Not one of my more successful characters, especially in pk, but I really liked this role. I wanted a reason for her actions that was closer to real life than fantasy and in that regard I felt she was a success. I wrote this role in a first person narrative much like Sguro but It was likely way too long as I didn't even get mentioned in the role contest. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter One: Beauty & Consequences

Beauty is an ideal beyond the grasp of the very words used to describe it and still all know it as intuitively and intimately as their own reflection in a mirror. It is the muse of poets both profound and woefully love-struck. Sculpture and painting attempt to capture it and hold it fast from the ravages of time. Music weaves a trail of notes to lure the romantic into a willing snare of sonic rapture that mimics the soundless dance between a beauty and their admirer. Despite all the wonders that beauty can illuminate there is, as with all things, a dark side to having too much.

Beauty can be a curse as well. One I am unfortunate enough to know first hand. Beauty can entrap a mind and drive it to madness through jealousy or covetousness. To be too beautiful is to be ill fated, a prisoner of the machinations of others unless one is willing to descend to a darker place where it is used as weapon or control and in so doing lose one's self. It can drive men to murder, women to plot, and nations to war. It can corrupt what should have been a father's love into a mad-man's lust for his own daughters flesh. As I mentioned before, a sinister side I am all too familiar with.

I am the eldest of four sisters: Sairi the next oldest, then Tyia and Aanet, each of us two years apart in age. Though I may sound prideful or lacking the proper amount of humility I can say with utter honesty that we sisters were more beautiful than any we had encountered. Even elves would gaze in wonder at our perfect porcelain features which so closely matched those of our mother, who herself was but a prized possession of our fathers. Mother came from a wealthy mercantile family in Seantryn Modan and father, himself dashingly handsome and a talented invoker from Tir Talath and he easily convinced her parents to allow them to wed.

Father was not a kind man. He never showed us love yet he was never cruel. To us at least. More than once he punished a servant with a devious magical cantrip and he enjoyed it most when he used his bare hands to conduct his magic directly on the tormented ones flesh. Still, those bouts were rare and he seemed happy enough and likely tempered by mother's presence.
Perhaps it was her death just before my thirteenth birthday and his descent into drink that caused him to take notice of my blossoming womanhood in a way no father should.











Chapter 2: A Terrible Fate

He came to me in my bed on a warm summer's eve, his breath reeking of spirits, whispering of how much I looked like mother. It had been seven months since mother died and he did little else but drink and torment the servants. I had never feared him before, only his temper, but his lust was far far worse and it sickened me in a way that chilled me to the core of my being. He groped clumsily for my bed cover and tore it out of my hands, then for my nightgown and panic gripped me then. His right hand strayed close to my face and I bit down on his middle finger with all my might and with cracking of bone and a gush of blood it tore free in my mouth and he fell back howling in pain. With revulsion I spit the severed digit onto the floor but was too stunned to move from my bed.

Murder shown in father's eyes as he stood clutching his maimed hand, blood seeping from the wound onto the stone floor. I begged him to forgive me but if he heard me he shown no sign. He stood there silent for some time the pointed a finger from his left hand at me and while murmuring an incantation traced a glowing sign in the air. When he finished he made a sweeping gesture in my direction and the glowing symbol flew at me and burned itself into my chest just below my throat. With that he proclaimed a curse of command. If I would not obey him then I would return to the city of my mother, Seantryn Modan, and there I would become a whore. I knew the curse to be true as I nearly leapt of the bed to try and obey though I willed myself not to and still my urge to leave for Modan was nearly overwhelming.

Victory shown in his face and yet in his rage he had forgotten his lust or he might have cursed me to serve him instead. Suddenly his face went slack, his eyes rolled back into his head and he crumpled to the ground revealing Florenalia, mother's elvish handmaiden, holding a shimmering onyx wand. She had stayed to care for us children after mother had died and at the moment I could not have been more grateful. I wiped the blood from my face and changed into suitable traveling clothes. We rushed to pack not only my things but those of my sisters for surely they would suffer terribly if they stayed and together we woke and dressed them. Father was asleep but it would not last forever and we had to hurry if we were to make our escape.

