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Post  Metah on Wed Oct 27, 2010 6:56 pm

Cold mountain winds fight their way through the gaps between fierce jagged cliffs, sending gusts of snow higher than elder trees long swept away. A lone Kal'dorei caught in travels where none ought stray hunkers down to hug the ground, her cloak held tight about herself; an insufficient shield. The elements are merciless. For a fleeting moment she glimpses a figure striding through the snows depths effortlessly ahead of her. No cloak billows about the figure to fend off the furious winds making the lone elf shake her head at what was most certainly her imagination. She presses on, uttering a quick prayer to Elune that her worries are unfounded. Further south, winds sweep through an old forest upending trees in its path. A wolf’s howl pierces the night to flow over the land along-side the wind’s cry. Magic lies in wait. Daring to chase down the objects of her curiosity, the lone elf known as Metah does not concern her-self with trivial matters of convenience. The need to pursue her craft defines her. The pervasion of enchanting into her life shows in her hair and skin which emit a soft glow. Thoughts of a new nation basked in the glory of discovery pervade her mind as she fights against the brutal storms of Winterspring. If these republican scholars are all that she has been told, she will no doubt pursue extensive interests concerning their acquired knowledge.

On Metah.
Eccentricities take some part in her behavior. New things have a way of becoming beacons of fire in her mind, which blind her to everything else. Honesty is not a practice for her it is automatic. She is incapable of idealizing a lie, although her moral compass is not spectacular. Her simplicity in social relations is comparable to a young child stumbling over obstacles unseen; however clumsy she may be, she is not so much aware of the matter. Metah has a very active sense of humor although it is often not on the same page as those involved. She is, despite her obsessions a priestess of Elune, and however it may irk her at times she holds that standard to the highest of her ability.

Knowledge is to Metah as a lake is to its distributaries; its waters belonging to all people. All people carry the innate worthiness of the learning. It is not to be locked up by any soul and held until that soul’s death, but to be shared with all who may benefit, with respect toward those persons who may use it to do harm.

Romance is a subject of great worth but little understanding to Metah. While she places value in other’s relationships and great value in those friendships she may have, her need for intimacy is as nonexistent as her ability to pass by a foreign enchanting shop without checking to be sure no forgotten relic lays in wait.

Her clothing is meticulously in order.

In summary, Metah is something of a nerd, if a pleasant enough one.


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