About Rosalind LevitainnRosalind Levitainn- Human Oracle/Sorceror 1
Tamerlane, her familiar:
Raven CR 1/6
XP 65 N Tiny animal Init +2; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6 DEFENSE AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +2 size, +1 natural)
OFFENSE Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (average)
STATISTICS Str 2, Dex 15, Con 8, Int 6, Wis 15, Cha 7
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Backstory:
Rosalind wasn't sure what began first; the voices, or the 'changes'. They likely came very quickly after one another, but she had pushed much of those memories aside, as it was a dark and confusing time that she had trouble being entirely certain the order of. All she knew was that in her early teens, something wicked manifested inside of her, something twisted and strange. Voices haunted her dreams, dozens if not thousands of writhing voices whispering in a vile tongue that she somehow understood with perfect clarity for someone who'd never spoken a word out of Common. When awake, magical energy surged within her, something inborn that her mage mother could make neither heads nor tails of in its sheer depth; she exhibited affinity for divine magic without a single prayer said. But with it came changes, flashes of intense emotion, temporary physical changes like the blackening of her flesh or coughing up ichor. Her blood had turned black and cold, but ran through her veins all the same.
She always knew she'd been adopted; the barren wizard, Roxanna, who'd given her a home made no secret of not having given birth to the girl, who she considered her own daughter nonetheless. But her changes invoked a fiercer line of questioning, and Rosalind soon learned that she had not been innocently adopted from an orphanage as a baby, but instead handed to the scholarly mage out of fear by a group of clerics who claimed the child was off ill birth and that no church could properly care for her. Roxanna had taken her in, given her a good life and a loving home but also kept a studious eye on her. For all the years she'd watched, all she could gather was that her daughter's heritage was some manner of aberrant, but unlike anything she'd seen before. To the best of the wizard's ability, she trained her daughter in her inherent magic, fearful of what may happen if word of Rosalind's odd abilities got out. Few of the professors that Roxanna worked with were privy to Rosalind's sensitive situation, chief among them being Roxanna's dear friend Petros Lorrimor. Though he could provide little more information on her strange case than her mother could, he took an interest in it, their regular correspondence often including little notes about specific books that may contain some helpful information. It remained a curious case for the family friend, and as Rosalind grew older she began to correspond with the professor as well, even studying under him when she was of age to pursue a higher education (Campaign Trait: Teacher's Pet). Roxanna's scholarly interest in her daughter's heritage soon rubbed off on the girl, who focused her study not only on expanding her talents whether it was a wise decision or not, but also in general academia. She didn't wish to remain the subject of others' study for her whole life, and hoped that by beginning down the path of scholarly interests herself, that she could uncover the secrets about her powers, understand herself and where she came from, and what it all meant. Perhaps even find her parents, wherever and whatever they were. There were mysteries to be solved, and she believed that the answer likely lay within the layered whispers that never ceased to haunt her dreams, if only she could tune into a single voice in the gibbering chorus. When she became of age, Rosalind became an eager student at the University of Lepidstadt, where her mother taught. Her specializations were in magic and religion, hoping that some long-forgotten piece of arcane lore or dead faith may shine light on her heritage where merely studying what aberrations already existed would do her little good; perhaps the beings that called to her were more divine--or profane--than she realized, and that at least some of her magic had been granted by them. While her heritage could never be the subject of a proper paper due to Ustalav's fearful populace, Rosalind and her mother spent much of their time pouring together over any new tomes of forgotten lore they could in search of an answer. Someone had to have written something down, in the thousands of years since the written word's invention. After a guest lecture in Caliphas, Roxanna sent word to her daughter that she was in possession of a book that she believed would finally have shed light on her secret and that she would return shortly. And she did, but with a blade in her back, body left carelessly in front of the University with all of her possessions on her person--but notably, no book--and no message left. Rosalind took it as a warning, vague and wordless, perhaps not even directed knowingly at a specific individual but left for her conspirator, whomever it was. It was enough to push her from her search, at least while she grieved her dead mother and put her into the ground. It had only been a few weeks later when the magical letter appeared on her desk, telling her of her favorite professor's death. It was a much softer blow, but not easy for the young woman, already shaken by the death of her only family, to take. Still technically on bereavement leave from the university where she had become a research assistant without a professor to aid, she set out for Ravengro to pay yet another close to her farewell, with the hope that he had not encountered the same potential fate as her mother. Personality, appearance, goals, etc.:
Rosalind stands tall and slender, a wiry frame that rarely ever seems to take on much fat regardless of her eating habits--something she's chalked up to another peculiarity of her likely-not-entirely-human heritage. Usually, she drapes herself in blacks and purples, covering as much of her body as she can. Her conservative manner of dress comes less from a sense of modesty, and more from a desire to hide as much of her pallid flesh as possible, to hide the black veins that run noticeably along her body, as well as to use dark colours to contrast the occasional 'shift'--the sudden and temporary darkening of a patch of her skin into a deep, dark black.
