DaemosFor anyone curious, the edit was because I drew another picture. No drastic changes to the character.
Name: Talia, The Pale Witch
Age: 16
Appearance: Here it is!
Biography:
Born into slavehood underneath a ruthless Jzaarean Warlord, Talia could not have asked for a more wretched fate. The weak and sickly child would have been cast of the edge of a mountain, if it was not discovered she had a unique knack for Arcana. What she lacked in strength she made up in control of the powerful essence. The lord thought to raise her to become a powerful weapon for his campaigns. He proclaimed it to be a mercy, but surely, an end at the mountain would have been more lovely a fate than this new life. Taken away from her family, they tortured her and ingrained in her mind that she was nothing but a tool. Her body never healed from the horrible treatment, frail as it already was, and the grisly scarring remains till this very day. He was fascinated by otherworldly strength, believing it to be the key to achieve absolute power, calling upon the aid of a warlock. He asked the demonic carrier to perform a ritual that would chain a demon to his new prospect and empower her even further. The warlock warned him of thinking he can control such power, but he did not care.
At the ripe age of thirteen the lord gleefully claimed her only innocence and replaced it with a corrupted seed. Though not a physical one. The ritual was enacted using the blood she produced, capturing a Daemon in Maexarran and forcibly linking it to the child. The creature fought relentlessly against its flesh prison, chained unwilling to this place in this world. She cried night by night from the immense aching. Her pained screams and uncontrolled arcana shuddered the enchanted shackles ensnaring her limbs and battered the walls she was trapped within. She could have easily ended her own life. She endured all the suffering. Why? She sought revenge. At least, so she tried so hard to believe. But the Warlord would have none of that. For years they continued to abuse the poor child until she was nothing left. Forcing her to murder innocents and beating her senseless if she showed a sliver of hesitation. Hope can only burn so long in the abyss of that bastille. Soon enough she could only lay in her shackles, bloodied and battered, unable to lift them any longer. Her pale glazed eyes stared into nothingness, as though waiting for it all to end. There was nothing but silence in her cell. This shook some even louder than her screams. This noiseless pain rung so much so that a particular entity found pity for the poor child. The Daemon within stopped trashing. Perhaps it saw something about her that stirred it’s long, lost emotions?
It asked in a sympathetic tone, if she wanted freedom. But it would come at a cost.
She did not hesitate on an answer. Together they planned their escape. In the chaos of the war front, she used her new power and claimed the Warlord’s life, then disappeared while his army fell into disarray and were massacred by their foes.
But no matter how far she runs, she was stuck in another pained existence. This one, she can never escape from. But this was the first time she had a choice in anything. This was her own path. The price for such a freedom, however, was her very Soul. The Daemon willingly granted her its own strength, but accepting this power meant her very essence would also become corrupt. Her body too showed signs of change to this newfound gift. With the blood of Daemons running through her, she would risk becoming one if she lost herself. But it would not be the Daemon who hunted her. It was her own dark thoughts. The evil and hatred born deep within haunts the sickly child's mind whatever chance it gets, seeking to claim her frail sanity. She has now become a medium between the realms, like most warlocks, seeing far beyond but struggling to remain in the world surrounding her. It is a powerful gift and an even more dreadful curse.
Night by night, she was assaulted relentlessly by the nightmares within. The girl had no rest in sleep and was always frantically running during the daylight. But she has fared much worse. No matter how much she suffers now, Talia does not regret this fate. To be haunted forever, she would rather make the choice and accept this consequence than live on being a slave. Dangerous and unsociable, she found no shelter and no help. But the Daemon guided the child through her maddened visions. For they needed one and another. So the pair hid and scavenged, finding happiness in the small things.
But their relative peace was short-lived. When an outlying village in Sivar Velg was attacked by a stray Demon, she was the one to appose the beast. It did not start out well. Fearing her own powers, she underestimate her for and was overwhelmed. She was in the grips of death, but caught the creature by surprise when she fully unleashed her magic. Fearing for her life, her pale flame erupted from her like a beacon. She burned the whole town to ash. Talia was soon found as a sobbing, pitiful sight at the center of the destruction by a Hunter-Captain who had been dispatched to investigate. She begged for him to kill her and cease her dangerous existence, but seeing potential in the little girl, he instead took her under their ranks for training.
Personality:
An outsider by most circles, Talia would rather dabble in learning more about magic in the musty library than spending her time socializing in a tavern. Not that she would be accepted at a table anyway. Owners always say the beer goes sour near her. Many of the Order may not know much about Talia personally, but she has made quite a reputation for herself. Those who think her too much trouble avoid the girl at all costs.
She not only looks the part of a daemon-possessed victim, sickly thin and cradling a long staff to support her frame, but Talia does not make for comfortable conversation either. The air seems stale and chilling around the pale figure, and it feels as though something is always watching even when she is alone.
Stories refer to her as a ‘Witch’, toads and cauldron and all that hexing business. But what she lacks in physical ability, she more than makes up with magical prowess. Wild and peculiar it may be. Researching to understand dark lore and producing all manner of odd trinkets to ward evil by day, Talia is then seen spending entire nights scouring the skies above. While she is at odds with many, her usefulness is self-spoken. They say she hunts evil without passion, without remorse. As though she was trained from birth to kill. Those who have seen it speak of a tainted fury manifesting in a corrupted, fey-like fire, a kind that burns pale white and isn’t easily doused by water, but rather salt. She claims this is not the limit of her power but never tries to go beyond a certain point, reinstating of what would happen if she loses control of herself. Most young Daemonic wielders wear a arcana dampening seal for such a case, and she is no exception. Hers hangs heavily around her waist, and she would never use magic without it.
