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Amaryliss Sage

No. 8 - Senser of Auditory - Human - Benevolent Recruiter

0 · 226 views · located in The World

a character in “Grey&Spectral”, as played by Averagebear

Description

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B a s i c s
Name: Amaryliss Cadence Sage
Nickname: Ama
Age: 41 EDIT: I decided to make her older. 47 seems more suiting.
Gender: Female
Rank: 8
Race: Human
Motivation: Ultimately, it was to save other souls, desperately clutching onto a last attempt to make up for her life long struggle of letting the ones she loved become monstrosities and lacking the courage to save them. She became a Redeemer to repent for her mortal sins and to clear her conscience, living to serve others.
Defensive/Offensive: Offensive
Class: Senser



A p p e a r a n c e
Eyes: Brilliant tiffany blue, speckled with bits of hazel. See here.
Hair: Long, wavy, and red locks cascade down her back, often tangled.
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 143 lbs
Skin Tone: Creamy porcelain
Build: Athletic but motherly
Body Markings: Even for a Redeemer, she is covered in an abnormal amount of scars. Some are proof of her past life, others evidence of how dangerous her power can be. The most distinct is the mauling on her left hip, the flesh donning jagged, pink claw marks and gashes in a wide area. It's rare someone sees this, as she's hardly an exhibitionist.
Voice: 0:20-1:05
Description: Amaryliss shines with a light one can't explain, a certain warmth gently enveloping her physical manifestation. The weathering of her life is there for all to see, eyes crinkled and wise, smile lines prominent, freckles sprinkled all over her body, wrinkles forming on her forehead and chin. Even before she endured the variety of physical abuses, she really only had an average aesthetic. It is the irrepressible joy and innocence- the reflection of a clean soul- that radiates her beauty. She is wholesome . Amaryliss was once a woman tied to vanity what seems like many lifetimes ago, quick to powder her nose and curl her hair. She's been able to move past such trivialities, and now wouldn't be able to tell you the last time she's looked in a mirror. Her hair is long and wild, flaming locks spilling down her back in cascading waves. Her eyes are bright and expressive, conveying the soaring bliss and harrowing woe she feels. She's projective and infectious, her emotions seeming to disease those around her. She has a brilliant smile and squarish teeth, wide and sincere. Her pale skin is flawed with freckles and scars. Her light colored lashes and fine eyebrows display her femininity.

Amaryliss has a the physique you might expect of a woman her age, certainly not a busty broad. She seems to be made of soft, curved lines and circles, no sharp edges or angular features to speak of. She subtly sports the athleticism all Redeemers develop with their lives of constant physical exertion, refined muscles painting her body, specifically in her arms. She has a bit of pudge on her stomach and she's not as thin as she once was, but it's not atrocious. With widened hips that sway as she walks and average breasts given to her only through having children (she'd been flat chested in her youth) she looks like a mom. She paces with grace and elegance, seeming to glide along the surface like a ghost of sorts as opposed to clomping about.


M e n t a l i t y
Quirks: Ama can seem a bit loony at times, with how she goes off on philosophical tangents about peace and love and such. There'll be times with the lady will feel obliged to squat down and waste her carbon dioxide emissions on a small, sprouting plant. Everyone around her are usually amused or annoyed by such antics. Furthermore, she's strangely adamant on not missing breakfast. Every single morning, she's sure to remind everyone to eat their fill as "breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" She's a vegetarian, if you couldn't probably assume, but she wouldn't consider this to be a quirk.

Fears: Well, there's the big one: becoming an Abomination. Unfortunately, this threat is speeding up overwhelmingly quickly. While Ama has been lucky enough that it hasn't reached her this far, she can feel the darkness stirring within her. She's decided that she won't let herself become a monster, and will die a noble cause instead. Furthermore, while this is slightly less important, she's mildly afraid of swimming as it keeps her from being able to hear as well.

Likes: Amaryliss likes a whole lot of things and she's quick to let everyone know about it. She has a soft spot in her heart for nature and the beauty that can be found in it. From sunrises to little bitty frogs, her appreciation for the world doesn't seem to end. She also adores music, especially of the calming sort. She's been known to play a bit on the fiddle, but she's stopped carrying one with her due to how often they break in this high demanding life she leads.

