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Oriana

Full of valor and bad jokes.

0 · 512 views · located in The Penance Tavern

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by marredserenity

Description

Image

Image


Age: 26
Sex: Female
Type: Nephalem
Job: Demon Hunter
Special Abilities: Extraordinarily agile, and an expert with all manner of bows and crossbows.

History: Oriana was born to the humid climates of Kurast. Her childhood was particularly unorthodox, for she did not play with dolls, or engage in friendly games with the other children. From the moment she was old enough to comprehend good and evil, light and dark, Oriana knew that her destiny was to be the bane of the darkness. Her mother was Natalya, the world-famous assassin whose skills and feats had earned her not only sets of armor christened in her name, but immortality. With her mother, Oriana created Kurast's first order of demon hunters and assassins, called The Sabrial. They had just begun to reach the height of their training when the Dark Traveler passed through Kurast, and in his wake, a band of heroes - all inept and under-achieved in Oriana's eyes. Natalya had given them as much help as she could, but Oriana knew their success would not be long-term. Even after Diablo had finally been vanquished, and Baal after him, Oriana felt the shockwaves that went rippling through the Earth's life force. They would be back, but Oriana would not leave the lives of so many innocents and the well-being of Heaven and Earth to anyone else, not this time. When Deckard Cain called for help once more, she was the first to answer.

Personality: For someone so lethal, Oriana's most noticeable attribute is her undying sense of humor. Hardly ever in despair, and always confident, she is mischievous and energetic. This enthusiasm transfers well to the battle field, where she can be found vaulting about and firing arrows from the most awkward and contorted of positions. Even in the face of the most terrifying of demons, Oriana can be found smirking. In spite of her love of laughter, she is a sucker for the strong, silent type, and admires those who have command over the arcane magics.

So begins...

Oriana's Story

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Generally, Oriana did not find herself in the habit of complaining. Even in spite of a growling stomach, aching feet that branched out of boots with broken heels, and a faulty trigger on her crossbow that left her relatively helpless, she was able to maintain a jovial countenance. Other demon hunters would only pull their hood up higher, keep their heads down, grumble about their predicaments. But she was a Nephalem, not just some puny, run of the mill bowman or bounty hunter, and as such, she was resilient.

Or rather, she was meant to be. As she came to the threshold of the tavern, she certainly felt anything but resilient. She was a tracker, not a navigator, and so she had no idea what lay beyond. Hesitant - perhaps even afraid - she gathered herself up and entered.

Her supposed limp was not from injury, but from the aforementioned boots, and she took residence in the first seat she could find so that she could extract them from her feet and breathe a heavy sigh. Many of them appeared to be familiar with one another, but until she was comfortable, she would remain quiet and reserved. In an attempt to display her submissiveness, Oriana lay down the broken crossbow at her feet and surveyed her surroundings.

((Trying to get my feet wet!))

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Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The explosive outburst of rolling sheets of black mist suddenly and most horrifically spawned from a singular dark clad figure wearing a dismal black masquerade mask in the center of the tavern. Some of his features were of course discernible the pointed ears, white hair, a large gnarled longbow and a quiver of blackened arrows. The man looked around as the sheets of mist rolled about their feet with the horrid silence that entered the bar along with the man. His gaze finally fell on that of the women at the table his head tilting to the side his face hidden by the mask. No moves were made, no words spoken only a haunting gaze at the women.

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Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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In her short years, Oriana had encountered all manner of life and death, of entrance and exit. Some demons preferred a puff of smoke, or an explosion of hellfire, or even slinking from some shadow or other. They slithered and stalked and stomped and marched. They roared, they hissed, they growled. And so she did not feel rattled or even alarmed by the creature's sudden appearance, but his gaze had fulfilled its purpose and she found herself shifting in her seat. Again, she was reminded of her helplessness as her eyes fell upon her crossbow. She would have been better off just stomping it into bits.

