Alchemical Power Component
Kindness, it is said, can be found in the most unlikely places. Unfortunately, so can malice. While no one knows for sure who her parents were, her heritage shines through in impossibly pale skin, a frigid touch, and a long tail that seems to have a mind of its own. Red markings swoop in complex patterns, but strangely, no one can find any fiendish iconography in them. A blessing, perhaps, for Allysen learned how cruel men can be.
The priests told her that she was abandoned on the steps of the small monastery just outside the borders of Cheliax. For the first five years, her life was one of firm, but fair discipline meted out by the leader of the monks. A stern, but caring priest of Iomedae. The others let him handle the young girl, knowing that he would be furious if they were found dealing out punishment needlessly.
Perhaps if he had lived, then Allysen might have turned out differently. Then again, perhaps not. Either way, the priest died in his sleep five years to the day after Allysen was found on the doorstep. Five years of stern but fair tutelage that would be followed by horrors that no child should endure.
The young girl mourned, but soon found her self on the receiving end of backhanded slaps and sharp words.
Demonspawn do not deserve the privilege of mourning the dead.
As adolescence came, she grew awkward and clumsy. When they found her spirit beginning to grow strong, and their teachings being used to measure their actions, they begin to whip her for her mistakes and when she spoke out against their treatment.
Demonspawn are not fit to hear Iomedae's wisdom.
When a visiting cleric gifted her a silver holy symbol, it was snatched away after he left. She was doused with frigid water from icy brooks and freshly melted snow. Iron rods left stinging gashes in her back as the cold numbed her to everything but pain.
Demonspawn are too tainted to handle even the crudest of holy symbols.
As she came of age, she blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Her lithe form showing through even the modest robes she wore. She did everything she could think of to stop the torment. She worked harder, she hide and even ran away at on point. In the end, it always ended the same, being doused in painfully cold water. She prayed for it to end. She cried out to Iomedae, the only god she knew and begged for forgiveness for what ever sins she had committed.
Demonspawn are harlots. They are evil, with no chance of redemption. They deserve more than this. We are showing you mercy.
Her spirit was broken. She began to believe what they said. She deserved worse, and the abuse she suffered was mercy.
Visiting clergy saw this and began to piece things together. They expressed concern, then admonished them, then rebuked them. When it was obvious that the monks had turned from Iomedae's teachings, they gave them one more chance to repent.
Demonspawn are lower than vermin.
On the night their depravity reached it's climax, a band of inquisitors and a paladin stormed the monastery. They found a young, terrified girl cowering in the corner of her room surround by men who were supposed to be holy men, men that were an example. Instead they had given in to madness and sin. They tried to use Allysen as a hostage, but found the same cold that caused her pain when icy water touched her skin was unbearable. Frost seared their flesh as she tried to hold a knife to her throat. The paladin pulled her away when they let go.
In moments it was over.
The monks were buried that morning, and Allysen found herself alone. The paladin took pity on her. He did his best to train her in the arts of the sword, but found that her skills lay with the bow. They moved to Ustalav and there found Pharamin and Erastilian priests who trained her in the arts of archery and hunting the undead. By her twentieth winter, she had become a crack shot and a skilled hunter. Unfortunately, fate once again intervened. A powerful necromancy laid the paladin low and would have killed her as well if she hadn't ran.
Demonspawn are weak.
She burst into the Pharasmin church nearby, tears streaming down her face and leaving thins trails of frost on her skin. She begged for help, for mercy, and forgiveness. The priests answered her, and sent for someone better equipped to deal with the necromancer. A few days later, it was over. The evil mage was dead, and the bodies of those stirred from the last slumber were once again laid to rest. For a moment, she dared to hope that she could live there, a hunter and a protector. Alas, it was not meant to be.
Demonspawn do not deserve hope.
A small group of villages started to spread rumors that Allysen was a vampire. Her skin was cold and pale, her face was flawless, and she had two sharp fangs in her mouth. What else could she be? The villagers formed a mob. They confronted the priests, demanding that they cast the young woman out. The priests, knowing that the tiefling's only crime was to have been born tainted, helped her to escape instead. She ran. She ran north and west. Months of travel, fighting, and barely managing to scrap together enough to eat lead her to Zeltor's Ferry. There she heard of a dark and wicked place. Rappan Athuk. She feared it, but in her heart she knew that she'd plumb it's depths. Her faith demanded it.
But Iomedae help her, she was terrified of the darkness that lurked within.
Allysen is a little over five feet and two inches. Her skin is pale, almost white, and covered in red markings that look like Shoanti tattoos. Her long hair is silky black and normally tied back in a loose ponytail with a few loose strands falling in front of big, liquid grey eyes. Her tail is slightly longer than her legs, and is normally coiled around her waist to hide it. Her lithe frame is covered in cloths entirely too big for her in an attempt to try and hide the shape of her body and keep warm. She wears a mithril shirt gifted to her by the Paladin who saved her over some padding, but it's hidden by more layers and a heavy cloak.
Despite obviously having the blood of succibi in her veins, Allysen is summed up with the word meek. She is skittish and fearful of failing anyone she deems better than her, which is just about everyone. She cowers at a raised voice, and curls up in a ball when threatened. Her eyes constantly scan for threats, or anyone that notices her.
Despite the meekness, she is strong in her convictions. She tries to help those in need and weed out evil in anyway she can. She does so secretly, though. An orphanage in a town might find a purse with enough coin to get by for several months, or a widow will find enough cured meat in her pantry to last the winter. She is particular drawn to towns suffering from plagues of undead. She will fight along side the guards and the priest only to disappear into the night.
-A stroke of the sword, and the loosing of an arrow can never be undone. If words can further the cause of good, then use words. Violence is the final option.
-Respect the laws of the land. Only when the law is unjust should you ever break it.
-Root out evil where you find it. If you hear of some evil in a town, you must go to that town's aid.
-You are a shield, if your life buys someone even a few more moments to live and escape, you must give it.
-Bring war to all evil creatures, if you find yourself overwhelmed, then retreat and find a different tactic.
-Above all else, observe the teachings of Iomedae, and pray for her guidance.