We set out for Darsylon where Florenalia insisted we would be safe but the farther west we went the more the sigil in my chest began to burn. Every fiber of my being was directing me to the east, towards Seantryn Modan. The others could see the ashen pallor of my face and soon I could walk no more as the burning pain stole away my breath. I wept then as I embraced my sisters and bid them farewell and made Florenalia swear to keep them safe. My sisters did not understand why they had to leave father and I to leave them and Gods willing never would they find out. Still I made them swear to obey their protector for their own safety which each sister reluctantly did. With that I wiped away my tears and set out for Seantryn Modan into the only sunrise I have ever loathed.





Chapter 3: The Unbound Prisoner

It took me two days to make my way to Hamsah Mu'tazz but the trip was relatively uneventful as I took great pains to hide my face and look as unattractive as possible which was not all that difficult when one is in the grips of such profound sorrow. There I booked passage on the trade ship Midya's Revenge which was heading back to its home harbor in Modan. The closer I drew to the city of my curse the less the sigil pained me but the more the sickness in my heart grew.

The city was dark and grimy despite being high noon. The streets were filthy as were many of the inhabitants I could see, especially that abomination of a race they call Minotaurs. The revolting brutes were everywhere and the thought of having to whore myself to them made me wish to end my life right then and there. As soon as thoughts of suicide entered my mind the sigil began to burn intensely and I was incapacitated until I purged myself of that desire. Despair washed over me knowing I could not even choose to end my own life with what little honor and dignity remained to me. I was a prisoner without chains, guards, or walls.

Though I thought I wandered the streets aimlessly within an hour I was standing in front of the Whitehorn Brothel. Even standing in the street I could hear and smell the carnal activities. Bile rose in my throat but I had no choice but to choke it down and walk inside. It was somewhat small with filthy red curtains hanging to cover every decrepit plaster wall. Girls not much older than myself were dressed in cheap revealing clothing. Some of them were truly lovely despite the empty stares and false smiles that marked their demeanor. A tall painted woman dressed in a gaudy dress that appeared to be a mockery of royal finery approached me within moments and announced herself the madam of the 'establishment'. Her eyes sized me up in moments and a sleazy smile nearly cracked the thick makeup that failed to conceal the sixty some odd years of living this hard life.

The madam asked if I needed employment and I could not help but nod though I said nothing. She looked delighted and cackled loudly. This time my beauty was to be of use as I would not be whored to Minotaurs but 'finer' clientele. No sooner had she said this when a nondescript man wearing clothing of muted earthen tones rose from his chair and approached us. He whispered something into the madam's ear and she looked frightened for a moment but regained her composure quickly. With that he dropped five gold coins into her palm, grabbed me firmly but not painfully about the upper arm and led me upstairs.











Chapter 4: Hope as Spring, Renewed

We passed several doors which emanated the sounds of passion and stopped at the last which the man opened with an iron key. Motioning for me to enter I did and he followed suit. To my surprise this room was very spacious, clean, the center was an open training area with a mat and around the perimeter were weapons on one wall, an area for meditation, and in opposite corners were two small but fine looking beds and in the last corner was a stout oak table large enough for four. The man noticed my surprise and told me that this was the entire top floor of another building where he lived and trained but could only be accessed through the mystic doorway, in this case linked to the door in the brothel. Before I could react he pulled down the front of my blouse low enough to see the sigil which flared for a moment as I tried to resist but could not.

Just as quickly he released my blouse and stepped back acknowledging that he had expected the sigil to be there. After a few moments of intense thought in silence he introduced himself as Fendenalin. He revealed that he had been alerted to my arrival by Florenalia and that he was both her half brother and friend to my mother. It was then I noticed a slight bit of pointed ear peeking through his long brown curly hair but other than that looked fully human. Arrangements had been made with the madam of the brothel to allow him to take over the door that would allow him to link the two buildings, for my sake. The sigil would force me to live in proximity of the brothel, which this room was now mystically part of, and that I might not have to prostitute myself to prevent it from causing me agony.

For the first time in a week I felt a glimmer of hope and the despair did not seem quite so heavy in my heart. I fell to my knees and gave thanks to the Lords & Ladies of the Light. I had never prayed to them before but I could not help but feel their grace at this reprieve from my terrible fate. Fendenalin let me be and went over to the pantry and took out some cheese and bread and beckoned me to come sit at the table to eat.

