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Post by Grimhilde on Aug 17, 2015 22:12:12 GMT -5
..:: Player Information ::..
Player Name: Anna
Age: 21
Other Characters Played: Anna, Persephone, Fox, and Jasmine
How You Found Us: It's still a mystery
..:: Character Information ::..
Character Name: Grimhilde, The Queen
Type of Creature: Human
Rank: Force of Evil
Movie/TV Series: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Home Island: The Isle of the Crown
Personality: Grimhilde's primary drive and constant focus is her own vanity. When she had nothing, she had her beauty and the only thing that the Queen drew strength from was the Magic Mirror's admittance that she was fairest in the land. The Queen is fixated with being the fairest of all, and will do anything, no matter how unspeakable, to secure that title for herself.
The Queen has a fierce and frigid temper, and when it is brought out in her even the most mighty would cower before her. She is beautiful in every word she speaks or every step she takes, but that beauty is distant, lofty, condescending and intimidating. Grimhilde delights in this fact. The Queen is vain, but she is also selfish. Her thoughts and desires stopped extending to anyone other than herself some time ago, and this combined with her vanity makes her wicked in how tightly she will hold onto what it is that she desires.
With her descent into avarice and self-obsession, the Queen was made jaded and cynical in all respects. To love is folly, in her mind. She thinks that those who would dare to open their hearts to irrevocably love another person are fools, and is actually affronted by the thought of it. Grimhilde is possessed by a strange, irrational fury in these instances, as well as when her fairness is threatened by others.
Grimhilde has a great respect for power, and any that she sees as weak – whether because of quiet dispositions, or other ways that do not align with her opinion on what is important – she despises at once and treats cruelly. She is also terrifyingly clever, and knows how to use her appearance to topple kingdoms if she so desires. Admittedly, Grimhilde grew comfortable in her luxurious life after marrying the King, and may be more prone to more brutish, less guileful means than she once was; although she will likely have to revert back to her more careful former self in the wake of events.
Powers, Skills, and/or Any Other Abilities:
Nobility: Though not born to nobility, after Grimhilde became the Queen she spent many years navigating the societal climates of her kingdom, and ruling it in her husband's absence and the in the wake of his death. She is a clever customer when it comes to negotiating social circles and this intimate knowledge of how people and protocol works could suit her and others in many cases.
Clever: The Queen is very clever and her wry, nimble thought processes make her dangerous to set against; she knows the benefit of acting subtly, which is a trait that few really have.
Sorcery: Grimhilde is a witch by heritage, through her mother. She spent many years sequestered in her chambers poring over spell books and instructions on the Dark Arts. The Queen is able to use and call upon magic with a fair degree of natural talent, so long as she has the necessary objects and knowledge. She is more apt to ply her craft for more grand or offensive purposes since returning from the Sleep of Ages.
Potions Mistress: In the past, most of the Queen's focus on the mystic arts related to the brewing of potions and elixirs. In turn, these concoctions were always focused on the preservation and augmentation of Grimhilde's perilous beauty. She is able to brew for other aims, though, as evidenced with her poisoned apple and peddler woman disguise; Grimhilde need only have the proper ingredients and recipe at hand.
Magic Mirror: When the Queen has access to her Magic Mirror, she knows the proper incantation to summon forth the spirit of the Slave that lies within. The Slave sees all and knows all that happens within the confines of the kingdom that it is in. This is an invaluable source of accurate information to Grimhilde, though her question is usually only singular: “Who is fairest of them all?”[/ul]
Weaknesses/Flaws:
Cruelty: The Queen is cruel in her behavior and how she treats all others. She has her ways of rationalizing any meanness – when she cares to justify her toxicity, which is rare if not entirely nonexistent anymore – but they are highly flawed.
Selfishness: Grimhilde's primary concern is herself above all others. She will get what she wants and achieve her aims no matter the cost, and it is her right to have it as Queen.
Apathy: Hand-in-hand with her vanity, cruelty and selfishness is her complete disregard for how what she does affects other people.
Anger: She has a terrible temper, and when it's set off she can act irrationally, extremely and may go to drastic efforts to exact revenge – which, in her mind, is just.
Mortal: Regardless of the potions that have made her hair darker than the raven's wing, her voice as melodious as a sonnet or her skin as smooth as a gem, Grimhilde is mortal. She can be harmed or mortally injured.
Magic Mirror: The Queen is reliant on her Mirror for reassurance that she is fairest in the land. Without it, she is irritable, ornery and unreasonable until she can consult with it.[/ul]
Canon History: Grimhilde was born into squalor. Her mother was a witch of considerable talent and even more considerable beauty. Even so, the nature of her profession in conjunction with the heavy suspicion and prejudice toward it meant that mother and daughter lived less than poorly; moving with traveling caravans o're the kingdoms, a tag-along tent watched warily by all around it. Yet, Grimhilde's mother still managed to make the barest profit in secret, using her books on the Dark Arts and her strange assortment of ingredients to give inquirers what they desired – usually for a steep and clever price. Grimhilde watched her mother's business transactions with reverence, and smiled slyly whenever a customer would leave their tent.