She is the sole survivor of her party, a band of hunters sent to Isamanca.
Age: 16
Appearance: Here it is!
Biography:
Born into slavehood underneath a ruthless Jzaarean Warlord, Talia could not have asked for a more wretched fate. The weak and sickly child would have been cast of the edge of a mountain, if it was not discovered she had a unique knack for Arcana. What she lacked in strength she made up in control of the powerful essence. The lord thought to raise her to become a powerful weapon for his campaigns. He proclaimed it to be a mercy, but surely, an end at the mountain would have been more lovely a fate than this new life. Taken away from her family, they tortured her and ingrained in her mind that she was nothing but a tool. Her body never healed from the horrible treatment, frail as it already was, and the grisly scarring remains till this very day. He was fascinated by otherworldly strength, believing it to be the key to achieve absolute power, calling upon the aid of a warlock. He asked the demonic carrier to perform a ritual that would chain a demon to his new prospect and empower her even further. The warlock warned him of thinking he can control such power, but he did not care.
At the ripe age of thirteen the lord gleefully claimed her only innocence and replaced it with a corrupted seed. Though not a physical one. The ritual was enacted using the blood she produced, capturing a Daemon in Maexarran and forcibly linking it to the child. The creature fought relentlessly against its flesh prison, chained unwilling to this place in this world. She cried night by night from the immense aching. Her pained screams and uncontrolled arcana shuddered the enchanted shackles ensnaring her limbs and battered the walls she was trapped within. She could have easily ended her own life. She endured all the suffering. Why? She sought revenge. At least, so she tried so hard to believe. But the Warlord would have none of that. For years they continued to abuse the poor child until she was nothing left. Forcing her to murder innocents and beating her senseless if she showed a sliver of hesitation. Hope can only burn so long in the abyss of that bastille. Soon enough she could only lay in her shackles, bloodied and battered, unable to lift them any longer. Her pale glazed eyes stared into nothingness, as though waiting for it all to end. There was nothing but silence in her cell. This shook some even louder than her screams. This noiseless pain rung so much so that a particular entity found pity for the poor child. The Daemon within stopped trashing. Perhaps it saw something about her that stirred it’s long, lost emotions?
It asked in a sympathetic tone, if she wanted freedom. But it would come at a cost.
She did not hesitate on an answer. Together they planned their escape. In the chaos of the war front, she used her new power and claimed the Warlord’s life, then disappeared while his army fell into disarray and were massacred by their foes.
But no matter how far she runs, she was stuck in another pained existence. This one, she can never escape from. But this was the first time she had a choice in anything. This was her own path. The price for such a freedom, however, was her very Soul. The Daemon willingly granted her its own strength, but accepting this power meant her very essence would also become corrupt. Her body too showed signs of change to this newfound gift. With the blood of Daemons running through her, she would risk becoming one if she lost herself. But it would not be the Daemon who hunted her. It was her own dark thoughts. The evil and hatred born deep within haunts the sickly child's mind whatever chance it gets, seeking to claim her frail sanity. She has now become a medium between the realms, like most warlocks, seeing far beyond but struggling to remain in the world surrounding her. It is a powerful gift and an even more dreadful curse.
Night by night, she was assaulted relentlessly by the nightmares within. The girl had no rest in sleep and was always frantically running during the daylight. But she has fared much worse. No matter how much she suffers now, Talia does not regret this fate. To be haunted forever, she would rather make the choice and accept this consequence than live on being a slave. Dangerous and unsociable, she found no shelter and no help. But the Daemon guided the child through her maddened visions. For they needed one and another. So the pair hid and scavenged, finding happiness in the small things.
But their relative peace was short-lived. When an outlying village in Sivar Velg was attacked by a stray Demon, she was the one to appose the beast. It did not start out well. Fearing her own powers, she underestimate her for and was overwhelmed. She was in the grips of death, but caught the creature by surprise when she fully unleashed her magic. Fearing for her life, her pale flame erupted from her like a beacon. She burned the whole town to ash. Talia was soon found as a sobbing, pitiful sight at the center of the destruction by a Hunter-Captain who had been dispatched to investigate. She begged for him to kill her and cease her dangerous existence, but seeing potential in the little girl, he instead took her under their ranks for training.
Personality:
An outsider by most circles, Talia would rather dabble in learning more about magic in the musty library than spending her time socializing in a tavern. Not that she would be accepted at a table anyway. Owners always say the beer goes sour near her. Many of the Order may not know much about Talia personally, but she has made quite a reputation for herself. Those who think her too much trouble avoid the girl at all costs.
She not only looks the part of a daemon-possessed victim, sickly thin and cradling a long staff to support her frame, but Talia does not make for comfortable conversation either. The air seems stale and chilling around the pale figure, and it feels as though something is always watching even when she is alone.
Stories refer to her as a ‘Witch’, toads and cauldron and all that hexing business. But what she lacks in physical ability, she more than makes up with magical prowess. Wild and peculiar it may be. Researching to understand dark lore and producing all manner of odd trinkets to ward evil by day, Talia is then seen spending entire nights scouring the skies above. While she is at odds with many, her usefulness is self-spoken. They say she hunts evil without passion, without remorse. As though she was trained from birth to kill. Those who have seen it speak of a tainted fury manifesting in a corrupted, fey-like fire, a kind that burns pale white and isn’t easily doused by water, but rather salt. She claims this is not the limit of her power but never tries to go beyond a certain point, reinstating of what would happen if she loses control of herself. Most young Daemonic wielders wear a arcana dampening seal for such a case, and she is no exception. Hers hangs heavily around her waist, and she would never use magic without it.
She is the sole survivor of her party, a band of hunters sent to Isamanca.
