~ To be alive is not to live; living requires reaching beyond survival for something more. Reach for that something and find what dreams breath life into your existence. ~
Last edited by Eviltedzies; Apr 30th, 2021 at 01:29 PM.
Name: Lyss Malphage
Race: Tiefling
Class: Ashiftah Witch Apostle Kyton
Intended Role: Debuffer, Battlefield control potentially
Alignment: Any Evil
Magic: Likely stick with PF Witch spells, but may work with you on appropriate sphere magic instead.
Lyss is a thin, lithe 5 foot 7 inches tall, with a reddish hued skin. Her most prominent feature are the two horns that grow from the side of her forehead, one short and curling like a ram's horn, the other a misshapen lump of scarred tissue, broken and torn almost to the root. For this reason, Lyss tends to favor the left side of her face, and keeps her long, black hair cut long over the abused polled horn. She inherited the delicate facial features of her mother, complete with thinly slimming, pointed ears. Her long delicate fingers, adept at coaxing hidden beauty from pieces of woodcraft, end in deep red nails, narrowed almost into a claw-like tip.
She bears four brands; one each on her palms, and another on the backs of each shoulder. Decades old, they still manifest plainly with their pinker display of injured skin, and are immediately noticeable when Lyss removes her gloves or clothing. They are marks of her service to Zon-Kuthon, the scourger, and were remade every year she was alive, so they would remain fresh. In her post death life, they will never heal, even though pain is nearly beyond her now.
Lyss tends to dress in very loose, plain clothing, and almost always wears a woolen robe, with the hood pulled up and around her face, to conceal her identity. Beneath the robes she has layers of soft woven cotton wrapped about her upper body, and some scarves of silk, one of her few vanities she allows herself. High topped goatskin boots are tied around homespun woven breeches, and a complex leather vest bound tight over her blouses are strapped tightly to her frame. A trio of belts, each with a half dozen pouches and slotted pockets are tied around her waist, holding her herbs, spell components, and from them dangle small chains and leather straps, with metal scourges adorning them.
She carries a thin, supple staff of yew with a flail at the end, and will never be found without a small assortment of knives and daggers secreted on her body. A small pack and bedroll typically complete her traveling gear, slung over her shoulder and secured with rope.
Before her death, Lyss was studious and pious, and very reserved. Lyss was shy, almost to the point of fear, with regards to strangers and large crowds, but her training in the Temple had changed that, and brought forth a more public persona, an evangelical convert. She was always strong-willed and tenacious in defense of herself, however, and very capable of survival on her own. She did not trust easily, and mistrusted men most of all. She had difficulty in being open with her emotions.
After her death, and rebirth, Lyss is methodical, calculating, and horrible. She is likely insane, or at least, psychotic in her zealotry. What she endured in her life, she feels that others not only can endure as well, but should endure, for their benefit. And salvation. Every stripe of the lash, every cut and tear of her own skin, she believes should now be shared with everyone, so that they too can be cleansed, and know salvation through either the worship of Zon-Kuthon, or the purity of pain. Most around her think her coldly calculating, very judgemental; and rather impersonal. Her words are as sharp and barbed as her flail, and can inflict nearly as much damage. She is very practical about her methods, and while she holds honor and order above all else, it is the honor of Zon-Kuthon, and the order of the Temple, that she holds too. Pain frees the mind to do great things, and so the more pain, the greater the things one is free to do.
Lyss was born atop the mines of Absalum, among the slaves working under the lash of Clan Bloodtail. Her mother, Osiri, was a slave of preferential status at the mines, meaning she wasn't immediately sentenced to toil to death. Instead, her magical powers were used; drained daily, to make life at the mines more bearable for the Fiendish over-seers. It was, after another draining day of casting and crafting that Osiri was detained in an empty, cold building atop the mines, and used for another purpose by a minor fiendish lord named Amazeanus. Lyss was the result of that union.
Knowing that Amazeanus, like all those of his kind, was a jealous and spiteful man, her mother kept the pregnancy from his knowledge, as best she could. However, secretly birthing and then trying to raise, a child in the slave mines would be difficult, if not fatal to both child and mother. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps plan, it was then that Osiri was contacted by the freed men of the First Born clan, the Children of the Night, and arrangements were made to get her and her newborn out of Absalum, along with one hundred twenty three others. Not all made it, not all by far; but Osiri and her newborn were among the survivors, and the Children spirited her away from the mines, and into the wilds of Aheka.
