Cerys - Background

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You have the potential for greatness... but you do understand that greatness will come at a cost, right?

As a Pureblood, Cerys was raised for war, espionage, and above all servitude to the Yuan-ti and by extension the god Sseth. She had been taught to despise the human half of her, and by extent those whom commanded the world beyond the Yuan-ti empire.

Cerys had often times considered what it meant to be subservient to an entity whom yet seethed in the darkness from its defeat at the hands of those it viewed as inferior. Furthermore, she had often wondered if the Purebloods were truly fitting of their function as mere retainers and aids. Surely enough, the priests of Yuan-ti were powerful, but all the same confined and bitterly so. There was more to it than this, though. The manifestations of a heritage grander than the rabble, and the spark of a life that was anything but mediocre.

She had accepted her purpose as a loosely connected liason with open arms, for it allowed her to distance herself from what she had come to think of as an oppressive, stagnant atmosphere. The world above was, expectedly, not as willing to accept her. Although her true lineage was somewhat obscured by the influence of the dragon's blood, her piercing red eyes were more than enough to unnerve the average human. For a time she had wondered if she would ever manage to break free of the shackles that held her hands and pursue her true desire - absolution.

You must be prepared to offer any price it asks for.

In rigorous experiments she studied the remains, sometimes still alive, of those whom dwelled in the lands the Yuan-ti coveted. Goblins, Orcs, and aught else that fell under her ever-watchful eyes were studied for a deeper understanding of the relationship of humans and those they feared. As if to recapture the experiments her serpentine ancestors and, indeed, the Gods themselves had conducted, she sought to solidify her belief that she was not simply an equal to her forefathers but, indeed, their superior. That Sseth had blessed her with a gift to break the chains that would otherwise suffocate her potential.

By chance she happened across a band lead by one Sildar Hallwinter. Unlike those who would normally turn her away, Sildar saw potential in her... diplomatic abilities. It was not often his ilk were able to strike a deal with a Yuan-ti, much less a budding mage. Sildar had a great many matters to tend to, however, and it was under the temporary tutelege of his companion - Iarno Albrek, whom she'd come to know foremost as Glasstaff - that she had begun to understand how to control the true potential that laid dormant within her.

Glasstaff was a crude mentor, but an effective one, for he already understood the finer elements of controlling magic. He would find that Cerys' abilities were much different than his own, however, and ultimately settled for a simple statement that had only served to stir her growing desire for information.

Greatness... at any cost.

Glasstaff was a visionary, one she had come to believe was potentially insane, but no more so than the Yuan-ti who yet hid in their caves. His thirst for greatness, his drive for power, had stirred her own. He saw beyond the material and into a parched sea, and searched for water like a dying horse. His passion and his devotion were inspiring. Perhaps, in the end, they were all insane, and it was minds like his who would find the light at the end of their dusty tunnel. Whatever the case was, when Sildar offered her a place in the Lord's Alliance, to make use of the same resources and freedom of travel that had helped shape the foundation of Glasstaff's position, she was eager to accept. After all, the Lord's Alliance often had her dealing with the very same creatures she had thus far been experimenting upon - she simply got recognition, and pay, for something she already thoroughly enjoyed. As a result she was able to tend to her alchemical pursuits - not the least of which the addiction to coffee the overworld had blessed her with - without fear of potential complications with Neverwinter and its many goons.

Although her time as Glasstaff's disciple had been short, with other matters demanding the group's attention, she had committed herself to a very simple, short-term goal.

Attain greatness... at any cost.

After she had that, matters like conquering the fear and hesitation of the Yuan-ti and proving herself to Sseth would be comparatively easy. And, if they wouldn't accept her, she would simply exceed them. Of course, she couldn't tell them this was her intent... yet.

Though, she never quite understood where the ships in a bottle fit into it all... a mystery for another day, perhaps.

Motivation

Cerys is fueled by a strong passion for not simply attaining power, but proving both to herself and to Sseth that she can do so, and exceed the expectations of the Yuan-ti. In a way she is very distant from the homeland that gave life to her, and considers herself more a pilgrim of the realms than a spy, though she upholds both the needs of the Lord's Alliance and the occassional correspondence from the Yuan-ti when necessary.

