Vienne Rolande

[Vienne]

VIENNE Name: Vienne Rolande Race: mixed race: Symenestra/Human Sex: female Age: 18 Birthday: Winter 67, 493 AV Dead I am the one Exterminating son Slipping through the trees Strangling the breeze

[Vienne]

Physical Description Vienne is tall for a human female, standing about 5’10”. Her body is slender and willowy, and her legs are especially long and slim. Her arms too, if you really took note of them, might appear longer than they should be, by just an inch or so. You might think it was an illusion, as her fingers are very long, slender and delicate looking. But though she might look slightly fragile, Vienne is an athlete and has gone through much hard physical training for the past decade. There is much more strength in her wiry muscles than would appear at first glance. She wears her dark hair short, for convenience, and dark brows hover over dark eyes, though in some lights her irises seem to glint almost a deep purple. If you were to be in a position to catch a view of her bare back, you would see the mark of Rhysol, a crimson scar, approximately the size and shape of a bloody thumbprint, slightly below her right shoulder blade. The gnosis mark is quite prominent against her pale, almost ashen colored skin. Her typical expression is one of serious concentration and she does not smile very often. It may be for this reason that her slightly elongated top canines are not often noticeable. When she moves, it is with a grace and power that reflects her military training. At the same time there is a certain air of stealth she can adopt and utilize to blend in with her surroundings. Her voice is low and she isn’t given to idle chatter or laughter, though she certainly is not a woman without passion, fire or a sense of humor. It just takes the right moment to bring that facet of her to the fore. Do you ever wonder how the boy feels?

[Vienne]

Character Concept Angry. Confused. Betrayed. Hurt. Isolated. Vienne is all of these things. But her training with the Ebonstryfe has each emotion tightly bottled up inside her. Because there is one above all others that she must control, if she is to survive. That is despair. Only a few months ago, Vienne could see only good things for her future. She had worked hard to excel in the Ebonstryfe. She had been marked by Rhysol, to whom she is devoted. She had a powerful, ambitious lover, well placed in the Ebonstryfe and she could see her own ambitions coming to fruition. Then the careless words of a stranger set her life on edge, and now she feels as if she is sliding into a black, bottomless abyss. But, she is determined that she will not let the forces that seem to have taken control of her life ruin it. She may have just found out that she is half-Symenestra, a race despised by many, including herself up until a few weeks ago. She may have just found out that her whole life has been a lie, and that she isn’t who she thought she was. She may have just lost her lover, a man who she hoped would help her rise in the Ebonstryfe. Her grandparents and her career may now be at risk, and she may be facing expulsion by the organization which has been her life and her entire focus for the past six years. She may have been abandoned by the god who marked her as his own, though she does not believe this. Of all that she has lost, she prays that Rhysol has not turned away from her. But, it doesn’t matter, she tells herself. It can’t matter, she forces herself to say, if she is to survive and overcome these unexpected calamities. Vienne is determined to focus on the present, moving forward, trying to restore her reputation and that of her grandparents. She must allay the suspicions of the Ebonstryfe, now that her true heritage has come to life. She must deal with the murder of her lover, and the possible ulterior reasons for his death. She must decide if she will seek out her mother’s family, and a better understanding of her parents, and their deaths, or let old bones rest. Everything she ever believed about herself seems now to be a huge tissue of lies. Now she must determine how best to repair the damage that has been done by this deception and how she can best continue to serve her god. Day by day, moment to moment, Vienne calms herself with meditation, steels herself with concentration, comforts herself and finds strength from her dark god. When the time is right, she will make her move, and if the Ebonstryfe wish to push her aside - or worse - she will not go easily. Strike the match, pour gasoline Ditch the scene, and watch the city burn

[Vienne]