The only object that the pair of them owned that wasn't threadbare or stained beyond recognition was a mirror of remarkable craftsmanship. Her mother would consult with it, sometimes; ask it odd questions that would help them evade dangerous areas. Grimhilde was not spared the truth behind the object. Her father had been a masterful Maker of Mirrors, and fallen in love with her mother when she was not yet forced into destitution for her powers. When she told the Maker of Mirrors that she was with child, he panicked, severed ties with her and moved to marry a woman of station in his kingdom. So, Grimhilde's mother slayed him and bound his spirit as a Slave in one of his own creations.
When Grimhilde was a young woman, her mother passed away, but not before sharing with her the secrets of her magicks. Grimhilde was beautiful beyond imagining, and her mother told her to use that – to make that her power. She never had much interest in magic, except for how it could be used to augment her already incomparable appearance. Grief gave way to disgust at the life she lead. Grimhilde detested the ratty tent she'd been raised in, and from that revulsion grew an intense desire for all that she had never had; a life of luxury, influence, prestige and fame. When she heard that the King of the realm she was passing through was a widower, an idea hatched in Grimhilde's cunning mind.
She devised a plan and used what little coin her mother left her to hire foolish men to play in it. When the King was on his way home from a campaign, on the fringes of his kingdom, he found men dressed in the armor of his enemies ferrying a carriage with a prisoner of war within. The simpletons Grimhilde had paid were killed on sight, of course, but they did their jobs well. The King ordered the carriage forced open, and from it she emerged, streaked with grime and wide-eyed with terror. Somehow these just contrasted her natural beauty and entranced the King at once. Grimhilde was tactful in her words and actions and the King spirited her to his castle.
Grimhilde allured the King, always remaining poised and soft-spoken, and after just several months he was asking for her hand. Now she had everything that was denied her during her youth. And if Grimhilde did not love the King, she was fond of how he treated her and coveted his adoration of her as a dragon covets gold. There was only one flaw in her plan, and that was that the King had a daughter. Snow White. From the moment Grimhilde laid eyes on her, she despised the little princess. Not only was she destined to make Grimhilde's intentions difficult, but everything about her affronted the Queen. She was beautiful, Grimhilde could not deny, and that was an outrage. More over, she was beautiful in every way that the Queen was not: pure where she was dark; compassionate where she was aloof; innocent where she was jaded.
The Queen only moved a handful of belongings into the castle when she could; a trunk full of her mother's things which she stole in the dungeons, and one Magic Mirror. The King was busy with campaigns and running the kingdom often, which left Grimhilde time to pore over the tomes she'd inherited. Still, Grimhilde worked her magicks to make her fair past anyone's wildest dreams. Her skin as smooth as a gem; her hair darker than the raven's wing; her voice more melodic and mesmerizing than a nightingale's song. Above all else, Grimhilde's vanity grew and grew. The way that those at court treated her, and the way that whispers went throughout the seven kingdoms of the new Queen's beauty swelled her pride and fed her insatiable greed. Grimhilde never failed to see that when Snow White was present, though, attention was not focused on her. Mutterings of awe regarding the Queen's air turned to fond whispers of Snow White's perfection. Grimhilde loathed her more and more for it.
Soon, the Queen found a piece of parchment tucked in one of her mother's books during one block of studying in her dungeon laboratory. On it was scrawled the instructions of how to summon the Slave of the Magic Mirror. Grimhilde attempted just that, and found that true to his pronouncement, the Slave knew all and saw all that happened in the kingdom's borders. The Queen made several inquiries, then was struck by one question above all others that she desired greatly to know the answer to: “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is fairest of them all?” And it was she. Grimhilde was intoxicated by this statement, and she felt her power and pride swell to new heights. Soon she was consulting with the Mirror twice a day, at least, and grew dependent on its words. She hardly noticed when the King passed, far too bound up in affairs regarding her own beauty and safeguarding it fiercely.
Years continued to wile by and one day the Slave's response to Grimhilde's question was different. Snow White was fairest in the land. By that point, she was given over so entirely to her vanity and her jealousy that little else remained. The Queen was shocked by this news, and at a loss of what to do about it. She had tolerated Snow after the King's death, but placated her hatred for the girl by reducing her to a scullery maid; dressing her in rags and treating her like a member of the castle staff. When she looked out the window to see Snow singing to a young nobleman, Grimhilde's combined desire to be fairest and anger at Snow daring to open her heart to someone made her snap. She had the court's Huntsman brought before her, and ordered him to take Snow White into the woods and kill her, bringing her heart back to the Queen. The Huntsman despaired, but how was he to refuse her will?
