Post by Xalaram on Sept 18, 2013 14:47:12 GMT
Clare Edana
Clare was born a common elf to an ex-adventurer and his wife who settled in a small cottage on the edge of a great forest. When her father judged her old enough she was taught the ways of the sword and many other weapons, but most of all she loved the great sword he once used. It was a nondescript but well made affair of steel with a leather wrapped grip. In her late twenties she bid her parents farewell and with the great sword sheathed across her back she made her way into the world. A few years passed and she had gained enough gold to charter a ship to an island her father had mentioned a few times in the stories she had heard when she was little. The Isle of Arelith. Almost as soon as she stepped off the pier she saw another of elven descent, although not pure blood like herself, she had a similar sword in a sheath on her back. They became close friends through countless battles gaining much notoriety and their prowess with their weapons grew with them. Her and her friend were approached by a mysterious individual offering power in return for service, being as skilled as they were nothing could go wrong. Right? They were given small tasks at first that even seemed good and in return they were given power, and it was intoxicating. The power altered them ever so slightly, their teeth became sharp and pointed and when they were experiencing strong emotion their eyes would turn golden and the pupil would become a slit (similar to a cats eye). One day the woman who they were working for told them to meet at a hut in a swamp near the city. For a day and a night they traveled and finally arrived at the hut along with five others, the woman among them. There was a menacing warrior in dark armour with glowing red eyes, a pale thin woman who was dressed in a black robe and carried what appeared to be an obsidian staff with a living eye embedded in the top of it, a shifty looking fellow with an eye patch and a cutlass, a hooded figure with a huge backpack and their employer dressed in travel gear. They enter the hut and form a circle around some mystical designs painted in blood on the floor. The pale woman holds her staff as high as the low roof will permit and begins to chant in a dark tongue, at first just a glimmer is seen in the air above the glyphs. It soon coalesces into a pinpoint of angry red light and then expands into a large gaping portal, despairing screams can be heard from the other side. They enter one by one, Clare is taken aback somewhat by this but follows her friend who appears confident. "Welcome to the Abyss! Where your true masters reside." was the first thing she heard as she stepped out under an angry red sky. They were on a smooth plain that seemed to go on forever, pools of fire and charred ruins dotted the otherwise flat landscape. Small groups of succubi and other horrors could be seen wandering around although they stayed well away from the small party. After what seemed forever, an impossibly tall tower appeared on the horizon and as they got closer an equally deep chasm could be seen surrounding it with a charred drawbridge open as if waiting for them. As Clare set foot in the tower she was suddenly overcome by a sudden fear and turned to flee. As she started running the pale woman cackled and threw a bolt of black energy at her which hit the bridge and exploded, knocking her into the chasm. It seems the gods have given her another chance because she passed out as she fell, waking on the shore of Port Alton with only her memories, her altered body and a sense of warning fading in her head.
tl;dr Don't join Abyssal cults.
Clare was born a common elf to an ex-adventurer and his wife who settled in a small cottage on the edge of a great forest. When her father judged her old enough she was taught the ways of the sword and many other weapons, but most of all she loved the great sword he once used. It was a nondescript but well made affair of steel with a leather wrapped grip. In her late twenties she bid her parents farewell and with the great sword sheathed across her back she made her way into the world. A few years passed and she had gained enough gold to charter a ship to an island her father had mentioned a few times in the stories she had heard when she was little. The Isle of Arelith. Almost as soon as she stepped off the pier she saw another of elven descent, although not pure blood like herself, she had a similar sword in a sheath on her back. They became close friends through countless battles gaining much notoriety and their prowess with their weapons grew with them. Her and her friend were approached by a mysterious individual offering power in return for service, being as skilled as they were nothing could go wrong. Right? They were given small tasks at first that even seemed good and in return they were given power, and it was intoxicating. The power altered them ever so slightly, their teeth became sharp and pointed and when they were experiencing strong emotion their eyes would turn golden and the pupil would become a slit (similar to a cats eye). One day the woman who they were working for told them to meet at a hut in a swamp near the city. For a day and a night they traveled and finally arrived at the hut along with five others, the woman among them. There was a menacing warrior in dark armour with glowing red eyes, a pale thin woman who was dressed in a black robe and carried what appeared to be an obsidian staff with a living eye embedded in the top of it, a shifty looking fellow with an eye patch and a cutlass, a hooded figure with a huge backpack and their employer dressed in travel gear. They enter the hut and form a circle around some mystical designs painted in blood on the floor. The pale woman holds her staff as high as the low roof will permit and begins to chant in a dark tongue, at first just a glimmer is seen in the air above the glyphs. It soon coalesces into a pinpoint of angry red light and then expands into a large gaping portal, despairing screams can be heard from the other side. They enter one by one, Clare is taken aback somewhat by this but follows her friend who appears confident. "Welcome to the Abyss! Where your true masters reside." was the first thing she heard as she stepped out under an angry red sky. They were on a smooth plain that seemed to go on forever, pools of fire and charred ruins dotted the otherwise flat landscape. Small groups of succubi and other horrors could be seen wandering around although they stayed well away from the small party. After what seemed forever, an impossibly tall tower appeared on the horizon and as they got closer an equally deep chasm could be seen surrounding it with a charred drawbridge open as if waiting for them. As Clare set foot in the tower she was suddenly overcome by a sudden fear and turned to flee. As she started running the pale woman cackled and threw a bolt of black energy at her which hit the bridge and exploded, knocking her into the chasm. It seems the gods have given her another chance because she passed out as she fell, waking on the shore of Port Alton with only her memories, her altered body and a sense of warning fading in her head.
tl;dr Don't join Abyssal cults.