Oriana leaned back in her seat, her hand coming to her lips in what appeared to be deep contemplation. In the dim lighting, her eyes let off a faint glow, one that would not have been noticeable but in the concealment of a shadow, such as the one cast by her hood should she don it. Once she found her courage again, she lifted her gaze back to the creature, taking in his elongated ears and his discolored flesh. Her gut told her he was not a demon, but she'd been wrong before. After all, they came in all shapes and sizes and colors, and had developed rather intricate methods of camouflage during her career.

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Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Jager stood up straight now seeing he had now had the desired effect on the women, which part of him took pride in still being able to scare others in such away as his current enemy seemed rather negated by him and his haunting appearance. His hand slowly and with an elegance known of the high elves placed his gloved hand onto the outer edges of the face of the mask and removing it slowly from his face. The mask he placed to where it hung on his belt, revealing his pale skin of perfection with the piercing blue eyes. His mouth creased leaving a rather emotional look to the elf that stood before the women.

Jager then raising his right hand into the air made a fist with his arm slightly bent and forearm at an angle. His right foot going behind his left ankle the tip of the toe resting on the ground. Then the elf bowed his head to the women.

"Greetings I am Jager Holt of House Holt." The elf said in the alluring melodic tone.

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Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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He moved with the fluid elegance of a bowman and hunter, which she'd expected of him upon spying the blackened arrows. His mannerisms had convinced her that he was not of the demonic persuasion, and so she felt no danger in standing and thrusting her hand toward him. Oriana did not practice curtsying or bowing, and when you are in the business of blood and hunting and long nights of stalking, things like makeup and high-fashion attire were obsolete.

Truth be told, she had no idea what House Holt was, but he'd said it with such confidence that she believed it was of some prominence or repute. She was a newcomer, after all, and one could not expect her to know the ins and outs of Houses. Did he mean a literal house? She masked her confusion with an amiable smile, trying not to stare at his ears. "Good to meet you, Jager Holt of House Holt," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm Oriana of ... well ... just Oriana, actually."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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It was a seedy sort of place from the looks Rajah gathered at the end of his nose, and the smells, but it was the perfect place where he might be able to scramble into the back and avoid trouble or notice of those less inclined to his sort. Not his race, which was Gnoll of origin, but of his trade. A spiritual individual he usually found more comfort in the company of spirits and the dead than he did in other people.

Most of his body was hidden under elaborate robes he had acquired on his journies while being taught by an old master of the art of necromancy, crimson along the center with white either side. The uninitiated might even mistaken his clothing for the opposite of what it was; the clothing of a holy man or priest. Hovering at the door, he stood hunched slightly forward and leaning on an old gnarled piece of wood for a staff.

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Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Jager released himself from his bow to look at the women.

"This meeting is not by chance I would have you know that." Jagers tone did not change as he stood there looking at the women.

The gaze of the elf went to the clearly broken crossbow at least to his eye which laid on the ground.

"It would also seem you yourself are a bit worse for the wear my dear." Jager attempted a smile which turned out to be more a smirk.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Oriana did not follow the Elf's gaze to her bow, but instead found herself distracted further by his ears. Unable to help herself any longer, and her hand having gone unshaken, she pressed her lips into a thin line and shifted her weight to one hip. "Yes, yes, a meeting of fate," she said dismissively. "I'm sorry, but, what are you? You're not a demon. You're not a human. You're not a Nephalem. And your ears..." Her voice trailed off, and she became momentarily lost in her own curiosity, or perhaps she'd become abruptly aware of her own awkwardness.

As if conjured by the word 'demon,' she felt another presence that weighed heavily on her mind. Scanning with those dimly lit eyes, she found the ... wolf? Priest? Shaman? Druid? She cycled through her index of possible classifications, and after coming up short yet again, Oriana began to realize just how far out of her league she'd wandered. She felt through the fiber of her being that this creature had been touched by magic as well. Idly, she regretted turning down the opportunity to learn from the Mages she'd often kept in her company. Was she the only non-magic entity here?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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By nature of what they were and by what he was, the spirits called to Rajah and he called to them. The wraiths serving as bartender and bouncer thus gave him a degree of discomfort which he quickly moved away from, a thump of his staff being heard along with a scratching of bare claws on the bar floor. Unfortunately the bar wasn't perfectly even in all its places, and hyenas feet were not best at being upright, so one loose floorboard caught his staff and sent him stumbling. He jerked his staff free and held it out first, only for it to smack into the back of the seat of Oriana.

