Age: 77
Gender: Female
Race: Nightmarian
Class: Monk.
Most people think of monks as religious ascetics with skills oriented towards pugilism, or the use of oneās bare hands to fight. Indeed, this is the beginning, but it is certainly not the complete account. Neira, for example, has no commitment to a religion of any sort, though her teacher certainly did. The gods are not necessary to live in the way a monk is trained to- quite fortunate, given their present state of expiration.
A monk fights using that which is naturally theirs and cannot be taken from them. It is not simply a style but a lifestyle, characterized by regular meditation, self-reflection, and at times, self-deprivation of an extreme sort. Discipline is the tenet placed above all others, though it does not necessarily manifest in the way you would expect. Training is arduous and at times tedious- apprentices can be subjected to some methods that would to anyone else be classed as downright cruel, but the acolyte understands the necessity, or approaches the understanding eventually. Indeed, there is much emphasis placed on a certain intuitive knowledge of the human body, a mix of straightforward anatomy and the more mystical concept of chi and energy flow, melded seamlessly together. Neira was taught to be efficient, ruthless, and without mercy in striking, and nothing less than this was acceptable without punishment.
The physical is only part of the existent, however, and understanding this on an intellectual level is not sufficient, which means that the typical understanding of a monk is not either. In Neiraās case, an equally-arduous training in psionic manipulation was added to the already difficult physical training, for just as oneās bare hands are oneās own natural property, so is oneās mind, and the latter is the far deadlier weapon when properly utilized. The sheer variety of psionic abilities is vast, from manifesting the intangible into the physical world to the raw pitting of one mind against another in parallel competition with the bodies of two combatants. Neira leaned a bit of everything, and in subsequent years has developed both, though with more emphasis on the internal than the external, under the at times acidic tutelage of one Xeron, a former Silenced.
Physical Description:
Credit
Like all members of her race, much of Neiraās body is encased in a chitinous exoskeleton, magically resistant and most often termed the Arc Shell. Hers is black and glossy, not unlike the shell of a scarab beetle. It encases completely her shins, calves, feet, forearms and hands, jointed to allow dexterous movement of the fingers and other joints, and half-shells her upper arms and thighs on the outside. Similar shell is also present along the sides of her torso, and in a thin line up her spine. This allows for full bodily flexibility as well as providing what is essentially built-in, if incomplete, armor. This unyielding surface, combined with the inhuman strength of her race, makes her a formidable physical opponent.
In terms of more humanlike features, she stands at a statuesque 5ā11ā, and though not overtly muscular, is more voluptuous than thin, having the traditional āhourglassā shape, if you will. Her facial features arenāt quite human, though. Her eyes are quite large, somewhat almond-shaped, with red irises and a bright yellow (as opposed to jaundiced) sclera. Her nose is broadest at the brow and generally narrows until the end, which is rather upturned. Much of the upper half of her face is decoratively (and very recently) tattooed in black ink, ending in what resembles the bottom points of a harlequin-style marking beneath each eye, and the overall effect is, depending on personal opinion, somewhere between interesting, alluring and barbaric. Her skin is relatively dark, though more within the range of grey tones than human-flesh-colored ones. Though she at one point wore her red-orange hair quite long, she has since dispensed with most of the length, and these days the feathered ends of it just brush her armored shoulders. Two antennae, her subspeciesā equivalent of the sensory organs on the necks of other nightmarians, are planted at the crown of her head, most of the time simply laying back amidst her fine strands of hair, largely unnoticed.
Personality: Personalities are complex things, Neiraās no less so than anyone elseās, though perhaps a bit moreso than some. On a pure surface level, one would not be mistaken in the assertion that sheās a sadistic bitch. She is not the type to clothe her words in anything resembling consideration or even, sometimes, decency. If she believes youāre a worthless ingrate (and, to be honest, she probably does), sheāll tell you so. But sheās not going to ignore you entirely because she believes herself to be any better or attempt to turn other people against you, because that underhanded shit really isnāt her style. She doesnāt often lie and only rarely omits, unless youāre trying to get actual relevant personal information out of her. Then, anythingās fair game.
She makes no secret of the fact that she rather enjoys a good fight, and has absolutely no moral compunction about killing things. Thatās not to say that sheās without morals entirely, though itās a common enough mistake to make where sheās concerned, since she doesnāt bother doing much of anything to correct it. Despite all of this, sheās not exactly unsociable, if you can tolerate constant sarcasm and all kinds of lack of respect for authority. Oddly enough, she also seems to be in possession of a flirtatious streak, albeit not one that shows itself often.
