About Cecilia VolsoStatistics:
Cecilia Volso Female Half-Elf Vigilante (Avenger, Half-Elf Double Scion) 1 CG Medium Humanoid Init +3; Perception +6 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 14, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+3 dex, +1 armor) HP 9 (1d8) Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +2 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30ft Melee: Dagger + 3 (1d4 +2, 19-20/x2) -------------------- Other Statistics -------------------- Ability Scores: Str 14, Dex 16, Con 13, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 14 Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 16 Feats:
Combat Reflexes (Level 1): Make additional attacks of opportunity Traits:
Child of Oppara (Campaign): You gain a +1 trait bonus on Appraise and Knowledge (nobility) checks, and one of these skills is always a class skill for you. The Noble Scion feat (see the sidebar) does not have a Charisma prerequisite for you. In addition, you start play with a noble’s outfit, a signet ring, and a single additional nonmagical item worth no more than 200 gp. Extremely Fashionable (Equipment): Whenever you are wearing clothing and/or jewelry worth at least 150 gp (and not otherwise covered in gore, sewage, or other things that mar your overall look), you gain a +1 trait bonus on Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate checks. One of these skills (your choice) is a class skill for you. Skills:
10 ranks total: 9 skill ranks per level (6 class, 2 background, 1 INT) + 1 FCB Background skills in italics. Bluff: +7 (+3 class skill, +2 CHA, +1 trait, 1 rank)
Favored Class - Vigilante:
Class and Racial Features:
Vigilante
Standard Class Features: Dual Identity, Seamless Guise Vigilante Specialization: Avenger Chosen Social Talents:
Archetype - Half-Elf Double Scion: Dual Heritage: A half-elf double scion appears to be an elf in one identity and a human in the other identity. He takes no penalties to Disguise checks to appear as the race that matches his current identity. The selection of which race is the social identity and which is the vigilante identity is made at 1st level and cannot be changed. Additionally, when a half-elf double scion switches from one identity to another, he is representing different aspects of his heritage rather than personality. As a result, a half-elf double scion has the same alignment in both of his identities. (Social - Human, Vigilante - Elf) Standard Racial Traits: +2 to One Ability Score, Low-Light Vision, Elf Blood, Keen Senses Alternate Racial Trait - Ancestral Arms: Half-elves with this racial trait receive Exotic Weapon Proficiency or Martial Weapon Proficiency with one weapon as a bonus feat at 1st level. This racial trait replaces the adaptability racial trait. Chosen Weapon: Elven branch spear) Alternate Racial Trait - Sophisticate: Half-elves who strive to embody the culture in which they live develop a keen instinct for the ebb and flow of fashions, fads, and political trends. They gain a +2 racial bonus on Knowledge (history) and Knowledge (local) checks and can use those skills untrained even for checks with a DC of 10 or more. This racial trait replaces elven immunities. Alternate Racial Trait - Flexible Half-Breed: Once per day, half-elves with this trait can use alter self as a spell-like ability to appear as humans, drow, or elves. The half-elf can change the race of this form each time she uses this ability, but the specific form for each race is static. She gains a +10 bonus to Disguise checks to appear as a member of the chosen race. The caster level for this ability is equal to the character’s Hit Dice. This racial trait replaces multitalented. Equipment:
Equipped/Carried: Combat Gear:
Clothing:
Miscellaneous:
Owned: Combat Gear:
Clothing:
Miscellaneous:
Gold: 5gp, 9sp General Background:
Cecilia Volso was the result of a short-lived dalliance between Hadariel, an elvish ambassador from Kyonin, and Drusilla Volso, a minor noble in Oppara. A fact which is much to the consternation of Drusilla’s husband, Marus Volso.
Such affairs are not uncommon in Taldor, and ordinarily the child would be sent away to be politely ignored by all. There were two problems with this solution as far as Marus was concerned. One, his pride would not allow it. The likelihood of people finding out about Drusilla’s infidelity was too high. Two, he knew his chances of siring his own heir were slim. They had been trying for years, and he had secretly been informed that he was likely infertile. So he hit upon a brilliant solution. Keep the child, pretend she was his own, and hide any evidence that might prove otherwise.
