Fallenreaper
Izurich
Ti
Age 45
Gender Female
Race Elven Heritage
Physical Description
She claimed a stature that was impressive amongst humans, strong and lean; traits afforded her due to her heritage and a life unaccustomed to stagnation. Her ears, laced with metal from tip to lobe are peaked instead of rounded and surrounded by hair the color of desolate night sky, traced now with a stray shooting star of glimmering white. Which were a newly acquired reminder that Noteyalis consumed all in their insatiable hunger. The eyes of her people have always appeared sharper and more focused than their human brothers. Hers create a piercing contrast, bragging of a clear and unyielding spring, judgmental and complacent. A heavy black traced about her eyes, temporarily smudged with paint, though existent deep into her skin from a lifetime of application. The same paint/tattoo collection licks across all of her skin. Runes, penance, respect, sacrifice; they all whisper secrets entombed within the will of her people. A red paint consumes her face in times of war; a promise of drive. A niquab, formerly the colors of her people has recently found strips of forest hues as a nod of solidarity with the guardian’s. On occasion this article is pulled back and pinned at her shoulders to reveal her body, still in tune with its physicality. Hers was a weapon that’s necessary coverings consisted of a thick blackish moss, almost cotton like, that was gifted from Noteyalis to enhance the wearers connection with all that she entombed. The adornments, which in Dara seemed like an ostentatious show, were a point of pride, breeding and respect among her own people.
Skillset
- Herbalism- Strong beliefs that the great Noteyalis has provided an answer to all problems within the earth. All Elven children are taught basic herbs.
- Hand to hand combat- While all Elven children are taught the basics, it was those amongst their clergy that felt a divine call to remain in peak physical condition and be able to protect the mysteries and the sanctity of slumbering Noteyalis.
- Stealth- Raised to embrace the cover of night, when the hot winds of the desert did not blister the skin so severely, her people have learned to seemingly pull the night about them and slip through its mazes with ease and comfort.
- Arcane/Occult- While magic was lost, it was not trivialized amongst the followers of Noteyalis. They strongly believed that it was gifted to them and then taken away by a jealous and repressing God, the same which imprisoned Noteyalis. They owed it to their faith to maintain a vigilant knowledge of all that once was. Her people have grown quiet and protective of their knowledge, especially after the evil Cyrabassis drove fear of persecution into their hearts.
Far Ancestry
Noteyalis had once been a great wanderer of this plane. From each toe that graced the earth came gifts and curses of plague, fertility, darkness and light without any order or reason. They danced across the dessert leaving temporary crossroads and wells of arcane within the wake, springs that bubbled with acidic death and flowers that bloomed with the promises of deep magic that consumed and enlightened the people. They could call upon the dead and transfer the energies of life among plants, animals and even the divine with words and sacrifice.
It was a time before the great city state Dara was ruminating in destiny, before the moon had found a rhythm, and even before great Watchers of Balance had climbed to the height of their thrones; Noteyalis grew bored of traveling and decided to try its hand at creating something permanent, something relevant. The other divine beings had already begun to covet the lush forests of the east and the great mountains of the north. They traded and bargained allegiances and totems, but Noteyalis had no need for the deceptively pleasant border drawing of their counterparts. And then she stumbled upon Choachyte.
It is said that upon finding the barren and desolate desert Noteyalis released a bellow of pride so enticing that the river broke from its path and came to her heel. And in Choachyte the moon found a lover that influenced the curse of permanence and order. The land grew slowly, carefully. Noteyalis unmoving presence coaxed all means of plant and animals to her, the arcane magic leaking from her being into the sand and traveling like roots about the area. Not to be outdone by the creation of humans, soul carriers, they pulled at the clay and the roots and the bones of her other majestic creations to embody the elf.