Though the Lord's Alliance seems a bizarre fit for her, she sees her time with the faction as a learning experience. It is both an opportunity to grow in strength and in knowledge of how the world and its people work. In that respect, she sees the hostility and whims of most people as merely bestial instincts, and doesn't necessarily hold them accountable for their lack of tact and critical thinking ability. In a way, she views most creatures, be they humans or Yuan-ti, as unthinking meat curtains whom she must curtail a level of dignity and respect towards to keep the world around her in a functional order. To that end she has an exceptional degree of patience and diplomatic ability, but an equally beastly and violent side that can be exposed for seemingly nonsensicle reasons.

Above all, she treats her research - the desire to learn more about things that will improve her own abilities or grant her objects of power - as a primary reasoning for stepping into the wondrous, wacky world of paper work and throat problems. Research comes in many forms - alchemy, or the science of breaking down the world into understandable, scientific formula - learning about the physical traits and abilities of various creatures through acupuncture, or simply testing herself against worthy advesaries. All as such are performed in a usually strict series of guidelines, though she is known to be easily excitable when possible science and blood are involved.

Her sense of loyalty is somewhat warped. So long as someone proves dependable and capable, she'll tend to favor them like one might a pet. She is distanced from the traditional emotions of people. It's not that she doesn't understand them, it's that she doesn't find them particularly useful for practical applications. As a result it is difficult to deter her once she sets her mind on something.

Quirks

Anime red eyes. Glowing red lines. They tend to excite when evoking magic.

Background:  Faction Agent (Lord's Alliance) (Proficiencies - Herbalism Kit, Achelmist's Supplies) (Safehouse, Contacts)
Specialty:  Acupuncture
Personality:  Dio
Ideal:  Carry oneself with unshakable dignity, even with thoroughly soaked in ash and blood.
Bond: The dragon lineage born of chance, a gift from Sseth to push her to heights undreamed of by her kin.
Flaw:  Enjoys violence far more than her demeanor (usually) conveys.
Quote:  “AAAHH SNAKES”

Session Summaries

Jason's Final Fantasy

I arrived at my new safehouse, having been routed to it following my previous one being uncovered by unidentified stalkers. While this was expected within a busy city such as Neverwinter, the persistance of my advesaries was noteworthy. I took opportunity to study the vicinity for any potential security concerns when I came across a book that drew me back to yesterday with my mentor, Glasstaff. An inspiring man, if only for his dedication to the great hunt. It was then that Sovellis, my Lord's Alliance contractor, made his presence known. Most importantly, he made known his possession of Coffee. There was some discussion regarding the cult of Bane and the rat sneaking around my hideouts being some upstart in their group, but it was truly the coffee that was noteworthy about this hour. After all, Sovellis needed only point me in the direction of the stalker and the rest would come together or burn up. Well, I suppose most things come together by burning up.

Suffice to say, the prospect of setting flame to my quarry had crossed my mind a few times, but I considered that property damage in the enclosed tavern Jason was residing in may be too great. The Lord's Alliance, after all, did make some effort of explaining to me that burning down the city to strike fear into the heart of a single goblin was not necessary. Given one of Jason's companions at the operation was a goblin, the urge was considerably more difficult to restrain. His other companion was a burly fellow with a wooden object of some nature. They were most likely containing elements of alcohol within toxic levels in their bloodstreams and as a result suffered from mental discord. My research had indicated that humans with compromised mental inhitibation from toxic elements usually expressed increased violent tendencies. Given my own personal disposition and the fact the cadre certainly knew my identity I expected their immediate response to my presence would be violence. Given the aforementioned mental malady they suffered, that response would probably result in countermeasures being necessary.