Dislikes: She really dislikes the death of innocents. Perhaps that's less of a dislike and more of a common sense thing, but it really effects Ama deeply when confronted with it- which is often. She can't stand eating meat of any kind, but she doesn't nag at others for doing it. She also doesn't like to raise her voice or very loud sounds for the same reason- it's painful for her oversensitive ears. It's not rare that they'll begin to bleed. She doesn't like her inability to feel and often reminisces about what textures were like, the wonders of body warmth, skin on skin contact, the feeling of dew drops prickling in your boots. She doesn't like talking about this, though.

Personality: Amaryliss possesses boundless amounts of kindness and compassion, matronly by nature and caring by choice. A good word to describe her is soft- in appearance, in voice, in actions, in mentality. She offers comfort to those who need it (even should they not want it) and empathy for even the cruelest of monsters. Her ability to forgive is something to be admired and sometimes frowned upon; there have been many Redeemers who consider her mercy and pity on Demoni to be an act of betrayal. Such insults don't affect her or her performance on the field, the perfect picture of tranquility, her composure seemingly glossed over with steel. Indeed, it seems that nothing bad sticks to her, all of her feelings pouring outward rather than collecting in a pool of self pity or involvement. It's almost as if she has no ego. Extreme selflessness spills from her very being, matched with a dangerous amount of sympathy. She's the type to sacrifice herself for what others would consider a trivial cost. Being around Ama has been known to soothe, her very presence enough to calm her comrades down. She sees everything through pleasant tinted glass, nothing but hope, optimism, and appreciation exuding from her.

She spends a few moments after every battle in which someone died to mourn their loss, quiet tears flowing from those crinkly eyes of hers. This is the only time she cries- in respect for the departed. She doesn't cry out of fear or anger or for her own losses. Many assume that her facade of never ending compassion is an act, but she's fully genuine. She considers all of her students her children and all of her peers her siblings, and her pride in their successions as well as her sadness in their failures is true. Ama is not so serious as she may seem by all of what has been said before. She loves to laugh, and its often that she'll giggle at a question or statement as opposed to answering it, as if all knowing. She can be infuriatingly elusive, dodging tricky questions with proverbs and sayings but she will never lie. While she is idealistic, she's no fool and is not one to fill a person's head with false hopes. If she predicts that a plan will fail, she'll say it so but not without making the fact of this bearable. She has a way with making even the bitterest of medicines tolerable. She loves to laugh and while her jokes may be lame and corny, she revels in them. She's certainly not one to tease others, and is quick to scold her party for speaking ill of one another. Despite how placid she is, she still somehow manages to demand respect. No one sasses Ama without getting smacked in the head by another person. Don't be fooled. Not everyone loves Ama the same way she loves them. Many find her ideals to be silly and worthless, and her softness to be annoying.

You might be wondering how Ama can have the idea that all life is precious while at the same time being ranked number 8 as the recruiter in Litas and having slain thousands (and I mean literally thousands. She's somewhere in the higher end of 3,000 now after fifteen years of being a Redeemer) of Demoni. She feels that taking the lives of Demoni is the same as putting their weeping soul to rest, a salvation to their cursed fate of mindless killing. This said, she does not hesitate to destroy them and do so with astounding efficiency. She is sure to kill them instantly and with as little pain as possible, her sensing ability making her able to hear where to strike. She has been a Redeemer for about a little over fifteen years now. This is generally the max amount of years one can live without becoming an Abomination. It's really a wonder she's lasted so long.


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E q u i p m e n t
Armor: She wears this armor pretty much all of the time. It is light weight, suiting for her small, vulnerable body, yet it has significant coverage of important, vital areas.
Casual Clothing: Deary, it's not often she's out of her armor. She's not the type to take extended breaks. This is not to say she's a workaholic, as she certainly can spend too much time sitting to smell the flowers, but taking off her armor is almost like saying she plans on not being a Redeemer for a short time- which is something that just wouldn't do. She is always a Redeemer and always prepared to take on Demoni. She doesn't even carry casual clothing with her. If she were to wear any, it'd have to be borrowed.
Carried Items: The shield in the picture above is typically strapped to her back. She carries her 10 hunga mungas (crazy blades to be thrown or used in close combat) as well as a canteen of water and satchel full of dehydrated foods and medicinal herbs for traveling. Other than this, she has no worldly possessions.