After taking a moment to try and gather himself, he placed his free hand on the floor and scrambled back up to his feet, eyes drifting from the woman to Jager and back again before he offered a small, "Sorry," in some sort of feral, throaty grunt.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The face of the elf turned into what seemed to be a frown as he touched his own pointed ears that stuck out from his nicely groomed white hair.

"I am a High Elf from a far distant world." Jager's voice rather dense seeing as she did not know what he was. To him it was an insult not to know of his ancestry.

Jager then turned to see the creature fall that had enter. He stared with a rather thoughtful look at first. Then he let out a slight laugh, this was uncalled for and he knew he may pay for his own lack of thinking.

"Are you one of the awoken by the so called Elin? Maybe a servant of the god Lok or the Argons?" Jager looked down at the creature now his arms folded his mood and face unchanging as he challenged the beast.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Oriana had heard folktales about Elves, but mostly she was under the impression that they were of a very ... short stature. At his full height, Jager would likely cause Oriana to look up. She caught herself reaching to touch his ears, as if to challenge that they were real at all, when her seat was rocked by the beast's fall. She turned, bracing herself, but found she was more confused than afraid. The beast's voice sent her eyebrow arching, and when Jager addressed him (it?) with what she perceived to be derision, she bristled. It was not in her interest to be cross or smug, though she had just as much foundation as any to be so if she chose.

She knelt down, having pushed the chair aside, and offered a hand swathed in worn black leather to the ... well, she was still unsure of what it was. But it was sentient, had not been aggressive toward her or Jager, and therefore earned her compassion. "Let me help you," she said quietly, wondering who or what else would come tumbling along her path.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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His head bowed down slightly with a hint of shame, mostly brought about by the laughter. One paw-like hand rose to accept the gloved hand to help him upright, back to leaning on his staff awkwardly. Those sensitive to such things would almost be able to feel the spirits that clung close to him he finally made it back to his feet. "Thankhyoo," he added, mouth trying to form the 'y' sound but unable to make it out properly.

He hovered awkwardly for a moment with brown eyes glancing around as if he was searching for what to say (his posture certainly gave off the impression he was guarded and cautious around them), but finally he offered; "I can 'uy hyoo 'hoth a drink." His speech impediment really stuck out when he tried to say certain words.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Jager dismissed the drink with a wave of his hand. He continued to stand as he looked at the two. So compassionate towards a stranger not even one closely related to humans at all. He also wrenched back a bit as the women tried to reach for his ears.

"I am not some doll for you to play with." Jager said rather quickly taking a step back as well.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The Elf's rather cantankerous disposition coupled with the beast's jarring speech impediment made for a very interesting collection of circumstances for Oriana. Amused, she kept her eyes caged on Jager for a few moments before nodding her head toward the beast in tacit acceptance of his offer (which had, admittedly, taken a lot of contemplation to decipher). Jager's suggestion that she'd seen him as a doll might have offended some of the more uppity demon hunters of her clan, but she let it roll off her shoulders.

"You'll have to forgive my curiosity," she said, folding her arms over her armored chest to resist the temptation to touch him yet again. "It's just that I've never seen an Elf before. Or," she turned toward the beast and grinned. "Whatever you are. This is all very new to me."

Then her gaze fell to her crossbow and her spirits dampened somewhat. She grimaced, dreading what she'd have to request next. "I don't suppose you can fix my bow, Jager Holt of House Holt? I'm afraid I don't have the equipment or the capacity to do so." Self-deprecation was the perfect disarming tool for someone as abrasive as the High Elf, and she'd submit if it meant getting Desdemona (her nickname for the weapon) fixed.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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'Whatever you are' honestly struck some offence to Fangspirit at heart, but he wouldn't let it get to him. His feet shuffled off to the side, heading towards the bar to buy an elvish wine, an ale and another elvish wine, as he didn't know quite rightly what they would both want. He just assumed elves wanted their own wine, even if in reality it was just imported cheap alcohol sold to the common drudgery of a tavern who thought it was 'the good stuff'.