Acquiring a drink to fit into the ensemble and pass the time, I had not time to await a potential opening in their activities to make a move before the goblin noticed my acquisition and made impressively legible and coherent advances on the flavored toxin. I offered him the drink in exchange for him "taking the day off", a deal he gleefully accepted before speeding out of the premises. Note, he probably did not return the mug. This likely constitutes as property damage. I am not responsible for property damaged influcted by Goblins. Jason did, however, notice that his questionably loyal bodyguard had in fact left an area that would be construed as an effective defensive engagement zone, and attempted to consult me for diagnosis. I calculated that the chances of an attempt at disarming his already questionable reasoning amidst the compromised aura he exuded would be insufficient, but I humored the request of my knife-eared benefactor regardless. Jason felt that his knife would speak better than his reason, and so began the grand battle of the Bane cult.

His friend promptly initiated the engagement by flipping a table onto his own face, while Jason proceeded to flail at me uselessly. Once his vital organs were sufficiently, but not entirely, liquefied, I turned my attention to his recovering comrade, whom managed to land a sizable blow on my person with his wooden object. The damage was significant, but rather than resort to issuing additional resources to the confrontation I committed to using my personal armaments in a non-lethal manner, and was able to disable him before he could attempt another attack. He is responsible for a degree of property damage. I took the time to tend to Jason's stability and, considering that perhaps more quarries may yet be drawn to the scene, evoked the Schwa talent to infuse my body with artificial vitality.

Curiously, Jason possessed correspondence which was ferociously guarded by a hairy animal referred to in texts as a Cat. Cats are notoriously fluffy and capable of psychic warfare by consuming the attention and mental inhibitions of even the most stalwart paladins. An offering of food was all it took to displace the cat from its garrison.

I returned the incapacitated Jason and his correspondence to the city watch, and returned to my safehouse for recovery. The cat managed to follow me all that distance, so I ended up acquiring it as well. Lil Jason is now an official member of my research enclave. His insight on physics and alchemy have been surprisingly enlightening, though translation of his various vocalizations is a work in progress.

Offscreen Resolution - Relaxing. No cost/effect.

Bloodeye's GoFundMyself Campaign

Pending the confiscation of Jason's Final Fantasy raid notes, Sovellis discovered the deep, dark truth of the Bane cultist to whom he answered - he was broke, and in dire need of ritual sacrifice to make ends meet. This information did not reach my ears until I scarcely escaped the psychological warfare of a cat and encountered a mercenary whom had been directed to his abode - a Tiefling named Achaval. According to my studies, Tieflings are naturally fire retardant, which may prove invaluable for future research environments. Achaval's impressive armory seemed to include a long wooden stick and pointed horns, though the effectiveness of the latter were not documented in my research material, and the former was just a stick.

To make matters decidedly more rousing for the knife-eared justiciar, the bane cultust - known as Bloodeye - banked his savings in the form of a young daughter of a Torm-worshipping noble family. The child and Bloodeye were both unlikely to be flame retardant. The problem was that they were believed to be in a crypt of some nature, and Bloodeye was not likely to be as clumsy a quarry as Jason - thus the acquisition of a second, pointier and more fiendish, set of teeth.

Though I question if the locale Sovellis chose to disclose this information was ideal, the greater threat to our groups' integrity was, of course, the cat. Achaval nearly lost her soul in that moment. Curiously, the cat seemed alarmed of my own presence, though it may be due to the scent of an existing cat from the cargo I acquired from the cult of Bane.

Though we had time to spare, I did not wish to give Bloodeye the chance to fortify his locale any more than he had. We set off on our merry adventure south of Neverwinter amidst the snow of Alwayswinter and eventually crosssed paths with a goblin.

Goblins, as records indicate, are typically extremely flammable. They're also notoriously slippery when wet, and surely this goblin was well slick. Somehow, despite the combined efforts of my half-fiend companion and my own well-trained diplomatic abilities, we were both unable to coerce the goblin into surrendering his allegiance nor his soul. Much more embarassingly, we were unable to do any more than mildly scratch his undercarriage as he broke the sound barrier and vanished into the distance.

