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WT Bio for Girt Salinas (Girt) - CC'd by CotL


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Your Handle: Girt

Character Information
Name (first and last) of this character: Girt Salinas
State whether this is a Traditional or a Salidar character: Traditional
Age of this character * (Traditional = 14-19 / Salidar = 20-70): 17
(* Returning / Full AS character: age in main time line)
Name of country where this character is from: Arad Doman

Hair: Mousy brown, long and braided.
Eyes: Brown
Skin: She has bad skin. Rough, work-worn hands, chapped, acne scarred face, heavily tanned. She's freckled and generally not particularly attractive.
Height: 5'5"
Voice (low? high? any other characteristics? ie what does she sound like): High in pitch, soft, cringy.
Other: She wears a necklace. It is a thin leather strap, with a bronze pendant with a turquoise set in. It's obviously not very valuable.

Special Skills: Trained as a scullery maid and many other tasks necessary for the proper maintenance of a keep.
Knowledge Weakness: She can read… after a fashion. She knows her letters, but really struggles sounding out the words, and writing was beyond her before coming to Tar Valon.  

Physical Weakness: She's physically quite capable. Strong, muscular, quick, and lithe. Personality weakness: She doesn't really know how to interact with anyone in a peer to peer type relationship; everyone stood above her, and that is the comfortable place to be.


Girt is quiet and unassuming. She keeps her head down, avoiding confrontation at much cost to her, but also has a rather fierce sense of justice. The only thing that seems to arouse her to any kind of significant reaction is injustice, either her own or someone else's. The world works in specific ways, and you don't just mess that up! That's not right!


I have been traveling with the girl since Andor. She will make an interesting addition to my story of the people of Arad Doman; I seldom have taken the opportunity to interview a commoner, an oversight that needs to be corrected.

She said she was born 17 years ago. The waif barely said two words to me for the first week of travel, but set to work each morning, feeding the horses, tending to breakfast, cleaning the dishes, and preparing the caravan for travel. It is remarkable; the caravan master said he would hire her on gladly for a full Andoran crown each trip, but the girl is dead set on traveling to Tar Valon. She almost began to cry when he pressed her on the issue, at which point I intervened. I can never stand to see a woman cry. In gratitude, she agreed to speak with me. It seems she used to work as a scullery maid in one of the noble houses in Arad Doman. My first impression of her life was hard, ugly, and dull, rather like her. Yet, there is something underneath that veneer. A strength inside her. She fights in silence, bowing to every pressure, yet not breaking. It is truly remarkable. In this she is like a willow tree, and is something I've rarely seen.

It seems that young Miss Girt lost both her parents when she was 11, when her father was found with a portion of gold on his person, and her mother an array of precious gems under her bed. Girt insists that they were innocent, and I find myself believing her. The lady of the manor almost cast her out to the street, but the lady's daughter Zilna, a spoiled little brat by Girt's telling, intervened, taking the girl into her service. Thus began a period of quiet, unintentional torment, as Zilna insisted her new charge learn everything anew, and punished her for her repeated failures.

I was most amused by the last story; apparently, a visiting Aes Sedai offered to test Zilna to determine if she would be eligible for training at the White Tower. Zilna insisted several of her attendants be tested as well, and much to my amusement, and Zilna's apparent chagrin, Girt was the only one who had the capacity to learn. The Aes Sedai bought her service away from Zilna, and pressed a purse into Girt's hand, sending her to the Tower. Quite a remarkable story; I hope that I am around in twenty years to watch Girt Sedai confront Lady Zilna and her mother. But, the wheel weaves as the wheel wills, and we shall see.

-from the notes of Karth Takren, itinerant author. 



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