It's at its worst during combat or times of panic. When she reaches deep into her will to draw her magic, her usually purple eyes go completely black down to the sclera and her skin changes within a matter of seconds to a dark ashen shade. When she speaks in this state, she does so in a twisted, multi-layered chorus of voices, all speaking a slithering Aklo in unison as ichor drips freely from her mouth. It's what marks her in her eyes as some manner of a monster, and knows that however harshly she may judge it, the superstitious people of Ustalav would only think less of it, so she tries her best to avoid casting spells under stressful situations or getting into fights, lest she lose control in front of someone who panics and has her burnt at the stake. Though a rather sheltered girl who grew up with few friends, she's incredibly charismatic and finds that talking to people comes easily, although it's often kept beneath a layer of acerbic wit, especially in cases of discomfort or panic. Other times, it's a convenient coping mechanism, keeping her firmly in acquaintance with people by seemig just sharp and sarcastic enough to not want to get particular close with, leaving a degree of isolation and distance from people so that her secrets are remain her own. Despite seeming outgoing, she often keeps her cards hidden, revealing little about herself or her desires. Thanks to her upbringing by a scholar and her pursuit of the same path as her mother, she is a very educated and intelligent woman, shrewd and clever, always willing to learn more or to discuss matters. Above all else, the mystery of Rosalind's origns drive her toward knowledge and discovery. Becoming a proper scholar has only somewhat weathered this obsession, but it's also given renewed focus to her studies, allowed her mind to sharpen and more keenly take information in. So long as her dreams are wracked by the strange whispers and writhing, nightmarish scenes, she will never truly be able to push the need for answers from her mind. The death of her mother has only complicated this, adding a level of urgency and danger to her quest; while it may have been unrelated, there's a chance that somebody out there doesn't want her to know about her origin, and is willing to kill for it. However, it's only steeled her resolve as she's begun to look into that possibility, motivated in part by the desire to avenge her mother's death. Whatever granted her the magic she is now fully capable of wielding is likealy a horrible source, but that doesn't mean it has to be used for nefarious purposes. Though healed by negative energy and able to wield it, she finds positive energy comes more easily to her, granting the ability to heal and help. If her magic truly is as dark as she fears, then it's all the more reason to hone it and channel it into something productive and helpful toward the greater good, to redeem her blighted powers and walk an ethical line, rather than abuse them for her own gain. In fact, it's of great importance to her that her magic be used to help people whenever the possibility arises. At least, in situations where she isn't in immediate danger and at risk of exposing her true nature. Her mother left no will or final wishes in her unceremonious and unexpected death, merely a notarized declaration from years ago that her estate automatically bequeathed to her daughter, but a great deal of business left unfinished, leaving Rosalind feeling aimless in regards to what her mother would have wanted on certain matters. This has made her summons to Ravengro even more weighty; even if all he wanted was the girl's presence at his funeral, it was a wish, something to respect, and she feels that whatever the family friend wants in the wake of his death is something to be respected and listened to greatly, giving her some direction and perhaps a strange manner of closure. At the moment, her closest friend is her pet raven, Tamerlane, who she's taken on as a familiar. Knowing her curse would complicate the situation, she taught the bird Aklo, the foul language she spouts when under duress, hoping that she could avoid some horrible communication disaster by doing so. Secret she knows: That she is not entirely human, that her magic and the strange biological quirks of her body are of something alien and unknown to mainstream knowledge. Aberrant heritage is likely, but she cannot say for certain. Whatever it is, it haunts her dreams with screaming whispers and the ceaseless, maddening writhing of a thousand tendrils.
|
