Tayanna Spellbane
Little Lilly was longingly looking at the round green apples that Master Hambit was selling today. The street urchin’s belly was rumbling loudly, but there was no way she could snatch away an apple without the halfling noticing. As she watched, a hand took away just the apple she’d been staring at and threw it to her. Catching it nimbly, Lilly looked at the woman in awe, recognizing the steel frame and strongwilled face of the famed Tayanna Spellbane. Presently, she was smiling at the little one who would stare after her until she went out of sight. Everybody round here knew Mistress Spellbane’s tale, she was respected and even a little bit feared.
Tayanna had once been just such a little street urchin as Lilly now was, surviving on whatever she could find, begging and stealing to keep herself alive. As she grew, she soon became a thief of some skill, mostly stealing from nobles and rich merchants, partly because they made the most lucrative targets, partly because she didn’t want to steal from people almost as poor as herself. One icy night in winter, she had broken into a warehouse and planned on spending the night snugly inside, but the city watch disturbed her rest and she barely escaped being caught.
Walking through the streets, freezing, she finally found a little porch where she would protected from the cold wind. Settling down in her uncomfortable corner, she prepared to wait through the night as she did not manage to open the intricate lock on the door. Hour after hour passed, the cold seeping into her bones, making her numb, but she did not budge as the wind was carrying icy snow now and she would freeze to death even faster if she left her cover.
In the middle of the night, she suddenly heard unsure footsteps approaching her hiding place and then a gnome was already upon her. Trying to escape, she stumbled and fell, her limbs frozen by the cold, flailing helplessly as the gnome bent down and helped her up. He had obviously drunk a bit too much, but was still sober enough to see that she was half frozen to death already.
“Now… now, do-don’t be a-afrai-afraid” he stammered and unlocked the door. “G-get in. It’s too c-cold outside.”
Tayanna suffered herself to be pushed inside and soon found herself in the clockmakers living room, a cup of hot tea in her hands. Fascinated, she sat there, looking at the clocks ticking all around. After a quiet night, she slept long and was only awakened when the gnome came down and introduced himself as Gishnar. Looking Tayanna up and down, he sighed, wishing that he could do more for her and told her so. His shop hadn’t been going good of late because an mage had found a way to enchant hourglasses so they worked forever and thus the gnome had barely enough to survive. Thus they talked happily for an hour or two and Tayanna showed much interest in the clockmaker’s work. Finally, they parted, but since then, Tayanna visited Gishnar often, picking up his trade surprisingly fast.
They soon became good friends, Gishnar replacing her father, Tayanna the girl he had never had. Still, Grishnar’s trade went worse and worse, but Tayanna was now a skilled enough thief to steal whatever they needed to survive. Grishnar though became more and more depressed as his trade had been his whole life and Tayanna began to hate the mage responsible for their ruin. Finally, Tayanna came home one day and found Grishnar dead in his workshop, he had not been able to live any longer.
Furious at the mage, Tayanna broke into his house that very evening and the next dawn found a very dead mage in his bed. Unluckily for her, she had made the mistake to stay in town and was caught and condemned upon the testimony of the very mage she had assassinated. As she saw him, she couldn’t believe it, somebody had resurrected that bastard whereas her good mentor was already buried and forgotten.
Still, she was lucky enough not to be sentenced to death but condemned to serve in the border patrols. Thus, she joined the rough troops at the border and soon became a skilled and feared fighter. Day after day, she witnessed the injustice of magic. Those who had skilled healers as friends, those who could pay for resurrections, for enchanted armor, for personal battle mages and so forth, survived, whereas other, more skilled warriors where doomed to die.
Tayanna became disgusted with magic, in her eyes it was the origin of all injustice. More and more, she abandoned all magic, honing her body to perfection, relying solely on her own skills. Soon, she found herself rejecting all magic, even hunting it down wherever she could, building herself a reputation as a Forsaker, respected by all, feared by magic users across the country. She would not rest before all magic had disappeared from the face of the world and with it the injustice plaguing the lands.
Yet, in the beginning, she had been but a little street urchin, not unlike the one she had just given an apple…
Background
ThanksOriginally posted by Mysteria
Poor????