As Cecilia grew, she began to resent the weight of the secret she carried. She knew she was half-elven; how could she not? But she knew nothing more of her birth father or his people. Any hint of curiosity about elvish society, no matter how innocent, earned Marus’ anger. He wanted no such reminders of his wife’s infidelity. So Cecilia began to research on her own. Quietly. Secretly. Until she learned of Anariel, an elvish woman who made it a point of pride to teach young half-elves of their heritage. Cecilia couldn’t go, of course. If Marus forbade her from so much as reading about elves, he would never allow her to learn under one. She could easily slip out unnoticed, (as neither parent cared to spend much time with her outside of public appearances), but what if someone else recognized her?. The solution was simple. Cecilia had a great deal of practice in ensuring no one who saw her actually saw her. It took very little effort to reverse the process. Hair swept back to reveal her ears. Three dots carefully painted over each brow. Clothing that accentuated her long, thin limbs. Cecilia the human walked into her room. Ethara the elf slipped out through the window. Under Anariel’s tutelage Cecilia learned about elven culture. Their artistry. The musicality of their language. After one particularly narrow escape from a group of thugs who'd thought to rob her, Anariel began teaching her how to fight as well. All lessons that her father would have strictly forbidden...if he’d known. Now 19, it is no secret to Cecilia that Marus has begun feeling out possible betrothals for her. The only reason for her existence, (in his mind), is so he can solidify an alliance with one of the other noble houses. He is eager to see the culmination of all those efforts. Cecilia isn’t entirely sure what she wants, but she knows what she doesn’t want; she doesn’t want to live a life dictated by her father's whims. Why shouldn’t she be able to determine her own destiny? Appearance and Personality:
Cecilia is the very picture of respectability. Her jewelry is tasteful rather than extravagant, her clothing always in fashion. She favors soft colors, particularly greens and blues. Her long, dark hair is carefully styled to frame her face. In public she’s cheerful, pleasant, and very good at leaving everyone with the impression they’ve just made a new best friend. In private she’s quieter, even shy at times. She’s deeply frustrated with the inequalities built into Taldan politics, but knows better than to say so out loud. Meanwhile Ethara favors practical clothing in dark colors, particularly red, although said clothing is hard to see under her armor. A long elven branched spear is strapped to her back. She’s quick to act against what she perceives as injustice, sometimes to the point of being reckless. She rarely smiles and keeps herself aloof, although she's made a few friends among Anariel's other students. Three Scenes:
First Scene: Spoiler:
Marus paced back and forth, back and forth. He had been assured that Drusilla was fine, that she was doing very well for a first-time mother. Nevertheless he couldn’t help but worry. They’d been trying for years to conceive an heir, and he wasn’t getting any younger. What if something went wrong? No. No, it would be fine. She’d deliver a handsome young lad to take over their estate. Or perhaps a girl, beautiful and elegant, whose hand he could leverage into more influence with the other noble houses. Didn’t Celedo Morilla have a nephew about the right age? House Volso might not be the most prominent of houses, but a good match could change that. Another scream from down the hall made him wince. Gods, no one had warned him that childbirth would be such a noisy affair. Tradition dictated that he not be in the room, (a small blessing), but the screams were audible throughout the house. Surely it couldn’t hurt badly enough to be worth such a racket! And honestly, what was taking so long? This had been going on for hours. More pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until one last scream from his wife was accompanied by the shrill cry of an infant. Finally! Marus waited impatiently for the midwife to emerge and bring him in so he could meet his firstborn son. Or daughter. At this point he didn’t care which. He just wanted it to be over. Time passed, and still the midwife didn’t come. Had there been a problem after all? But no, he could still intermittently hear the infant shrieking. He (or she) must be healthy enough. Had something happened to Drusilla? Unfortunate if so, but at least she’d delivered his heir before passing. Nearly an hour after the first infant wail, the midwife finally emerged. Her face was pale. ”My Lord, I…” She paused, clearly struggling for words. ”What is it!? Is it Drusilla? Did she perish?” ”No, but...” The midwife paused again, opening and closing her mouth several times. ”Just...the child might not quite be what you were expecting.” What the hells did that mean?! ”Is it deformed?” The midwife winced. ”Not...exactly. But…” Impatient with her evasiveness, Marus roughly shoved past her and into