BIRTHNAME:
Czigani Veranieth Ly’staris

OTHER NAMES:
...or simply “Czi"

AGE:
Early twenties...a fledgling, really.

GENDER:
Female

RACE:
Nosferyte

BIRTHPLACE:
Rotsanger | Vastoria
House of [Jaroh] Ly’staris

RELIGION:
To a certain extent, “The Great Mothers" are widely revered, specifically, Dar. But no formal worship of them takes place.

HEIGHT:
6’1

WEIGHT:
175lbs

APPEARANCE:
At just over six feet of a petite, yet lean build, Czi’s stature is relatively short in comparison to the average female of her species. Still, her presence is generally never missed, even when she would rather remain invisible, especially due to the massive scar across most of the right side of her face. A mark to remind her of just how cruel and savage the world was. Or perhaps, still is. The wound also caused a severe vision impairment in her right eye, the crimson pigment inherent to her race faded to a colorless and milky wash allowing only muted colors and hazy, blurred lights and images to enter.

Her hair, once long, elegant, and reaching past her waist, was now short and scruffy. Out of sheer willingness to rid herself of a lineage she could not conform to, Czi cut most of it off.

A tattoo of runic symbol branded into the underside of her forearm shows that she is, and will forever, belong to House Ly’staris.

SKILLS, STRENGTHS & TALENTS:
A duelist by nature, Czigani has gained substantial skill and knowledge of swordplay, specifically with the rapier-style of weapon and an off-hand parrying dagger. She specializes in calculated defense techniques, in order to wear down her opponent and leave them open for a winning strike. She could be considered above average, with much room to grow with the right instructor...

Unarmed combat, while skilled, is very much second rate comparatively, and is focused more so on defensive and disarming opponents.

Hunting and tracking were staple disciplines within her family, and she is considered above average in these skill sets, as well as building and maintaining traps for particular targets.

WEAKNESSES & DRAWBACKS:
Racial Weakness - Craving blood, but through the right mental exercises she can overcome the urges.

Impaired Vision - Her right eye was badly damaged in a duel, resulting in very poor peripheral vision from that side, and some level of difficulty gauging distance overall.

Guilt - Regardless of who was to blame for the incident that resulted in her being exiled from Rotsanger, Czi still feels as though she failed her family, knowing that they may experience hard times because of her sin.

Trust Issues - being betrayed by a true friend cut her deeper than any blade ever did, making it tougher to get close to others.

ATTIRE:
Wearing charcoal grays and blacks mostly, Czigani dresses modest enough not to attract the wrong kind of attention, showing very little skin, save perhaps her head and hands. Even so, the scar along the right side of her face is a point of contention and she tends to keep good on her cloak up and over that area to thwart any awkward questions or unwarranted stares.

Her leather armor, which is indicative of the influential gothic-style architecture from its origins, is form fitted, flexible, quiet, and elegant in its design.

WEAPONS:
Rapier, secured in a leather belt sheath, and two daggers, crossed and secured in the rear of her belt. One of the daggers is used for parrying if needed. She also, as of late, carries a quarterstaff used for travelling as well as a means to defend herself.

TOOLS:
At this time, there are no (official) tools available on her person, except for those tasks that she may be able to utilize one of her weapons or perhaps sticks, rocks, and other items along her travels.

PERSONAL ITEMS:
Czigani isn’t much for attachments or sentimental items, save for the Grimoire that her father had given to her before she left Rotsanger. All she really knows of the leather-bound arcane book, is that it once belonged to her mother (one of Jaroh’s many wives) who was proficient in spell casting, and that a note written on the page entitled “Shadowmeld” recommends that she seek out a proper teacher of that particular discipline as it is one of the most difficult spells to learn without guidance.

