Gysseannia's page

About Gysseannia

Kathidrel, a transmuter of the Mordant Spire elves and hellknight of the Order of the Nail, was still basking in the glory of defeating Karzoug. He and his allies had fought hard to win the day and save Varisian, indeed all of Golarion from the rise of the runelord. It had been nearly a year since that victory and he was on his way back to the Runeforge to fulfill his final obligation. He had promised the alluring Delvahine to return to her upon the completion of his mission and retrieve the child he only knew all too well he had got upon her.

Stepping through the portal, he walked with purpose to the Hall of Lust. He stepped through space to immediately enter her private chamber. He was in luck. Delvahine was not in her budoir at that second. He spied the cradle next to her bed. Moving to it, he mentally prepared himself to lay eyes upon an alufiend. A half-demon child, in this case of a succubus and an elf. His surprise was complete upon discovering what appeared to be a perfect elven baby.

Overcoming his initial shock, he scooped up the babe. Before he could whisper the words to translocate himself back to the material plane, he felt the stabbing pain of multiple blade thrusts. Materializing around him, the three alufiends and their mother, the seductress, Delvahine, cried out triumphantly.

'I warned you about returning to my bed, elf. You cannot take what is mine from me.' The succubus purred to him.

Kathidrel, making a perfect bow, replied, 'Point, or should I say, points, taken, my love.' Waving his hand before him, Kathidrel began casting the spell to shift himself and his daughter across the planes. Murderous blows fell upon him, but he somehow managed to growl out the words and vanish.

He appeared on a floor of marble, under a rotunda supported by translucent crystal pillars overlooking a beach of fine black sand. Kathidrel dropped to his knees, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Feeling the agony of the poison in which they had coated their blades, he coughed up blood. The sound of bare feet upon stone rapidly approached. He looked up to see several priestesses coming upon him and then hesitate at the sight of his blood red armour with the black rose vines running along it, his face covered in a mask sporting the visage of a devil.

Holding out the infant, he pleaded through choking coughs, 'Please take her. She is innocent and deserves succor.' Wraking coughs forced him to lay his daughter on the marble. He removed his mask, looking down at the baby with his naked face. The gasps from the clergy were all too audible. He told her, 'You are my child, daughter of Kathidrel Gysseannia. I name you imil'Tahlythual; a promise to the holy blade people, these priestesses of Calistria.' Looking to the elven women, he said, 'She is my one light in this world of darkness. I cannot stay with her. Raise her and bring her to know the wonders of being an elf.' He then plucked a single black rose from the thorn bow riding in a quiver at his back. Laying it upon her breast, he told her, 'Know me by this rose as I shall surely know you.' Then with a whispered word, he vanished.

Imil, as she was known to the holy sisters of the temple to Calistria, grew up in the Mordant Spire, learning all there was to know of the ways of elves. While the sisters tried to train her as a sacred vessel of lust, she resisted. Her body was hers alone and even as a small child she would allow no one to touch her.

To escape the constant pressure of the temple, Imil would sneak out from under the noses of the priests and run away to the forests to stalk prey. She always had a handful of daggers with her and became quite good at throwing them. She managed to get enough money together to buy a simple hand crossbow, which in her small hands seemed to be a two handed weapon, and practiced until she was a crack shot. Imil became so skilled at moving stealthily and avoiding the temple, that the priests finally gave up on her ever becoming a sacred prostitute.

When she was old enough, she gathered her meager possesions, her hand crossbow, her brace of daggers, a shortsword, a chain shirt, a personal mask, her family mask (her father being the only Mordant Spire elf known to be named after the human word for temple and to carry a thorn bow sprouting black roses in full bloom; a mark of favor from Pharasma) and the mysterious black rose that she always wore around her neck. It had been with her all her life yet it was still as fresh as if it had only just been plucked and still had the scent of a newly blooming rose.

Imil set out, finding a merchant ship bound for the mainland. She finds herself in Riddleport and hearing of a new gambling hall, goes to find if there is any work to be had.

Initiative: +6 Senses: Perception +5

AC 18 (DEX +4, chain shirt +4)
FF 14
Touch 14

HP 10 (1d8+2)

Fort +2
Ref +6
Will +0

BAB +0
CMB +1
CMD +15

Melee Atk
Dagger +1 1d4+1 19-20/x2 P or S
Rapier +1 1d6+1 18-20/x2 P

Ranged Atk
Dagger +4 1d4+1 19-20/x2 10' P or S
Hand Crosbow +4 1d4+2 19-20/x2 30' P

Weight
Light Load 43 Medium Load 86 Heavy Load 130