[Characters] Character Descriptions

[Nizdiz]

Current Roster (Character and Player)

Gabriel Ravadanci, Human Paladin of the Silver Flame
(Antebellum) Character Sheet

Golk Norrahg, Half-Orc Barbarian/Fighter
(GrandCommander13) Character Sheet

Irthos Darastrix, Dragonblood Human Sorcerer
(icon) Character Sheet

Niroa Naïlos, Shifter Rogue
(Feirnon) Character Sheet

Novakhashtai, Kalasthar Kineticist
(tilbert) Character Sheet

Redemption, Warforged Cleric of the Silver Flame
(IrishKatt) Character Sheet

Siege, Warforged Fighter
(Arcano) Character Sheet


No Longer With Us
Setsuna Amkred, Human Beguiler/Bard
(Bladewing)
Kissed by the Vargouille.

[icon]

Name: Irthos Darastrix
Age: 22
Class: Human Sorcerer 3
Alignment: Chaotic Good

 

Religion: Dragon Deity - Bahamut
Region of Origin: Argonnessen

 

Description: Irthos is rather strong in appearance, standing taller and wider than almost all humans. This is mostly because of his draconic upbringing in Argonnessen. Irthos is 6’5” tall and weighs in at 270 lbs.; he is a formidable presence. In trying to look more like Irthos’s surrogate mother, a great silver wyrm named Agthurirl, Irthos has dyed his hair and goatee a silverish-gray color and only will wear clothes that have either silver or bluish cloth. The dying of hair makes him look somewhat older than what he appears. His skin is a pale hue, however, his skin is tougher than average because of this unorthodox upbringing. He also has a scar on his face that runs from his left eye down to his chin.

 

Personality: When around his ‘kin’, the metallic dragons of Argonnessen, Irthos is gregarious and outgoing. A ‘chatterbox’ some would call him. However, being that he has not spent much time with humans, he is shy and withdrawn around them. He feels foreign and separate from the rest of his race, although he tries to blend in, unsuccessfully, with his ‘birth-race’. Like most dragons, he is prideful and confident in his abilities, just not in certain social situations. When a person or creature gains Irthos’s trust, he begins to act more like when he is around his ‘kin’.

 

Background: Irthos’s past is a peculiar one, at best. Not much is known about the family he never knew. Agthurirl, his dragon surrogate mother, has told him that his parents were most likely part of one of the Seren tribes that reside on Argonnessen, however, Irthos is rather unsure about that, having observed some of those tribes first-hand. Irthos was born with the scar that runs down his face, all of the metallic dragons of Argonnessen that he has spoken with about it believe that it is from the claws of an chromatic dragon.

From a young age Irthos was schooled in many of the practices of the dragons, learning from the great Chamber. Under the tutelage of Agthurirl, Irthos learned to control the magic that dwelled within himself, channeling it into a force for good. Agthurirl was many things to Irthos; mother, father, teacher, disciplinarian, etc. He was loved and cared for, even if he was not a welcome guest of the dragons.

During one of mother and child’s many readings of the stars in the massive Argonnessen Observatory, Agthurirl saw the ominous coterminance of Mabar approaching. Unbeknownst to Irthos, there were portents of great evil that must be fought back by ‘munthrek mirth darastrix’, the ‘human of the dragons.’ Such verses also makes reference to ‘versvesh thurirl’, which translates as ‘strong companions’. So after a few weeks of preparing Irthos for a fated journey into Khorvaire, Agthurirl flew Irthos to a small village on the immediate outskirts of Sharn. This fated journey will force Irthos to meet his destiny head on…….

[Antebellum]

Name: Gabriel Ravadanci
Age: 27
Class: Paladin 3
Alignment: LG
Religion: Servants of The Pure Flame (The Silver Flame)
Region of Origin: Flamekeep, Thrane

 

Description: Gabriel is a tall and handsome man with dark hair and a face hardened by determination. He wears polished silver armor with the symbol of The Silver Flame engraved on the chest and epaulets of his armor. He fights with either a greatsword or a morningstar and shield.

 

Personality: Gabriel is a religious fanatic through and through. He lives and breaths the Servant of the Pure Flame and The Silver Flame and will put his life for the cause. He is very rash and will pursue what he feels is evil further than most would. He has a very mission oriented mindset and is quite humorless when it comes time to work on purging evil. He has no qualms about pushing the limits to reach his goal.

