[hider=The Warrior Priestess]

Name: Nadi Luknė

Race: Elf

Legend: The elves have fallen far over the thousands of years since their birth. They are but specters, no better than humans in ability and length of life, where once they stood only steps below the gods. There are more stories of the strengths of elves before their fall than even elves can remember, and their histories are thick with tales of magic, near-endless existence, and divine loves.

The Luknė do not feature in any of these tales, but one. A tale of debt paid them for the kindness shown to a goddess, lost in the Extinction of Faiths.

Character Appearance: 

Tall and willowy, Nadi does not look like she’d be able to lift the glaive she carries—though lift it, she does, and well, despite being nearly forty. Nadi’s hair is white, only a few shades lighter than her pale gray eyes, decorated at the corners by laugh lines. Both contrast tanned skin. Her ears are pointed, like all her race, and she is commonly found in flowing robes cinched at the waist, her only adornments cuffs around her upper arms.

A [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a6/85/bd/a685bdc3c8b25286f6e2362a59ad331d.jpg]portrait[/url] of Nadi at 19, just before the capture of Cyrabassis

Character Description:

An excerpt from Nadi’s Journal

[indent][i]

There were years after we returned from capturing Cyrabassis before I returned to the temple. I lived in the city, took scribe work when I could get it, and mercenary’s work when I could not. I felt that if Udrau could have let that Servant of the Nemesis exist and come to power, then my god could not care for our people. This was a young idealist’s belief, of course. Ultimately, what did it matter?

If Udrau is there or not, it changes no part of the temple’s function. Udrau exists to guide all races to greater enlightenment through its many facets. So let Udrau be. The temple is here to bless and purify Dara’s rulers, to guard and expand its knowledge, and to care for Dara’s citizens. This was the temple that trained me to read, wield the sacred glaive, and love our faith. It was the temple that I returned to. Not Udrau.

Of course, the others of the gold-domed sect thought little of my time away from them. I came home to suspicion and anger, a betrayer in the eyes of many. How could I, the warrior chosen by Udrau’s highest priests, turn my back on them? It didn’t seem to matter that I had accomplished the task they’d set me with the help of my companions. We captured Cyrabassis and put an end to the usurper Pykas, and yet I was still a traitor for not coming straight home to prayers and practice and guard duty on the steps of the great library. They could not have possibly understood what that battle did to us, and for that reason alone, I forgave them. Their understanding of the world was so small. Like mice trying to comprehend events glimpsed from their bolt holes. I had ventured out and fought the cats, but such a thing was beyond their ability to imagine.

Eventually, I won them over. Time dulls even the most ruffled feathers—enough that they even promoted me to lead their warriors— and I did not stray again. I like to think that it was the right choice, though Isra teases me for a shut-in. I have served this city and studied its histories, shed blood in its name, and loved its people. Is that not more than enough? 
[/i][/indent]

[/hider]


[hider=The Night Queen]

Name: Isra Tamesis

Race: Human

Legend: Humans have long been the most populace race of the world, hardy and resourceful folk with a storied history. They have been rulers and heroes, priests and poets, and they make up the center of Dara’s society.

Once, the House Tamesis was part of this noble legacy, but they were cast out from their titles and holdings at a time almost no one remembers after choosing to serve the Nemesis. There are still scraps of parchment in the dusty confines of temple libraries and personal collections that claim that the Nemesis will restore House Tamesis when he rises again, but they lay unread and forgotten.

Character Appearance:

At first glance, Isra Tamesis looks like any hardworking, middle-class woman. She wears her brown hair long over average if dark, robes, and her hands are rough with calluses. She is of middling height with dark eyes and fine features, still a beauty at 45. Time, childbirth, and a love of fine wines have softened her form, though Isra still has the shoulders of a swordswoman and the speed of a master thief.

A [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8e/bc/b4/8ebcb460acf6aef48bad6e8c70ce51b8.jpg]portrait[/url] of Isra at 32, three years after the birth of her stillborn child and the loss of her partner

Character Description:

A conversation overheard in an Unah District gambling den

[indent] Tad’s stolen pearls made dull thunks against the wood of the fence’s worn table. Big as marbles and as perfectly round, he had to cup his fingers around the pile to keep them from rolling to the floor. They were cool against his palms—hard and smooth as the river oyster shells they’d been born from. It almost hurt his eyes to look at them, his nineteen perfect fortunes and all they represented. Wealth. Respect. Freedom from indenture.
	Nineteen pearls for a new life.
	The fence was beautiful, a slender person in silks, their loose tunic open nearly to their navel, and the space between decorated with gold chains. They had soft lips and softer blond curls around a bland, friendly sort of expression. The long, pointed end of a graceful finger tapped their chin three, four… five times as if they were counting bags of gold to hand him. Tad’s heart swelled, his eyes widened. He had to take a breath to steady himself, but his hands still shook.
	Instead of reaching for a purse or papers, the fence took Tad’s left hand, flipping it neatly and pushing up his sleeve. “No queen’s mark, kitten,” they purred. “No deal.”
	It took Tad’s friend exactly no time at all to understand what happened. Tad guessed that any professional thief would have been better at concealing their emotions, but he had never set out to be a professional thief. Only a farmer or a cobbler, if he’d have had the money to do anything but indentured work. 
	“I told you,” Mela said but without any smugness. “A thief in this city’s got to treat with the Night Queen if they’re going to sell what they got. You get paid, she gets paid, and if you get in a tight spot, it may be she can get you out again.”
	“Mela, I don’t want to be a thief!” Tad put his hands in his hair and sat down at the booth across from her, the clanks and roars of a gambling house in full swing grating on his already thin nerves. “I just don’t want to be indentured.”
	The table’s stained lacquered surface swam in his eyes, and Tad sniffled, putting his hands in his pocket to touch the pearls. It’d become reassuring, even now. Even if they wouldn’t buy the future he wanted.
	“Aw, don’t wallow, Tad!” Mela ruffled his hair. “It’s just the way it is.”
	“Who even is she?!” Tad’s frustration spilled out of his head in a few salty drops that plunked soundlessly on the table. He wiped them away with his sleeve.
	“It’s bad luck to ask, you know.”
	“I don’t expect my luck can get much worse.”
	Mela sighed and rested her elbows on the table. “No one’s exactly sure. The Night Queen rules through lieutenants and advisors. No one’s entirely sure they’ve met her. Some say she meets with people all the time, posing as recruitment or a common assassin, but under an alias so you don’t know it’s her.”
	“I don’t trust a ghost.” Tad banged his fist on the table and then shook it out, wincing. “I shoulda never taken the damn pearls.”
	“I guess you could try to find a dwarf smith who would take em without a jewelers writ?” Mela suggested lamely, even though they both knew it was only about as likely as magic being reborn and dragons leaping from the sand.
	“Or,” purred plainly dressed woman approaching their table, “you and I could strike a deal.” [/indent]
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