Noteyalis busied itself with creation until there seemed little left to create without threatening the perfection…and then they exceeded their reaches. She began the formation of the great mangrove, a crossroads that muddled the distinctions of this plane and affected all the land for miles. (Some elven scholars argue that it was from the mangrove that their descendants departed. Some believe it was from the loins of Noteyalis itself. All agree that without Noteyalis the Elven race would never have been brought into existence.) The tree arched upwards to the sky in a feat of size that had never been attained by a mortal being, caressing the face of the moon which Choachyte longed for so immensely.
The other Gods turned on Noteyalis, scoffing at her creations, enraged by the bending of laws carried out on the plane, surely jealous at the reach that Noteyalis possessed. They began to plot against Noteyalis and the chaos that harkened her being. Their followers began to spread rumors and misconceptions about Noteyalis and her people that, to this day, influence an underlying current of distrust and fascination with the area and the elven kind. It was during this time that the bowels of the Mangrove became sanctuaries, temples and libraries dedicated to Noteyalis and their teachings. The myriad of hidden catacombs within the living tree boasted entrances beneath the waters of the timeless spring and hidden beneath unmarkable sands of the desert.
Some claim it was the Watchers of Balance who offered up the final deceit to Noteyalis; though more claim that it was the jealousy and cruel sibling of Noteyalis, Cavi’antu, who was to be eternally blamed. While the perpetrator varies in the stories, the circumstances do not. Noteyalis was offered a truce that was to be discussed and negotiated during the suns prodigious eclipse, but no truce was to be claimed. As Noteyalis extended a hand on decided terms she was met with an infectious pestilence that clawed into her physical self and tethered the God to the Mangrove. In fear that the Mangrove would not prove tomb enough to the paralyzed God the others assaulted the tree with ferocity so immense that the tree cracked and fell into 5 points that stretched across the desert. Each point was said to represent a culmination of distinct fractions of Noteyalis’ former self. Even paralyzed and shattered Noteyalis influence was present. Those in tune with land and with the arcane currents could feel the soft whispers, prominent in the willing dreamer.
And if it was up to the humans, all of this would by myth; myth mostly forgotten or purposefully erased. But where the tree had fallen it stayed, and so too did the Elven people stay. The great city state of Choachyte was an unmovable testament to Noteyalis, oft disguised as a desert haven turned merchant refuge. Its population boasted thousands from a variety of races, living amongst the fallen tree as it curled through their landscape and their dreams. The government was a republic that leaned closer to aristocracy; as it seems that prominent families within the city maintained their power throughout the political hierarchy. The cities leaders mirrored the population’s diversity in race and ideals; rarely were the Elven representatives displaced as majority.
It was a time before the great city state Dara was ruminating in destiny, before the moon had found a rhythm, and even before great Watchers of Balance had climbed to the height of their thrones; Noteyalis grew bored of traveling and decided to try its hand at creating something permanent, something relevant. The other divine beings had already begun to covet the lush forests of the east and the great mountains of the north. They traded and bargained allegiances and totems, but Noteyalis had no need for the deceptively pleasant border drawing of their counterparts. And then she stumbled upon Choachyte.
It is said that upon finding the barren and desolate desert Noteyalis released a bellow of pride so enticing that the river broke from its path and came to her heel. And in Choachyte the moon found a lover that influenced the curse of permanence and order. The land grew slowly, carefully. Noteyalis unmoving presence coaxed all means of plant and animals to her, the arcane magic leaking from her being into the sand and traveling like roots about the area. Not to be outdone by the creation of humans, soul carriers, they pulled at the clay and the roots and the bones of her other majestic creations to embody the elf.
Noteyalis busied itself with creation until there seemed little left to create without threatening the perfection…and then they exceeded their reaches. She began the formation of the great mangrove, a crossroads that muddled the distinctions of this plane and affected all the land for miles. (Some elven scholars argue that it was from the mangrove that their descendants departed. Some believe it was from the loins of Noteyalis itself. All agree that without Noteyalis the Elven race would never have been brought into existence.) The tree arched upwards to the sky in a feat of size that had never been attained by a mortal being, caressing the face of the moon which Choachyte longed for so immensely.