 

Background: Gabriel was born on Victory Day to two parents who were both Templar's of the The Pure Flame. His life was essentially set in stone. Gabriel's ancestors were veterans of the Lycantropic Inquisition in Aundair and the Eldeen Reaches and his parents and grandparents had fought in The Last War. He was born in The Cathedral of the Silver Flame fortress monastery in Flamekeep.

He took to the faith quite readily and was soon engrossed and indoctrinated in it. His work as a young boy was to catalog and organize the faiths tomes in the monastery and he soon learned very much. When he was old enough, he joined the Templar's like his parents, their parents, and his grandparent's parents, and started his service with them. Growing up during The Last War, soon joined the fight and fought for Thrane and The Silver Flame's armies in their war against the other nations. He later took on semi-convert missions against the other heretic faiths, especially The Dark Six.

Since The Last War has ended, he has settled down somewhat. He returned to the monastery Flamekeep and has worked there for the past few years. When the call went out for more Exorcists and Templar's to combat the insurrection of evil outsiders, Gabriel heeded the call and headed to Breland to combat the foe head on.

[Arcano]

Name: Siege
Age: 4
Class: Fighter
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Religion: None
Region of Origin: Mournlands

 

Description: Siege has been described in many ways, but small is not one of them. A towering construct, Siege stands 7 feet tall and is made out of silver plates connected with darkwood. His yellow eyes glow from inside his featureless face, while his body shows the signs of much fighting.

 

Personality: If your looking for a sarcastic, quick tempered, vulgar, and violent construct then Siege is your man....chuck of living metal. He delights in making a mockery of stupidity, although he is quick to ignore his own flaws and failures. However, he is a nice guy at the heart stone. When he forges a friendship he is quick come to their aid. He is a being of action, holding judgment of anyone until he has had a chance to see their true colors. Siege enjoys a good fight and will not back down unless he knows he has no chance of winning.

 

Background: Having lived most his life in the Mournlands, Siege left the warforged encampment to see more of the world. Constantly plagued by the Lord of Blades hunters, Siege is looking for anyway to escape them while continuing his goal of exploration of as much of the world as possible.

 

:"Blah blah blah, can I break his face?"
"Is he....fishing.....in a sandbox? Man, I thought I had been hit on the head too many times...."
"If you think your NOT going in there, you have a bolt loose."
"Touch him, no please go ahead. Granted, your arm may be removed from your torso for it, but hey, your choice pal."
"I wish I could get drunk..."
*After tossing a gnome* "They can fly, right? Ooops."

[Bladewing]

 

Name: Setsuna Amkred
Age: 23
Race: Human
Class: Beguiler 2 and Bard 1. I'm hoping to keep these two relatively balanced out because they compliment the character's "tricky bastard" motif nicely.
Alignment: Chaotic NeutralFTW
Religion: Not particularly religious. He just doesn’t see the point of worrying about it.
Region of Origin: Aundair

 

Description: Setsuna is practically defined by his unnaturally messy, chocolate brown hair. It sticks up in every direction and refuses to cooperate with brushes or gels, giving him perpetual bed head in a manner of speaking. Though his boyish face, small nose, and lips are always set firm and unmoving, are often a dead giveaway, it's Setsuna's eyes that truly make him stand out, for Setunsa's eyes are blue. Not a dark grey masquerading as blue, nor a watery, sky-blue, but a true, dark cerulean blue that can only be seen by staring into the shallow part of an ocean on a perfectly clear day. They blaze brightly, full of the life he lives to the fullest, reflecting unshakable confidence and unstoppable force of will.

His honey-brown skin speaks of long days lying near-naked in the burning sun, soaking up its rays without a second thought. Setsuna stands slightly above the average height for his gender, just scraping 6’ without his shoes on. The young man sports a fairly lean build, with just enough muscle to be noticeable but not enough to give off the impression of someone who works as a part-time bounty hunter or body guard for a living (if you can call it that). His taste in clothes reflects his lax nature; he prefers comfort over anything else – baggy trousers, loose linen shirts, open toed sandals, the simple clothes he grew up wearing.

... He's good at bluffing, obviously.