Knowing that the other freed slaves would view her child with suspicion, if not outright hatred, Osiri took Lyss out into the hinterlands, to raise her in a small hut well removed from any but the smallest village. Even there, Osiri kept Lyss a secret, working as a local hedge witch for the farmers and villagers to earn enough to get by. Lyss grew up poor, raising scrawny chickens and an ill-fed pig, but free to roam the woods and nearby hillsides, usually at night. Osiri hoped her daughter would inherit her penchant for sorcery, knowing that the demonic heritage she carried would add to her strength. However, Lyss never seemed to develop a talent for magic, not as her mother had.
Lyss grew, secluded and protected by her mother, deep in the woods, leagues from civilized society. She learned wood craft at her mother's knee, and learned to read, write, and practice herbalry as she grew to adulthood. However, no matter how remote Osiri had hoped she kept her daughter, Lyss was eventually discovered. The first farmer, rising from his field in the morning light after a deep drunk, saw Lyss gathering herbs, and reported it to the local headman, who sent Kendrick the Acolyte, the local representative of the Church of L'arabiel, to discover what was amok among the flock. Half trained in investigation, and half stumbling lucky, Kendrick discovered the secret that "the wood witch Osiri" held, and Osiri bought his silence the only way she could.
For the next ten years, Lyss would listen to her mother in the other room pay for Kendrick's silence once, sometimes twice a week. The arrangement left both women ashamed and embarrassed, but alive and alone; until, that is, Lyss grew into her new body. As she blossomed, it was not hard to see that Kendrick was not beyond leering at her, and the desire in his eyes was obvious. When the small bumps on Lyss's forehead grew into a full set of horns, and the nub of a tail grew longer and prehensile, that growth (along with other important parts of her body) proved too much for the cleric to resist. With the aid of two others from his church, Kendrick drugged Osiri into senselessness, and he and his acolyte brothers shared Lyss over and over throughout the long night. The act left both women filled with anger and shame. Revenge for the women, however, came quickly, as the trio returned a month later, under cover of a moonless darkness, thinking to repeat their actions, only to find Osiri well prepared for them.
However, the villager's discovery of the body parts of three men, prominent churchmen at that, adorned around the chapel and nave of the small church led to a search of the town, and the nearby farms and woodlands, for the heinous criminal. Knowing that the small hut would eventually be searched, and the inner sanctum where Lyss could be hidden from occasional visitors easily discovered, the two women packed their belongings and fled the village, seeking a new place to live. Osiri and Lyss fled, and sought refuge among the Order of the Scourge, where they were accepted, so long as they were appropriately penitent.
Seeking refuge and asylum in the Temple of Zon-Kuthon, Lyss and her mother were given succor. Her wounds were cared for and healed, the physical ones, at least, by the brothers and sisters there. Her mental wounds would take much longer. In the next five years, Lyss recovered, and learned the ways of the Zon-Kuthon priesthood. She became an initiate, then an acolyte, and finally, a full member of the order. She threw herself into the her duties, perhaps in an attempt to cleanse her own soul through pain and denial. Lyss sought out the long hours and worst punishments, and never hesitated to volunteer for the worst scourging, as much as her body and mind would let her. It was not unusual for her to be found at the alter at dawn, exhausted from a long night of flagellation and cuttings, and suffering in pain.
When a call came to send a delegation of priests to establish a new temple in Strathmoor she volunteered to attend them as a member. It was there, over the next year, where she proved herself every bit as strong and brave as the other priests she served. Lyss worked as hard as any of them, and at the end of their duty tour, they offered her a place in their ranks. Lyss eagerly accepted.
The Temple became a home for Lyss, a place where the past was not important, for it could be flensed every day, removed and washed away with pain and blood. Among the priests, the past was never discussed. The penitent came, worked, and were judged on their actions, not their families, history, or privilege. Unfortunately, the Order of the Scourge became powerful, too powerful, and that threatened Lord Demetrious. As their influence grew over the city, Demetrious's anger and rage at those who would deny him grew stronger too. Lyss, one of the more outwardly prominent members of the order, and one of their chief proselytizers, was the focus of his ire, and her execution was his message to the order to leave the city, and his demesne, alone.
Motivation: Revenge and Power. A little punishment too. On Demetrious, and honestly, all of Strathmoor, if they don't listen and wise up.
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Apr 24th, 2021, 01:02 PM