I like it
I think I'll start her off as thief, then fighter, then get her the Forsaker class.
Also thought of her as human.
Somehow, I can never keep these things short
You aren't the only one!
I've got an idea. How about me and you write a D&D adventure. We come up with all the characters, the plot and the ideas, and we can write the entire epic. What do you say?
Perverteer Paladin
I did have an idea. I actually downloaded a quest from the Wizards site about Waukeen and who captured her, and the recovery job. How about we design a similar quest? We could do it in 3rd edition or 2nd, your choice if you want to do it.Originally posted by Mysteria
Why not? It won't hurt to at last give it a try.
Anything precise in mind?
@Rodo: so, how does her actual story run?
Perverteer Paladin
Your life was tough in the slums, had you been normal you might still be their. It started 10 years back when the mob came, some of the merchants, hadn’t liked the way you begged around their stalls, or the way you looked different. A night later they arrived, you stopped them, maybe it was your Demeanour, or the way you lit the door way you made for you family the summer before. But they left, though their minds still weighed with the fact of what you did.
A week later, the local mage was anonymously paid to search everyone, and again a week later to torch your abode. Everyone died, you were heavily wounded and you grieved for them, but accepted the fact that you were different.
You had been pushed farther into the darkness of Hule, were self-defence was far more important. You saw all that the others did, thought all day about how they struck the other gangs, how they used feints, dodges and attacks. Yet again, you were found, the merchants wanted to see if you had survive and you were routed out of the city.
On your travels, you met a monk, amazed at your knowledge you learnt whilst surveying gangs in Hule, and he took you on as a student.
He hasn't asail to the great hights of Paladinhood, not yet...
A week later, the local mage was anonymously paid to search everyone, and again a week later to torch your abode. Everyone died, you were heavily wounded and you grieved for them, but accepted the fact that you were different.
You had been pushed farther into the darkness of Hule, were self-defence was far more important. You saw all that the others did, thought all day about how they struck the other gangs, how they used feints, dodges and attacks. Yet again, you were found, the merchants wanted to see if you had survive and you were routed out of the city.
On your travels, you met a monk, amazed at your knowledge you learnt whilst surveying gangs in Hule, and he took you on as a student.
He hasn't asail to the great hights of Paladinhood, not yet...
I would tell you her history, but seeing as how she's a pretty important high up in my world, I can't risk my players reading her history.
I'll tell you what they know:
She comes from a very powerful family of merchants and priests, who's historically known to be open worshippers of Prismos (neutral evil god of colors and magic)
She DESPISES magic
She's pretty racist, the only intelligent non-humans she talks to are outsiders (and the ones she interacts with are usually lawful aligned)
She hates religion
She destroyed 2 artifacts of great arcane power in her lifetime
I'll tell you what they know:
She comes from a very powerful family of merchants and priests, who's historically known to be open worshippers of Prismos (neutral evil god of colors and magic)
She DESPISES magic
She's pretty racist, the only intelligent non-humans she talks to are outsiders (and the ones she interacts with are usually lawful aligned)
She hates religion
She destroyed 2 artifacts of great arcane power in her lifetime
You can never hope to grasp the source of our power. We are forever.
Rodo, do you think you could send that history to my e-mail address? I'm intrigued and I swear my secrecy about it. My e-mail is connavar@btinternet.com if you would send it.
Perverteer Paladin
Ooohh...hints...Originally posted by Rodo
I'll tell you what they know:
She comes from a very powerful family of merchants and priests, who's historically known to be open worshippers of Prismos (neutral evil god of colors and magic)
She DESPISES magic
She's pretty racist, the only intelligent non-humans she talks to are outsiders (and the ones she interacts with are usually lawful aligned)
She hates religion
She destroyed 2 artifacts of great arcane power in her lifetime
Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes right down to the bone
Want another challenge? Here goes:
Emepror Fallighar, Lord of the Celestial Empire, Keeper of the Twin Gates, Herald of Perfection, the Great Judicator, Scourge of all that is not of Celestin
Human, Lawful Evil (very evil)
I want to see how you guys would depict the guy who controls over half a continent and wants to rule the world in the name of himself and his bloodline.
