Valirion
A half-elven wizardess, Valirion was the first attempt I made at an evil character on the Neverwinter Nights roleplay server "Savage Frontier". She succumbed to a horrific DM plot on the third time I ever played her and ended up being cursed for several months real time (not game time), so regretfully, I decided to retire her instead of try to catch the absentee DM for a cure.
The Pale Master's Daughter
Her Journey Begins
The Pale Master's Daughter
Her earliest memories were of her father pouring over ancient, dust-covered tomes, murmuring to himself in elven. Her fascination with his research and study drew them together and the only happy times she recalls were spent, pulled onto his lap, carefully examining the pages of some newly discovered book or scroll.
Her most vivid memories were of her mother screaming at people no one else could see, swinging kitchen knives wildly and sobbing hysterically. She learned early on to stay out of reach when her mother went into a rage or because to hallucinate, but the delirious fury of the woman knew no boundaries and as she grew, Valirion was the victim of near constant beatings at the hands of her own mother.
It was an odd upbringing. Her father, Gaeffe, was an exhiled wizard and dabbler in the necromantic arts which were forbidden by his people. Her mother, Laurie, was a human woman who had escaped from an asylum for the criminally insane. Val never understood what compelled her father to soil his pure blood by taking up with a human, but whatever unnatural lust they shared - she was the result.
They moved constantly, from cave to hovel, traveling the continent extensively as her father sought new teachers and more knowledge. Her mother suffered from terrible, clairvoyant visions and violent rages that grew worse with time.
Despite the bruises she bore, it never crossed her mind to leave her parents. She studied day and night with her father and his various comrades, desperate for acceptance as one of them. Though he had taught her much of what he knew, Gaeffe had never allowed Valirion to participate, or even observe, his dangeous necromantic workings. But a night came, moonless and silent, which was perfect to perform a ritual that he and his friends had been researching for months. Forbidden to join the circle, Valirion hid among the shadows and watched, fascinated by the chanting.
When the creature appeared, unbidden, from the stone cairn in the center of their circle, Val did not realize the spell had gone awry. When the demon tore the head from a woman who had joined up with them only days before and began to chew upon the bloody flesh at her neck, Val only watched, frozen in fear and awe. It was not until Gaeffe cast a spell of holding upon the beast that she heard the terror in his strong voice and began to worry. The events that followed were blurred. There was blood and death, screaming and fleeing. She cowered behind a large stone, unable to move or breathe. When the dust settled, only one man remained standing. He disappeared before she could even call out, and Val was left alone with the carnage.
Her father was dead. She knew that before she found his corpse among the severed body parts. He was untouched. There was not a single wound upon his lithe body. His skin, normally rather pale, was completely white, as if drained of blood. Valirion tore his pendant from around his neck and took the rings from his fingers, but did not stay to bury the body.
Laurie did not seem to notice Gaeffe's absense at first, but appeared to be almost pleased that he was gone. She set up house inside the small cave they had been camping in. But without her father's shoulder to study over and his influence to prevent Laurie's insanity from taking over, Valirion's life became hell. Her mother's rages were more and more frequent and more than once Valirion was confined to her bed, unable to move for fractured bones or concussion. Val endured it bravely, for she knew no other life. Until the day her mother came at her with a butcher's knife, intending to kill her.
Mortality became instantly real to her and Valirion fought back. With a curse upon her mother and her filthy human blood, Val pulled the dagger - a gift from her father upon her thirteenth birthday - from its sheath, strapped to her thigh, and slit her own mother's throat.
She waited, daintly pulling her skirts up to avoid staining them as the pool of blood spread across the floor, until the bleeding stopped. She watched as the small muscles in her face contracted, as the color of her flesh changed, as death took its toll upon the corpse. Satisfied that the bitch was dead, Valirion gathered a few of her father's scrolls and books into his battered old traveling bag and set out alone to continue Gaeffe's search for a palemaster called Rothgrib.
Her Journey Begins
Her long, dark red locks fanned out around her. Violet eyes looked calmly around, anticipating. Tapered fingers pulled through the water, curving into claws as she floated serenely.
She had some to Nesmé some years ago, seeking her father's mentor, a necromancer called Rothgib. The town had proved useless and empty of any intelligent mages. In fact, the only thing that caught her interest was a singular, handsome male.
He was tall and broad-shouldered with gleaming armor and flowing blonde hair. He was as beautiful as any man she had ever seen and though their beliefs differed greatly, their long conversations stimulated her mind as much as her heart. He found her macabre obsession with death unsettling, and she wondered how anyone could stand straight carrying that much self-righteousness around. They went round and round on the subject of death, and the fondest memory of her life was the night they spent curled up on a hill in the Moonwood, discussing the world, watching the stars, and sharing tender affection.
They had not consummated their relationship. She did not know if it violated his vows or if he simply did not want to befoul himself with her mixed blood. He professed undying love, and then disappeared.
For awhile, she waited, drifting around the region asking any mage she could find about the man known as Rothgrib. One year passed, then two. Finally, the ridiculous border town frusterated her once too often and the wizard who had turned her faith to Jergal, and given her heart to a paladin, left Nesmé forever.
She sought Rothgrib in several other small towns, but no one had heard of him.
It was late winter and she had joined a caravan as it traversed rough, dangerous frontier land. She had heard rumors of a powerful necromancer to the distant East and with nothing tying her to the region; Valirion set out.
The weather had been balmy for weeks, and many of the other travelers thought the worst of the season had passed. Val doubted that, but did not object. They had been following a river but a sheer rock face prevent going any further and after much arguing, they decided to cross at a shallow point.
She rolled her violet eyes, but lifted her skirts to her knees, and when the others set off across the wide ford, she followed suit.
The party was not yet half-way across when there was an ominous rumbling. Valirion turned upstream just in time to see a wall of white water crashing through the canyon.
The water washed over her, a chilly embrace, and unlike the others. She did not struggle, she did not panic. There was a strange expression her face as her body was washed downstream and eventually, out to sea. The necromancer's daughter had finally gotten her dearest wish.
The journey of the afterlife was upon her.