Description
Species: Lahanian. The rough equivalent of humans from another aspect of the Multiverse. On sight alone, there are no differences between humans and lahanians. She has three marks on her face- one under each eye and one on her forehead- that distinguish her as a priestess of the Lahanian Empryea.
Age: She appears in her mid-thirties, just starting to show signs of age. In reality, she has lived for at least 400 Lahanian years. Her travels have caused her to lose exact count.
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: What a rude question to ask of a lady!
Eyes: A true, royal blue
Hair: Long white locks that are typically kept unbound
Garments: She has adopted the style of a sleeveless japanese kimono top for travels, a dark blue, with plain white trousers. It is belted with a simple piece of rope, from which is hung her satchel of tools. A quiver of arrows is always slung across her back, though she carries no visible bow to use them with. She is usually barefoot. Rarely seen, she dresses in flowing white ceremonial robes for special occassions.
Personality
The priestess is a peaceful soul, and yet a powerful force of justice in the cosmos. She always prefers to settle disputes through mediation rather than violence, and she is a champion of the weak. She is deeply commited to the credos of her order, above them all mercy, justice, and dignity for all beings. She will never attack unless first provoked, and even then prefers a defensive strategy to an offensive one. She is not, however, a wilting flower. Dallas has an intellectual mind, trained as sharply as her body, balancing religion with reason.
Likes: Flowers, reading, meditation and conversation
Dislikes: Those who prey on weaker beings
Greatest Desire: To recruit enough apprentices that they can restore the Empryea to its former glory
Greatest Fear: Dragons
Greatest Strengths: Temperance, Fortitude, and Prudence
Greatest Flaws: Her intelligence can occassionally cause her to be less-than-patient with those who are not as quick as she is.
Equipment
Weapons: Reishinken ("divine soul sword") - A magically forged sword that has the ability to shift to three distinct weapons:
* longsword
* staff
* longbow
All the forms of Reishinken are black, adorned with several small blue gemstone and etched bolts of silver lightning. Often, Dallas will also channel her magics through it.
Nature's Guardian- An ancient artifact bestowed with the power to attract or repel metal objects. Its form is a compilation of leather armor, which Dallas currently wears.
Magical Abilities: As a priestess, her attacks center around divine power, purification, and healing. They are most effective against beings of evil, chaos, demons or undead.
Other Items: Teleportation Necklace: A small pendant that grants her the power to return to the Antongrad Seaside Towers at a moment's notice.
A pouch that contains her magic and healing tools:
* several small crystals
* mortar and pestle
* various herbs
* vials of pre-made salves and healing potions
* small candles
History
Dallas's Journal
Dallas was recognized for her potential at an early age. Born into a prestigious clan of powerful priestesses serving the Lahanian kingdon, she was schooled from her early youth in the ways of the Empryea. She trained rigorously across several weapon techniques, and primarily discovered a love of the bo staff and longbow, though she was adept with a sword as well. In her training, she also discovered a deep-seated fount of holy magic, which her studies honed and intensified to their current level.
When Dallas reached the tender age of 12, a great evil fell upon the realm. Every last citizen was called upon to defend the land from the wickedness known only as "The Dragon Mistress", and among the first volunteers were most members of the Empryea. But even their great magic and sharp battle skills proved no match for the Mistress, and countless were slain in her wake. Dallas was youngest among the survivors, numbers who were too few to restore the Empryea to its former magnificence. One by one the last priestesses faded into history, until only one remained. The old ways fell into obscurity, retold only as fairy tales to the young of the land. Only one woman remained true to the gods she had known her whole life.
And it was that woman the gods cursed with the task of restoring the Empryea. She would wander the multiverse, to realms innummerable, unable to go to the rest of the afterlife until her mission was fulfilled to their satisfaction.
And so she wanders...
The Lahanian EmpryeaIn days long past, the Empryea were a powerful and respected force in the realm of Lahan. The clan of priestesses held many positions of leadership in government of all levels, and also put their efforts towards humanitarian causes and social justice. They were ambassadors, doctors, advisors, teachers...wherever evil and ignorance existed in the world, they were there to combat it. Above all, however, they were the religious leaders of all the peoples in Lahan. They lived their lives in the service of Lahan's many gods, the creators and protectors of the realm.
The Pantheon- Viseron: Lord of the Dead
- Daena: Lady of the Born
- Sike: Lady of the Mind
- Uronis: Lord of the Heart
- Rhynia: The Hunter
- Lemari: The Grower
Also, the demi-gods Ailato, Myreen, and So'oken.
The Meerlaa (Code)The key tenets of the Empryea are in the form of vows taken by each and every member when she comes of age, usually at 12. They are:
- Feed the hungry
- Give drink to the thirsty
- Clothe the naked
- Shelter the homeless
- Care for the sick
- Visit the imprisoned
- Bury the dead
- Instruct the ignorant
- Counsel the doubtful
- Admonish sinners
- Bear wrongs patiently
- Forgive offences willingly
- Comfort the afflicted
- Pray for the living and the dead
So begins...
“
It is possible that some of the offered water makes it into her mouth, but much of it doesn't. Over some time, her breathing manages to become a little deeper, a little more even. Until finally she lets out a weak groan. Her eyes open, just a little, certainly not enough to make out much through a haze of pain. They are a deep blue, but covered in a cloudiness. But she is alive. Gods be damned, she is still alive. In a corner of the room, somewhere nearby the hiding figure, a glow penetrated a small amount of its surrounding shadow. The glow surrounded a tall black staff, a graceful weapon, if seeming a bit simple and rough.
