Sister Niamh

Scholarly Wizard-Nun

"I am afraid agonized screams and half-dissolved corpses are a regrettable feature of this spell. If you must vomit please do so into a bucket."

The scrying pool showed a tall, slender young woman in robes of black satin, black nun’s veil like a hood, leaning upon a black wooden staff with a white crystal at the top. Her skin was a rich brown in complexion, her cheekbones high, her hair a startling white despite her obvious youth. Her eyes were placid and cryptic, windowed behind thick square spectacles, giving away little of her thoughts; intelligent but weak from too many midnights taking a tome and candle to her bed. Her shoulders were slightly stooped, from habit and bad posture, and upon one of them sat a squat, malformed ebon mannikin, all beady eyes and fanged maw, like a child’s nightmare doll made of candle wax. I watched her move through the library with a precise, slightly swaying walk, heard the gentle swish of her robes against her body, smelled an odor of cloves and roses and the stranger things that wizards use in their rituals. She looked frail, yet not unhealthy; a thin reed that would bend rather than break. Propping her staff near to hand, she sat and opened the tome she had sought, ignoring the little creature on her shoulder as it yawned, faked a gnaw on her ear, and then rudely scratched itself.

Sister Niamh is an Oblate of the Contemplative Order of St. Sophia and a wizard of the Black College. She seems mostly to specialize in sage-craft and religious matters, but like most black robes she’s quite capable of hurling a wide variety of death spells at things that need killing.

Niamh is a quiet and diffident sort; some might say gentle, others withdrawn, and others aloof. She does not suffer fools easily and can muster some truly impressive and withering snark, but rarely gets heated or excited and seems largely unflappable. She is frighteningly learned and intelligent and clearly highly aware of this fact, which would be even more obnoxious if she weren’t usually so mild in personality.

While not sickly, she is willow-thin and breakable-looking. Niamh assures you she is definitely Not A Witch and only has two nipples, and if pressed will bare her oversized rack to prove it, although she draws the line at needles or ‘Witch-Touching’.

Her familiar, a humanoid imp-thing named Numo, can typically be found perched on one stooped shoulder, grinning at people with a huge mouth full of needle teeth. It bites.