 

Personality: We’re going to open Setsuna’s personality up with his love of women, and all things to do with women. Setsuna loves the company of girls, always has, and probably always will, and calling him a playboy is just complimenting him. Growing up around a group of girls all his life has basically filled him with much “inside” knowledge on how most girls work, which means despite his playboy ways, he knows that if a girl was ever SERIOUS about him, then they’d talk about it, and he wouldn’t be such an obvious player. He’s deep when it comes to talking to a girl, because well, he usually knows what buttons to press when it comes to talking to them, so sweet talking a girl off her feet is no hard task, all it takes is a little thought put into his words, and usually, they fall, and fall hard. Obviously there are exceptions, but in his mind, these girls are simply defects.

When the chips are down, when everything looks like it’s bad, and is only going to get worse, when the world loses hope, Setsuna will usually run away the first chance he gets…but when he finally DOES buckle down for the ride (usually when a girl is in trouble, or when he accepts it’s his responsibility, usually the girl if there’s the possibility of getting tail), no one is more reliable than Setsuna. His will to live, will to protect, and will to beat the **** out of anything in his way is absolutely amazing.

Setsuna lives to laugh, make others laugh, and have a good time, because that’s what life is about right now. Living, being alive, and having fun, and nothing else matters, and that’s basically his entire philosophy. Setsuna absolutely loves to party hard, and hang out with his friends, but mainly, girls. He’s something akin to a medieval frat boy, only without the stupid visors and polo shirts. Oh, and his ass doesn’t hang out of his pants all the time.

Setsuna is a lover, not a fighter, but his pride gets in the way of that, as does his hot blooded nature, but sometimes that even leads to cowardice. Deep down, he’s just glad to be alive. And he plans to abuse his life as much as possible until his luck runs out.

 

Background: [ And now for the unfunny serious bit ] Setsuna was born into a life of privilege. His mother came from a peasant family, having spent much of her childhood working out in the fields to try and help secure her family’s income. She had one feature that would save her from this laborious existence; her beauty. As young woman, and even into her later years, Setsuna’s mother retained both charm and loveliness that ensnared the attention of the opposite sex. In particular, it ensured the Attention of Setsuna’s father; a successful merchant, had amassed a great deal of wealth over his many years. The man claimed that he had made his fortune developing new trade routes for his fellow merchants to travel along and taxing the hell out of anyone who wanted to use them.

Indeed, Setsuna was born with both beauty flowing through his veins, and precious metals at his fingertips. One might assume he lived out his youth as a spoiled brat, demanding ridiculous tasks from his servants and never having to lift a finger to do something himself. There was one curveball in that plan though; Setsuna’s father never wanted to have him. He just wanted wild sex with pretty girl, and it had ended in disaster. The girl he’d taken from some faraway village was kicked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and the infant growing in her womb, left to fend for herself.

So Setsuna did not lead a life of privilege; rather, he lived one of poverty and isolation. His mother lacked the skills necessary to secure any kind of real job. Even as a farmhand she could not compare to the brute strength of the males already occupying the fields. Her family refused to take in her or her child; she had left them without saying a word, and without her, they had been unable to secure a large enough food store for the winter. No, there was only one skill she had to offer, something that haunted her until the end of her days.

Setsuna grew up amongst the prostitutes his mother worked at. They were his babysitters and aunts whenever his mother had to take care of a client or leave for special job in another city. Setsuna was everyone’s baby, and everyone took responsibility for his safety. Here, infant grew into child, child into adolescent, and adolescent into man. His aunts taught him all manner of things, skills they had all developed before finding their home at the brothel. One taught him basic mathematics and sciences, having been a member of a wealthy family before being disowned for cheating on her husband. Another taught him how to blend in with a crowd, how to pick a pocket without arousing suspicion and to slit a purse without making eye contact. And still there was his mother’s best friend, who, once he reached his teenage years, taught him about being a man.

Yeah, he got good at that one. Really good. Go figure.

His aunts were not his only teachers. Clients sometimes spotted the boy washing the floor or heard him playing in the attic. Though most ignored his presence, a precious few treated him kindly. One man in particular, a member of the local militia, grew especially fond of the energetic youth over his many visits. He’d bring him treats like bits of candy and toys as an infant, and when Setsuna hit puberty he took it upon himself to teach him something of his own. The militia passed down the art of swordplay and self defense to him, things he had spent most of his life studying and perfecting. He was by no means naturally talented in this area, if any, he was a hopeless mess. He cut himself on both his and his mentor’s sword countless times, failed to slip a punch more often than not, and somehow managed to earn a new scar every month or two. But practice eventually helped to hone his skills, and after five or six years Setsuna has developed style all his own that combined his martial prowess with his intellect and quick reflexes. Plus, he dropped the sword in favor of the bow; he wasn’t one for that “running into the fray” business. He liked to play it smart.

