After years of training, as a test of character, she is now very brawny. The small and little muscle´s she has are all very toned and trained, in a way with training and an iron determination she could surpass her frailty.

She is very frail, but thanks to that she is small and fast. Very dexterous and quickly. She lacks strength but compensates it with her acrobatic skill.

All Elesh are descendants of an avian race, having no fur but feathers surrounding their body. And so, her feathers smooth as silk are of a dark blue color.

She usually wears a white long sleeves tunic that stops at her knees because she usually runs a lot and a tunic longer than that would hamper her. She straps a belt to keep the dress to flaunt a lot and on top of that uses a black buttoned shirt. On top of the shirt she has a coat of brown leather. Some boots with long black socks and a wide brimmed hat with a turkeys feather.

She uses a rapier called Queen Atalanta , its manufacturing its masterwork. But there is not much more about it, just a fine craft.

Personal history

His father was a bodyguard and a champion wrestler, and her mother was a slave that sold oil for most of her life. His father bought her and they quickly marry.

She forgot the name of her mother long ago, because his father doesn’t mention her a lot. She still misses her, after all this time.

She died after childbirth, and so Antigone grew without a mother figure, but still being sickly and frail and small like her. By all accounts she was clearly her heiress.

Paleien was heartbroken, and so travelled with her daughter to faraway lands. In his grieve he travelled so far away that her ghost, as a memory or as a perfume that the wind can carry, would be always forgotten, like a ghost dancing in tombs with no name, a ghost that was long gone for so very long that it couldn’t remember its name.

And so, Antigone was raised by his father, and a mother with no face nor smell, a ghost of ages past that would haunt her all her life.

The two of then moved out to the city of Serene, a great port city of the Serenissima Repubblica di Sebastool. There, her father worked as a trainer of warriors, helping in the training of the Warrior-archers of the republic, the Knights of the Republic, and other military endeavors.

At seven years old her father marry another woman, but this time not an Elesh like her mother, but a Keldoren, a small-time merchant woman who controlled two merchant ships. And so, his father regain the colors of his life, like if his soul was pulled away from his body and put back again. This made him happy, and in return he wanted his daughter to be happy too. Keldoren culture and Elesh culture are two very distinct things, one values personal wealth and entrepreneurship and the other values the strength of politics and leaves the women as mere property, and so Antigone grew out to be a feisty and fiery one, an Elesh woman that was unlike the rest of Elesh woman.

She didn’t wanted to be a lady to be pawn of to some high lord and be into it’s way into the baby making business. She wanted to be a warrior like the Pirate Atalanta, the warrior from legend, a great and respected knight maybe, like the ones her father trains.

Try as she might, his father didn’t wanted her to train as a knight, and she didn’t let her because it would not be proper for a girl like her.

Months and months passed, but she still wanted to fight like a boy, even sneak up on his classes and tried to befriend the pages he trained. More times than not they ridicule her, and so she was left crying in her bedroom.

Her step mother took pity of her, and so from the city-States of Beldonia contracted a Marine veteran, a soldier of Keldoren origin like her that specialized in swimming and guerrilla tactics, used a trident and a short sword as weapon. And so, if her husband didn’t wanted to teach her daughter to defend herself, she would, or at least buy her the means to learn.

And so the lessons started, and the young Antigone started her fencing lessons. The Keldoren are not a people keen on land fighting, they are a sea-fearing culture, are creatures of both land and sea, and so they specialize in fighting accordingly. The way they fight is almost like a dance, moving like flowing water, like rain droplets on a moonless night. And so, little Antigone learned to fight that way, fencing away her problems, training and training every day, almost like some kind of mantra for her.

Finally, at age 17 her teacher, Boskoni, leaved the city after finishing the training og Antigone. After almost ten years of training she was a proper Water Dancer, a fencer of great skill. She even take out one page all by herself in a duel. Her stepmother was proud, and brag Paleien about it.

He finally open up himself about it and proceed to train his daughter.

But you could only be a page. I cannot name a knight myself, I am merely a trainer, a teacher. I lack the authority, and nobody would want you as your real page, I’m afraid.

And so, Antigone learned the art of fighting like a western knight, donning a basic set of armor, and using a shield and a long sword. The training was hard for her, her frail body although it was trained and well built, it still was defective, her stamina was lackluster and so the exhaustive combat of the knights was not meant for her.

With help from her father she developed ways to counter knights, to go through their armor in combat, to overwhelm them with speed and quickly change the tide of battle. This in return helped his father with his business, she helped him to develop new techniques of fighting, and so they became closer.

Until an old ghost came to haunt him to an early grave.

His father was weaker and weaker by the day, his muscles grew old and tired before him, his eye sight grew sore and numb and in time, his lungs were black as charred remains. The doctors called it “karkinos” In his native tongue, and it was a death sentence. Maybe three years, maybe a month, maybe ten years, maybe tomorrow, but death would come, and it would not be pretty.

And so, Antigone stood by her side, and never wanted to leave. She saw him struggle by the day, from trimming his feathers to remove the excess nails of his talons (akin to humans cutting their nails), he struggled with it, his hands were not as strong as they were before. The bull was slowly wasting away. She had to help him with all, even help him to walk. It was hard labor, but she endured it. It was her father after all, and she loved him the most.

She cooked meals and feed him with a spoon, help him don his old battle armor and even arranged the last holiday that his stepmother would have with him. She was happy, she saw him happy, wasting slowly and drawing his last breath day by day, but the old bull smiled at her daughter every day, crying when he knew she wants looking. And she never wanted to leave.

Until one day he simply didn’t wake up, with his lover embracing him all night long. Maybe he died during the morning, because her wife didn’t catched on what was going on. She only embraced him, kiss his forehead and knew it all. She just stood there, and whispered her goodbyes to her husband, and she never wanted to leave.

Maybe he was a lot of things, but he was my father. The rest is confetti.

After the funeral, Antigone packed her things up and set sail away, far away, to forget the ghost of the past. To dance to a place where the ghost would forgot their name, and remember who they once were. But she never wanted to leave.