Deidre Deimos's page

Deidre listens intently, her brow furrowed in thought. As Dzae concludes his tale, she nods her head in agreement.

I can...understand. I think of myself as "Deidre, cleric of the Pharasman faith" more than "Deidre, daughter of Rhys Deimos". We do not choose our family, our family is chosen for us. Fortunately - she says, smirking - elves, gnomes, humans, and half-orcs are all the same in my eyes. The Lady of Graves has servants within all races, and so each are my brothers and sisters in their own way. However, Ustalav as a whole often tends to feel differently...

Her voice drifts off with the thought, as though she would prefer not to discuss her homeland and it's prejudices any further.

Deidre smirks bemusedly.

He's referring to a "Circus", Virgil. It's a gathering of showmen, where there are generally spectacles of all different types for viewing. But I must say, Dzae - I've noticed that a few times now you've said that your parents were gnomes? However did that come to be? If you don't mind my asking, of course...

I am just popping in to say that I'm waiting for the GM at this point. Deidre asked a question to an NPC, so any other actions at this point are on hold.

Sorry, very busy weekend.

Deidre graciously accepts a glass of wine, and wistfully lounges on a side chair. As Virgil tells his story, she shakes her head sadly.

That is...unfortunate. Hopefully, now that you have...escaped? You will begin to see a different side of society. I'm sure you're aware that your appearence is a bit...disconcerting to some people, though. If people greet you harshly, don't think overmuch of it. I will admit that I reacted hastily to you myself, and I am shamed by it. I believe in judging someone by their actions, not their appearence. I will gauge you by your deeds henceforth.

This having been said, once Dzae returns from his bath, Diedre frames Kendra with a look.

Kendra, how did your father pass to Pharasma's embrace? He was not sick that I knew of - this was all so sudden and unlooked-for!

In contrast to Smiley's shyness, Deidre steps forward confidently, as though she is used to speaking at occasions such as this.

Friends, we are gathered here today in rememberance of a great man. Professor Lorrimor touched all our lives in different ways, and seems to have made a positive impact wherever he did. To me, he was a colleague, a mentor, and to my surprise, somewhat of a benefactor. I thought of him as kindly even before I learned that he had left me a fair sum for work I would otherwise have gladly performed for free. It is a sad day for me, and yet I know that he will be judged fairly by the Lady of Graves, and for that I do not weep. May her blessing be upon his final resting place, upon this boneyard and all it's residents, and upon all of us here assembled.

Having said her piece, the young woman steps back and bows her head in prayer.

"The priestess of the Lady of Graves, of course, speaks wisdom," Korvus says, bowing his head respectfully to Deidre as he resumes his position as pallbearer.

As do you, kind sir. As a native Ustlavan, I often forget about our prejudices and predispositions. It probably would be best to leave the tools here, that they might be retrieved by those farmers once they cool down a bit. At least, that is what I will choose to do with my, as the gentleman points out, "share". This walks a line between taking them and attempting to ransom them back to their owners, and disposing of them entirely. The Lady often asks us to negotiate delicate situations, and I agree that this would be one of them.

Deidre shrugs slightly.

I've no interest in farming equipment. Do with it what you will, as far as I care. Although I have no need for it, I would just as soon see that those ruffians not be re-armed, lest they return in greater numbers.

...And please, let's bring the good professor to his final resting place as quickly as possible, eh?

She reaches down as if to lift the coffin, awaiting a similar response from the others.

Wincing, Deidre flys into a tirade.

Stop! This is not the place for this! THIS GROUND IS HOLY TO PHARASMA! So help me, STOP HURTING EACH OTHER! Spill no more blood!

Deidre is honestly horrified, and takes no other actions other than to implore the two groups to stop injuring each other.

Let me talk to them. Hopefully they'll respect custom and see reason, Deidre whispers to those around her.

Walking forward with her holy symbol prominently displayed, Deidre raises her voice to be heard.

Goodman, I am Deidre Deimos, a cleric of Pharasma. Long has the Lady of the Graves afforded our nation her blessing, and long have we offered her our loyalty. As a Pharasman cleric, I speak with the authority of Her church, and I aim to give this man a proper burial in your Restlands. Would you challenge the authority of the Lady of Graves regarding Petros Lorrimor's final resting place?

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Greeeaaaat roll...

Well, I may have spoken a bit hastily. It is an emotional time for us all. Pray accept my apologies. Let's not speak of such things again right now though, hmmm?

At Virgil's latest outburst, Deidre colors in anger.

You would do well not to mention the restless dead at a time like this, half-man. I know not where you're from, but here in Ustalav we hold with respect for the deceased, and do not mock their memory by discussing black magic and sorcery at their time of interment. If you're completely unable to comport yourself with some manner of dignity, I hope you will bless us with the sound of silence henceforth!

Her face red and her eyes narrowed, she turns to Kendra. Her features relax, and her voice softens.

I apologize, Miss Lorrimor. Yes, I would be honored to walk with your father upon his final journey. Has he been given the rites of the Lady of Graves? I could administer them, if you would wish it.

This is an odd group. I knew the professor was eccentric, but...

Yes, indeed - what are you doing?, Deidre says, glaring at the wolfish half-orc and Smiley rather severely and tapping her foot.

Deidre Deimos is a fairly striking young woman, for all her attempts to remain nondescript. Her hair is black and short, although red is present as well in places. Her angular features remain nondescript as she surveys the assembled group, her eyes quickly taking in the scene before her. So few... she sighs quietly.

Seeing the situation, Deidre immediately knows her place in this dance. She walks immediately toward the greiving woman, sparing only a glance for the others. Her holy symbol hangs from a leather strap around her neck, marking her as a cleric of Pharasma. She strokes the young woman's arm reassuringly, and speaks in a low and soothing voice.

There, there, dear heart. The professor is at peace now, don't fear a moment for that. He was a dear friend to me. I'm Deidre, a colleague of sorts. How did you know the good professor?

I sort of just assumed we were.

This should be interesting - 3 of the 5 party members are conspiculously not good-aligned. Hmm!

A few changes have been made to my sheet, and my backstory has been added.

Ah, yes - but being under a medium load accounts for both those things, and I'm currently under a medium load. So the Masterwork Chain Shirt is doing me exactly no good whatsoever. I suppose that's something I should change...When I get my backstory up this morning, I'll probably do that, if that's OK. That's a lot of money I could spend elsewhere.

Thank you for running it. My backstory will be coming up here within the next 12-15 hours. Probably sooner, maybe later.

Here's Deidre Deimos, Cleric of Pharasma. I'm dreaming up a backstory, which will probably take until tonight, but she's more or less complete, pending approval.