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Main Weapon:
  • Name: Ælfgar
  • Type: Hunga Munga
  • Made of: Iron
  • Length: 11 inches
  • Weight: Less than a pound each
  • Description/Info: Ama carries 10 of these tricky blades on her, five on each hip. She throws them as projectiles in rounded motions when far away- something she prefers to do with how little defense she has- and she's capable of inflicting major damage- usually enough to kill- with one blow thanks to her deadly accuracy. However, they're also good for close quarters, using them as daggers to slash away at more persistent Demoni. They are extremely light weight and well taken care of. She has mastered the art of the hunga munga in her time as a Redeemer.


C o m b a t i v e n e s s
Natural Talents:
  • Integrity: Ama was born with a moral temperament. It was most certainly not taught to her by her family. I suppose she's one of those few people given a good heart.
  • Sociable: Ama has always been very good with people, friendly and open. She is especially adept with children, and makes a lovely teacher with how patient and nurturing she is.
  • Musicality: Her ability to create, appreciate, and imitate music is uncanny. As a human child, she was that girl who would pick up an instrument and play it like she had been practicing for months. They called her a "savant", they did. This seems trivial now as a Redeemer, but she still looks back fondly at her musical childhood.
  • Intuitiveness: She's good at filling in the blanks- making deductions- predicting the future. She's certainly not a fortune teller or able to see into the future, but she's sharp and old enough to know what's coming next, for the most part.

Skills:
  • Herbalism:Through being a strict vegetarian, she had to learn how to cook using only fruits, vegetables, and herbs. This grew into a curiosity regarding herbs in general and it wasn't long before she was brewing elixirs and poisons in kettles.
  • Sensing:While she is naturally able to do this through her Demoni blood, Ama has mastered the art of it. She can focus in on one particular sound now in the blink of an eye- even turn it completely off if she wishes.
  • Combat: Weapon wielding most definitely didn't just come to her. She practiced relentlessly after becoming a Redeemer, exerting herself day after day after day until she felt comfortably with slinging around blades. Being such an innocent woman before becoming a Redeemer meant that battle itself scared her, so this actually took a long time to do.

Weaknesses:
  • Lack of Feeling: Consider this her Achilles heel if you must. Ama gained super hearing at the cost of all of her nerve endings going numb. She can't feel anything, which has lead to many scars and accidents on her part. She's able to compensate for the most part, avoiding danger by listening for it, but every now and then she'll accidentally slice her hand open with her blade and won't notice before she's becoming dizzy and faint. In a context other than battle, this attribute of hers gives her great sadness.
  • Strength: Her strength is actually that of a regular human's. She gained no bonus to strength upon becoming a Redeemer, so her blows are only as strong as they typically could be as a normal civilian. The only way she's been so successful is through her dead-on accuracy and speedy evasion.
  • Defense: Again, the only thing that makes her any different from a passerby in this area is the cuilass and armor she garbs in. Big, powerful strikes can easily break her bones and her skin is not made tough.

Demoni Powers: As a Senser, she gained the enhancement of hearing through the digestion of Demoni blood. The extent of this is astounding, able to hear the faintest of noises- perhaps the skittering of a rabit- from a mile away. It becomes deafening if you don't know how to manipulate it to your advantage, which Ama struggled with for a good year or so.

In battle, she focuses on heart beats and the pulsation of blood within enemies veins as well as incoming movement. This allows her not only to pinpoint fatal areas to slash at with her blades, but also the ability to dodge attacks before they reach her. She's been known to plunge through their mouth with her blade, piercing into their brain for an instantaneous death. If that seems undoable, she locates the major arteries (the number of them varies with each creature) and strikes at each one. She is quick and nimble, but more so than that, she is exact. Many are surprised by the ferocity in which she fights when considering her demure, wise personality. She looks like a savage beast, but this is only to finally let the Demoni rest at peace.

