About Windi McConnellStats:
Human Paladin Pathfinder
STR:20 DEX:14 CON:17
BAB:+1 FORT:+5 REF:+2 WILL:+5
Background Skills 2
Race Abilities
Class Abilities
Feats
Traits
Languages
Gear
Background:
Windi, the lovely Paladin. I could tell you about how she was raised by an alcoholic father or rather how she took care of her alcoholic father when mother abandon them to fight the demons of the World Wound. Or how he had died when he lost his footing on a ladder and broken his neck. I could tell you about how she was teased by the boys and the girls of the small village she grew up in because she grew up faster than they did. I could even tell you about the time in the barn or why she is afraid of the dark. But I won’t because that scared awkward girl doesn’t exist anymore and hasn’t for some time. No Windi, the woman, is a wholly different person than that girl. It was the day that her mother came home. Crippled. Not physically, but her mind was gone. The man driving the cart she was in said that something foul had reached into her mind and ripped out any semblance of who she was. He told Windi how her mother’s commander, the man who had recruited her had recruited her had sent her back to be cared for. But how was Windi supposed to take care of her mother, and so soon after her father’s death? Try as she did her mother never got better. Day after day she would sit shivering in the corner muttering to herself. The only word Windi was ever able to make out was a name, Dalareth. It meant nothing to the girl but her mother was transfixed saying the name over and over long into the night. She never seemed to sleep. This went on for three weeks until one morning at dusk Windi awoke to find that her legs and feet were bound to the bed and her mother was pacing back and forth across the room. “Mother, is that you? What have you done to me?” Her mother’s head turned so quickly at the sound of Windi’s voice it seemed as if her neck would snap. “Quiet, there will be time for you soon,” The woman said in a voice that wasn’t her own and in a language, that wasn’t common, but Windi could understand. “Mother please untie me. I can help you.” The ropes around her wrists were tighter than those on her ankles and they dug in as she pleaded with the thing that had once been her mother. “I SAID QUIET,” the woman yelled and went back to pacing and mutter to herself. Her head twitched abruptly from time to time as if there was a battle going on in her head. Windi followed her with her eyes. This went on for several minutes as Windi struggled silently trying to free herself. When all seemed futile she tried a different approach. Be forceful Windi you won’t get what you want by letting them roll all over you. A mantra she had been telling herself for years. “Who are you what have you done to my mother,” she demanded, mustering as much courage as she could. The woman stopped and turned, slowly this time. “Ahh, some fire in your daughter. I like that. What will you do little girl? What can you do?” her mother asked in the same demonic voice she had used before but just then another voice could be heard this one softer and pleading. It was the voice that had been in Windi’s dreams. The voice of a woman. And for a moment her features became softer. Delicate. And Windi could see that her mother had in fact been quite beautiful. “Please don’t hurt her she’s just...” But the voice was cut off. “It’s not who she is, it’s who she will be,” The demon was back and was crossing the room to where Windi kept a small dagger. Picking it up she crossed the room briskly moving towards the bed. Windi struggled against her bonds but the knots were to tight and all she managed to do was shift her hips away from the approaching woman. “Please mother, please stop” Her voice was shaking, pleading to the woman who now stood over her brandishing the dagger. “You must die,” came the vile voice as her mother raised the dagger above her head, but just then something came over the woman her entire body grew rigid and her face twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry my darling. Save us,” where the last words spoken in the voice of an angel as the woman plunged the dagger into her own heart. “there was a scream like wind rushing through cracks in a dense forest. Windi let out a scream as the woman convulsed and fell to the floor splattering her with blood. And she wept. The next morning Windi awoke fatigued from a night that felt like a nightmare and looked around the room but could not see her mother. Was it all a dream? She asked herself and was answered with the rough scratch of hempen rope binding her hands and feet. The rank smell of blood filled her nostrils and she looked over to find her mother’s body laying on the floor. She screamed for days growing horse and falling asleep from exhaustion only to awake to the same hellish seen. Her house was on the outskirts of town and the townsfolk had little reason to venture into the small alcove in the hills. And so, the days passed and her hunger and thirst grew. As did the stench. The overwhelming stench of death and decay. It was a hot summer and the body grew more rancid with every passing hour. Windi’s body grew thin and her lips cracked. Where once where nails only bloody stumps remained from her futile clawing at the rope. On the fourth night after her mother had taken her life Windi began hallucinating she saw her mother and father holding hands as she ran ahead of them through the tall grass. They looked happy. But then the sky grew black and clouds descended on the family. Her mother was ripped away from her father and he collapsed. Windi let out a scream as a deep laugh began to rumble through her chest. “She is mine and soon you will be too,” The voice was that of the demon and it taunted her. She was alone in the field now and it was dark. But then a second voice joined in and this one she had never heard before and couldn’t make out what it was saying. The voice was female and spoke with authority. A light began to part the skies. Slowly at first, just a sliver, but as the voice grew louder so too did the light glow brighter. Until it was blinding and all of a sudden, her wrists and ankles were burning. But this wasn’t part of the dream she felt as though she had been set afire. And all of a sudden it was over. Windi opened her eyes and gasped her bindings were smoking still tied to the bed and her mother was still a putrid mass on the floor but the ropes around her wrists and ankles no longer bound her. She sat up and looked at her wrists. They burned beyond description but there were no visible marks anywhere on her body. She felt restored no longer hungry or thirsty she rose from the bed and flexed her muscles. Everything seemed to be as it had been before. Finally, something at the table caught her eye. A large backpack. It hadn’t been there before had it? No, she would have noticed that a piece of paper lay on the table next to it weighted down by a hunk of metal. Windi picked up the paper and examined it. It looked as if the letters had been burned into the paper. It read: Windi, here is a gift to get you started on your journey.
She turned the letter over but the back revealed nothing. She lifted the piece of metal that was sitting on the note and noticed that it wasn’t ordinary metal but rather an angelic ankh, the holy symbol of Sarenrae, goddess of fire and light. Searching through the bag Windi pulled out a suit of brightly polished mail as well as a scimitar, the weapon of choice of the follows of her faith. And something took hold of Windi in that moment. An embracing of a destiny. The following days were spent cleaning the house and burying her mother in the yard next to her father. She scrubbed the house from top to bottom getting rid of the bloodstained sheets and burning them and the rags in a pyre out back. One week, one week since she was awoken by a goddess Windi donned the armor and pack, taking with her only the essentials and walked out the front door. She knew where she was headed, the World Wound. She wore her golden hair down as she strode through town in her gleaming armor and all that saw her stopped what they were doing and stared. She was the most beautiful sight any of them had ever seen. On her breast, she wore the symbol of her goddess attached to a chard piece of blood stained hemp. But no one took any notice to the symbol, they were transfixed by the beautiful woman, the daughter of the town drunk, now clad in armor with a sword at her hip. Standing as tall as most men her long stride took her quickly up the dirt road and before anyone had a chance to react she was gone. She had a vague idea of the direction of the World Wound and so that was the direction she must go.
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