If you need some plot element, use the following:
-He was born to the royal bloodline of the nobility of Celetoth (once city-state, now capital of Celestin)
-He conquered the entire area over which Celestin (his emipre) now spreads during his own lifetime.
-The deity he worships, he worships secretly (LE, known only as The Foe *hint, hint, hint)
-Has an erinyes for a consort and lover.
-Definitely NOT a divine spellcaster, although he is devout in his religion.
-One of his sons is the terrible half fiend Gamri.
Emepror Fallighar, Lord of the Celestial Empire, Keeper of the Twin Gates, Herald of Perfection, the Great Judicator, Scourge of all that is not of Celestin
Human, Lawful Evil (very evil)
I want to see how you guys would depict the guy who controls over half a continent and wants to rule the world in the name of himself and his bloodline.
If you need some plot element, use the following:
-He was born to the royal bloodline of the nobility of Celetoth (once city-state, now capital of Celestin)
-He conquered the entire area over which Celestin (his emipre) now spreads during his own lifetime.
-The deity he worships, he worships secretly (LE, known only as The Foe *hint, hint, hint)
-Has an erinyes for a consort and lover.
-Definitely NOT a divine spellcaster, although he is devout in his religion.
-One of his sons is the terrible half fiend Gamri.
You can never hope to grasp the source of our power. We are forever.
Emperor Fallighar
A hushed silence reigned in the throne room, nobles and warriors alike shifting on their feet. Then the big doors at the end of the room swung open and the herald stepped forth. “Kneel in front of Emperor Fallighar, Lord of the Celestial Empire, Keeper of the Twin Gates, Herald of Perfection, the Great Judicator, Scourge of all that is not of Celestin” he announced, then dropped to his knees as the said emperor passed by him.
Sweeping along the line of courtiers, Fallighar stepped up to his throne and let his eye wander over the bend backs. He was disappointed to see that all had their backs safely lowered, he felt like punishing somebody today. Too bad that there had to be rules unless he wanted his empire to fall to pieces. Empire! He scowled. Half an empire more correctly, but this would change … soon.
Yaralla stepped to his side, giving him one of her most exciting smiles. He looked her up and down approvingly, taking in the dark leather she was clad in and the spikes adorning her wings. She would leave a durable impression on those puny emissaries, but then the erinyes always did. He smiled, then sat down on his throne, Yaralla leaning against the left side. On his sign, she bade the assembly to rise and the doors on the opposite end of the room swung open.
Through it came a long, winding line of ‘presents’ from all over Celestin, finest gold, sparkling gems and fine weaponry accumulating at the foot of the throne, the emissaries bending low, hoping that their presents would please their ruler, sparing them the death sentence. Fallighar leaned back, hardly paying attention to the wealth amassed at his feet. Normally, he took great pleasure in watching the fools bring him his tribute, pleased all the more because he insisted on them calling it a present. Today though, he was absent and distracted, his mind wandering while his body did what was expected of him.
All the wealth of this half of the world meant nothing to him as long as the other half still escaped his influence and today could very well bring him and his bloodline one step closer to his goal. Finally, the tedious accepting of presents was over and he had duly had the emissary who had brought the least acceptable present executed. He had left it up to Yaralla to decide on the victim, convinced that she would take the right decision and he knew how she liked the occasional torture.
Back in his chambers, he shooed her away, he could not need her now. Looking out of the window, he smiled as he saw the sun standing low on the horizon, the sky blazing red. Watching as the darkness crept over the lands, his smile widened even more. Turning around, he went to his old bookshelf, then touched his finger to a particular tome and uttered a few words in the rough tongue of the Balor. As the shelf swung aside, revealing a dark passage, he reflected once more on the fact how useful his short alliance with that other the fiendish female had been. She hadn’t been as beautiful or as resourceful as Yaralla, but she had borne him Gamri and introduced him to the dark magic. Too bad he had had to kill her…
The door closed behind him and moving swiftly now, he strode down a flight of stairs, torches flickering up as he went deeper. Passing easily by a score or more traps of his own invention, he finally reached a little, circular room, his inner sanctum. Flicking open a chest, he changed into dark clothes, blending into the night nicely, various daggers disappearing into hiding on his body. Lastly, he took a long coil of rope and a phial of a powerful toxin and checked once more on his equipment.
