Name: Lady Evie Alfard. Alfard of the Deep.
Gender: Female (she/her)
Age: 25
Humor: Phlegmatic
Virtue: Strength
Vice: Lust

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Appearance

Adorned for battle, Evie is quite fearsome. She is as tall as any man, with broad shoulders and larger pauldrons. Armored boots cover her long brown legs, and she wears a sharp, triangular breastplate. Her pretty face is hidden under a hideous helmet. Its shape is wholly unnatural and long like the skull of some wild beast. Her head sits deep in the throat of this decorative maw. The plates of the armor are deep green, nearly black, tiny scales etched into the surface. When she removes her helmet, long brunette curls fall over her shoulders, giving her the air of some fairytale knight. A repeating pattern of two pale scars are carved into the leylines of her body - the hands, the throat, the feet, est. They are intricate and deliberate, not at all resembling battlefield wounds.

Although imposing in her armor, Evie has all the charms of a silly young woman. Since being knighted, she's replaced her mercenary garb with gowns of emerald, blush, and primrose. Her uncovered curls are strewn with flower petals from her decorative wreaths, and she goes barefoot whenever possible. These quirks only contribute to her untamed beauty. There is a constellation of two moles on her upper left cheek. Just under her eye. Her nose and square jawline are strong, her lips are full. Contrasted against amber-brown skin, her hazel eyes are most striking, though she doesn't make eye contact often. On the rare occasion your eyes meet, she doesn't look at you, she looks through you.

Personality

Evie fluctuates between a stoic, deadpan expression and outbursts of emotion. Most of the time, she seems off in her own little world, a vacant, daydreamy look on her face. Many write her off as simple. She is, in fact, highly intelligent and perceptive. Most of her battles are won with careful attention to her surroundings and her rivals. She is simply a woman of few words, and what thoughts she deems worth speaking are often purposeful and very blunt. Tactlessly, hilariously so. On top of seeming kind of ditzy, she is a notoriously willful and insubordinate little shit. Servants loath corraling the knight for public appearances, as she often wanders off, or stubbornly plants herself in the garden, picking flowers without a shred of urgency.

At public events, Evie struggles to carry polite conversation. Especially those which bore her. She is easy to fluster and many jokes go over her head. Her shyness is remedied by wine, and lots of it. She has a reputation for getting messy at parties and fumbling her way through conversations by sheer force of will. Her charm lies in her gentleness and earnestness. Intoxicated or otherwise. She wears her volatile emotions on her sleeve, crying easily. She lives seemingly only to chase her bliss, making her both single-minded and tenacious in her pursuits. The simple "in-the-moment" pleasures matter most to her. Things like napping with her pet rabbits, a midnight swim, and the occasional bar fight.

Origin

Evie's parents feared what they didn't understand. She was born under an unlucky constellation, and with the watermark of webbed feet. She was a sensitive but rambunctious child, slow to speech and prone to outbursts. She had no interest in social affairs, preferring the company of animals to people, and the wilderness to balls. Her mother saw her only as a burden, believing she was touched by faerie or a changeling altogether. She tried to tame Evie with countless remedies, but they only made things worse. When her mother had enough, she paid a monastery to make the girl their anchoress. They locked her inside a tower by the sea, where she could live a life of contemplation.

Of course, she had no interest in contemplation and cursed her life as a nun. She prayed instead to be rescued by a handsome knight... but that didn't happen either. She sang her sorrows to the sea. Until, eventually, the sea called back. Beneath her tower lurked a witty sea serpent. He coveted her beauty and was smitten by her song. He tempted her to jump from the tower, so he might devour her, and end her suffering. She denied him day after day. Until raiders beset the monastery, and her tower was set aflame. The serpent promised her power in exchange for becoming his bride. She could not deny him any longer, and Evie threw herself into the sea.

How she survived, no one can say. It changes with every song, rumor, and poem. Only Evie knows the truth. In one version, she emerges from the deep fully clad in armor. In another, she's driven mad and slays the raiders with only a fisherman's trident. All paths led to the battlefield, where her infamy first took root. She forsook her vows and became a mercenary. She joined a small company of outcasts who became her first real taste of family. Together, they fought for fortune and glory. It was only a matter of time before they were hired by the most fortunate and glorious city of all. They secured a vital victory for Nymphaea, but at great cost to themselves. The survivors were brought back to the city as heroes. They were given the chance to woo the lesser Houses. The House of Venus simply could not resist the dangerous allure of Alfard of the Deep. They knighted her, showered her with gifts, and gave her a position within their private guards. As a knight of House Venus, she is as much a spectacle as she is a warrior.

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Undine
Once upon a time, Evie threw herself into the ocean. Whatever happened in that watery grave changed her. She emerged, miraculously from the sea foam. Since that day, Evie cannot drown. No matter how long she stays submerged. The embrace of water is comforting, even, and she can not resist its call for long.

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The Serpant's Armor
The story goes Evie made a deal with a sea serpent to acquire her power. After agreeing to become his bride, the serpent transformed itself into cursed armor. Some say she slew the monster with her bare hands, using its skin to craft plates that are both impossibly light yet impenetrable. Most assume it's a bunch of bullshit, a ghost story from the battlefield. Either way, she is incredibly protective of the armor, refusing to let blacksmiths handle it. For all its strength, the iridescent green plates are scared by scratches and dents. Whenever Evie dutifully polishes her armor, she sings to it in a haunting castrato.

Trident of the Deep
The trident that has slain a hundred men. Or so they say. Whether it was pulled from the serpent's mouth or from the body of a slain fisherman, it doesn't matter. What matters is the skill with which Evie wields it. Her strikes are so fast, the trident seems to hum before landing the killing blow. She can be seen carrying her trident around like a golden scepter, as decorative as it is deadly.

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