As we ate he assured me that my sisters were safe in Darsylon under the protection of the royal family and would live under new identities. Again I felt blessed and grateful for this wondrous intervention. After a few more bites of food Fendenalin's countenance became dark and serious. He looked me squarely in the eyes, unblinking, and told me there would be a price for his help. I would train under him as an assassin or I could return to the brothel and serve my curse as a whore. It was my choice. If you can truly call it a choice at all. If I served him and learned well I could eventually remove the sigil and with it my curse but to do so I would have to learn to live with the pain it caused and function well enough to remove it which could take years of agony to accomplish. I accepted, I had no choice, and he bade me to take the bed in the northwest corner and get some sleep. We would be starting my training early.







Chapter 5: Time Heals Only Some Wounds

Two years passed and the training was every bit as painful as I had imagined it could be. Both the physical training as well as the mental endurance to fight the pain the sigil inflicted. I had progressed to the point where I could make excursions to Arkham and Hamsah Mu'tazz and still function well enough to perform my duties and training quests. Fendenalin was true to his word and taught me mercilessly but not cruelly. Once in awhile I could see the empathy on his face for the pain I was forced to endure but it was only ever a flash of emotion before he returned to his usual stone-like countenance.

A few months later and we were firmly in the grips of winter and I was now sixteen years old. Fendenalin decided to take us out to one of the better inns for a proper meal when a messenger, one of the contacts he used for his clandestine work, nonchalantly slipped a scroll into my pocket and disappeared into the crowd of the square. Fendenalin frowned as this was most unusual but he mentioned I should wait to open it until we were waiting for our meals at the inn. After ordering a fine roast, wine, apples, cheeses and breads he motioned towards my pocket and I took out the scroll, cracked the seal Florenalia used to communicate privately with her half-brother and began to read.

What I read made my blood run cold, the chilling cold of despair as it once again clutched my heart in its icy grip. It informed me that father had found where my sisters were hiding and he had used his tremendous political clout to have them returned to him in Tir-Talath a day ago. Sairi would now be fourteen. 'Oh Gods what must he be doing to her even now?' I said aloud. Fendenalin took the scroll and read it and his scowl deepened with every sentence. After he finished he rolled up the scroll and placed it in his pocket and said it was time for my first solo assignment which would be my final test. I must assassinate my father.

I rose to leave but Fendenalin took hold of my hand and pulled me back down into my seat. The food was arriving and he insisted I eat well in order to remain strong. He left though in order to secure transport as quickly as possible and promised he would return in half an hour. This meal should have been the finest I had had since before mother died and yet I could hardly swallow each bite much less taste what I consumed. Fendenalin returned just a bit later than he said he would which in itself was unusual. More so in that he was flushed and somewhat out of breath which only happened in our most demanding training sessions.

Fendenalin said that we were in luck, as it would have it there was a Tribunal Magistrate, a paladin named Iskavahayan, who was sympathetic with my plight and would be able to take me through their mystic transport. He would only do this on the condition that he judged me and found me worthy. If this were true then at least a week would be shaved off my travel time, perhaps time enough to save my sisters from our father's lust.






Chapter 6: Awakenings

The paladin magistrate had us meet in a small abandoned house off of a gravel courtyard. To the west lay the mystic transport of the Tribunal. Inside the house a trapdoor led underground where he guided us to a temple that, to my surprise, was dedicated to the Light. Yet another beacon of hope in a city where hope was as easily sold as girls to the brothels. Iskavahayan was an elf and he stared at me with a scrutinizing gaze for some time without saying a word. At last he seemed satisfied that I was neither a criminal nor deceiving him, that my intent to save my sisters was true.

Iskavahayan could easily see into my soul and know the goodness within and he asked me what Lord or Lady of the Light that I prayed to. I admitted I had never prayed to any one in particular but to all in praise of the Light for delivering me from my terrible fate. He nodded then asked me how long I thought I might remain of the Light if I were an assassin without purpose. By not having a specific deity my path could become hazy and I might lose my way. It was then that he illuminated me about Lady Baerinika the Pure and though time was pressing I was enraptured by what he described.