There was woman in particular who taught Setsuna something he could never repay her for. This young woman, having grown up under the tutelage of her magician father, taught Setsuna the basics of magic. Or rather, her magic; she used her arcane powers to help ensure her customers picked her and stayed with her, to get a little bit of extra gold after a job. Setsuna, however, found a better use for them; they merged wonderfully with his ability to blend in with the crowd.

At nineteen years of age, Setsuna left home to start a life on his own. He didn’t leave unprepared; his aunts and mother pooled together their money and bought him some necessary supplies, such as clothing and survival gear. They gave him a bow that had once been mounted on the fireplace mantle and, one of his most treasured possessions a hand-carved wax wood staff.

On his own, Setsuna spent most of his time wandering. He went from town to town, doing odd jobs to make money and staying in inns or brothels. His jobs varied greatly, from delivering a letter halfway across the continent to beating down a group of local thugs. But he didn’t complain as long as he got his payment. When he didn’t, he usually found a way to get it without resorting to violence, though sometimes his temper got the best of him when dealing with society’s less than stellar citizens.

[IrishKatt]

Redemption
Frighteningly Devout Warforged Cleric of the Silver Flame

Age:
3.5

Class:
Cleric

Alignment:
Lawful Good

Religion:
Church of the Silver Flame

Region of Origin:
Flamekeep

Personality:

Redemption believes in giving everyone a chance. A chance. The Silver Flame teaches that those who fall down the path of evil, and weave twisted fates are to be banished, destroyed, and utterly annihilated, but it also teaches of repentance. As such Redemption acts on this, ruthlessly carrying out the orders given to him, and "living" by the code set forth by the Sacred script of the Silver Flame. He comes off as cold, direct, blunt, and sometimes a bit creepy. He is incredibly loyal and does not waver in his choices.



Description:

An imposing figure of a solid build stands before you. Clad in a black robe, with barely visible silver etchings upon the trim, and what appears to be a belt around the figures waist, a harness it seems. From under the dark hooded cowl two glowing spheres come into sight, flickering and dancing much like the flame of a candle. Then this being begins a steady step forward, it's steps are heavy an you can hear are the light scrape, and thud of its metal clad foot against the stone of the floor. Soon you feel those flickering orbs fall upon you, their gaze like that of someone watching you from a distance, someone witnessing you in the act of a crime. From inside the hood you hear a deep distant voice like that of someone in the darkness, like that of someone whispering to you; what could be the last choice you ever make.


Background:


Redemption has always worked under the Silver Flame. From his time of creation in Flamekeep, to his ongoing work in the Temple in Sharn he has always kept a vigilant eye on those around him. When he was "christened" into the church they etched the symbol of the Silver Flame into his chest through magic and artifice. Since that day he has held fast to the teachings, and ideologies the Holy Fire holds dear.

Due to his relentless faith, and undying servitude to the churches causes, Redemption has done numerous tasks, and missions for the church. The greatest being the conviction, and execution of a high priest, who through the faith twisted, corrupted, and blasphemed weak minds into doing his bidding, all in the name of the Silver Flame. Blind following of faith without contemplation lead many to their downfall, due to their weak minds falling to the corrupt taint of the dark world around them.

During the war Redemption was in charge of relaying information between church members, as well as keeping tabs on those who were in seats of power in temples. His life is based on the servitude to his faith, and the servitude to his beliefs. Though he may not believe that everything the Holy Flame does is right, he believes it is just, and means to an end.

