Ryelissa is a second generation TARPer.
She is a quiet and thoughtful person, but even though she mostly keeps to herself she almost always has a tiny trace of a smile on her lips. She is also an anamangus and can turn into a small phoebe at will. Though she is one of the younger TARPers and not as well known as many, she is still a powerful ally to have and a force to be reckoned with.
Rye is small in stature, only reaching around 5'1 when she is on her tippy toes, and strongly built. Her wiry frame is well muscled and lithe and she moves with the graceful spring in her step of a tiny bird. She has a short, angular bob of completely straight, glossy black hair and is known to shyly hide her rich dark chocolate-tinted eyes behind it. She has slightly Indian/Arabian features, thick, graceful lashes, and skin of a light coffee color. Her clothes usually consist of a dark crimson, knee-length tunic belted at the waist; form-fitting dark brown leggings; soft-soled, stitched leather boots; and a sweeping floor length cloak colored mottled browns, tans, and golds. She frequently pulls the cowl of said cloak up over her face and the most people can usually make out of the shadows cast over her face is an upturned nose, tiny rosebud mouth and two dark, mysterious eyes.
Since Rye is a bit on the bird-like side, weapons such as broad swords, long bows, maces and battle axes are clumsyand unwieldy. She learned her limitations at an early age and is deadly accurate with throwing knifes and blowdarts. Though her knife skills leave virtually nothing lacking, her favorite weapon is poison, it being subtle, simple, and very deadly. She carries several blowguns which she has modified and improved to the point of being unrecognizable from what the original, slightly primitive weapon is more commonly pictured as. She loads these various blowguns with tiny little slivers of darts, dipped in the most poisonous mixtures known to man (many of these being concocted by herself and unknown to the mortal/muggle/ordinary world). Different darts create different results a few examples being: truth telling, pain inflicting, depression inducing, sleep, happiness, terror, temporary paralyzation, memory loss, immediate death, etc. She finds these quite effective and useful for any task that may arise, and if there is one thing she seeks after and lusts after the most, it is more samples of various potions and serums to widen her range of options.
Nationality and Birth
Ryelissa was born in a Bedullian family. The Bedullins were a nomadic tribe that roamed the Arabian desert many years ago. She comes from the Khoresh Bedullian tribe and it is not sure of her exact birth year, but it is somewhere around 1210 A.D. The Khoresh Bedullians were ruled at that time by their Aseikah, Umar ib'n Talud.
She grew up in the sands of Arabia, roaming as free as the wind across the dunes. Her family was large, even by Bedullin standards; 13 siblings and 4 cousins lived under the same tent. As a little girl, her family recognized that she was...different. Often times she would slip away for days, enjoying her own company more than that of others, but her parents never worried for they knew that she was quite capable of handling herself even at a young age. She never fit in with the gossiping women and girls who would sit around their cooking pits and chitter away like little sand rats about everything and everyone. Her cousins and siblings saw her as a mystery and a killjoy, but really she was just quiet and thoughtful, choosing to plan out her words before they were spoken and wishing to soak in as much information as possible. Her small size easily could have made her a target, but it was as if some unbidden voice warned the bullying boys of the camp not to interact with this strange desert spirit. Thus she lived her life, hidden in the shadows of the colorful tents and watching everything through dark, intelligent eyes, until one day when she was around 6 or 7 years old and a boy was found and brought into the camp.
At first, she thought he was dead. He looked the part: face blackened, charred by the scorching rays of the sun; lips so parched they looked as if a tiny breeze could cause them to crumble off; and breath faint with death. As the women of the camp bustled and clucked around this strange newcomer, Rye caught a sight of something strange. A plump, matronly woman lifted the corner of his outer garment, a strange, brown and gold mottled cloak, and she saw a glimpse of skin untouched by the sun. It was paler than the moon on the sand. Rye had never seen flesh so white and perfect. Then the boy was hidden from her sight as her aunt shooed her out of the Aseikah's tent and back to her stick gathering.
A few days later she saw him again, this time awake and alert in the tent, sitting up and drinking a bowl of camel milk thirstily. He had cheeky brown eyes and he grinned at her obvious curiosity, his cheeks cracking painfully with the effort, and she shyly slipped away. As time went on and his strength and marvelous pale skin returned, she became bolder and bolder in her curiosity till one day he beckoned her to come in. He spoke a strange language, harsh and choppy, much unlike the smooth speech of her people. But the Aseikah seemed to be able to speak with him in the same tongue, picked up from his days trading to the west. Through Umar, she conversed with this strange boy and learned his name was Will and he was from a far off land filled with trees and water and where all the people were as pale as him, some even more so. He had gotten lost from his caravan and was on the brink of death when a scout from her people had found him. He spoke of men in metal suits, riding atop horses and charging each other for glory, beautiful, pale-skinned women cheering them on with scarves, wearing strange, pointed hats and massive garments covered in jewels. Rye was enchanted by these tales, and dreamed at night of one day seeing them for herself.
Will stayed with the Bedullin for many weeks, regaining his strength and talking for hours every night with Umar about politics. He was quite a few years older than Rye, and she had no real interest in the topic of discussion, but she stayed and listened every night outside the tent anyway, soaking up information and teaching herself this strange new language. By the 4th week, she could understand enough to know that the Bedullin were likely about to go to war, allying themselves with the Arradi, another neighboring people, against the scourge of the desert, the Taulaghi tribe. This was revolutionary talk, for the Bedullin people were widely known for being a peaceful people, staying out of altercations with other groups with almost a religious fervor.
War was coming, and the camp began to make ready for it, but no one could pull Rye away from listening to Will's stories. Her quick mind had learned enough to have short conversations with the newcomer, and with a bit of help from him, soon she was speaking English almost fluently. Now she could ask all the questions she had thought up during many sleepless nights: How did you get here? How far away is this land you tell about? What do you do there? What is this cloak for? How are you so skilled with the bow? Who is your Aseikah? Will answered these many questions as thoroughly and patiently as he could, explaining that he was from the kingdom of Araluen, many many miles away, across oceans and mountains. He was what his people called a "Ranger" and his clothing and weapons were for hiding and fighting for his kingdom.
Rye was fascinated by the cloak most of all, for when Will donned it and sat completely still, he seemed to disappear into the sand. He noticed this admiration and watched her amusedly from afar when she would "borrow" his cloak in the early morning hours and practice silent movement, motionless sitting, and blending into the environment. She was talented, there was no doubt about that. So during the spare hours of the afternoon, when everyone would be inside hiding from the heat, Will would teach Rye some tips and tricks for unseen movement, how to stalk prey, be it human or otherwise, and the ways of a Ranger. Her sharp intelect quickly gained a firm grasp on everything he had to teach and soon she was nearly as talented at unseen movement as Will himself.
But then the war came to the Bedullin, and the men packed up their horses and prepared to ride against the Taulaghi. Will was going with them, to meet up with his lost caravan and eventually return home. Rye helped him pack, but refused to let herself cry, even when he gave her a hug goodbye. He was turning to mount, when he suddenly did a strange thing. He unbuckled that marvelous cloak from his neck and handed it to her. "Keep practicing," he said with a wink and a grin, and then he mounted, gave one final wave, and was gone with the rest of the men of the camp. Rye clutched the precious gift in her hands and allowed one little tear to slip down her cheek as her new friend disappeared into the horizon.