In everyday life, her hearing is still very useful. It's nearly impossible to tell secrets to each other without Ama knowing and she's able to listen to physical reactions in people through their heartbeat. There's not much you can get past her keen ears.

Unfortunately, all this jolly goodness came at the cost of her sense to feel. As stated before, this is probably the biggest constant nuisance in her life.



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H i s t o r y
Old Life
  • Martial Status: She's not sure if she's married, divorced, or widowed at this point.

  • Family:
    Father: Christofer Sage - A sniveling man who lacked a back bone, a conscience, and a fat wallet. He gambled excessively and left his only child to be by her lonesome for the majority of the time she lived in his home.
    Husband: Hank Pussworth - An aggressive, temperamental, stupid, unhygienic drunk. He was the woodcutter - strong enough to beat the shit out of her without feeling exhausted
    Child: Fred Pussworth - Her first born son, independent and lively
    Child: Rich Pussworth - Her second born son, bratty and smart
    Child: John Pussworth - Her third born son, spoiled and stingy

  • History: Ama was a bright little girl, and everyone in the town knew it. They all loved Ama- loved her helpfulness and her shining smile, loved her beautiful music and the innocence that reminded everyone "perhaps the future generation ain't so bad after all…" Her fondest memories come from that small town and all the smiling people there. The man next door gave her a violin to play and everyone loved to hear her songs. Everyone but her father, it seemed. The small, skinny, man , equipped with beady eyes and a scraggly mustache, didn't seem to even notice that he had a daughter, filling his days with gambling and debauchery as opposed to raising his single, motherless child. Ama liked to pretend it didn't faze her. She would explore the small town with a never ending yearning for adventure, trek through the woods like an explorer, talk to every single stranger in her neighborhood until there weren't any strangers left anymore. She liked to pretend that the loneliness that roared in her heart was simply the symphony of being an adventurer. Ama liked to pretend a lot.

    This period in her life ended rather abruptly when she was fifteen- a pretty little girl, indeed- and she was shoved into the arms of a strange man because her father needed some quick cash--an arranged marriage. In a flash, she had been shipped out of her beloved town and brought to a different world. She pretended that this would be a brand new adventure that she'd lead like every other, but it was hard to think with imagination at all when Hank was around. Hank was a huge man, more so in width than in height. She recalls vividly the stench of the gallons of sweat that seemed to constantly dribble down his rolls, always matched with his part-snarling-part-apathetic look that was smeared across his face. But Ama wasn't one to judge on appearances, was she? Of course not. She swallowed her hesitation and faced her fate with grace.

    Hank managed to steal that bravery away from her lickity split. The man had few hobbies, as he had few things he liked at all. The first was to cut wood- it was his job, his trade, his passion. The second was to eat, and eat he did- he would eat all day and all night and demand that Ama would make all the food he readily consumed. The third was to use his woodcutting muscles to mercilessly beat his careless, stupid wife. It seemed he could never exhaust any of his interests, his cycle repeating itself over and over again. Perhaps the next few years of her life would have been better if she had been allowed to leave the home more often. Hank wouldn't permit it. A woman belonged in the home and the home alone. All other affairs could be taken care of by either him or the babies he had her spit out. By nineteen, she'd already had three. After that, one of them must have grown infertile because she never birthed a child again. Ama sometimes think it must have been her, her sheer will and will alone of "Please god, don't bring another innocent child into this home."

    She had no spirit left, only a withering body and a brain full of woes and regrets, unfinished fantasies and untold stories. She would cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry- only in solitude though. She didn't have nearly enough courage to cry in front of anyone. She was the caged bird. The only thing she had left to bring her happiness was her music and her three precious children. Oh, did she love them so. It upset her so much that Hank hit them as much as he hit her. Their choking sobs still rings in her ears to this day. She would try to yank him off of them, but Hank was relentless. Ama is sure that Hank is 30 times more vile a creature than any Demoni she's every slain.