An Encounter With "Redemption" It was well into the late hours of the night when the servitor arrived. The heavy chamber door creaked, and clanged with it's opening and closing, as the heavy iron wrought cleric stepped over the thresh hold, and had I not known better I would say that the candles in the room swayed and danced for his presence. His black robes were what set him apart from most of the clergy, but if one looked closely he had the markings of his faith on display through to the core. There as I watched, the bound High Priest laugh pretentiously in his chair as he looked on at this dark robed figure gazing at him with eyes almost as passionate and just as the flame it's self. He spoke no words as he walked towards the man who he once looked up to, though now a tainted husk, an abomination and mockery of the flame. The high Priest was not possessed, nor was he afflicted with the lycanthropes curse, nay he was something worse in this "mans" eyes. For what seemed like an eternity the Warforged walked to the man bound by rope and chain, and finally when he reached him, placed both hands on either side of his face, clutching it in his metal three fingered hands the stared the man in the eyes. "Ooh what do they send? An Exorcist to chase away the demon inside of me, Hah? A Paladin perhaps, to remind me of what the scripture says? No you are neither of those, no, what pray tell are you hmm? What did they send me?" The priests words were arrogant and self righteous in their own sense, but the cleric did not respond, no he stared into that mans eyes, and for the life of me I could not look away, even though terrified of what may happen, I was compelled by some other worldly force. "Hmmm!? What did they send, Who Are you Servitor? What is my PUNISHMENT?" One more the priest spoke as though he had done nothing wrong, the this time I heard a voice, not the priests, nor mine. A deep, authoritative voice, one that sounded like it reverberated from the depths of his being before it was eased out like the gentle flicker of a flame. "Redemption" the voice said, and before I could blink there was a horrible sound, a scream that I had never heard not even from the horrors I have witnessed through exorcism. When I looked I could hardly believe what had happened, but it all became clear after wards. The man in the chair was now blind, and dumb, an able to speak, and unable to see. The warforged knelt with bloody hands, in one a tongue, the other in the symbol of prayer over his chest. " Your judgment has been passed. You shall never again gaze upon that which you once called salvation. You shall never again fill the ears of those who trusted you with poison and lies. From now on you shall live your life like one whom you have tainted through rotten faith. As Messenger of the Radiant Flame You have Been Committed, and Condemned." The room was quiet and all I could hear was the pain laden sobs of the ex-priest. It was then that the warforged moved for the last time. Standing he grabbed the chains binding the man, and hoisted him to his hip. The sound of the droplets of blood hitting the floor was one of the louder sounds in the room. The slight jingle of the chain, the almost silent crackle of the candles lighting the room, the sobs of pain from the now broken man being carried like a bag of waste. Then the Cleric once more opened the heavy chamber door, his robe ruffled in the slight breeze that blew through, and at that point I realized what he had meant. When the door closed with a hefty thud, the candles blew out. My First encounter with the Cleric known as "Redemption" ~ Elricht Styne - Minister of the Silver Flame.

"May their souls burn."
"By the Radiance of the Silver Flame I condemn you."
"To the next life we commit thee"
~Prayers to the Silver Flame by Redemption - Warforged Cleric of the Silver Flame

[tilbert]

Originally Posted by tilbert

[GrandCommander13]

Name: Golk Norrahg
Age: 20
Class: Barbarian 2 / Fighter 1
Alignment: Neutral Good
Religion: Kalok Shash (aka the Silver Flame)
Region of Origin: The Demon Wastes

Description:
Golk is a large half-orc, and he stands tall with a gleaming chain shirt and a weapon for every occasion. He wears the brand of the binding flame on his forehead and a tattoo of it on the back of his right hand.

Personality:
Golk is very devoted to the hunting of the devils and their minions, seeing it as the main purpose in his life. When not fighting or preparing to fight, however, he likes to use his newfound literacy to read any stories of epic heroes; he identifies very strongly with, and takes inspiration from, the romance of warriorhood and the hero's struggle against evil. This new romance contrasts sharply with the strong sense of solemn burden he was raised with, and he is still trying to sort the two feelings out in his mind.

Background:
Golk is a member of the Maruk clan of the Ghaash'kala, born to two half-orcs who heeded the call of Kalok Shash to join the fight against the evil within the Wastes. He was raised to be a fierce warrior and has been in many battles against the minions of the rakshasas.

When out on patrol Golk and his squad caught sight of a rakshasa moving its way through the Labryrinth. Golk and two of the other young warriors were ordered to draw the fiend's attention with bowfire while the other warriors hid and ambushed it from behind. The battle began as planned, but after the patrol leader dug his pick deep into the fiend's side the rakshasa decided to flee the battle—straight through Golk. Golk, already holding his main weapon and watching for any other fiends trying to enter the battle, immediately fell back on his warrior training—while his awareness heightened his sense of self drained away and Golk acted on instinct. A skillful – or lucky – blow landed Golk's weapon straight through the rakshasa's heart, finishing it off.

Golk considered the kill to be a testament to his skill and bravery, and his clan reveled in another victory against the rakshasa. Over the next week Golk forged himself a dagger in celebration, forging the pommel in the shape of the face of a dismayed rakshasa. It was during this time, spent by Golk alternately at the forge or training, that bad omens began to come to the priests. There was great evil outside the Wastes, far more than normal. Though they tried to divine the source, all of their attempts failed—or were blocked.