The youngest of sixteen brothers and sisters, Czigani Ly’staris was anything but the child that could one day become heir to the House of “Stone and Black Ice”, albeit a lesser status house in the grand scheme of things. Birthed by one of Jaroh Ly’staris’ numerous wives, it had been several years since a successful conception had taken place, with previous attempts resulting in miscarriages, much to the dismay of those women who had to carry the guilt with them for the rest of their lives. Of course, none would ever assume it could possibly be Jaroh himself who was to blame, but even so, there were those women who the melancholy hit hard enough that they simply took their own lives, as though begging for atonement for the death of their lieges unborn child. But soon enough, a light reignited within the family as the first successful birth had taken place in countless years, bringing with it renewed vigor and hope, and the blessings (for what they were worth) of Lord Alric Drachall, which increased his view of the Ly’staris lineage and it’s Patriarch. However, while the miraculous birth of their newest addition was a blessing, the favouritism being shown to her by Jaroh could not be ignore by many of his children who had spent most of their young lives vying for the attention -and frankly, the adoration- of their father only to feel more like sheep milling aimlessly about than his flesh and blood. Regardless of the justifications for his actions, discord was slowly being sown amongst at least half of his offspring, while the other half either defended their father’s actions or stayed out of it completely, caring little for the petty squabbling over an infant girl.

Time passed and much of the sibling rivalry and general uneasiness from years prior had simmered down. The eldest children, once coming of age, began taking on more responsibilities throughout the kingdom, while others were given permission to leave the island and join merchants or other travelers out to sea, thereby forging their own path in life. By this time, Czigani was being inundated with the best education available to her -which in the case of House Ly’staris, wasn’t as much as it could be- in both academics as well as combat, and was given little time to dwell on adventures beyond the island of Rotsanger, let alone the tall, thick walls she called home. Granted, she enjoyed the freedom given to roam the endless rooms and halls of the estate, however going beyond the walls of the keep meant being escorted by the city guards, whom she daily tried to evade only to be dragged right back behind the gates. For whatever reasons her father had for his overprotective mannerisms, it made life within the stronghold that much more difficult. No matter how the Lord of the manor saw it, his youngest daughter was still a little girl who simply wanted to play and was in no hurry to grow up.

Academics were not taken lightly, as each of the children were not only taught the vast history of their great race, but of other races, species, and geographic locations to the best of the Nosferyte scholars knowledge. So much of Tyrrania is still unknown, which made it an even more dangerous yet intriguing place. Without ever really admitting it though, Czigani enjoyed her studies even though she would much rather be out exploring the places learned about from the ancient textbooks and scrolls.

As per tradition and culture within her family and race, combat was just a way of life, whether for sport, education, or defending against those who would tear apart the fabric of Nosferyte society, it was simply in the blood. Not to say Nosferyte were a violent people, but rather recognized that physical fortitude and mental resolve in its raw form ruled over most other virtues. As soon as she could grasp a sword in her tiny hands, Czigani’s arduous training began, which took her down a new path of thinking, applying her academics with both ranged, melee, and unarmed combat forms and tactics. Eventually, she leaned toward the lighter, faster rapiers, using her supernatural dexterity and reflexes to defend and counter each attack, leaving the opponent open for a final strike. Going along with tradition, Czigani competed in dueling tournaments, which pitted each House against the other for profit, respect, and honor. The abilities unlocked over her time of training were a rush of euphoria, and something she used to replace the ever nagging urge of the bloodlust...

Nothing could be more of a struggle than the insatiable blood-thirsty beast living within each Nosferyte species. And for a child still learning to deal with day-to-day pressures of pre-adolescence, Czigani also had to learn to curb the lust for the one thing that could potentially destroy her. A step too far in the wrong direction would mean madness and the downward spiral into something worse, but the necessary precautions were there, passed down through generations of those who walked the line between beast and civilized behavior. If anything, to resist something as deadly as the lifeblood of another was, in essence, a character builder. It allowed her the necessary tools to defeat just about any temptation as time went on, including those that would one day tear her away from all that she knew, and the family she loved.

Late adolescence came quickly as the years cruised by, especially while the girl busied herself in the daily workings of life and assisting those siblings who had the privilege of working within the upper echelons of societyin whatever was needed. Friends and colleagues came and went, mostly those fledglings of other Houses she had grown up with, spending much of her childhood freetime -what little there was- with them at play or events hosted by various leaders in the community. Bonds were well established, although more so with the young males, due to her interests in combat and hunting, which seemed dominated by them. Either way, Czigani enjoyed the company, the break from her endless duties to Lords, and the monotony that seemed to follow. What the girl hadn't expected, however, was a quick shift from friend...to foe, where years of cultivating what she saw as real was only a mere facade, and the means to an end that would unsettle the balance she so desperately sought to uphold.