    She had tried to keep them from becoming the monster that terrorized them, she really had. She would huddle them all together after Hank was done rampaging and pass out sweets, sing lullabies, play songs, tell stories. She would frantically pull every trick she had in her limited bag. It seemed her good wishes weren't enough. Before she knew it, her little boys- so fragile and broken- had grown into men. Big, beefy, brutish men not unlike their father. Not unlike him at all. They began to hit her in a sickening imitation Hank. That was probably the hardest part for her. To watch her little babies grow into monsters is her biggest regret. Soon, the only thing she had was her music.

    There was one day that pushed her over the edge. "Amaryliss, go skin the chicken." Hank had commanded from his place in his chair, beads of sweat trailing down his double chin even as he rested. She couldn't help but to freeze in horror, flashing her brilliant eyes toward him. "What?" she cried, though she knew what he'd said. That chicken had been with their family for years now, a pet of sort. Her youngest child had asked to keep him in his teenage years and Hank had hesitantly agreed. "You heard me. Goddman wench." he muttered, not taking his eyes off of the nails he was clipping.

    "But-" "I SAID skin the fucking chicken! Do I need to make myself more clear?!" he hollered, tensing as if he were about the leap from his seat to pulverize her. Eyes watering and lips quivering, she swallowed hard before nodding at him. She made her way outside and found the chicken chirping happily amongst a pile of oats. She could do nothing but squat down and pet its smooth, white feathers as tears blurred her vision. How could she do this? Little John would be devastated. Hell, she would be devastated. This little hen had been such a sweet heart. The chicken clucked and nibbled affectionately at her fingers. "Oh god…" Ama cried

    She firmly placed her hands around its neck and… and… snap. The little chicken squirmed violently in her arms even after she'd snapped its neck. It was a slow, painful death. Ama just continued to squeeze it to her chest in a half-hug-half-restraint, the tears now soaking her brown sack of a dress. "Oh god…" she repeated, rocking back and forth. How was she any better than him now? She stayed like this for a while, still petting the now limp fowl and cradling it to her breast

    "WHAT THE FUCK?!" a roar took her out of her daze. "Mum?! What the fuck are you doing with that chicken? What the fuck did you do?!" John screamed, storming over towards her and ripping her from the ground in one forceful yank by the shoulder.

    "I-I'm sorry, John." she said, truly apologetic, putting her hand on his own.

    "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME. DON'T YOU TOUCH ME, YOU BITCH!" he screamed. It'd pass. She was sure of it. This tantrum would pass like they always did and he'd come back to her in a few hours to apologize and help her clean up, sometimes even stitch up the deeper abrasions. It was routine by now. She felt herself slip into the mode she used in times like this- the numb, emotionless doll of sorts. He raised his hand to slap her and she braced herself for the blow with admirable calmness. Just as the backside of his hand neared her face, he stopped, a sinister glint twinkling in his eye. "No… No, that won't do. I need a better punishment for this." he had said. She felt her stomach drop.

    She was startled when he let go of her and walked away to the house. Was he finished? No, of course not. The young boy had so much direction. He never just left something like this. She timidly neared the front door just as he clomped over to her with a wicked expression. It was hard to think he was the same baby she'd raised in that moment. In his hand, he gripped the neck of her precious violin. Her eyes widened with her devastating realization. "Please, John. Please don't." she begged, stumbling forward in desperation. With that prompt, he rushed over to her, grabbed her by her hair, and cracked it against her porcelain face. "You stupid, stupid bitch!" he screamed, "You vile harpy!" He slammed her violin into her over and over, chunks of wood flying everywhere, strings popping, hope stolen away from her. Pain, hot and white, took over. Her nose cracked, spewing blood. Her pale cheek bruised with each strike. Her lip busted and burned. Finally, she crumpled to the floor. "It's disgusting to think you're my mother! I hate you!" he bellowed in between sobs himself.


    Ama's sorrow had been unleashed. Endless sobbing, unlike any she'd done before filled the home, her grief flooding everything. She'd snapped. She had nothing left in this mortal life. And by god, she'd have her revenge. The next day, she was told to go out to the market to buy groceries. Instead, she went to Withorne Peek, the only mountain in her town. A massive cliff dropped down some hundred feet to shallow, murky waters. It wasn't beautiful, but it'd certainly do. There were countless men and women who'd taken their own lives here at this very place and she was fully prepared to be one of them.

