Tatya Ayresleigh's page

Level 1: beguiling gift, burning hands, command, cure light wounds, diagnose disease, ill omen, infernal healing, mage armor, remove fear, remove sickness, summon monster I

Level 2:burning gaze, false life

Years of inculcation in the teachings of Sarenrae and the kindness of the Clenhams, however, weren't enough to tame a hot rebellion in her blood, disdain for the vapid goodness of her foster sister, and recurring dreams of flickering firelight consuming two strangely familiar forms. Cora alternated sullen contrariness with bouts of tears and guilt as her nature conflicted with her nurture. Although the adopted girl was the prettier and more accomplished of the two, the good villagers invariably preferred the simple kindness of the Clenhams' biological daughter, Estella, albeit putting forth an infuriating and patronizing cordiality toward the other girl.

When the two came of age and Estella was betrothed to the handsome son of a well-to-do merchant, Cora's jealousy made her more mercurial than ever. Refusing to be of any help in the preparations for the wedding, she took to retreating to the edge of town to brood and concoct elaborate dreams of revenge on her adoptive family and the whole village she had grown up in, for seeming so happy in their pathetic and pointless little lives when she herself, though infinitely cleverer and more deserving, had never known contentment. It was on one of these afternoons on the outskirts of the village, a beautiful summer day without a cloud in the sky, that a well-dressed stranger ducked out of a copse of trees and greeted her, "Good day, Tatya."

"You've mistaken me for someone else," she replied a bit rudely. "My name isn't Tatya."

"But it is," the man replied with assurance. "It's the name your parents gave you. Your real parents, before they were burned. I knew them, you see. And we've been keeping our eye on you." He explained her parents' crime -- or, as he put it, their bravery to follow the truth -- and her foster family's charity -- or betrayal of her birthright -- and told her that now that she had come of age, she had the opportunity to gain her revenge on the small-minded people who had both killed her parents and tried to brainwash her into their own weakness. All she had to do was to swear allegiance to the Prince of Darkness, as had her father and mother before her, and she could continue their work, at the expense of the Clenhams and the rest of their insipid little village that didn't appreciate her.

She knew, by heart, the strictures against blasphemy and heresy, knew all the punishments said to await those who turned against the powers of goodness, both in this life and in the next, but in the moment, finally understanding her dreams of fire and death and consumed with envy and resentment, she agreed. She took the vials he offered, walked calmly into the kitchens the morning Estella was appointed to become a married woman, and laced the wedding dinner with poison. She stood placidly by her sister's side during the ceremony, and her adoptive parents were overjoyed to see her apparently over her bout of jealousy and discontentment. Their happiness was soon to end when their relatives and friends began to fall ill at the ensuing celebration. Despite the panic and confusion, eventually the vials were found, the residue identified, her presence in the kitchen recalled by witnesses. Taken into custody, she refused to deny her guilt, remaining obstinately silent in the face of interrogation about her motives and supplier. Placed in a carriage for transfer to a more ruthless facility, she found herself instead conveyed to a large and lonely dark green house on a hill.

Brought into the Cardinal's presence, she was finally fully informed about the identity of her parents: how her father was a priest of Asmodeus; how, when her mother became pregnant, he pledged the soul of his child to the Archfiend's service; how the authorities of Talingarde had raided their secret sanctuary and captured her parents while a few of his congregants had managed to escape with some of the paraphernalia of the Dark Prince's worship. "This," the Cardinal told her, laying a silver unholy symbol on his desk, "was your father's. You owe him your very existence, and he gave you over to Asmodeus. You are already his in truth, and you know it; it is why you resisted so admirably the drivel of compassion and selflessness of which those villagers tried to persuade you. To sign your soul away is a mere formality ... but one that has the benefit of securing you some rights to go along with your obligations. Serve Asmodeus through me and find glory ... or climb back into your carriage and spend what days you have left in prison."

It was not a dilemma worth pausing over. She pricked her finger with the whetted point of the quill and signed. The Cardinal examined her contract and smiled. He slid the silver unholy symbol across the desk to her and then reached back into a drawer for a small wooden box which followed it. "Our Dark Prince has an invaluable service for you to perform for him," he went on. "He is not only Prince of Devils but Master of Witches...." How well she had been taught the penalty for witchcraft! But the contract was already signed; what choice did she have? The scorpion in the box stung her painfully as it crawled up her arm, and the venom circulating with her blood reminded her how many she had sickened -- killed? -- at the wedding feast. Poisoned, she was induced to understand, she would heal. The true priests of the Ruler of Hell were too exalted to stoop to mending the mortal bodies of his soldiers; that was a job for lesser vessels, those further from his dark power. It was an irony that she who had been discipled in the ways of Sarenrae would be set the duty to heal those who defy the goddess' propaganda of compassion.

Tatya -- the name given to her by her adoptive parents has now been forbidden much as her real name was during her childhood -- has, in truth, found no more contentment in her new life than in her old. She is prone to fits of terror of the fate that awaits her, but it only drives her to attempt greater acts of devotion to Asmodeus, in the hopes that it will shorten her period of torture and debasement in Hell. Although she serves out of fear rather than ambition, it makes no difference to the authorities either in Hell or in Asmodeus' earthly church, as it makes her more obedient and pliable. Her desperate goal is to incite enough other souls to curse the goodly gods and despair before they die to build a cushion on which she will land when she arrives in the next world herself; her secret hope is to obtain enough wealth to ensure she can be raised back to life if she should die too early and thus postpone rendering the final payment required by her contract indefinitely.

Following the herd is for fools. Fear not their icy derision. Instead, fear only thy Infernal Lord.

Know your enemy. Shatter all that blinds you and then burn thy adversary to ashes.

The chosen are revealed by their might. The weak deserve no sympathy.

Suffer not the fool. Stupidity is our faith’s cardinal sin.

Cruelty is a tool not a pastime. Be ruthless to thy enemy but reward those who serve thee well.

Secrecy is our greatest ally. Exposure brings death.

Beware the fallen for they may rise once more to threaten you.

Serve thy master well and be rewarded.

Destiny has taken you here. Destiny has given you a mission. There is no doubt that the future of this green and pleasant land lies in your hands. You could go to that town right now and warn them of the plots of the sinister Cardinal Thorn. You could give yourself up and face the justice you deserve. You could turn back from the horror and the slaughter that you are going to inflict upon these Iomedaen sheep. This is that moment. This is the turning point. After this, there is no going back. Any one eager for redemption?

Pause.

I thought not. Come, my friends. We have work to do. We must burn Balentyne.