the room. If she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, he’d just have to see for himself. He barged in to see his wife holding an infant to her breast. As she should be. What had that midwife so concerned? Drusilla nearly dropped the babe upon seeing him, and the blankets shifted to allow him to see the infant’s head. And the long, pointed ears attached to it. Marus froze. He was human. Drusilla was human. But those ears were decidedly not. ”What is the meaning of this?” Drusilla shrank back against the headboard. ”Marus...I...I don’t know what to say. There must have been some elvish ancestor-” “Don’t LIE to me woman!” His shaking hand rose to point at the child, or more specifically their ears. ”What. Is. That?” Drusilla’s face twisted in anguish. ”I...I didn’t…” She broke down into tears. Behind him, the midwife cautiously reentered the room. ”You didn’t what? Have an affair?” Sleep with another man? Do you expect me to believe that?!” “My lord.” The midwife didn’t approach any closer, which was wise considering his current temper. ”Perhaps this discussion could wait-” “No. No it most certainly can not.” Marus stomped forward until he was next to the bed, towering over his wife. ”Who was it? Whose child are you holding?!” Drusilla opened her mouth, then closed it again. Shoulders slumped in despair, she looked down at the child in her arms and whispered, ”Hadariel.” He knew Hadariel. An elven ambassador from Kyonin. He’d been proud to host the man, seeing it as an opportunity to do a favor for the Basri family and perhaps earn some favour in return. ”I...I didn’t think I could get pregnant. We’d tried for so long, and the clerics said…” Of course the clerics had said. He’d bribed them handsomely to say their years of infertility was his wife’s fault. Not his, of course. It couldn’t possibly be his. ”And, and, he was kind, and he looked at me like I mattered-” “Shut. Up.” Drusilla did. Marus’ mind was racing. His firstborn child, likely his only child if the clerics were to be believed, wasn’t his at all. He could put Drusilla away for this of course, but the whole reason he’d married her was due to her family’s influence. No doubt they would be displeased by the action, despite conclusive evidence of her infidelity. Plus there would be the whispers. ’Marus the cuckold’ they’d say. He’d be the laughingstock of the court. ”Boy or girl?” The midwife spoke up from behind him. ”A girl, my lord.” Disappointing, but it did make things easier. ”Hats. Until her hair is long enough to cover those damnable ears.” He turned around so he could glare at the midwife. ”You will tell no one of what you saw this day. Understood?” ”Of course, my lord.” He switched his glare back to his wife. “You’ve made a fool of me once. You will not do so again.” Drusilla began weeping anew, whether from stress or gratitude that he wasn't sending the child away he couldn’t tell. Nor did he care to. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began marching back to his study. He had a lot of research to do. Hats and hairstyles would only go so far; if he intended to marry the girl off he’d have to find a more permanent way to hide her heritage.
Second Scene: Spoiler:
”You’re not trying hard enough. Again.” Cecilia nearly sobbed in frustration. No matter how hard she tried the arcane arts still wouldn’t come to her. She’d been so happy when she’d managed to cast her first spell; wishing so hard to be fully human that for a single moment her wish came true. It was one of the only times she could remember her father looking at her with pride rather than derision. Ever since he’d hired tutor after tutor, hoping to expand upon that first success. To make her change herself for more than just a minute. She never could. A ruler rapped sharply against her knuckles, making her yelp. ”You lost focus. Again.” Perhaps she really wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe if she just tried a little bit harder… Her eyes fixed on her latest tutor. The elderly man she was trying to make bigger. He’d explained the principles, taught her how it worked, done everything he could. It wasn’t his fault she kept failing. ”An aptitude for transmutation magic,” her first tutor had explained after being told what she’d done. (Well, not exactly what she’d done, but that she’d changed her appearance.) ”Or possibly illusion, but transmutation seems more likely. She could be a great sorcerer one day.” Except years later, she could still only cast one spell. And that one only for a minute a day. The sharp rap against her knuckles. ”Again.” Again, and again, and again, and again… By the end of the day her knuckles were red, she had a blistering headache, and the tutor was frowning. She had failed once again. Her father entered the room. That was rare, he never sought her out without reason. For a second Cecilia sat up straighter in her chair, but he didn't look at her. He was focused entirely on the tutor. ”Any progress?” Her tutor’s frown deepened. ”None. I don’t believe she has any aptitude for the art.” ”But the spell-” “Yes, ‘the’ spell. Singular. Which isn’t actually