    Staring down at her fate, she tugged off her humble clothing to stand stark naked and liberated at the edge of life. Ama specifically remembers that she had never felt good naked, always violated and intruded upon. She never did get to experience to beauty in taking a lover, as she'd been too young to have experimented before Hank got to her, and to call hand a lover would be like calling Sapentia a whore. She shivered as her starved, bruised body swayed in the cold wind. She could taste the water in the air, but most of all, she could taste freedom. She wriggled her toes on the very end of the rock, inches away from her sweet release. She took a deep breath in , bent her knees, gave a short prayer and plea for forgiveness in the after life and---

    "It's a shame for such a pretty lady to kill herself." a gruff masculine voice drifted to her ears. She swiveled around in shock and almost toppled over to her death, gasping while she felt herself turn bright red under the strange man's gaze. She jolted forward to snatch her clothing to cover herself up and turned around the toss her ratty clothes back on. It wasn't until she was decent again that she glared at him with skeptical, accusing, but undeniably curious eyes. He was so heavily armored and carried with him a massive two handed sword. His dark hair shimmered in the sunlight, his scruffy beard concealing the devilish grin that was his mouth.

    "Why bother covering yourself? It doesn't matter if you're just going to jump off a cliff."

    "D-don't talk to me that way" she had barely choked out. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, out of embarrassment now. She knew this was a bad idea. She should have just stayed in the safe veil of cowardice. Bold moves like this didn't suit a woman like herself. Was she going to be raped by this man? Danger fizzed in the air. Just by the way he sauntered over to her, she could tell he was a man of many murders.

    "Come with me." he demanded, gloved hand clutching onto her overly thin wrist and beginning to pull her away from the cliff. She was sure that he would harm her in a way she was much too used to. She suddenly decided that she wasn't going to stand for this. She was tired of the same damn thing happening over and over.

    "NO!" she had surprised herself as she tore herself away from him. "No. I am going to die today. If you're trying to take me back, I'll just stab myself through the chest as soon as I'm returned. I won't live like this anymore." she said, "I won't live like this anymore" this time a whisper, her mantra sounding much too weak to be convincing.

    "Stop being stupid. I'm going to take you to become a Redeemer. Killing yourself is a waste of potential. " he snapped, rolling his eyes as if she were being entirely idiotic. She's not sure why she agreed to it, even to all these years. It would have been exponentially easier to have scurried off that cliff right then, but something stopped her. Maybe she could understand the adventure he offered her was far grander than any childhood dream she'd lived. She would later find that the man's name was Raziel West, at the time ranked in the organization as number 6. For the most part, he was an insufferable asshole, but at the same time, he had been the one to save Ama and give her the chance to redeem herself.

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New Life
  • Reason for Becoming a Redeemer: Ama became a Redeemer partially to unlock a new life, but more so to channel into the courage residing deep inside her that could keep innocent people from becoming monster, whether Demoni or mortal. She couldn't stand to think of something like what happened to her precious babies happening to anyone else.

  • The Changing: A flash cut across her vision like the blade of a Mongol butcher's knife. She was immersed in darkness, pitch black darkness. She was falling

    falling

    falling

    falling

    She hit the ground with a resounding splat, covered in sticky goo that she struggled to crawl out of. Why couldn't she see?! It was so dark. She just managed to get onto her feet when hands, calloused and clawed, began to roam her body, groping, tearing, caressing her. She would try to push them off but to no avail. Her bones cracked under the weight and she fell to a slump on the floor, her skin getting peeled off by the fiends that tortured her. Pain was all she knew, all she could remember. Was she becoming a monster herself?

    Suddenly, everything was bright. She could no longer feel the searing, hot pain that tormented her before. She was suspended in air, body limp, the air crisp and pure. In the distance there lie shining gates of gold. She gripped the bars that glowed with opalescence as if they'd been carved of pearl, but they were immovable to her. The gate did not open. The wind blew through it and the sun shone on it but no one came.

