<span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 22px"><span style="color: Teal">The forgotten world; The prophecy of October the second.</span></span>​</div></span><br/><br/><div class="ToggleTriggerAnchor bbCodeSpoilerContainer">
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<div class="SpoilerTarget bbCodeSpoilerText"><b>Name:</b> Eponine<br/>
<b>Race</b>: Human<br/>
<b>Gender</b>: Female<br/>
<b>Age:</b> 18<br/>
Occupation:  The most devoted, uppity Puritan nun you can ever imagine. She practises the gift of magic given to her from the god she believes in. She is the first daughter from her family and thus send to church in tradition to serve god for the rest of her life. She is a devote and albeit very irritating religious young girl but despite those traits that often get in the way, she is extremely curious and stubborn. Her resilience is admirable and her skills in cooking and knowledge about the vegetation  and animal kingdom of the world impressive. Even though she has barely seen the world outside of the church and her garden, her knowledge comes from an extensive collection of books, gathered and bought from her hard-earned money with selling herbs to travellers.<br/>
<a class="externalLink" href="http://www.doedeereblogazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/bluehair.jpg" target="_blank"><b>Looks:</b></a> <br/>
At eighteen she at the moment, the youngest nun of the convert, and doesn’t go out much resulting in a creamy white complexion with rosy pink cheeks. She loves to dye her normally white-blonde hair in strange bright colours, giving her short-cut curls that reach down halfway to her shoulder a turquoise blue colour. Her almond-shaped eyes match perfectly with the bright dye of her hair, nevertheless she knows how to hide her rebellion well for the other nuns, always covering her shortcut curls with a dark green nun-hood. She is never seen in anything else then the appropriate habit of her church, in the same dark-green colour as her hood. She doesn’t wear black because of her youthful age and the fact that she is the gardener and herbalist of the village, the youngest in a century as well.  <br/>
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<b>Magic level:</b> 6 out of 10 <br/>
<b>CCE Close Combat Endurance:</b> 0 out of 10 <br/>
<b>SCS Shadow Combat Skill : </b>4 out of 10 <br/>
<b>Kinkslist</b> <a class="externalLink" href="http://www.f-list.net/c/phosphoria" target="_blank">http://www.f-list.net/c/phosphoria</a><br/>
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</div><br/><br/>Climbing pitted forest trails over the hills surrounding her meek village, Eponine leaned on her knee and turned to look at the tops of the trees below her in the valley. Pines and spruces towered above a screen of thick growth and underbushes, only to be dwarfed by the rutted mountain slopes beyond. She was used to this sight, revelled in the knowledge it gave her, studied every plant and animal she could find. She even choose her footsteps carefully, watching the ground every now and then to make sure she would not squash any of gods creations, however small and insignificant it might seem.<br/><br/>She turned away from the breathtaking sight and continued climbing through the forest. The mountain breeze was bitter with the smell of bruised pine and a sweet tang of fire.<br/><br/><i>Fire.</i><br/><br/>It made her almost drop her basket filled with berries and fruits she had been collecting for the past few hours, things she could not possibly grow in her garden anymore because of the limited space it provided. How could she not have noticed the smell of fire before? Her big almond blue eyes peered around her, only to be blocked in view by the pillars of mighty redwoods and hushed by the overlong absence of men. She could not see where the stench of destruction was coming from, and as she were on the ground, she dropped her bag with tools and provisions and her basket with food, before she climbed a sturdy looking pinetree to be able to see over the treetops behind her.<br/><br/>Though the forest below Eponine was much the same, she found herself unsettled for some reason, almost as if she knew were the wind brought the warning from. She paused in an attempt to regain her composer, muttering a prayer to her god to impose discipline on her intellect. The forest was quiet, gentle with birdsong. And yet she could hear the thunder, the screaming and raging fire before she climbed high enough to have her blue eyes filled with the sight of her village aflame.<br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***​</div><br/>Eponine could not feel the twigs and branches scratch at her face as she ran in utter panic to the convent. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, her bag strapped to her back and the basket left behind next to the pinetree that had offered her the sight she was running towards to. She refused to slow down, not even when her breath had become so ragged and rough that it almost made the young girl wheeze inhaling the black smoke bellowing towards her lithe frame. Her eyes stung of pain, teared of fear, but she refused to admit she was too late. She could smell the harsh scent of burned flesh, a reeking odour that made her gag between her ragged breaths whilst she kept running to the bright yellow torched tower of her church.<br/><br/>When she had finally reached the burning hard wood doors of the monastery, she could not see a living soul around the place any more. Just the bright fires that ate away at her home, her garden and all that she loved. Everywhere she looked, things were covered in a thick black mucky tar, set aflame and eating away at the brittle wood.<br/>Without a second thought, she waved her hands before her waist as if to stroke an invisible ball and blasted a magical surge of wind out of her palms, making the once strong and sturdy doors explode inside of the church. With the doors gone, she runs inside, unbeknownst of the sudden draft feeding the fire more oxygen, making the pillars of flame reach higher to the roof, blocking the only way out. Eponine feels the heat blister her skin, her habit catching fire, yet she continued to go on to the altar, watching to her greatest horror that the wooden icon of her good is burning away before her eyes. She kneels down, oblivious to the charred and broken bodies scattered around the benches in the great room, and starts praying for forgiveness.<br/><br/>'' Oh light of will, guidance of my path! I beg you for forgiveness, for the sins I've committed that are being punished by this day. I beg you for a saviour, a saviour from this madness, save me from this nightmare that you turned my life in. Show me the way to serve you, SHOW ME YOUR WILL''<br/><br/>As the young nun was praying to be woken up from this terrible nightmare she is living in, the supporting beams of the building are beginning to break above her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>