After one divination attempt a demon tore from the spell's focus, shrieking curses in Abyssal. It felled two priests before the warriors would lay it low. A meeting of the clan's priests was held as soon as the two victims could be magically healed enough to stand, and they came to a grave conclusion: though their duty was to contain evil within the Demon Wastes, someone would have to go to investigate this evil. Being young but still a proven warrior, Golk was chosen for this task.

Taking his gear with him Golk left the Wastes through the same route his clan normally prevented others from leaving by. At the exit Golk was ritually cleansed of the taint of the Demon Wastes, his hand tattooed to keep his weapon hand pure and always guided by the guiding flame. He has followed rumors and tales to Breland while learning more of the world outside the wastes and of this new variety of fiends, and outfitting himself better to fight this new threat.

[Feirnon]

Name: Niroa Naïlos (Naïlos means Nightwind in Elven) (Character sheet to be fully filled out after done with exam tonight [5.11.2010].)
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Race: Shifter
Alignment: CG
Religion: Has actually contemplated worshiping the Silver Flame, but does indulge in any religion.
Region of Origin: Eldeen Reaches but grew up wandering mostly.

Description: Niroa has the distinct animal features of her race; however, her shifter appearance seems more akin to a feline's appearance. At first glance, she might be mistaken for a lycanthrope because of the very thin layer of brownish fur that has grown all over her body. It is extremely soft to the touch and never longer than half a centimeter in any one place. Her hair is a very lush mass of soft black threads that curl at the ends. Both her hair and her thinly furred skin are always kept very clean and soft. She has a basic form of the symbol of the Silver Flame tattooed onto the full of her back as tribute to their help. This tattoo makes any fur that grows out of it turn a matte silver color. She has a sleek body that relies on dexterity rather than strength to accomplish any physical goals. Her nose is like any traditional shifter's nose, her ears are long and pointed, and her face seems more streamline than most shifter's faces. Her eyes set her greatly apart from other shifters and sometimes even bring her unwanted attention from Silver Flame followers. Her left eye is golden-yellow and her pupil is slitted like a cat's, but her right eye is dark red with a black iris and a dark red slitted pupil. Her hands and feet are very dexterous and have yellowish claw-like nails on their fingertips which do retract at her will but are not strong enough to be used as weapons. She is slightly more endowed than the average shifter female, but she considers it something of a slight hindrance in tight spaces. She has a tail, but keeps it coiled around her midriff most of the time to keep it out of her way. She has regular human feet with the exception of the small layer of fur on them and the claw-like nails on the tips of her toes. Her feet grow in length and she stands on the balls of her feet when she shifts, increasing her height by half a head. She often crouches but moves with nimble grace instead of the awkward way that other shifters carry themselves. While traveling, she likes to wear very light clothing colored red and while thieving she likes to wear a full set of black clothing that conceals her nature and lighter colored fur.

Personality: Niroa tends to be very friendly to those that don't stereotype her or get to know her better. She is generally happy about life and her curiosity is almost palpable. She loves exploring and traveling, finding it nigh on impossible to sit still when she is held back from these. Only when she has much to explore locally does she stay for long periods of time. She believes in her own freedom, and makes anyone an enemy who would severely restrict her freedom. She prefers to steal from the corrupt and always gives some of her thieving earnings to the poor. She respects the Silver Flame and its followers because of her past with them, but she still is treated as if possessed by a demon by them when they see her demonic eye for the first time. She will help any follower of the Silver Flame if their cause seems justified in her eyes. Despite her shifter nature, she has a natural ability to talk others into liking her, both from her charismatic ability and her attractive appearance.

Background: Although born to a tribe in the Eldeen Reaches, she grew up traveling in the lands of other races when a human couple found her abandoned in the wilderness as a baby. In truth, her tribe had been slaughtered by demons, and she was the last one living only by mere chance that the demons had overlooked her. She never knew of this, for her human foster parents raised her as one of their own. She grew up separate from other humans because of her strange physical features. From an early age she learned how to steal things that she wanted, but she usually ended up giving them to others or back to the owner because she felt bad for them.