When Iskavahayan had finished I had to sit down and found a clean spot on the temple floor to do so. It was as if the wind had left my lungs and I found myself short of breath and my heart pounding in both chest and ears yet it was not an ill sensation. No, it was more the excitement of revelation and I knew yet again the Divine had intertwined my fate with this paladin and now I knew her name. Baerinika. She would alway illuminate my path if I were both courageous and faithful enough.

The entire time Fendenalin had not spoken but remained in the shadows a respectful distance from the altar. But now he mentioned that time was running out if I were to have any chance to free my siblings and I knew him to be correct. Iskavahayan agreed and knelt down before me laying his hands upon my head and performed a blessing upon me. When I opened my eyes I could see an aura of magnificent golden light surrounding the paladin. The priest at the altar as well. Even my own hands were glowing though I dare say not as brightly as they. Fendenalin also had a touch of gold to his aura but it was more silver than anything but I said naught to him of it.

Iskavahayan took my hand and raised me up, his countenance one of beatific radiance and I could not help but smile at the warmth that coursed through me. Not letting go of my hand he gently led us out into the gravel courtyard before the Tribunal's pillar and asked if I were ready. I was about to nod and say yes when Fendenalin stopped me. The look on his face, a look of worry which in the two years I had never before seen. He reminded me of the intensity of the pain the sigil would cause but that the blessing of Baerinika as bestowed by Iskavahayan would likely help. He also reminded me to not think of my training but let instinct guide my actions.
Fendenalin released his clasp of my shoulder and nodded at Iskavahayan. The magistrate then explained to me that he would carry me in order for us both to go through and that I must close my eyes tightly to reduce the disorientation this travel would cause. Iskavahayan easily lifted me in his arms and I closed my eyes tightly and buried my face into his cloak as a mystic energy coursed through my body. In the space of a heartbeat I was outside myself, seeing Galadon and the gray stone of the Tribunal and yet I was not and just as quickly I was whole again and the sigil on my chest burned with a fury I had never experienced before.

Chapter 7: A Painful Homecoming.

I felt Iskavahayan move with great swiftness and surety. A moment later he told me to open my eyes and we were standing in the Temple of Light in Galadon. After making certain I could stand Iskavahayan set me on my own feet and bade me farewell. He lingered a moment, staring into my eyes, then wished me luck and left for his guild. Though he was a paladin I knew the look of someone entranced by my beauty. Unbeknownst to me at the moment, it would be the last time anyone would ever again gaze upon me in that way.

I looked up at the sun and determined it was about five in the afternoon. If father maintained his old habits he would be getting drunk about now and I had no time to waste. I set off for Tir-Talath at once, following the North Road using my trained senses to be wary for danger but the sense of urgency and the agony of the sigil hastened my step beyond reasonable caution. I arrived in Tir-Talath a little before eight and the sun had already set which was both good and bad. Good that I could use the cover of night to make my entrance into the house unseen. Bad in that father could already have in-bided enough to lose his self control and accost Sairi.

I climbed the outside of the house on the back nearest the alley which was the darkest. Every movement made the sigil burn ever more painfully and my breath was fast escaping and slow to recover. My sisters bedroom were on the second floor and I checked there first. Tyia and Aanet were fast asleep and looked older but unharmed. My heart yearned to wake them, to hold them in my arms once more but it was Sairi I was most concerned with. She was not in her room and my heart sank. I climbed to the third floor where father's room was and peered inside. I nearly fell from my perch as there was my mother in her nightgown brushing our her beautiful blond hair in front of the mirror.



Chapter 8: Oh Mother, Oh Father

My limbs felt weak as I slowly opened the window and crawled inside. My voice was caught in my throat. How can this be? How can she be alive.... wait. It was not mother. It was Sairi dressed in mother's nightgown, her hair made in the same fashion. Sairi had matured into a veritable twin of mother despite her young age and father had obviously made her up to look the part. I silently rushed over to my sister and gently touched her shoulder but she did not respond. I turned her about to face me and her gaze was blank, nearly catatonic. Oh no. I was too late. He had already had her and her spirit had been broken. Her aura was still golden but muted as her spirit had been muted by the atrocity of what father had done.


I began to shake. Not from fear but from rage at what had transpired. Rage at father, rage at myself for not having had the courage to destroy the monster when he had assaulted me that fateful night three years ago. It was a mistake to not have killed him when he was unconscious and I vowed not to make the same mistake again.

