Nishara's page

Nishara grew up on the southern most part of the island. Her people meant a great deal to her. She was always with the herbalist as she loved the feeling of helping someone, especially with an ailment or other malady. She had been learning about the divine from the druids and discovered that she was able to channel energy (cure light wounds) into those who were hurt to heal them.

When she was not at home, Nishara occasionally visited the outside world to learn about them. She didn’t know why especially since she didn’t even like those ignorant people anyway. There was just something about them that drew her out to visit their cities since they had the most people to see.

When among them she chose the form of a human as it got her the least attention. Just another person on the street. It wasn’t until she was traveling back to the island that she came across a half-orc who was badly hurt.

Ugh. Maybe the vultures will get him soon. I have herbal remedies to make and can’t spend the time helping an fool.

As she passed by she heard him call out to her.

”Help me! Raiders ambushed us. The others managed to get away but I got hit bad.”

Nishara half turned and looked at him.

”I can’t help you. Maybe someone else who comes along can do more.”

”Please! Don’t let me die here. I don’t want those raider to come back and find me here. Don’t leave me!”

Nishara had turned and was walking away. She had only walked a few paces when a strong clear voice spoke to her.

”Heal him.”

Stopping, she looked around. There was nobody else but her and the half-orc behind her. She started to move again when the voice repeated the command. ”Heal him!”

”Why?!” she demanded. ”What have the other races done for us? They persecute and kill us and drove us to seclusion. What makes any of them worth anything let alone my help?! He deserves what he got!”
”Does he?” the voice asked. ”If any of your kind were hurt and bleeding you would help them. What makes him so different? Skin? Culture? You claim to be a healer and yet deny a dying man a chance to live merely because you don’t like him. Heal him.”

”No!” she replied and continued walking.

Hearing a loud choking sound she turned and saw that the half-orc had given his last. Moving closer to see if he was truly dead, she saw that his skin began changing. He reverted to the form of an irda!
”No. That’s not fair! Why?! I would have healed him! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

There was no reply. The voice was gone.

She searched him for any items to take back to his family and then buried him. She then returned home.
She told the family of his death and how she couldn’t have known it was one of them. Out of grief they wouldn’t listen. They accused her of murder. She was brought before the Decider for justice.

She told them of what happened and explained that it was not her fault. She didn’t know. How could she?

”After careful deliberation, I have made a determination. You will be exiled from the island. You could have used a poultice, or spell to heal him and send him on his way. There was no reason to not help him. You have one day to make ready. Once you have left us you will no longer be permitted here. My decision is final.”

Nishara gathered her things. After some tearful farewells she left, never to return.

She traveled from place to place looking for some kind of meaning to her life but the gravity of what she had done weighed on her heavily. At length, she decided that she couldn’t take it anymore. She decided that the only thing left to do was die. That was the only way to atone for her actions.

She made her way to a small cliff and stood on the edge.

There is nothing left for me here. Nothing left I can do. Nobody will want a murderer. The only thing I can do to make up for it is die.

She jumped, and fell to the ground below . Unfortunately, she was not high enough and was severely injured.

Is this how I am to end? I wanted a quick death and now I get to die slowly.

She lay there crying as she slowly began to fade. It would be hours at best, days at worst. It was then that the voice spoke again.

”It hurts, doesn’t it?”

”Yes.” she replied in a small voice. ”I just want to die. There is nothing left I can do.”

”There is more, much more you can do. You can be my oracle.”

”I cannot do that if I die. What must I do?”

”Serve me, Mishkakal, unfailingly. There is too much hurt and suffering in the world. Be an oracle of me. Show others the kindness you have within you. Show it to everyone regardless of who they are. The price you pay for the past is that your leg will never fully heal. You will be lame for the remainder of your life.”

With tears in her eyes she spoke to the Mishkakal.

”Thank you. I will do everything you ask of me.”

Just then, a glow enveloped her. Her wounds closed and she was revitalized. She stood, and discovered that she was healed.

Since this time Nishara travels from place to place that have need of Mishkakal’s touch. She helps people who have no means to help themselves. Disease and decay are her enemies. Nishara’s goal is to bring life and light to everyone around her.