#lourdelle

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decided to try my hand at her armor finally cuz they slay #baddie

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i need to draw her in something more than a portrait but shes just so pretty and sorrowful

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i try not to post my art much but here's Lourdelle with some different hair styles

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my commander Lourdelle <3

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the issue with ocs that have tattoos is that u have to constantly repaint their tattoos. i got lazy with this. 

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origin story for my Commander Lourdelle

This is functioning around lots of revenant based hc, particularly that revenants have social stigma around them, specifically in the Norn community. Revenant norns can’t shapeshift, so it’s often seen that they’ve abandoned the Spirit’s gift, or that they use a stolen power.

Lourdelle was young when she arrived in Hoelbrak, trekking from the far, far North. Alone, holding a broken axe, her eyes a vibrant green. She was quiet, stayed away from other kids and especially large groups. She talked aloud often, like they were addressing someone who wasn’t there. People found them odd, but when they spoke, they spoke passionately.

The older she got, the more arrogant she became. Picked fights, lost often. She was desperate to make a name for herself, but lacked the guidance and mentor-ship others received. It wasn’t until she lost one big fight that she felt humiliated enough to step back.

She trained hard following that. Her revenancy skills that she seemed to struggle to hide got stronger, easier to control. They became a comfort. When the Great Hunt came, she figured now was a greater time than any to prove herself. And she did. With a new name, The Slayer, she felt like a greater opportunity than she had ever seen before had laid itself in front of her. And they’d be damned if they didn’t take it.

Eir became a greater source of comfort than even the Legendaries. Her own mother was a famous hunter from North, who lost her life when the Icebrood began their spread further South. What Lourdelle lacked in the sense of a maternal figured, she grasped scraps of it from Eir.

When the Orders came, Lourdelle saw again, a flash of opportunity. They had hid their age from the time they arrived in Hoelbrak. Even for a Norn, she had grown particularly tall, and matured fast. It was easy to pretend she was older than the 15, almost 16, year old she was. Her desperation to become something, to see the world, was only strengthened by her young naivety.

Her arrogance did more than just land her with bruises and bloody noses, the occasional split lip. Dumb, they called her, probably couldn’t write her own name with all the concussions she got. But she was smarter than they thought. Maybe that was why it was such a shock when she picked the Priory. After all, there was stuff she wanted more than fighting.

She wanted to adventure, see all of Tyria, catalogue all the species she met, learn all she could. She kept notebooks, the first one labeled in a surprisingly delicate scrawl, My Personal Story, a just very visible Vol. 1 carved into the thick spine. Sketches of all the creatures and monsters that fascinated her, pages warped and bent with thick paint. Paragraphs after paragraphs, detailing her adventures and wishes. 

Zhaitan was the beginning of the end for Lourdelle. So young she was, climbing through the ranks so fast. The loss of Sieran burnt a strange sort of fire within them. The Battle of Claw Island was a boulder to the stones Lourdelle had been throwing all her life.

The Battle at Claw Island was won. When she stood above that courtyard, filled with members from all the orders, it was like a cog had finally begun to turn. Trahearne stood beside her and announced his plan, to unite the orders and to bring about the end of Zhaitan - Perhaps if they won, the end of all the Elder Dragons.

She gained the title of Commander. She was renowned throughout Tyria. Her arrogance bled away to rightfully earned confidence. Her cleverness showed in her quick action. She saw more of Tyria than she thought she ever could’ve.

Then she arrived in Orr. The land ached with scars, and she felt like the mists were right beside her, around her. Her skin burned, and she learned quickly to not open her mouth out in the open, lest she wanted for the taste of rot to fill her. She never felt more outcasted and welcomed simultaneously.

When they took to the skies, Lourdelle felt strange. Like she’d gotten more than she bargained for. Just months ago, she was climbing to the tops of mountains, wind blowing through her hair, traveling through foreign lands and lending her aid. In the sky, the voices were silent, yet their power coursed through her. Her ears rung from the sound of the canons and the roar of beasts more powerful than she could imagine. And when she saw Zhaitan fall into the sea, the smell of death and smoke, she felt invincible.

She was so, so naive.

[milkratz]

Eursidae discovered her magic at a very young age. All Norns learn to hunt when they're young, and it was something she was excited to partake in. She made her first kill, and she was so proud, and so was her siblings and Lourdelle.

Imagine her terror when she accidentally reanimates it after moving it back to their homestead.

Cheeks still round with puppy fat, eyes wide and innocent filling with tears, her lips quivering and her fear, her disgust, new overwhelming feelings. It's not natural, to revive what's lost it's life, and she was never more scared of herself than then.

But Lourdelle cones forward, cusps Eursidae's round cheeks in her large, calloused hands, and smiles gently.

"You don't have to be afraid of your gift, Eursidae. I knew one of the greatest necromancers of my time, and I think he might just be the inspiration you need to be the greatest hero yet."

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Lourdelle Lore (Lore-delle lmao)

aka just miscellaneous facts about her and her story

Lourdelle is from a homestead far, far North, that was eventually taken over by Icebrood, leaving her to travel by herself as a young child to Hoelbrak. Her homestead was culturally far different than most other Norns she’d come to known, and as she grew older, she repressed a lot of this to fit in more.

Her homestead were strict followers of Raven, but despite worshiping one of the main Spirits, they did have a lot of beliefs regarding the local area. Small nature gods and the like.

Lourdelle’s mother was a popular hunter named Rowena. Despite this, she never pressured Lourdelle (affectionately nicknamed Birdie) to become a hunter herself. In fact, Lourdelle seemed more inclined to the arts of all things.

Like Lourdelle, her mother was a revenant. It wasn’t the most respected profession of all things, especially to Norns, but Rowena’s family line was well-respected regardless. Lourdelle didn’t feel entirely ready to take on the family name after her mother passed; She hasn’t used her last name since.

It was often said the Lourdelle’s family line was cursed. The gift of revenancy was either by that of the Spirits, or of lesser gods, but in exchange for this, there was stipulations. Their family line was entirely of women; Gifts passed from one matriarch to the next. Never married, boys were never birthed. None of the women would be able to shift into raven-form. Furthermore, whether or not this was an additional stipulation or not, none of the women seemed to live past 40. This is also what pressured or convinced Lourdelle she should begin her legend as early as possible.

She picked up a lot of skills during her travels, but her most favorite one is her cooking! She enjoys finding new recipes and trying new ingredients, and she loves sharing her creations too, even if it is just with her skyscale Honeydew.

(All of her mounts and pets are named after fruits and foods (Zucchini the raptor, Apricot the Springer [also know as Pri], and so forth)

At some point, especially at her most arrogant, she was convinced she’d be the one to break the Tooth and slay Jormag. But as the Pact and herself became more busy with other elder dragons, she found it too overwhelming. Perhaps that was why she was so frustrated with Braham - She saw a little too much of herself.

She likes to find things. Treasures, shiny stuff, her bag jingles with the weight of all the things she’s bought (or not). But it wasn’t just the want for shiny things that made her such a good adventurer - No one quite understands the thrill she fills climbing a mountain, seeing a sight that she knows would make her mother proud.

After Balthazar, she felt her connection with Raven was lacking. Especially since her revenancy skills received a huge boost. She felt out of control, which scared her after all the time she spent fine-tuning her skills. She got tattoos with white ink, so pure it reminded her of the snow in the North.

Sometimes she herself forgets how young she is. She feels so old after all, and when she looks at Braham (who’s older than her and isn’t that just painful) who himself is just and Taimi, she wonders if that was what she looked like at the beginning - And if so, how come no one stopped her?