Soon I heard his footsteps in the stairwell so I turned Sairi around and she started to brush her hair again as if nothing had happened. I faded into the shadows next to the door and waited for father to enter, dagger at the ready. He swung the door open further hiding me from view and walked over to Sairi and kissed her neck. His aura was a mixture of red and black and I knew his death would be a righteous act. The sigil burned brilliantly in my chest, the agony was exquisite and I was close to losing myself in the pain.

In three silent strides I drew up behind him, clasping my left hand over his mouth and the right thrusting the dagger straight into the base of his spine. His scream was muffled as his legs were now useless and he fell back towards me. I guided him away from Sairi, who had frozen in fear, and he collapsed backwards onto the floor, his head cracking loudly against the stone dazing him for a moment. I did not waste the opportunity and jumped atop his chest pinning his arms with my legs. I threw the dagger behind me and wrapped my hands about his neck and began to strangle the life from him.

Father's wits returned and he was able to mutter a spell and free his right hand, the one with the missing middle finger. His aura flared an even deeper crimson and the look of surprise was replaced with one of murderous intent. He raised his hand and acid dripped from it and sizzled on the floor. I avoided his first attempt to grab me but the second he was able to land squarely on the left side of my face. My flesh sizzled and popped as the acid ate into my face and yet that pain paled compared to the agony of the sigil and the depth of my rage. His index finger had crossed my left eye and the vision quickly left it.

I bore down on his neck even harder, the pain driving me to squeeze with all my might. He tried to incant another spell but I crushed his larynx with my thumbs and soon he could draw no breath at all. Slowly his face went from red to purple and finally blue. I am not entirely sure at what point he die but his body stopped shuddering, his tongue protruded from between his lips and I noticed the pain from the sigil was gone and only the burning of my face remained.


Chapter 9: For Me a Different Path

All was silent but for my ragged breathing. I raised my head and hands towards the sky and gave thanks to the Huntress for the courage and strength she had given me this night. I rose from my father's corpse and stumbled towards Sairi. She was staring at me with shock on her face but her lips moved and I heard her whisper my name. I felt the stinging wounds on my face and knew I must look horrible but I did not confirm it in the mirror. I took Sairi in my arms and hugged her as I have never embraced anyone before. Tear coursed down my cheeks as I begged her forgiveness for not having had the courage to spare her from this fate.

Eventually her limp arms wrapped around me and with one hand she began to stroke my hair, cooing to me in a soft and tender voice as mother would have when we were little. She told me there was nothing to forgive and how grateful she was that I had come back for them all. I choked back my sobs and asked if father had harmed Tyia and Aanet but he had not and for that I was grateful.

Sairi and I gathered up her things and that of our sisters. When they awoke they were shocked by my wounds, so much so that Aanet, the youngest, broke into tears. Both embraced me regardless and it was the first time in over two years I felt whole.

I led the four of us to Darsylon and we left our father's house for the last time. None of us would ever return and eventually it was sold to allow my three sisters to begin their own business. Florenalia was overjoyed when we arrived at her home though the look of horror at my facial wounds and the sadness in her eyes when I admitted having slain my own father must have echoed the torment in my own. Still, she was grateful to have her adopted daughters back and begged me to stay with them, that she would find the room.

I thanked her but respectfully declined. I explained that if I had learned anything from this experience, from Fendenalin and Iskavahayan, was that my path in service to Lady Baerinika and the Light had only just begun. I had found the courage and strength I had so desperately needed and if I was able to free others from the tyranny of evil then all the pain I had suffered had been worthwhile after all.

Florenalia embraced me tightly. Her eyes were watery with tears as we separated and she told me I need not fight this battle alone. She told me of the Marans of the Fortress near Voralian City were of like mind and that I should seek them out. She proceeded to pack me some food and water for my journey and I went to console my crying sisters. They begged me not to go but I patiently explained why I must and they reluctantly agreed. I gave them all a long hug and kiss on the forehead, took the backpack, and set off.

The curse of my father was lifted as was the curse of my beauty. All that was left was the beauty of the Light within. Perhaps I would be able to help the Light of this world to shine just a little brighter.

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Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/21/2008 04:16PM by quezzumpliet.