a spell at all, in my opinion. Some people can mimic the effect of a spell without actually casting one. Gnomes are particularly well-known for it.” The tutor shrugged. ”We can continue if you wish, but I don’t anticipate any progress. If she hasn’t learned by now, she’s not going to.” Marus’ face darkened. First he had been interrupted, and now he was being told information he didn’t want to hear. Cecilia instinctively cowered lower in her chair. ”You say you can’t teach her. Then get out of my house.” ”My pay-” “I. Said. OUT!” No fool, the tutor left. (Drusilla would later ensure he got paid; she was used to covering for her husband’s impulsive decisions.) Marus’ furious gaze turned to Cecilia. ”I tried, I really did, but-” “Clearly not hard enough.” He stepped closer, towering over her. ”I feed you, I clothe you, I give you every opportunity and this is how you repay me?” Cecilia’s gaze dropped to the floor, knowing there was only one thing Marus wanted to hear. ”I’m sorry.” “For what?” “I’m sorry for being a failure.” Marus kept glaring at her for a moment, then snorted in disgust and left. Cecilia waited until the footsteps had gone, then snuck her way through the halls until she reached her bedroom. Alone at last, she stared into the mirror and concentrated. Her form blurred, then solidified into a shape she would never let her father see. Her already slender body made more so. Her pupils larger. Her ears even longer and more pointed. An elf. No longer trapped between two worlds, but solidly entrenched in one. The person she might have been had her true father raised her, instead of abandoning her. ”One day,” she whispered, laying a hand that both was and was not hers against the glass. ”One day I’ll belong.” Third Scene: Spoiler: Cecilia’s heart pounded as she made her way through the crowded streets. For the first time in her life, her ears were uncovered in public. It felt...indecent. But then that was the point. If she was going to do this, she couldn’t be Cecilia Volso. No, she was Ethara today. And Ethara had no reason to hide her heritage. Another few streets and she had made her way to Grandbridge. Her heart beat faster. It seemed she could see elves everywhere, people who looked like her, talking and laughing and singing. Happy. Free. (Was one of them her father? She’d been told he’d left Oppara after disgracing her mother. But it was Marus who had told her that, and she wasn’t entirely certain she believed him.) She sidestepped a gossiping pair and moved on, hunting. Her target was the proprietor of a shop called Versatile Vials. (It had taken her months of cautiously asking around to get that name. Months of subtle inquiries, overheard conversations, tidbits of idle gossip from a hundred different sources that she carefully gathered and pieced together into a coherent whole.) There! Just at the end of the street. A neat-looking little shop. For a long moment Cecilia stood in the street, staring at it. Was she really going to do this? If Marus ever found out… No. She couldn’t live her whole life being afraid. She’d worked too hard for this to turn back now. She opened the door and walked in. An elvish woman of indeterminate age was sitting behind the counter. ”Hello, welcome to Versatile Vials! I’m Anariel, is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Cecilia took a deep breath and curtsied. ”Hello, I’m Ethara. I heard...I heard that sometimes you taught classes. For half-breeds.” She wanted to say more, but the words stuck in her throat. Anariel tilted her head, studying Cecilia closely. ”Your choice of words speaks volumes. No, I don’t teach ‘half-breeds.’ I teach half-elves.” She stood up and walked around the counter. ”Let me guess, elvish father you’ve never met and a human mother who refuses to talk about it?” Cecilia didn’t answer, but Anariel nodded as if she had. ”Not uncommon, in a city of this size. I’ve always thought it a shame that so many of our kind are left in the dark about their heritage.” “Our kind?” Cecilia looked more closely at her. ”Are you a half-elf too?” She laughed a little. ”No child, both my parents were elvish. But I have spent much time in human society, and feel a certain kinship for those caught between two worlds.” She moved back around the counter, took out a piece of paper, and immediately returned. ”Here. My schedule. I teach classes nearly every evening on a variety of topics ranging from the elven language to traditional weaponry.” Cecilia gingerly took the paper, mind racing. She’d have to memorize and get rid of it immediately, she couldn’t risk anyone finding it among her things. ”I...I don’t know how regularly I can attend.” “I see. That, too, is not uncommon. Come whenever you wish. Or can.” For a long moment Anariel just...looked at her. Saw her. No one ever saw her. Not really. ”Even if you only come once or twice, that is enough to learn the most valuable lesson I have to teach. Anariel crouched down slightly to look Cecilia in the eyes. Her gaze was kind. Understanding. ”That there are people in this city, many of them, who are just like you.” People just like me. |