When she grew old enough to fend for herself, she snuck away from her parents, leaving her former pampered life behind in favor of the life of a traveler and thief. At first, she robbed easy targets in cities she visited, but after a while she began to wonder if she could break into harder buildings. It was on one such attempt that she gained her demonic eye. The event went as follows:

 

Niroa ran from roof to roof as she traveled to the building she had planned to rob that night: the poor district's corrupt tax collector. She had heard horrible things about how high the taxes had been set by him. The real reason she was robbing him was because he had apparently had a new anti-thief system installed into his treasure room that most nobles would have been jealous of. She stopped on the edge of the crest of the building across from the tax collector's building and purred with interest. Not a light was lit in the building, and she was merely contemplating a way in when she saw a flash of red light from the highest room to the right.

"Mmm....what was that?" she asked herself before quietly leaping over to the tax collector's building to investigate. She slipped down to a balcony and expertly opened the simple lock on the door. She stood in the room that had previously had the red glow, but she was unable to find either the source of the glow or the glow itself. She sighed in disappointment before disarming the traps around the small fortune the tax collector had amassed from the poor. She unlocked the locks with ease and grabbed the loot before turning to leave. It was just as she had turned that she noticed the glow spring up again and fill the room with evil light. A look to the floor revealed a pentagram of her own blood taken from her limbs without her noticing. Suddenly a voice entered her mind; a voice filled with something sinister, and it tried to persuade her to say its name. "No," she said defiantly without even thinking. Almost immediately she felt her body slip out of control for a moment; her mouth opened and mouthed the name of the demon, but she had not given it the necessary sound.
"You are very strong willed, Niroa," the sinister voice said in her head, "but how long do you think you can last, hmm?" Again she lost control of her body temporarily, but she had resisted it more this time. She fell to one knee from the strain of the effort. She could hear several pairs of heavy footsteps approaching from down the hall, but she could not yet move of her own accord. The voice roared with annoyance, "Speak my name!" Her lips moved, but her voice did not fill the words. "Say it!"
Just then, several followers of the Silver Flame entered the room to find her on the pentagram of blood. One drew his spiked mace and made to strike her down, but another held him when Niroa yelled, "No! I will not say your name, foul demon!"
"She is being possessed by the demon of this evil trap brother. We shall try to save her and banish the demon back to whence it came," the cleric that had held his companion's arm said aloud.
"But she is a lycan, can you not see-" the warrior said.
"Do not be so daft as to think that this woman is a lycan. A shifter perhaps, but not a lycan. Now help me with this exorcism; it shall take all of u-" He was cut short as Niroa's eyes shot open to reveal orbs of crimson. "We must make haste, she has not much time!"
The followers of the Silver Flame quickly set up for an exorcism and began their ceremony. Niroa's unearthly cries told them they were rapidly losing her until the final verse of the spell was sung. A circle of light enveloped and dispersed the pentagram, and the leading cleric pulled out his spiked mace as well. "We have done all that we can to help her. Now it shall be the test of her will that shall either free her or allow her to be consumed by the demon. Weapons at the ready and if I say to strike, you strike to kill."
"SAY...MY...NAME!" the demon screamed in Niroa's head, attempting to take full control over her.
"NO!" she yelled back even more fiercely than his shout, causing the demon to pause for but a moment. It was this pause that had allowed her to gain control once again. "Leave....me.....ALONE!" she mentally yelled as she stood back up.
The demon's grip loosened only for a second, but that second was all it had taken her to hit away its remaining grip. "Nooooooo! You belong to me!" With an evil roar it swiped at her mental embodiment, hitting her eye. It laughed at the mark it had left behind, "When everyone rejects you and wishes to kill you for that, call out my name, and I will bring swift death to your enemies." The demon's presence left her at last, and she fell to the floor, weak from the effort of expelling the demon.
"T-thank you for your help," she muttered reluctantly with her eyes closed before she passed out at the feet of the followers. When she came to, she was in the city's church of the Silver Flame. On that very same day, she visited a tattooist and had a basic symbol of the Silver Flame tattooed onto her back to forever remind her that the Silver Flame had helped her when she wasn't strong enough on her own. She also vowed to help any follower of the Silver Flame if she found their cause a just one.

From then on, she had her demonic eye, but its demonic origin had not left any of its evil taint behind. She continued to steal from the corrupt, but she always gave some of her earnings from the theft to the poor. She always thoroughly searched places she went that held valuable items, for traps of all kinds. She has not stopped traveling the land in search of new things to peak her curiosity or new places that she can explore.