Eventually, he stepped up to a small alcove, bowing her head and sending a short prayer for luck to whom-he-must-not-name. After a minute or two, he muttered a few words and stepped through the portal that had opened up in front of him.
The next day, one of his worst enemies was found death in his bedchamber, the glass of water he had wanted to drink in the middle of the night still firmly in his grip …
A hushed silence reigned in the throne room, nobles and warriors alike shifting on their feet. Then the big doors at the end of the room swung open and the herald stepped forth. “Kneel in front of Emperor Fallighar, Lord of the Celestial Empire, Keeper of the Twin Gates, Herald of Perfection, the Great Judicator, Scourge of all that is not of Celestin” he announced, then dropped to his knees as the said emperor passed by him.
Sweeping along the line of courtiers, Fallighar stepped up to his throne and let his eye wander over the bend backs. He was disappointed to see that all had their backs safely lowered, he felt like punishing somebody today. Too bad that there had to be rules unless he wanted his empire to fall to pieces. Empire! He scowled. Half an empire more correctly, but this would change … soon.
Yaralla stepped to his side, giving him one of her most exciting smiles. He looked her up and down approvingly, taking in the dark leather she was clad in and the spikes adorning her wings. She would leave a durable impression on those puny emissaries, but then the erinyes always did. He smiled, then sat down on his throne, Yaralla leaning against the left side. On his sign, she bade the assembly to rise and the doors on the opposite end of the room swung open.
Through it came a long, winding line of ‘presents’ from all over Celestin, finest gold, sparkling gems and fine weaponry accumulating at the foot of the throne, the emissaries bending low, hoping that their presents would please their ruler, sparing them the death sentence. Fallighar leaned back, hardly paying attention to the wealth amassed at his feet. Normally, he took great pleasure in watching the fools bring him his tribute, pleased all the more because he insisted on them calling it a present. Today though, he was absent and distracted, his mind wandering while his body did what was expected of him.
All the wealth of this half of the world meant nothing to him as long as the other half still escaped his influence and today could very well bring him and his bloodline one step closer to his goal. Finally, the tedious accepting of presents was over and he had duly had the emissary who had brought the least acceptable present executed. He had left it up to Yaralla to decide on the victim, convinced that she would take the right decision and he knew how she liked the occasional torture.
Back in his chambers, he shooed her away, he could not need her now. Looking out of the window, he smiled as he saw the sun standing low on the horizon, the sky blazing red. Watching as the darkness crept over the lands, his smile widened even more. Turning around, he went to his old bookshelf, then touched his finger to a particular tome and uttered a few words in the rough tongue of the Balor. As the shelf swung aside, revealing a dark passage, he reflected once more on the fact how useful his short alliance with that other the fiendish female had been. She hadn’t been as beautiful or as resourceful as Yaralla, but she had borne him Gamri and introduced him to the dark magic. Too bad he had had to kill her…
The door closed behind him and moving swiftly now, he strode down a flight of stairs, torches flickering up as he went deeper. Passing easily by a score or more traps of his own invention, he finally reached a little, circular room, his inner sanctum. Flicking open a chest, he changed into dark clothes, blending into the night nicely, various daggers disappearing into hiding on his body. Lastly, he took a long coil of rope and a phial of a powerful toxin and checked once more on his equipment.
Eventually, he stepped up to a small alcove, bowing her head and sending a short prayer for luck to whom-he-must-not-name. After a minute or two, he muttered a few words and stepped through the portal that had opened up in front of him.
The next day, one of his worst enemies was found death in his bedchamber, the glass of water he had wanted to drink in the middle of the night still firmly in his grip …
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
Actually, the whole bit. It might be because I'm not a native English speaker, but I find your sentences confusing. Somehow, I get the impression that you stuff too much into one sentence, then put too little in the next. It's hard to explain. I think I would like you to be a little more descriptive.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players."