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 _______________________________________________ P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S Full Name – Dot "Dorothy" Mummer Age - 14 Gender - Female Heritage – Alexandrian, with ancestral ties to Grayle. Magical Affinity - Light - P E R S O N A L I T Y My Song is Fury There was a time when Dot saw the world as her mother did: a shining sprawl of adventure, filled to bursting with wonderful sights and friends waiting to be made. She gave her smiles freely and often, and saw the best in those she met, even when they didn’t deserve it. That time has passed. The girl that left Alexandria sees the world differently now. Sprawling, still, but like a corpse, filled not with promise but festering with the maggots of aristocracy. What was once a starry-eyed thirst for glory and adventure has soured into a bitter cynicism. Her smiles are guarded behind a cold wall of distrust, and she has a bad habit of assuming the worst in just about everyone she meets—especially those she perceives as nobility. Short-tempered, driven, and loathe to let go of a grudge, Dot is likely not what Grayle expected of the Heir of Light. That suits her just fine. My Dance is Justice Dot is not angry without reason—at least, not in her mind—and certainly not without purpose. In the nations of Grayle and Alexandria, where the strong do what they can and the weak endure what they must, she sees nothing but megalomaniacal beasts clawing over one another for the privilege of tormenting those beneath them. To them everything is a game, and every person a piece to be weighed, judged for its value, and then discarded. No heed is given to the lives they ruin, the suffering they mete out, or the fear they’ve sown so deeply into the populace that no one would even consider standing against them. Nothing would please Dot more than to remind the nobles of Grayle how human they are. How human she is, despite the heap of ancient glory she acquired by virtue of being born. Where once her undue gifts repulsed her, she now sees the potential to bring an overdue balance to the country’s elite. For the Light no longer serves a country, it serves a people. My Love is Honor The downside to laying immense responsibility and expectation upon a child is that, no matter their capabilities, at the end of the day you’re still laying immense responsibility and expectation upon a child. Dot is fourteen. She’s spent half her life locked in a tower, training for the day she might get to affect real change on the world. But the truth is that it’s been so long since she was actually in that world, and as much as the systems that govern it disgust her, she still missed it. Beneath the angry veneer is a girl longing for the wonderment of a lost childhood; companionship, adventure, the safety of trust. She's forgotten the sound of her own laughter, or what it feels like to confide in someone. Yet she can’t reconcile these desires with her own, self-imposed duty. If she can’t put herself aside for the greater good, then what’s the point? What separates her from the people she despises? Fidelity to her cause has seeded guilt deep within her, and Dot struggles constantly with her own morality. Is she really ready to bear the consequences of making so many enemies? And if she is, can she really do that alone? She doesn’t want to be alone. S K I L L S E T The Heir in Cold Light The successor of Arbert Grayle, born to a vagabond in Alexandria. There’s an irony there lost entirely upon Dot, who could hardly be more disgusted with her gift than she already is. Having spent only a year performing menial infusions for the Sages’ research, once Verite allowed her other avenues to train, she scarcely ever summoned her aura again. However, hearing how so many of Grayle’s elite harbor powerful magics of their own has her reconsidering. If the stories are true, and the Light can be harnessed for the purposes of negation, then perhaps she can yet turn the curse of her legacy towards a better cause. There is, of course, a long way to go. She is effectively starting from nothing—over the years she’s lost her touch with even the meager feats she performed as a child. The idea of learning from the very people she seeks to unseat twists her stomach, but in the end, she knows, it will be worth it. Balletic Grace As Dot’s memories of Lerenna begin to fade, what remains is her mother’s spirit. She danced them across Alexandria, with enthralling grace born from her time as a warrior. When she finally achieved some measure of freedom in the Sages’ Tower, learning to dance was the first thing she thought of. Verite spared no expense. He brought in tutors from every corner of Alexandria, Valefor and beyond, and she met their instruction with an almost innate talent. Fast, nimble, with the balance and coordination of a cat, at fourteen Dot already bears Lerenna’s grace in full. Be it in simple clothes or lightweight, piecemeal armor, her movements are fluid and unencumbered. Alone her dances are sharp and captivating, but her brand of performance prefers a partner. Mummer's Waltz In learning swordplay, Dot had several obstacles to overcome; chief among them was the fact that she had decided upon a greatsword as her weapon of choice. Training with lighter wasters served well enough to develop her foundation, but the next issue arose when she met her tutors. She could not, or perhaps simply refused to, divorce her dancing from her swordsmanship. Waster in hand, she would twirl, and dip, and leap, and every time she fell, or tripped, or threw herself off balance, she got right back up. Her tutors were baffled and incensed, demanding she use proper form. Fighting, they said, was ugly, brutal, and above all, practical. But Verite saw differently, and much like how he had fostered her anger, he chose to nurture her peculiar style into something wonderful. He dismissed her tutors, and took up the role of teacher himself. Much to Dot’s surprise, he was incredibly well-versed, matching and surpassing both the tutor’s skills and her own elegance, as though he’d been fighting and dancing his whole life. For six years this was her morning noon and night. Hard training as well as the exercise to ensure she could wield