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Niamh is a quiet and diffident sort; some might say gentle, others withdrawn, and others aloof.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.
Kingdom Spook
"The world's small, nasty, and complicated. Everybody dies alone."
“The painting showed a slim figure standing in the stark shadows of a torchlit hallway, the borders of where the shadows ended and she began being vague in places due to her dark leather armor. Her face, partly hidden under a hood, revealed the weathered skin of one who spent too many hours outdoors and sharp, almost luminescent green eyes.”
Samantha Hunter is a soldier, of some sort, for the kingdom. It's not really ever made clear what title or rank she has, if any. It's just known that when she's on the battlefield the commanders hear from on high that they're to cooperate and not ask too much about it. Nobody in the army seems to mind her, though. At worst, she's a curiosity, and at best she's been a helpful asset and a sign of good fortune on the battlefield.
By her weapons of choice (daggers, short swords and crossbow pistols) and combat style seen, it's known she's a rogue of some sort. If engaged in conversation, she keeps it brief, though will show a grim sense of humor at times. If not on the battlefield, she'll occasionally be spotted in a quiet corner of a tavern in Axis brooding or reading a book. In such civilian settings one can finally see her without her hood up, which reveals she is definitely a human, with a raven haired ponytail and very green eyes.
Inquiries within the royal castle lead nowhere. They have no idea who you're asking about.
Elven Adventurer
“Shall we dance?”
“You see a tall, lithe figure leaning back against a wall; her tricorn hat perches atop a river of dirty blond hair gathered in a loose ponytail, streaming back in the wind as she tilts her head inquiringly, revealing a pointed ear. Knowing eyes over an impish grin toss out a challenge... or possibly an invitation. Her clothes are rough leathers, dappled in dark grey and green, without any betraying glint of metal or gem. While she seems utterly relaxed, something tells you that she could be off the wall and at your throat in an instant. She seems to notice your wariness, and her grin widens a bit as she winks at you.”
Kiara seems to be dancing through life to her own piper; rarely settling down for too long and never putting down roots, she seems content to wander around doing whatever seems to be fun or interesting. While she looks like a high elf, she usually doesn't act like one... though an occasional remark lets slip that she might know more about the Elf Queen's court than she lets on. Pressing too hard on this is one of the few ways to get her seriously mad. While she loves cities, she also shows great appreciation for parks and greenery, and can talk fondly of sylvan forests and deep wooden groves.
Once in a while, she'll invite someone to come look at the moon with her; when they return, her partner is usually sweating, breathing heavily, and shaking in mortal fear for their life. After giving them a comforting clap on the back (sometimes with an 'Aww, the drop wasn't that bad!' mixed in for good measure), she'll guide them to a tavern seat and buy them some liquid anesthesia with a condescending smirk, before whistling casually out the door.
No one seems to know where the tricorn hat came from. Kiara ain't talking.
This version of the page was edited by Travis at 2020-06-02 00:27:14. View the most recent version.