The other Gods turned on Noteyalis, scoffing at her creations, enraged by the bending of laws carried out on the plane, surely jealous at the reach that Noteyalis possessed. They began to plot against Noteyalis and the chaos that harkened her being. Their followers began to spread rumors and misconceptions about Noteyalis and her people that, to this day, influence an underlying current of distrust and fascination with the area and the elven kind. It was during this time that the bowels of the Mangrove became sanctuaries, temples and libraries dedicated to Noteyalis and their teachings. The myriad of hidden catacombs within the living tree boasted entrances beneath the waters of the timeless spring and hidden beneath unmarkable sands of the desert.
Some claim it was the Watchers of Balance who offered up the final deceit to Noteyalis; though more claim that it was the jealousy and cruel sibling of Noteyalis, Cavi’antu, who was to be eternally blamed. While the perpetrator varies in the stories, the circumstances do not. Noteyalis was offered a truce that was to be discussed and negotiated during the suns prodigious eclipse, but no truce was to be claimed. As Noteyalis extended a hand on decided terms she was met with an infectious pestilence that clawed into her physical self and tethered the God to the Mangrove. In fear that the Mangrove would not prove tomb enough to the paralyzed God the others assaulted the tree with ferocity so immense that the tree cracked and fell into 5 points that stretched across the desert. Each point was said to represent a culmination of distinct fractions of Noteyalis’ former self. Even paralyzed and shattered Noteyalis influence was present. Those in tune with land and with the arcane currents could feel the soft whispers, prominent in the willing dreamer.
And if it was up to the humans, all of this would by myth; myth mostly forgotten or purposefully erased. But where the tree had fallen it stayed, and so too did the Elven people stay. The great city state of Choachyte was an unmovable testament to Noteyalis, oft disguised as a desert haven turned merchant refuge. Its population boasted thousands from a variety of races, living amongst the fallen tree as it curled through their landscape and their dreams. The government was a republic that leaned closer to aristocracy; as it seems that prominent families within the city maintained their power throughout the political hierarchy. The cities leaders mirrored the population’s diversity in race and ideals; rarely were the Elven representatives displaced as majority.
Character History
Amongst the Elven community births are a great celebration. They are not as fertile as humans and so births are not near as common and are seen as one of the ultimate blessings. The fact that she was the second child born to aristocratic parents was cause for a gala that lasted over a week and was mirrored each year in a celebration for both her brother and herself. Her childhood between these weeks held much of the same; servants supplying delicacies and etiquette, elders constantly handing out gems of knowledge and running nightly in the woods with the many pets her Mother had accumulated. Her mother, an elegant and joyful woman, told elaborate fairy tales about the tree, magic and animals of legend which sometimes even included ornate puppet shows and scenes played out by the household staff. She knew nothing but joy and happiness as a child.
When she was 4 it was her brother’s turn to choose his path. Humans occasionally scoff at the suffering of being forced into a path because of your parents, but that was one of the trivialities of human nature she judged them for. It was an honor that her brother was invited into the folds of the church, focusing on politics and economics as her father had. Had he not been apt at these subjects it is sure that the family would have made consolations for him, but he excelled away from the nest and even at the age of 4 Amunet was proud. Without her brother little of the joy was removed from her house for now she occupied the full attention of her mother.
When it was her time the already strong willed youth stood before them, much more pensive than her brother had been. Her brother had fulfilled the expectations and her own choice was much less defined. She held her head up tall and still dark hair threatened to brush across the soft fertile dirt within the Mangrove. A woman, aged almost to a century, leaned forward towards the girl, a large smile creeping across her wrinkled lips. “What occupies your dreams child?” Amunet told them about her dreams, not her goals, but the monsters and saviors that came to her and whispered and smelled of mangrove. Perhaps her dreams were influenced by the stories of her mother, but perhaps they were influenced by Noteyalis? Her fate hung in limbo and a second meeting was called a week later.