    "Speak to me," she demanded, clenching the pearly bars. "Tell me if I am damned,"

    The air stirred behind her. She spun. A man stood on the path in a dusty robe. He was tall and bearded, gaunt but strong. His eyes looked out from soulful hollows, their expression too beautiful to bear.

    "Answer me," she begged in a choking voice. "If I'm damned, I want to know."

    The man said nothing, only stared at her sadly. Despite his humble garb, a golden shimmer bathed his skin. He began to fade away, beautiful symphonies ringing in the distance. The sounds of the heaven that would no longer accept her poured out, taunting her. The music grew louder and louder, deafeningly loud. It wasn't long before the holy melodies were replaced with the crying, the screaming, the shouting. Fake laughter. The clucking of a chicken. Whining starved dogs. "You've failed." "I hate you." "Damnable wench." Grunts and groans and moans and stifled laughter behind her back. It rose and rose and rose, louder and louder, more monumental than anything she'd ever experienced before. She started to convulse, body shaking under all the power that surged through her.

    Suddenly, she held a baby in her arms, rocking it gently back and forth, tenderness shining in her eyes. Waves of reminiscent joy trickled down on her tired body, a sweet memory whispering in her mind like honey. He began to gurgle, pudgy arms flailing about as he grasped for anything to comfort him. She smiled, stroking his face with her soft fingers affectionately. Blood began to bubble out of his mouth, down his eyes, onto his pristine body as he cried- the sound piercingly familiar. Flesh curdled on itself, melting and dripping down her naked chest. The smell, oh god, the smell! His intensives, now exposed and pulsing, broke open to reveal hordes of insects squirming around inside, maggots plopping down into her lap and locusts breaking free from the internal organs to buzz around her face. "No!" she cried, holding the rotting corpse closer to her as if to protect it.

    It was to no avail, as the horrifying image of her infant child began to claw at her stomach, razor sharp teeth biting into her flesh and ripping chunks out. "NO!" she cried again, though she did not push him away or remove him from her proximity. How could she? He was her child. "Please!" she begged through her screams. She looked to the heavens for help, but there was nothing there for her anymore. She had her answer.

    And then, it was silent. She went numb. The sound of loneliness the most unbearable of all circulating through her blood stream. She awoke with blood dribbling down her face from her ears, tears streaming down. A man in light armor sat next to her beside her bed and she grabbed at his arms for help, sobs choking out of her red lips. She couldn't hear, nor could she feel him under her grasp. "My babies..." she cried, gripping his shoulders and facing him as if begging him to bring them back. "My babies..." she cried again, this time in defeat. She deflated against him, crying into his chest. She didn't know whether he'd hugged her or if he'd just sat there, because it all felt the same to her. She was appropriately numb.

    About an hour or so later, sound would come rushing back to her, so strong she'd black out. It took her a good couple days before she was able to leave the confines of an empty room, let alone speak to anyone. To this day, whenever Ama thinks back to her changing, dread and sadness twinkles in her eyes.

    NOTE: At first, Ama harbored unbelievable amounts of resentment for the Redeemers. When being recruited, she had not been told the sacrifices or the horrors that came along with being a Redeemer. She felt like she'd been cheated. She hated killing, and taking lives made her very, very sad. In a couple years, she was able to become "enlightened" and developed the morals and ideals she carries with her today. This happened gradually during her travels.

  • Opinions: Ama loves the Redeemers. She feels eternally indebted to them and treats all those on her side with respect and care. 1-7 don't seem very fond of her, and the board frowns on some of her actions/motives, especially since she's so vocal about them... but it's never caused a real problem so far. She's the recruiter/highest ranked Redeemer in Litas and thinks of all of those she recruited as children.

  • Abomination Experiences: Ama has never gone close to becoming an Abomination in all her fifteen years. Up until last month, she could even truly comprehend what others spoke of when they explained what it felt like to be on the brink of Demoni. Now she's afraid she understands, as the darkness inside has been gnawing at her. Still, there's been no flashing moment of panic, nor a need to overexert herself. She's certainly seen plenty of folks turn into Abominations- she a recruiter, after all. She's destroyed countless of them.

So begins...

Amaryliss Sage's Story