J’ekobi was his name, a generally high-spirited lad, third from the youngest of House Drachall, and one of Czigani’s closest friends for much of her childhood, even against the wishes of their families. The petty disputes over title and prestige mattered little to them, as they vowed to never allow such things to tear their friendship apart.

But all things come to an end.

One evening he had invited her over for dinner atop the highest tower within House Drachall, a gesture that was not unusual within their otherwise platonic relationship, however things turned rather awkward for the young girl as J’ekobi proposed to the one who he admittedly loved in secret for so many years. As touched by his words as she may have been, Czigani simply did not share the same feelings and rejected his offer with as much grace and respect as she could for her good friend. However, it had become abundantly clear that the young man would not settle for anything less than what he felt he deserved and spat back with insults and demands. An argument erupted between the two, and in an attempt to head for the stairwell leading out of the tower, the fledgling girl was grabbed from behind and pulled back into the large room, tripping over her attackers foot and onto the stone floor.

“What the hell, J’ekobi?” She screamed, her mind split between anger and terror as she was unable to comprehend the events that unfolded quickly. “This isn’t you!”

But apparently it was. A creature so blinded by lust, and fueled by hate propaganda that had been pushed on him for years by his own House. The voice of his father bearing down on him in the back of his mind, considering him the weaker of his children by associating with a “lesser being”. He hated Alric’s poisonous words, yet the boy thought it wise to restore things by marrying Jaroh’s youngest daughter, thereby bringing some semblance of peace between House Drachall and House Ly’staris, but her rejection and his own wounded pride didn’t allow much recourse for the other. J’ekobi’s heated anger bested his better judgement, and the beast erupted as he overpowered Czigani after several moments of a struggle, pinning her up against an adjacent wall, and threatening to sink his razor-sharp fangs into her smooth, delicate pale neck. For the first time in his presence, she had felt a rush of fear and helplessness wash over her mind, rattling her nerves to the point of paralysis. She wanted to fight, but could not, as apprehension and confusion gripped tightly, while her attacker slowly tore the long black dress -picked specifically for the dinner party turned nightmare- with every intention of violating the “virgin princess", as he mockingly called her. She didn’t know him anymore, the one she loved as a brother and dear friend disappeared before her very eyes, replaced only by a husk full of hate and resentment.

But it all ended as the tapered point of a seven inch steel hairpin entered through his ear, penetrating the skull, and piercing the fleshy brain matter. J’ekobi’s body went rigid, his eyes looking on in horror at the young girl as quick flashes of memory came and went. Images of a childhood friend who had always been there for him in his time of need. One who he could confide in, laugh with, play pranks amongst the House nobles, and simply enjoy being together. A girl, he loved, cared for, and ultimately betrayed.

“Forgive mm-...”

His body crumpled onto the floor like a ragdoll before uttering another syllable, his blood covering Czigani’s hands, clothes, and face as she stood against the cold wall in tears.

A Day of Reckoning

Both Houses were enraged with the events that transpired; Drachall bringing the hammer of justice down hard, calling for the girl’s immediate public execution and her lineage to be shamed, whereas Ly’staris fired back with their own arguments against Alric’s “rapist” offspring and his deserving of death for violating their daughter. In either case, any further action was postponed and Czigani was held in the bowels of dungeon while deliberations were in order, prohibited to see any family member. A decision was eventually made to settle the matter in a most traditional and -to an extent- honorable fashion: a duel to the death. Czigani, the accused murderer of Alric Drachall’s son pitted against his champion, a master swordsman and acclaimed hunter, who also happened to be the brother of J’ekobi…

The fight itself took place at just after midnight in the courtyard, which settled in the center of Steinplatz, surrounded by countless torches lining the perimeter and spectators from every House. Blood would be paid in blood, and for many Nosferyte, this was an event worth attending. Both duelists stood at their respective sides, prepared to meet their fate head on. Alric’s avenging son Hanstadh, brandished his finest blade and burgundy-stain leather armor. Czigani carried her prized rapier and wore the very armor her father had specially made on her sixteenth birthday. Form-fitting and light, the black leather and hide pieces fit together perfectly as they did the day it was received, covering her from neck to toe in sleek elegance and protection. Drachall and Ly’Steris both stood on opposite sides of the arena eying each other with contempt as they prepared to watch their own children fight it out until one was left standing.

