Wand of Lesser Restoration: 9 charges left
Ring of the Ram: 11/36 charges left
Wand of False Life 19 charges left
Staff of Dark Flame 0 of 10 used
2 salves of true seeing reagents
4 dweomer's essence
Acid Flask (2d6 instead of 1d6) x4
Appearance: Kaylayne appears to be a simple, if plain, human female of medium build and brown hair/eyes. She wears fancy noqual armor, but carries minimal weapons. She has no noticeable tattos nor piercings. Her eyes can, at times, seem sad and distant, haunted...but she has found more joy in her life recently. Her hands are used to hard work. Other notable possessions are a 'sack and many pouches at her belt.
* * *
HL = within 30' and 30'
What should I call myself? Dead? Mostly dead? Walking dead? Kaylayne looks at herself in her small mirror. She examines her eyes, wondering if they still work. She looks at her pale face. It seems normal to her. But she knows better. Things are not normal.
Kaylayne is dead. She knows she's dead. Or as good as dead. She has seen herself not in a mirror. She has seen herself yelling, mostly. Yelling at *her*. They are only brief screams and no one else even seems to notice. But Kaylayne sees them. She sees herself yelling silently at herself. Sometimes there is crying.
And that's how Kaylayne knows she is dying. Or is already dead. Or on her way to death. Not that it matters much anymore, does it? There isn't much reason for living when one is dead.
Kaylayne puts away her mirror, stowing it in her backpack and among her meager possessions. She is a frail creature, neither strong, nor hardy, so carrying something as heavy as the mirror means something to her. She carries it with because she needs to see her face everyday. She needs a reminder that she might only be mostly dead. Or on her way toward death. Any day when she can see her face might mean she clings to life...though a silent dead version of herself screams at her.
The first time she saw herself screaming at herself she was walking home from the bar. She scared herself so badly that she ran down an alley she usually thought as safe. She would always walk down that alley on the way home. It was not safe that night. And maybe...and maybe if she hadn't been scared by herself, she might have avoided...might have avoided the drunk men who accosted her. Abused her. Beat her. And worse.
She lived, but she was never complete again. As bad as what they did to her, it was nothing compared to seeing herself scream at herself. She had left the small Varisian town soon after that. She could not feel safe there anymore. She packed up what she had and left.
The second time she heard herself scream at herself was on the road, at night, leaving that small Varisian town. It frightened her so badly that she ran from herself and her tent in the woods. As she returned to her campsite, she barely avoided an owlbear rummaging and snuffling through her belongings. She hid until the owlbear left. And still the silent screams that she could hear from herself scared her more than the beast.
I'm dead and I can see myself.
* * *
As she wandered through Varisia she saw herself again...usually at crossroads, standing, screaming, and sometimes weeping down the road. Kaylayne never, ever, went the direction where she screamed. No, any direction was better than that direction.
No matter how fast she walked, she could not escape herself, nor the memories of herself. After weeks on the road, tired of travel, beaten by the rigors of movement, she came to Riddleport. She hoped that around people, the screaming her would happen less often. She hoped that by being surrounded by others, that the screaming might stop. She hoped.
For a while she was right. For the last few months, she had had few glimpses of herself. And when she did she herself, she was not crying, nor weeping, nor screaming.
Her previous work experience had earned her a job: working as a barkeep for a sleazy, but rebuilt gambling and drinking establishment. The Gold Goblin was not a great job. But there seemed to be less screaming at herself here. And that was near heaven for Kaylayne.
* * *
The days of toil combined with the uncertainty that she was dead, or being haunted, has taken their toll upon Kaylayne. She was never beautiful, but even such, she was never going to be considered pretty ever again. Her skin is ashen, bleached white by the frights of her recent past. Her hair is moist and stringy, a result of working and sweating too much in a stifling den of inequity.
Kaylayne, a Varisian, when not hunched over a bar, might stand 5'6" and weight what you might consider 'average' in every other way. She would consider herself to be average if she were still in her small town, doing her small town work, living her small town life. However, she is dead and sometimes she sees herself screaming at herself.
She has hide armor and a few weapons that she can barely wield hidden behind the bar...not that she'd ever deign to protect herself unless it got really bad. Nonetheless, she wore the armor on the trip to Riddleport, but it would never suit her well.
When did not fear for her life or her own purity, Kaylayne might be quick with a jest or a quip. She certainly wasn't stupid, nor dense, nor free with her time. Mostly, she wanted to work and to live...and to be free of visions of herself that haunted her.