Lolander

From AmtWiki

MaA Lolander "Kodi" Headbasher, of Inland Ocean, within the Northern Lights, Kingdom of Blackspire

”Rock'n'roll is a prostitute, it should be tarted up, performed. The music is the mask, while I in my chiffon and boa, well, follow the message.” - Brian Slade, Velvet Goldmine (1998)

Lolander.jpg

Biography

Lolander, as with many unsuspecting raver girls, was brought to Gypsy Hollow by Ragu, on the day of Inland Ocean's second invasion of the park (November, 2010). She is a self-taught seamstress, still learning her way with different machines and techniques, and takes great joy in seeing her sashes, garb, and monster creations on the field. As a new player, she is still looking to learn and grow in every way, and appreciates fighting tips whenever possible. Left Gypsy Hollow on 9 October 2011 after finishing her term as Regent and upon her departure was bestowed entry into the Headbasher household. Lolander is now at Inland Ocean. Black Company November 2010-January 8 2012. Initiated into the Templars January 28 2012.

Flurb Bio

In a hollowed-out redwood the size of an elephant’s belly, identified by a look or feeling rather than a name, lived a lone family of gypsies, long since abandoned by their caravan (although precisely who left who was an arguable case). The clan was governed entirely by their emotions, and frequently took part in ceremonious use of mushroom grown throughout the forest, to search for deeper meanings within themselves.Their teachings were wholesome and their home full of crystals, various homespun tapestries, and most importantly, an atmosphere of positivity. The children knew nothing of lies beside what their elders had told them in stories, and rhyme and mischief were only ever good-hearted. Love was not between a man and a woman, but between a living creature and everything around it, be it a bush, a berry, a rock, animal or physical lover, and it was beautiful.

A child inhabited this tree, a gypsy in herself, but with starchy parents who bickered and had a hard time living as they preached. They named the child “Lolander,” for her love of sleeping not in the high tree hammocks, but instead in a burrowed nest crqfted outside of the tree between the deepest hollow of roots that only a few of the smaller children could reach. She was spacey and thoughtful, and did not always understand what she was being told, but she was in love with the world - whimsical to say the least.

One day, when a passing storm was fierce in the heavens and it seemed as if every redwood in the forest was to be stricken down by the gods, Lolander had crawled into her rot-enclosed burrow to cry when a greying old possum came to the sound of her sobs. His teeth were yellow and he had a triangle scarred across his tail where no fur grew.

“Why do you weep, my child?” the possum inquired through its worn-down fangs with a voice that was complicated but thick like molasses.

The downpour of tears from the gypsy child’s eyes ceased without pause as the elderly possum spoke. The child looked into the possum’s silver eyes, and he could tell that he was completely blind. And as she gazed, it was clear that it was not the possum’s eyes that she was looking into, but its soul, which was just the same colour, but more shiny sand glorious than any tapestry she had seen in her life. If only that could be her own soul, she thought, but then, she could too see that through the saged being’s kind stare, and it was a coloured that matched nicely, but was matte, and darker, heaver, weighted down by something, many things, that she knew only by name (and what’s more, some not at all). And then she remembered that she had been asked a question, but when she tried to answer, realized that they had been conversing all the time.

“The trees, friend,” she had answered, “they will be dying tonight.”

The possum prophet looked at her carefully, but needed not search for words as she struggled to do herself. “They do not meet their deaths as much as they sing a glorious and pure song, child. One that is more permanent than themselves - they have been learning these songs all their lives, and yet only now do they understand them, and with that understanding comes a beautiful deepness that was never there before. They have left their bodies but their songs will go on forever, and never end to those who listen.”

Lolander shut her emerald eyes and realized that she had been hearing the trees shriek all along, only they were not shrieking, they were singing in a chorus of deep and melodic oohs and ahhs whose sounds were shaped in ways that only a tree could cry them. “Do not cry for the trees, my child,” the possum continued. “It is not their death that they face, it is a new way of life. “ The possum shut its eyes and when Lolander could focus her vision again, he had crawled out of her enclosure, and the storm had lifted into a black and purple night sky, hardly visible through the roof of trees overhead.

