Name: Rory Baker
Place of Birth: Illian
Physical Description: Rory has an athletic build and is of average height. Her hair is a rich brown and curled, her eyes are also brown. She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Character History Edit
Rory was the daughter of an Inn Keeper, and to her it was the safest, most secure and fun place in all of world. She spent her days and nights serving drinks and food; laughing and dancing and singing. Not to mention drinking clientele under the table when she came of age. It was not that she was irresponsible, far from that. She simply loved the Inn and her father and her perfect little life.
She dressed more in men's fashion than women's for the sake of practicality, but never let go an opportunity to pretty herself up go by unmarked. She was the pride of loving parents and the heiress to a thriving business, a business she became more and more involved in the workings of as she aged.
She would often take trips through the Westlands, to one city or another in search of fine wines, ales and meats, and suppliers of all three. This was not as fun as working in the inn itself, but it did give her a chance to see all sorts of places and meet all kinds of people.
One such trip—the last—brought her to Tar Valon. It was impressive enough, in its own way, but buildings had never captured her attention as much as the people within them. She wasted little time in finding herself an ale house and a cool drink. It's the same old story: if she knew then what she knew now she'd not have done it, but she didn't and so she did.
Rory had a high threshold for stupidity and as much tolerance and patience, but after a dreadfully long wagon ride the antagonizing wench was rubbing a nerve. A hearty cursing match ensued; then one thing led to another and Rory was rolling around on the floor, trying to beat the head in of the drunken cow motivated alike. She was fairly certain she could have won, too, if the law hadn't arrived.