Description

Personality

Personality: Nihmia is reserved, but not to be misunderstood as passive. The fiery art of war runs through her veins, as it did most Ash Elves ever since their long-ago separation from the Scry Elves. However, the nature of her skills requires one not to be flamboyant or boastful, but rather perceptive.

Fighting Style: Nihmia would much rather prefer to stay hidden! However, should a confrontation arrive hand to hand combat would be her method. Though, even when carrying out assassinations, she’d much rather use her knowledge in poisons.

Equipment

Equipment/Weapons:
Usually dirty leather clothing.
A small satchel carrying various poisonous edibles as well as some rather odd shaped bottles with peculiar smelling oils.
A small dagger mostly reserved for cutting off limbs from a successful assassination, in order to prove the deed was done. She never keeps “trophies” for herself.

History

History: From the time Nihmia was a child her parents, Lila and Rulio, had been teaching her the art of stealth. It started as a fun past time between them, until they realized she was rather good at it. Her lessons became longer and more intense. Eventually, these “games” would last for days, never seeing Nihmia, only the absence of a block of cheese, or a strip of meat.

Even so, all good things must come to an end, and so did the illustrious careers of Lila and Rulio. After refusing to take a job that would be most dangerous and leave small Nihmia by herself for quite some time, the unsatisfied patron sent a message to the family. All Nihmia can remember is blood seeping through the cupboard cracks as her father was beheaded against her hiding place.

Years later, having repressed these memories as far back as her subconscious would allow, Nihmia decided to take up the art of conjuration. The patience that her parents had taught her made her a prime candidate. Through many days and nights of meditation she was able to excel under her mentor’s command.

However, in these trance states Nihmia began to open up memories of her parents’ deaths, which lead to thrashing nightmares and sleepless nights. On one of these nights, her mentor climbed the stairs to her sleep quarters and found a havoc-torn mess of a girl crumpled on the floor. Nihmia was straining for air as she reached a shaky hand towards the beginning of a conjuration, a vaguely discernable couple in embrace. From another dimension. From the dead.

“Mother?” she strained to question.

Her mentor ripped in to the room, beating the young girl senseless. He took her bruised body and dumped it in a dark canal way. However, she survived, hungry to learn more of this dark-seeded power. Recognizing it as necromancy and realizing it is a form of magic punishable by death, she speaks of it to no one. But hangs on every word she hears about the dark art.