Eloise

On a quiet and sunny afternoon, winds NW at about six miles per hour at about four in the afternoon, the world changed. Well, at least the small community of ranchers just south of Platte River would never be the same. Eloise was born, brown-eyed with dark hair and wailing the whole way.

Through her childhood, little Eloise was a handful at the best of times and at the worst of times…well, her nose and the corner happened to be fine friends. She led merry children in games of Baseball played with switches and rocks, Fainting Goats, and Cow Tipping, and Jumping from the Hayloft. She had a number of friends, and drove the local teachers to tears. When she graduated, with poor grades but lots of friends, she turned to the life she always knew and never respected: ranching. Without a degree, Eloise took great pride in the health of her animals, and it pleased her most when she healed an ill or injured creature. Headstrong but tender, Eloise simply saved everything that came to her for help, from pigeon hawks to foxes. On a quiet sunny afternoon 29 years later, she rode across her pastures with pride, unawares of the gopher holes that had invaded just a bare ten feet beyond her fence. She remained oblivious as her gelding rolled his leg in an impossible angle, unaware as she journeyed ten feet in to a tree. Eloise Kikar never figured out what happened. She awoke confused, fashioned after her favorite gentle creature…with brand new energy and more people that need help.Though quietEloise is no lazy hay-converter. She stands over seven feet tall, including the short ivory horns protruding from her head, with the musculature of a creature that works hard for its pay. Coarse but short dark reddish-brown fur covers most of her body, with a splotch of cream color decorating her muzzle, throat, chest, and abdomen. A darker russet mane is plaited down her back like a snake, and her chunky bangs brush her face and eyes. The ragged collar of a comfortable slate flannel shirt sits awry on her thick neck and broad shoulders, the hem is tied around her ribs, and the sleeves are rolled to mid-bicep. Bright buff, well worn leather braces cover her wide palms and forearms, matching the ties in her hair and belt. Something resembling denim makes up the sturdy cut-offs stretched tightly on her meaty legs. Her dark hooves are always expertly trimmed and filed, with the fetlock neatly coiffed.

She is faced with the quandary of alignment, but choosing a side will alienate her from the other. Unable to deal with the possibility of helping only some of them -- them being the people who need guidance or healing, -- she remains as neutral as possible but her kind nature bumps the Goodness points up and up. She has accepted that Necromundus is essentially where she shall stay for however long eternity decides to be, and she tries to make the best of it. She smiles, and she waves, and she's taking a liking to hunting, and she likes to chat in the Purgatory Tavern.