence: 8 Wit: 6 Charisma: 4 Luck: 4 Sanity: 8 Moral standards: 8 |