“And what about for myself?” Lolander called out into the dark.

“Don’t,” came the possum’s voice, but he was already gone.


Years went by but search as she might Lolander could not find her silver-eyed friend anywhere in the forest. She sometimes thought that she heard is claws scratching at the roots of her nest late at night, but when she awoke, he was nowhere to be found. On one night sugh as this, a crystal, no bigger than her pinky, tumbled into the burrow and she clutched it knowing that it was from him. She did not let it leave her hand.

One day as she fumbled to climb to even the lowest branches, a dark-eyed traveler watched her from below. “Is this where you live?” his feminine voice chided. Lolander’s fingers slipped from the branch she’d been fumbling for and she crashed with a squirm only a few feet below. She was sixteen by then and considered grown by tradition, but just as clumsy as ever.

She straightened her short, raggy, homespun dress and looked up at the strange man. Travelers never came through here, and his presence excited her. She suppress the feelings of worry that the forest tried to impress upon her consciousness. ”Yes,” she responded hoarsely. “And you?”

The traveler wore a belt and smiled at her, “No,” he said slowly, “I come from far away, a land where war strikes tomorrow’s morn.” He pointedly looked her up and down, and Lolander looked away shyly. “You’re welcome to follow along if you like.”

The conversation didn’t have to last much longer before Lolander was running to catch up to the man, her short dress and crystal all she carried on her person. She was leaving home, and she didn’t know why, and when the trees shook with her for fear, and she wanted to run for home, she shut her eyes and thought of the possum, telling herself not to be afraid.

As the two walked through the night, the traveler regaled her with tales of his glory, and as they walked into the morning, he told her tales of battle, and what she was to see round her and soon take part in. She lied and told him that her name was Kodi, and again, like leaving home, she did it without quite knowing why. She told him her real name only moments later, but he only laughed. She laughed with the stranger - for better or worse, she was under his wing now.

Come noon, troops began to arrive from either side, and it settled in that she was not going home anytime soon. She was drawn into battle, not knowing who or for what she fought, and repeatedly looked to the hardened eyes of those around her to understand her surroundings. Battle made them cold.

The months away from home brought her many who would hold her in ways that she had once associated with love, but seldom were the feelings the same as when she was held by the handsome and stunning Timotheus Barbane, for whom she began to develop quite a passion for. But as the seasons began to change and this new land began to take over her life, Lolander found herself often questioning the reason she had left home in the first place, and eventually came upon the decision that, regardless of why she had left, she wanted to be something that they could love when she returned. Moreover, something she could love herself - she would not return until she no longer wept for herself, as the possum, her profit, had told her so many summers ago.

TORig had,in this time, become quite the father figure to her, often protecting her from men with poor intentions, and when she left Gypsy Hollow, abandoning her home for the second time, this time to learn from those who she had first waged unknowing war with, he held her tight in his arms and she felt his energy and love at once surrounding her. She had found family, and only in time to leave it again.


In all her travels, Lolander was guided by the teachings of her home. Beneficence to her kind and mysticism directed her better than all else; she was led by energies, and saw things in colour, being led to those with the most radiance. And everywhere she went, she thought of her possum, and her love for the world grew. She had feelings but not words for everything, chords and colours for it all, and everything new was overwhelming and confusing like that first day of war. Someday it would make sense, and her parents would be proud for all that she had learned, and she could go home.


Man, did she have the hotts for that bard.

Affiliated Groups

Headbasher Household

Templars

Belted Family

Notable Accomplishments

  • Regent of Gypsy Hollow
  • Amtgard-based Senior Project
  • Second place in PacWar XIII Dragonmaster

Additional Images

20r2xdt.jpg

Lolander receiving her first Order of the Rose from Dread Baron Tristan El Gitano after Gypsy Hollow's Coronation Quest designed by her - 10 April 2011

21796r.jpg "Lolander's immediate belted family - 4 September 2011"

33tmjio.jpg "Personal Heraldry"

More Information

  • Company Website
  • Orkicon2.gif
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