Beneath all of this is perhaps more than sheād like anyone to guess at. Sheās dedicated to the pursuit of strength, both physical and mental, and at no time does her class designation seem to better apply than at those times between battles. When other soldiers or mercenaries might visit the pub or get some time away from other people in their tents, sheās almost always trying to improve upon the mistakes, real or perceived, that sheās made. As it turns out, her mental lambasting of herself is just about as bad as the verbal ones she gives everything else, not that sheād ever tell you that. She is motivated by failure even more than she is by success, actually, and though she may at first blush seem the lazy, languid sort, she is very much a nose-to-the-grindstone type of individual. Like many children who grew up with a great deal of pressure to be a certain way, she is at once both extremely contemptuous of authority and also very driven to do better than that authority would expect of her.
If there is any one thing that she holds above everything else, it is her freedom. Any threat to it is crushed immediately if possible, and watched very carefully otherwise. She does absolutely nothing she does not want to do, even if the āwantingā is only from curiosity or because she has nothing else occupying her at the time. Those were, in fact, the very reasons she joined the Legion of Ashes in the first place. Her defection from the Legion to General Liu-Wenās army was a little more at her own willing, but only a little. She remains as indifferent as she can to the large-scale conflicts plaguing the world, but at the same time, the fact that her own race may be next on the list for the slaying spells bothers her more than she would care to admit.
Faction: Paragon; sheās been with them since they were the fortieth individual legion within the larger Legion of Ashes.
Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Starting Armor: While she prefers to wear simple black robes, she does have the standard Legion live leathers- of the light sort, despite the fact that she most often behaves as a heavy-hitting melee type. She dislikes the way it clings.
Starting Weaponry: None- weapons are for people who canāt stab with their sharpened fingers or pummel away with their limbs and minds alike.
Fighting Style: An adaptable mix of the physical and mental. Neiraās martial arts skills were taught to her by an old sage she refuses to name, and with them, she is able to put her superhuman strength to good use. She knows where to hit, and she does so in a way that is fast, hard and often dirty- why bother fighting fair when lives are at stake? Honor is for people who know theyāre going to die and want to justify it as something other than being weaker than their enemy. This approach is melded with a mental one, though her psionic abilities are quite varied, she generally prefers either using them to augment her physical skills (and thus channel psionic energy through her exoskeleton and skin) or attack the opponentās mind directly. Usually when two minds meet, the stronger determines the plane on which they do, but Neira is adept enough at smaller, more delicate manipulations that even if this occurs, she is not completely helpless in someone elseās reality, and can sometimes actually turn the situation to her advantage. This is all still being learned, however, and like everyone else, she is not perfect at it. She has a few more advanced tricks, such as short-range teleportation and doppelgangers, at her disposal as well.
Weapon of Choice: Her fists and legs, preferably imbued with psionics for that extra kick.
Other: Neira's robes (worn over her leathers) are belted in place with a leather band that has several pouches attached to it, usually filled with food items or assorted traveler's oddities such as a compass or basic herbs and bandages for treating field injuries.
History: Her history's a little different each time someone asks; though she'll usually oblige, there's no way to tell if any of it's true or not. Most of the time, though, it revolves around common themes of nothing exciting until the dragons came, after which she got bored sitting around waiting for her people to die and decided to find something more interesting to do with her time. She doesn't seem to much care about who wins, and rumor has it she'll work for anyone who pays enough- though those with whom sheās survived suicidal missions tend to know differently. Like anything else, her response to being asked the direct question changes almost daily, and most people have given up the effort, deeming her dishonest or frivolous. Both designations suit Neira just fine, thank you very much.
{From Chapter Two, though not common knowledge}: She was born and raised in Ecclavaria, the great hive city of the nightmarians, most likely in a privileged situation due to the fact that dragonflies, along with spiders and mantises, are within the top tier of castes within the hierarchy of the species. Like all other members of her race, however, she was subject to the whims of the queen and the hive-mind, a purely nightmarian principle of social organization that is actually an outrageously-strong psionic bond to her sovereign, bordering on compulsion to serve the mistress of the hive without question until death. Unsurprisingly, this is connected to her haughty disdain for all things that even hint at authoritarianism.
Through a series of events that is largely unclear, Neira broke or partially broke her connection to the hive-mind and fled Ecclavaria, making her a voluntary exile. There was a murder involved, but it is as yet unknown whether she perpetrated the deed or simply encountered the result. The removal of her own consciousness from the hive was not a pleasant experience, and she was having difficulty handling this and the advent of her own psionic abilities when she met an old man (species unclear), about whom she does not often speak, who taught her the self-discipline necessary to function in the outside world.
Again for unknown reasons, she left before her training was complete, becoming a mercenary therafter and making a decent living off of her profits, if an entirely aimless one. Some years after she left the hive-city, she happened to be in the town of Laeral at the Boulon Brothersā inn and taphouse on the same day as the newly-recruited fortieth legion. Just looking at them, it was easy to tell that they were a throw-away group, the kind sent under inexperienced leadership to act as dragon-bait. Still, for some reason the merry little band (and their too-young leader) intrigued her enough that she joined up, perhaps just to see what would happen. The rest, as they say, is history.