The Huntsman brought her her prize late that night, and Grimhilde consulted her Slave again. The spirit of the Magic Mirror revealed that the Huntsman had lied – he had given the Queen the heart of a boar, and Snow White still lived, in the cottage of the seven dwarfs. Outraged by this defiance, Grimhilde stormed to her dungeon laboratory, where she mixed a potion that changed her into an old peddler woman. She dipped an apple in Sleeping Death and ventured to the dwarfs' cottage through a secret entrance to the castle.
Once there, the Queen convinced Snow White to take a bite of the apple, swearing that it would make all of her dreams come true. When Snow fell under the apple's curse, Grimhilde was hardly left time to celebrate, for the dwarfs were upon her. They chased her through the woods, and the Queen cursed her frail form as she ascended a rocky ledge onto a cliff. A storm whipped up, and Grimhilde was trapped, lashed by rain. Then a lightning bolt smote the rocks before her. The Queen leaped back, lost her balance and plunged to her death at the bottom of a ravine.
Game Information: The Queen was placed in the Sleep of Ages and bound to the Forever Stone by the Circle of the Fae. For centuries, Grimhilde slept, until recently when an unknown force lifted the spell on the Stone. The world that the Queen awoke to was vastly different to the one that she knew. Not only that, but Grimhilde was still wearing the face of the old crone she had disguised herself into being. With little else to do, she headed to her palace, which was long-since abandoned.
The Queen sneaked into the castle and to her secret dungeon laboratory, but found it purged. Something or someone had removed all of her items related to the Dark Arts. Despairing, Grimhilde began roaming, trying to learn what she could as she went. Through this careful collecting of facts, she understood that there was only one place where she could find aid and kinship, and so she traveled to the Forbidden Mountain. She is intent on finding her spellbooks and personal apothecary, but above all else in her heart is the retrieval of her beloved Magic Mirror.
Anything Else: While I intend on having Grimhilde use her beauty and mind foremost as her weapons, I'm deeply interested in her exploring her knack for magic in more offensive ways, and learning to be a physical threat if the need arises.
..:: Sample Post ::..
Curse these withered bones, she thought to herself venomously. She dare not mutter the complaint, because to do so would be to hear the dry, rasping voice of the grave string the syllables together. Grimhilde watched knobby knuckles and fingers curled by arthritis grasp a thorny root to steady herself. When she had downed the potion to disguise herself originally the Queen didn't realize that her new form would come with all of the disadvantages of an aged body on the cusp of death. Merely rowing and walking to the cottage of the Seven Dwarfs had been almost beyond her to deliver that fateful apple.
The black cloak that she wore was buffeted by a dry wind that rattled through the valley she was traversing. Grimhilde snarled to herself and gathered the fabric more soundly around a bent, hunched frame. Silver strands of hair were pulled from her risen hood by the gale and thrashed like strands of yellowed moonlight over her shoulder and chest. She felt utterly helpless, and that went beyond her current form. Grimhilde could not endeavor to reverse the spell that transformed her, because her spellbooks and apothecary were denied her.
When she finally slipped her way through strange and malformed lands to her castle, the Queen found it deserted. Boarded up. Covered in dust. Falling in on itself. Outraged, Grimhilde scowled at the strange rumors of the Sleep of Ages and Forever Stones swirling through the village and stole into her old lair through secret ways known only to her. The dungeon laboratory that she worked out of once upon a time, honing her talents in the black arts, was barren and wiped clean. Nothing remained from what Grimhilde knew.
The Queen hardly had time to be rightly outraged when the thought seized her. She hobbled as quickly as possible up through the dilapidated main floor of the castle and ascended the grand stair to her private chambers. Dust and cobwebs ensnared everything, what little furnishings remained were draped in worn linens. Grimhilde was not surprised, therefor, when It was not hanging on the wall. Still, the ice that grabbed her heart and the fury that funneled through her veins was no less potent. Back to the grand hall she went, and Grimhilde had only a moment's notice when the front doors creaked to throw herself into the opening of her dungeon haunt.
Strange, winged creatures trailing stardust and flower petals swept into the castle, chattering to themselves. The Queen knew that to be caught by them was not an option. She used that same sacred outlet through which she arrived to take her leave before they could make her. Grimhilde then took time to do her research. To ply the taverns and the busy street ways asking harmless questions to passersby and slowly piecing together some form of truth. Through this weaving of half-mentions Grimhilde found herself where she was now.
The Queen inched around an outlying arm of the high cliffs on either side of the valley, and there it lay before her. The ground rose in a jagged spire before her, topped with a citadel of impressive design. Grimhilde reached down with one hand to quiet a tremor that shook its twin. Always her fingers quaked and itched, set with a fire that was in her bones, yearning to run over It's smooth, reflective plains and ornate, oval frame. Grimhilde steeled herself and shuffled on. This was the only way. The only way to reclaim her beauty. The only way to retrieve her Slave.
She needed her Mirror. She had a question she was dying to ask of it.