Dumbfounded, bamboozled and flabberghasted, we opted to await the timely arrival of goblin reinforcements. They never came, so we advanced instead, approaching the crypt. As far as I could tell the goblins had abandoned any external posts they may have maintained and travelled inside. This would, as far as my Glasstaff-honed battle tactics alluded, play to the advantage of fire-starting. However, the room in which we engaged the goblins was less than ideal, and the disaster of our inability to extermine the vermin was only compounded by our inability to keep our blood inside our bodies. Fortunately, Achaval assumed the aspect of Tiamat and managed to finally place her stick goblinwise, putting a bloody end to the first goblin and encouraging the others to flee deeper into the crypt.

Bloodeye invited us into the next chamber, but only after Achaval managed to escape the sinister Tresendar Manor pitfall trap. After all, if she had fallen in we would have required the assistance of a waif to airlift her out. Thankfully, that unpleasant business was avoided. How, though? How did the tiefling avoid the trap? Was she half-fiend half-cat? This requires further research.

Bloodeye offered the typical cusp of glowing-eyed patriots of various gods. "Join me or die", or to some extent. The girl was there, and the nature of his ritual seemed clear-cut, but the circle he stood upon was arcane even to me. With the odds of two against three and the goblins having proven their war god status the battle seemed as though it would be one of wits and spooking. Thankfully, I had experience with the latter, and managed to scare the goblins into inaction. It's also possible that Achaval's horns intimidated them when viewed up close. They could very easily take out an eye. I attempted to use my most powerful spell to end the confrontation quickly, but it just went over there somewhere instead. What followed could be best described as a drunken brawl against one's own shadow, with Achaval and Bloodeye flailing uselessly at each other while the hours ticked on by. Eventually, however, I was able to encourage the goblins into murdering Bloodeye, particularly since he wasn't doing a very good job of encouraging them to die for him instead. This pit the trained-yet-impaired talents of Bloodeye - clearly a man experienced in martial combat with the power of Bane in his veins in some form, equipped with decorated armor and weaponry - versus two wounded goblins more ale than blood equipped with rusty slabs of metal and scarcely enough cloth to keep them warm in a sauna. So, of course, the goblins tore him apart and left his bloodied, beaten husk on the floor for Achaval to kick a few times.

Though Bloodeye's threat to Neverwinter's noble real estate was goblin'd and the dirty yet unharmed child in our custody, the matter of the ritual circle he had crafted remained to be resolved. The child seemed unaware of his plans, though it clearly involved using her life as a catalyst at an appointed time. He also expressed alarm, perhaps faked, when Achaval threatened to dirty his hard work. I consulted murals and engravings elsewhere in the crypt, as well as the statue at the apex of the ritual chamber, and concluded that my best hope for a resolution that didn't involve re-acquiring goblins was to attempt to commune with the God to whom the crypt belonged.

Torm and Bane were intrinsically opposed, and since Bloodeye's efforts to stain the tomb had some higher purpose, perhaps the God to whom the crypt belonged would take notice if I replicated the ritual reflected in the chamber before it. My thesis was correct - replicating the ritual provoked some nature of reaction, producing a bright light. When the light vanished so too did the ritual circle.

To what end was Bloodeye's ritual being serviced? He had a scroll on his person scribbled in knife-ear, and he had mentioned an associate of Achaval's amidst the spittle and flailing, but his immediate goals eluded us. Upon discovery of a potion of spiderwalking and an opening in the wall near the ceiling, I decided to investigate further.

Within the depths of the crypt I found the resting places of some legends of Torm's service. Warnings adorned the chamber's entrance, and given previous traps nearly clipping the half-fiend's tail I decided against attempting to penetrate the sleeping ancestors. However, it did solve the mystery of Bloodeye's goals - he surely intended to defile the tomb's defenses and steal whatever was buried with the bodies.

With the mystery solved, the ritual destroyed, Bloodeye's tattered armor discarded and his weapons detained, mouth gagged and eyes blindfolded, child carried across the threshold and a clear path ahead of us to Neverwinter, surely the day was won and we only needed to return to Sovellis to collect our dues.

Surely.

Achaval and the Alwayswinter Frogocalypse