At this meeting a goat hung, baying in its discomfort. Her mother walked her into the room and then was asked to leave. When her mother returned to collect her child and the answer Amunet stood, a sickle in hand and covered in the blood of the goat. At first her mother’s face scared the small child. Had she done something wrong? Was this not the way? But then the tears gave way to a smile and she collected the child. “You will follow in my footsteps little one and your life will be full of secrets adventure!” It was this promise that carved the determination of success into her previously lackadaisical attitude. One week later she moved out of the house and into the dormitories with the rest of her chosen path. They were to be trained in the knowledge and religious dealings of the elven community and more specifically, of the Somnus of Noteyalis (the Sons).
Her life became a routine in which nothing was old or routine. In the fading light of dusk they would awaken and for 2 hours they belonged to physical trainer, elders that taught them of stealth, combat and tested their physical limits. This was the norm amongst all Elven training. What followed was specific not only to the chosen path, but also to the Elven child in training. The majority of her training was in studying the religious books and practices of the Sons. Finally, before they allowed themselves sleep, they would as a group or alone meditate on the lessons of the day within the heart of the mangrove, an ethereal place reserved for those headed towards priesthood.
She spent 10 years training, absorbing all forms of knowledge and seeing her family only during the Festival of the Crying Moon. Her mother marked the changes in her daughter, watching over the years how her innocent smile became one composed of joyful secrets and then, in Amunets 16th year her mother saw the allure in that enigmatic smile and stunning blue eyes and knew that soon her daughter would want more; but the motherly fear in her gut came from the destiny that blazed behind the blue pools in her eyes, threatening to surge.
It was no surprise at 16 when she chose to continue and focus her training. An elven child had never turned their back on the chosen path of the Sons. Her studies became more immense and immersive. Days were spent in meditation while her body was tattooed and pierced; she would focus on the pain and sacrifice she was entitled to. She learned of sacrifice beyond herself; the differences between energies in self-sacrifice and forced sacrifice. She learned about the stars and their promises. She learned how to provide attainable answers from questions that she had ruminated on for hours. She learned how to lead.
At 22 she was already a fierce leader amongst her peers and was well respected by her elders for her passion and enthusiasm. She was drawn to Dara because of the allure of leaving home, but also because it was a believable sell to her people. She told them she would research the likelihood of a sect. which would strengthen their business dealings; from exotic gems and produce to teachers and herbalists to astronomers and sooth sayers. The majority of their sales were in knowledge, or in other services for those willing to bargain with morality. She knew that to convince the Sons to allow a break and movement of some of their people away from the Mangrove would be a tough sell, but at that age she really didn’t care whether or not they moved to Dara. She only cared that she would be allowed to travel.
She became wrapped up with the Gaurdians and grew a debt amongst her fellow fighters that tethered her to Dara for eternity. She felt that her brothers in arms had experienced something that created a bond almost more immense than that which she shares with her people, for even if her people *believe* in the depths of good, evil and chaos that stem from this world, her fellow warriors have seen it. After peace was reached within Dara she returned home for a short time and petitioned her case for their dealings in Dara. She was granted permission and has been establishing and assisting all Sons activity in Dara ever since. The Sons do not have laws regarding the sexual activities or unions of their people or Priestess. She has had her fair share of companions and lovers but has never been married and has never been blessed with a child. The latter is not rare, for conception is not a guarantee among the Elven kind.
Psychological Profile
The effects of trauma ring differently for everyone. Upon her first glance at the monstrosities they faced she grew even more reverent in the beliefs. She took Cyrabassis as proof that the story of Noteyalis and all of the ancient teachings they had collected were true. She had lost much of her innocence in the womb of the mangrove, but outside of the mangrove she had lost her faith. While Pykas may have ripped the last piece of innocence, he restored her faith to the degree that she no longer required it. She knew it was true. It was as if Noteyalis herself had sat down at her dinner table and confirmed the truth.