”
“
The woman makes no reply, as though it takes all her strength just to remember to breathe in and out. The glow from the staff, however, increases ten-fold, shattering the remaining darkness in the room. It floated up of its own accord, and moved slowly toward the man. A voice rang out, but not from the woman's lips. It came seemingly from everywhere, and from nowhere. "Pick up the staff, mortal." The tone of the voice was commanding, if a little condescending. "Raise it over our servant's body.
”
“
There were no more from the omnipresent voice, but as the man took the staff, it emitted a blinding light, forcing all to look away. After a moment, the light faded, and the woman seemed free of the wicked injuries, though deep scars were left in their places. She blinked slowly, once...twice...until finally her eyes managed to remain open. The moved slowly to greet the sight of the man standing above her, and her expression was...puzzled at best. "Wh...where am I...?" she managed to ask, her voice quiet and hoarse.
”
“
She blinked a few more time, looking around the darkened chamber. She looked no more certain than he about her whereabout. Her eyes met his again, and she winced in pain as she reached up to grasp the weapon. "I...have no idea... Though I can imagine it must be a temple of some sort." She frowned slightly at his words, and seemed...almost saddened at her fortune. "Of course I'm alive," she sighed. It wasn't snappy, just a statement of fact, and one it seemed she was unhappy to hear. Grimacing as she did so, she pulled herself up to rest back on her elbows, finally being able to get a good look around. "Might I at least be able to get your name, kind sir?"
”
“
scratch that, g2g now. maybe we can continue later so sorry
”
“
A woman enters..rather slowly. She leans heavily on a tall black staff, walking with an obvious limp. She seemed as though she would have been lovely, if not for the wicked scar on her face. It was a vertical line of bumpy pink scar tissue from her chin up to- no through- her nose, the edges still caked with a slight line of dried brown blood. There wa spatter of blood in the lower section of her snowy-white hair as well- the recency of injury was all too obvious. She staggered unevenly to the bar, and groaned as she eased herself onto a stool. Her mannerisms made the slight wrinkles in her aging face seem that much more obvious, and she seemed so worn. "A drink. Strongest there is," she spoke loudly, hoping there was a barkeep there to hear her. Serving herself would only prolong the pain.
”
“
A tall woman makes her way slowly into the bar, leaning heavily on a tall black staff. It seemed she might be lovely, if not for the wicked scab on her face. Slashed from the chin up through the nose, with some caked blood still present. Scars littered her arms and were clearly visible due to her sleeveless blue top. She shuffled slowly towards the bar, wincing in pain with every step she took. Her current state made the slight wrinkles on her face stand out more than usual, and for once in her life, the priestess look downright old.
”
“
The woman manages to limp into the building, leaning heavily on her black staff. She moves in slow shuffles, practically dragging her weight across the floor. The reason? Obvious. Her face is marred by a wicked scab, a vertical slash from chin to nose, still crusted with dried brown blood. Her bare arms are littered with slim scars. It was apparent that she had been grievously injured, and not too long ago. She continues towards the bar, wincing in pain with each step, until mercifully she makes it to a stool at the counter and slides onto it. She sighs heavily and drops her head down onto the surface, snowy white hair spilling down to hide her face.
”
“
She raised her head slowly at the sound of a voice nearby, turning her eyes to meet those of the man seated beside her. "May I help you?" She tried her very best to smile, but she was weak, and the scab disfigured the lower half of her face quite noticably. She raised a hand to brush a few stray locks from her face, grimacing as she did so.
”
“
"A stiff drink would probably be enough, thank you." Her words were rather deadpan. If she had sensed his mockery, she didn't seemed phased by it. However, her blue eyes didn't seem to give away much of anything that may be churning behind them.
”
“
Her gaze fell down upon the mirror. As she glimpsed the reflection within it, those blank eyes changed instantly, and she snapped them up to meet his again. "I don't deal with the devil." Her voice had changed as well, suddenly sobered, all pain seeming a distant memory.
”
“
Her nostrils flared, and she straightened herself up, though it no doubt hurt to do so. "I would rather die a thousand times then sell my soul to the likes of you," she spat. "Oh wait, I believe I already have." The staff in her hand began to pulse ever so slightly with a white aura.
”
“
"My soul is my strength. All the power I draw comes from it, and it was bestowed upon me by the gods." The fierceness in her eyes showed she thouroughly believed what she was saying. The staff's aura grew..but to what end it was difficult to tell.
”
“
She lifted her chin, righteous anger written all over her face. "The power they supply gives peace and life. All you could ever offer is misery and pain." Her eyes diverted to Kisa for a moment, and she gave the girl(?) a gentle smile before speaking to Darien again. "I'm quite certain I didn't give it."
”
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"Time will return to me that which I once had. It always does." At that, she sighed...sadly. How odd.
”
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At that she raised a brow. "Smell my hatred, can you?" She smiled at that, albeit weakly. "I don't hate my destiny. I've been given a great gift. I have just been...slow in keeping up my end of the bargain. Free will is kind of a bitch." She looked over again at Kisa, kindness in her blue eyes. "No, child. Not at all. But don't distress yourself on my account."
”
“
"Am I really so shattered?" The question made even her pause. "What do you think I am?" For once, she met his gaze straight on. The question had no goading, no arrogance. It was quite simple.
”
“
She smiled at that. "It's good to know I can still be so underestimated." She let on no more of what she may have meant by that, resting her head once again on the bartop. "Now how about that drink?"
”
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She took it from him and took several deep swigs. "Hardly." She held it back out to him. Suddenly, she was struck by the queerness of the whole scene. Devil and priestess, sharing drink and conversation as if nothing were amiss.
”
“
"Planning on getting me drunk?" She smiled, almost as though she already were. She reached up over the bar, still wincing, and retrieved something amber colored in a clear decanter. She pulled off the stopper and brought it to her lips.
”