her sword as gracefully as she danced. Though she never managed to best Verite in their spars, he did invite other youthful trainees to measure her against. There, her unorthodox style and swordsmanship granted her a taste of victory. It was addictingly sweet, and by the time she left for Grayle, she was eager to taste it again. | Physical Description Despite her best efforts, Dot does not strike an imposing figure. She’s short, and still carries a youthful countenance even when she’s glowering. When she must begrudgingly don the long dresses and frilled skirts of nobility, her pale-gray hair and glassy eyes lend her a doll-like appearance. Normally, she can be found wearing simple clothes, plain and well-fitting from shirt to boots, save for the addition of waist or shoulder cloaks. She moves with incredible grace, calm and measured even when her emotions are high. While not exactly stealthy, her height and the ghostly ease with which she navigates can take her in and out of a room before she’s so much as noticed. As a result of all this, seeing her heft such a mighty weapon might come as a surprise. Part of her strength undoubtedly comes from her aura, but the majority of it is borne from years of rigorous training. Dot’s stature belies a form of hardened muscle, maintained through determination and routine conditioning, as well as the agile flexibility required of a dancer. Character Conceptualization Two elegant, curved swords once wielded by the nomad Lerenna. Red ribbons are fastened to each pommel, meant to be twirled and spun as part of a performance, but their fabric is shorn short and faded by the sun. A woman of no nation, they say Lerenna fought on a hundred fronts in her youth, but eventually grew weary of battle and sought a more colorful life. After her adventures in Grayle, she traveled the roads of Alexandria as a roving entertainer with a new name, and a new daughter. It is said that when she visited Ferrous Shore, Baron Auferrum was so taken by her performance that he offered her board in his own keep so that she might dance for his court. “Listen close, daughter-mine. To truly live in this world you must do three things: Sing loudly, dance boldly, and love bravely.” A cracked emblem depicting a star crossing over the dull gray sands of the Ferrous Shore, once the symbol of House Auferrum. The evening Dot Mummer’s aura manifested, Baron Auferrum was the first to act. He confined his guests to their quarters, permitting none to leave his keep save only for Lerenna, who he had named traitor, and banished. With the Heir of Light in his custody, he sought to elevate his House, and his own station, by demanding the Sages’ Tower reinstate him. Instead, they had him murdered, and Dot was seized from the Ferrous Shore. Without its head, House Auferrum quickly collapsed, its territories picked apart by rival neighbors. Now its legacy shines as brightly as its sands. A broken, silvery shard carved with a latticework of markings. Embers of pale light still glint upon its surface. Dot was seven when she was brought to the Sages’ Tower, where her confusion and tearful pleas for her mother were met by the Sages’ deaf ambitions. Tutored by a man named Verite, she was put to work immediately. Day in and day out, she channeled her light into all manner of objects, while the scholars studied her. These stones were her greatest challenge, drinking greedily from her aura, but breaking like glass when they grew too full. It took nearly a year to infuse one properly. Dot grew embittered, not only with the Tower, but with herself. The wonderment of magic soured, and she began to view her divine heirdom for what it truly was: a leash. It is said that by the time she was only eight, the golden brilliance of her magic had withered to a cold, lunic white. Solid and heavy, the blade is weathered from years of practice. At first, Dot could not so much as lift this sword off the ground, but that did not deter her—she was determined to make it her dance partner. Though his excursion was brief, Verite returned from Grayle a different man. Upon reuniting with Dot, he threw himself down and inexplicably begged forgiveness for her treatment. He confided in her a deep resentment for the Sages’ cruelty and the confinements of the Tower. Though he could not free her, he asked her what she would study had she the choice. Dot told him she wanted to dance. Then she told him she wanted to fight. He agreed to teach her both. A letter sealed in golden wax, hand-delivered to Dot at the Sages’ Tower. Though sweetly worded, the invitation’s undertones are clear: ‘return the heir to her proper home, or face severe consequences.’ Dot loathed to go, though not for any love of Alexandria. By her fourteenth year she had developed a conspiratorial camaraderie with her mentor, who had nurtured her desire for revenge upon the aristocracy. His stories of Grayle were plenty, and painted a horrid picture of a land ruled by people every bit as corrupt as the Sages. When she received the summons, Dot was said to have ripped it in half right in front of the courier. However, she did not refuse them. Instead, she asserted that if she was to go to Grayle, she would earn her keep in the way afforded even to the peasantry: by becoming a knight. A simple document confirming Dot’s identity, though her parentage is incomplete. While it lists her name as ‘Dorothy Mummer’, she insists that her mother never called her that. By the time she left Alexandria, Dot had come to consider Verite as her true father. On the eve of her departure, he entrusted her with a plan. The thought of meeting the man responsible for her curse enraged her, but even as she entered Grayle, no one in the royal family had stepped forward to claim her. Content to let them hide, Dot set her sites on knighthood. They could not avoid her forever, and as the heir of Light, she would shine down on every shadow until she found them. Then, as so many things that lurk in shadows do, they would burn. Other Information Questions of Dot's parentage travel briefly up the chain of command before being stonewalled. Though her roots in the Grayle bloodline are undeniable, it would seem someone is protecting the identity of her father—or perhaps, protecting themselves. |