Once the alcohol had been brought, he would wait for the three drinks to arrive and let the others pick from them, and take whatever was left over.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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"I cannot only repair your bow, I can make it a marvel of elven craftsmanship. A weapon unparalleled to any world that it will travel in. The Dwarves of Nidavellir will even bow before the prestige and work of this bow." Jager was caught up in showing of the abilities he had for so long honed.

His eyes caught the movement of the creature bringing drinks. He did not go for any of them. A simple raising of his opened palm had the crossbow swirling up with the dark miasma that was here before. The weapons Desdemona now hovered in front of his his blue eyes quickly shrouding over with the same dark mist as it wrapped it's self through the bow. The weapon glowed a bright black the mist twisting through it as runes glowed fiercely before fading. The weapon was slowly lowered back onto the table in it's newly improved manner.

The mist fading from Jager's eyes left him beaming at his handiwork with the crossbow.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Of course, all of Jager's words meant little to her. He would have achieved the same effect and would have elicited the same reaction had he spoken some foreign tongue, but Oriana would make her appreciation known nonetheless. She took the wine from the beast, offering him a gracious smile and a nod of her head, cupping it in both hands while the Elf's magic began its work on her weapon.

When it had all finished, Oriana was two sips into her wine and was practically bursting with excitement. There were demons to slay! Monstrosities to hunt down! And should she find herself backed into a corner, she would not have to rely solely on evasive maneuvers and sleight of hand.

Gently, she set the cup of wine on the table and plucked the crossbow from the table, tossing it between hands and steadying her grip on it. "It's lighter," she commented, mostly to herself. She tested the trigger, satisfied that it was fixed, and could not mask the delight on her face. Then a thought occurred to her that someone like Jager did not give out favors, and she became shamefully aware that she had nothing to offer him. She was without money (which begged the question: How was she to repay the wolf-beast-thing for the wine?) and as a foreigner, was without any form of leverage to offer him a service of any kind.

"I"m sorry, Jager Holt of House Holt," she said, setting the crossbow down. "But I have no way to pay you, other than to express my gratitude profusely." Oriana slid the gloves from her hand and set them on the table as well, letting her bare fingertips ease over the craftsmanship - new and old - of Desdemona.

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Character Portrait: Fangspirit Rajah Character Portrait: Jager Holt Character Portrait: Oriana Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Rajah was once more left at a loss for what to do, with an ale and elvish wine left over. Did he just assume the elf didn't want a drink, or maybe he was just occupied with his work. For a moment he sat in silence, watching the proceedings, before reaching for the ale and lifting it to his mouth, with an accompanying sound of tongue lapping liquid into his mouth. His face scrunched up at the taste and he quickly set it back down, looking sour and unimpressed.

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Jager dismissed a reward at the mere thought of it with an eloquent wave of his hand. Then he summoned another trick the mist once more forming on the table as Jager's sharp eyes noticed the distaste of the poor drinks here. A rather slimming jug of win in a ceramic ornate jar dotted with intricate black designs took a place on the table. The jug full of a bright honey colored liquid. The elf once more looked at the two beaming at his own work. He took enough pleasure in boasting his skills to others over any reward. Though it has led to his rather dampened mood most of the time.

"Now drink up if you would." Jager once more going through the intricate bow.

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Oriana did not take food or drink for pleasure. It was fuel either for her body or her mind (in this case, the wine was for the settling of her nerves) and so she felt rather ambivalent about the quality of the wine at the table. Whether it was of good quality was of little importance. Some may have argued that it was because she'd not experienced gourmet food or fantastic wine, and they'd likely be right.

At any rate, she was thankful for Jager's generosity, which she denoted by first downing what was left of the wine the beast brought her, then filling her cup with what Jager had conjured. She was hesitant to take a sip, glancing over at the garbed creature at the table. "Interesting company we have here," she said. Her curiosity about him was peaked now that her bow had been repaired, and she was unable to contain herself any longer. "Do you have a name?" The next question stood at the tip of her tongue but she repressed the urge to ask it, having picked up when she'd first offended the creature.