Her personality had always been judgmental and reserved. She spoke little and listened always and read between the lines of what people truly meant. She preferred the empty night sky to the light of the day, and the light of the moon trumped all. She was not the type to over indulge, but she would dabble in all of life experiences. While her occupation was religious it was an often made mistake to take her as from the same mold of other religions, but it would be a mistake to believe that the Sons based their practices on the morality of men. Many mistook her silent nature for something else, but in truth her mind was constantly obsessing or contemplating over something.
Her personality had always been judgmental and reserved. She spoke little and listened always and read between the lines of what people truly meant. She preferred the empty night sky to the light of the day, and the light of the moon trumped all. She was not the type to over indulge, but she would dabble in all of life experiences. While her occupation was religious it was an often made mistake to take her as from the same mold of other religions, but it would be a mistake to believe that the Sons based their practices on the morality of men. Many mistook her silent nature for something else, but in truth her mind was constantly obsessing or contemplating over something.
Equipment
- Bagh Nakh – claw gauntlets. A traditional weapon of the Choachyte.
- Collection of tomes and grimoires located in the depths of the mangrove tree. As of now the books are mostly indecipherable and useless despite the lore held within.
Titles/Holdings/Power Base
- High Priestess of Somnus of Noteyalis, oft referred to as the Sons. The religious group is rather secretive and membership is dictated (95% of the time) by familial relations. Some members, including Amunet, are openly aligned, but the majority of practitioners are only assumed. The group not only manages religious services with its members but also plays host to political and economic functions in and out of the membership. She has strong stakes in the dealings of her followers within Dara, where many of them do not reside full time, playing a sort of proxy for their business endeavors. It is important to note that their moral code is not the same as the majority of Dara’s population; some of their dealings are seen as less than savory, and on occasion illegal. The convulsion of ownership is diluted within the membership so it makes it difficult to assign responsibility, both legally and morally, if ever the City State chose to do so.
- The majority of Sons communications are less than formal and take place within the homes of the members, though in the case of a crisis, birth, death, union or other ceremonial need they do have a ‘temple’. It is located 9 km outside of town towards Choachyte, but then one must turn off the main road at the ambiguous mangrove root wrapped about a large dark stone and south towards stream another 5km south. The temple, like those in Choachyte, are hidden within the natural surroundings and do not boast impressive architecture, or really any architecture for that matter. The place of worship consists of underground caverns which form a maze. If one should be able to navigate the maze they would be able to locate a library, a handful of ceremonial rooms and a dormitory of sorts.
- They have a strong history of trading favors; and are well respected for upholding their ends of agreements and inflicting suffering upon those who do not do the same. Once a person has lost favor they are essential black listed from any dealing with the Sons. While this may not seem relevant to some there is a large amount of knowledge held within their books, including black mail on many prominent families and influential people. There are rumors that the Sons have been involved in the death of more than one Dara resident; though the witness’ accounts are frail and the motive is usually as convoluted as their ownership.
- Amunet’s family has long held a place amongst the representatives of Choachyte and without a doubt her family expects her to take accountability if ever her Father and Brother can no longer bare the honor. This also extends to maintaining their hold on the secrets and collections of the Sons, as well as tending to the economic holdings of the clan along with the other family heads.
- She was also accompanied by 2 Silent Elven guards, being that she was of high importance in their aristocracy protection was never a question or a compromise, it was a given. The lifestyle of the guards is defined at a young age when an Elven man or woman, usually of a lower class, decides to enroll in training. The training is vigorous, as it is with most chosen Elven disciplines, and cuts the child off from their family and friends. Their support and family becomes those around them, uniting them. At the age of 16 the Elven guards in training are again allowed the free will choice of leaving the guards in favor of another lifestyle or continuing with their training. It is at this point that those who take the vow are given to the ceremonial masters. The training from this point until their release at the age 20 is undisclosed, even to Amunet. When they are full members of the guard they voluntarily remove their tongue as a symbol of obedience and silence.
Relationships
- WIP