Name: Liliana Rosenveldt 

Nickname: The Angel of Death

Picture: 
[hider=Liliana Rosenveldt]
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[hider=With Plague Doctor gear]
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Birthdate: April 4th, 3156 (Looks younger due to life prolonging magic)

Height: 5’4

Weight: Lean

Eye Color: Dark Blue

Hair Color: Black

Skin Color: Pale White (Due to a combination of self-experimentation and necrotic magic)


Blurb:
	
	“[i]The material universe is ephemeral, fleeting and fragile like a butterfly. Kingdoms fall, mountains erode to dust and sand, oceans evaporate and are vectored to the heavens. Even the radiant stars themselves, their brilliant flames will flicker until they fade into the shadow. It is in that shadow that the wills of gods and men dance, and THAT is eternal!”  [/i]

	Liliana Rosenveldt, Plague Doctor of the Necropolis of Stone

	The black wind howls, carrying with it pestilence and the promise of a slow, agonizing demise. A man lays bedridden in his home, his energy drained, his mind racked in the throes of fear and dread, for he has seen many dear family and friends succumb to the disease. As he lay there, wheezing breath from crushing lungs, his eyes dimming and his mind numb and delerius, he heard his front door creak open. The room started to fill with the smell of incense and the rhythmic sound of chanting, as a masked figure carrying a shovel on their back entered the room swinging a pot from a chain. The man was sure that the grim reaper herself had come for him, her elongated mask resembling the carrion that feasted on the dead, and he was sure that was the fate that awaited him.    
   
	The mysterious woman laid a mixing bowl on the nightstand by the ailing man, then proceeded to crush herbs into it with a pommel until they were not but powder, and poured them into a vial of blue liquid. After shaking the vial the liquid turned the green of grass, and the masked figure poured it down the man’s throat, allowing her to do so as he resigns to his fate. She then laid her hand upon his chest as the man felt a gentle warmth flowing into his chest. The black robed woman picked up her pot and left without saying a word. In a matter of moments the man could feel his energy returning and much of his pain floating away. 

	With what little strength he could muster he sprung onto his feet and sprinted towards the outside, eager to thank the one who saved his life. He would soon come to regret his decision to leave his house. “Wait! Please wait!” He cried as he scrambled for the door. “Don’t leave before I have the chance to thank you for saving my-“ the man’s eyes widened in shock and horror as he left his front door. A few dozen yards away from him at the entrance to the forest stood four shambling masses of putrid, rotting flesh, their vacant eye sockets staring deep into his soul. They moved with a disturbing uncanniness, as if in foul mimicry of life. The Plague doctor walked between them, the twisted humans hunching their backs in recognition of their master. The man fell backward, frozen in fear as he saw the woman who could save and end his life on a whim step leisurely into the forest. “W-what [i]are[/i] you?” he whispered in hushed breath. The lady in black turned her head, solely to acknowledge his presence, then walked into the shadows of the night, her grim servants dragging closely behind.