To say it happened quickly would be an understatement as both charged to the center, exchanging attacks, parries, dodges, and everything in between. Hanstadh, the taller and stronger of the two, relished in pummeling down onto the young girl whom he despised, hissing profanities toward her with every thrust and swing of his saber. After some time elapsed, Czigani had begun to recognize many of the fighting styles employed by her opponent. It was the very technique used by his brother J’ekobi, and one she was quite familiar with, which helped her keep pace and sustained counter-attacks. It was only when the unexpected (or perhaps it should have been expected) happened that caught her off guard.

A silent poisoned dagger pulled from under Hanstadh’s metal bracer and sliced across the girl's exposed face with one swift stroke, causing her to fall to the ground in agony as the alchemical agents burned the affected area across most of the right side of her face. Using the distraction to his advantage, Hanstadh repeatedly kicked the other, first the ribs, then the head, and again yelling curses and insults. Czigani wanted to die at that moment, for the torment and lies to end, and for the guilt and trauma of what started all the chaos in the first place. Her opponent, however,was in no mood for a quick fight, but rather to drag out her suffering as long as possible, allowing the physical beatings and public humiliation to destroy the girl's spirit before bringing the hammer down for the final deathstroke.

“You're pathetic, fledgling...” He hissed, kneeling down next to Czigani and pulling her head up by her hair as he whispered one final time. “You and my brother would have been great together, as he was just as big of a disappointment to House Drachall as you have been to this entire island. J’ekobi’s love for you was his weakness…”

How it happened, the girl never knew, nor could she tell you to this day, but in that moment she had mustered enough strength and resolve to wrap her fingers around her sword and thrust several inches of the blade up and under Hanstadh’s chin, ending the terrible creature’s rhetoric as blood gushed from the open vein and his body fell across hers. The moments that followed were utter silence, as even the crowds were unsure of the what happened, and all went dark for the girl as both sight and sound faded.

The following day, Czigani awoke within the cell she had been in previously, her body achy and stiff, and her face partially bandaged and packed with healing herbs where the large gash was slowly scarring over. Time was not on her side, however, since an ultimatum had been given to Jaroh Ly’staris that after twenty-four hours has passed, his daughter was to be banished from Steinplatz, blindfolded, transported miles from the city’s border, and tossed out into the wilderness never to be allowed to return again.

And the final hour had fast approached.

Goodbyes were cut short by the guards, and a rucksack full of her personal effects were dumped into the awaiting carriage bound for the long road ahead. Hands bound at the wrist by iron shackles, Czigani was escorted to the open wagon where she sat in the rear while the guard fastened her chain to a floor hook. All the family from House Ly’staris stood along the path leading out of Steinplatz, and many wept, while others looked on in utter confusion as to how all of this transpired in such a short amount of time, shaking their fist at the de facto Lord atop his great keep. The carriage headed out along the path, and it was her father, Jaroh that walked along with it carrying a leather bound grimoire which he tossed into the rear where his daughter sat, giving her one last smile.

“I’m proud of you Czi, and don’t you ever forget that.” He said, holding onto the side of the wagon even as it’s pace picked up slightly. “This was your mother's.” He motioned to the grimoire now sitting at her feet. “Before her passing, she wanted you to have it, and said you would know what ‘secrets’ it kept.” Jaroh shrugged. “You two always had a special bond that I’d never understand.”

The driver snapped the reigns and the carriage speed up, Jaroh releasing his grip from the side of the wagon as it passed through the dark gates. “Memento vivere!” He yelled, his voice echoing through the chill air as the wagon and its occupants turned the final corner and were gone from sight forever. Czigani turned her attention to the great Steinplatz citadel, the only place she’d ever known, and yet she could help but smile through the tears that welled up in her eyes, wondering what fate truly had in store for her.