Truth is stronger than fact Character History Vienne’s mother, Nysterra Cardoon, was pure blood Symenestra. When she was old enough to understand her race’s biological conundrum, Nysterra was quite saddened to learn of her own mother’s fate, and her role in her mother’s death. Like many of her race, Nysterra longed to find some “cure” for their reproductive “curse.” She left Kalinor against her father’s wishes and went to Zeltiva to study both magic and healing. There she met Vincente Rolande, a young man of a well-to-do family of Ravok, attending the university to further his studies of the sciences, especially geology, and especially speleology. He was fascinated by Nysterra, as she came from the great underground city of Kalinor, and they became good friends, and then ultimately fell in love. In time they became lovers as well, and Nysterra became pregnant. When ultimately a daughter was born to them, Nysterra insisted that Vienne be sent to Vincente’s family in Ravok, to be raised there, away from the prejudice and shame she would have endured in Kalinor. Vincente agreed, and he travelled to Ravok with his infant daughter, leaving her in the care of his parents. He returned to Zeltiva and Nysterra, hoping to somehow determine a course whereby they could reunite somewhere as a family, and live unmolested by the prejudices of either of their cultures. Unfortunately, Nysterra’s father, Degasil, found out about this liason his daughter had formed and hired some thugs to kill Vincente. It was a bloody, brutal, horrific murder, committed right before Nysterra’s eyes. The hired thugs then forced the poor young Symenestra to return with them to Kalinor. Nysterra silently resolved that she would never tell anyone about her daughter in Ravok, for fear her father would try to have the child murdered as well. Within a few months of her return to Kalinor, she was forced to marry a pure blood Symenestra, and died giving birth to a son, Vranathkylle, who was raised by the father, unaware that he has a half sister in Ravok. Vranath is now 16 and lives still in Kalinor. Vienne was raised by her paternal grandparents, Bernard and Lille Rolande, in Ravok. Their son had told them nothing about the child’s Symenstra blood, and luckily those physical attributes of her mother were not prominent. Even he special dietary needs he explained away by citing to food allergies and vague physical deficiencies within her body. When Vienne’s grandparents learned of Vincente’s death, they loved her all the more as she was all they had left of him. So, though she was not “legitimate”, they loved her deeply and treated her with great care and attention. The grandfather, Bernard, was a member of the Black Sun, one who was more politically inclined than involved in the military activities of the group. Vienne grew up with a great deal of respect for the organization and her grandfather encouraged her to consider joining it. She became a petitioner to the Ebonstryfe at the age of 12, and she excelled at all the training requirements, being quite intelligent and athletic. Vienne was accepted as an apprentice and she passed all her exams and trials with flying colors and she was wholeheartedly given over to both Rhysol and the Ebonstryfe. She became particularly adept with the use of very close range weapons, in particular daggers, and also unarmed combat, and ultimately she was marked by Rhysol, with the first gnosis mark of Chaon. It was with a great sense of fervor that Vienne looked forward to undergoing, and surviving, the Crucible, and becoming a fully fledged soldier. At the age of 17, Vienne met another soldier in the Ebonstryfe, Sextus, 24, was the eldest son of another socially prominent family with strong ties to the Black Sun. He had always been drawn to the military aspect of the organization, and had been a soldier with the Ebonstryfe for several years when they met. They met when he became one of her trainers for short while. There was some unique chemistry between them, and they grew very close, as they thought very much alike. There were plans to marry, one day, though neither one felt pressed to make that a priority, as both were firmly committed to advancing in the Ebonstryfe. A few weeks after Vienne's eighteenth birthday, a visiting professor from Zeltiva came to Ravok, to the university there. One day, by pure happenstance, or so it seemed, he encountered the girl, who was with her lover and a group of other soldiers. It came about that Vienne mentioned that her father had attended the university in Zeltiva. She gave his name when asked by the Zeltivan, and he exclaimed happily that he had in fact been one of her father’s professors. The old man began to happily reminisce about her dad – and her mom! He mentioned that Vienne took after Vincente, but he could see some of Nysterra in her as well – pointing out her long, athletic but slender legs, her slightly oblique eyes, and her long, delicate fingers. He actually said, in front of the whole group, that over all she did not bear a great resemblance to the Symenestra but he could definitely see it in her, here and there. Vienne, of course, protested. Her mother had been human! She had always been told that. The old man chuckled. Oh no, of course she wasn’t. One had only to look at Nysterra to see immediately what race she was. And he himself had often spoken to her, and to Vincente. Why he even remembered how happy her father had been when he had mentioned that her mother was pregnant – carrying her. Vienne was in shock, and so were her companions. Of course, her friends didn’t care about her ancestry, or so they told Vienne, initally. But word quickly got out, and it was obvious who had leaked it. There were plenty of apprentices, soldiers, and some higher ups in the Ebonstryfe, who now sneered behind her back over her non-human ancestry. The rumor circulated somehow that her mother had killed and eaten her father, and soon enough hidden looks and whispered comments became bolder, more open. It was simply the nature of things – she had excelled – there were those who had envied her – some who said it was her grandfather’s position that had brought her unearned favor – and now, look. She was no better than a bastard half-blood Sym. The girl bore up well under this malicious harassment, refusing to acknowledge it, for the most part. Though she realized, the seeming deception was going to probably play havoc on her career. And it wasn't as if one could just "quit" the Ebonstryfe. They weren't particularly keen on just letting people go. And Sextus was furious. Regardless of how he felt about it all, he had pretty much committed himself to her, and for the time being, he made it clear that none of their fellow soldiers had best say anything about her while he was around to hear it. That was enough for a few weeks. But there was one solider, another male about their same age, who had some years ago declared his interest in Vienne. She had rejected his advances because he was an absolute douche. Now he was going around claiming that in fact she had made advances to him, and he had gone along with it just for an easy lay. But when she stripped naked, he saw that she was grotesque and malformed in her nether parts – some aspect of her mixed blood bastard state. So he had been too disgusted to claim her, as she was begging him to do. This idiot made the mistake of actually taunting the Sextus about it one night after he had had a bit too much to drink. This was in the barracks where some of the soldiers resided. Vienne was not even there. But her lover went for the drunken asshole and ended up breaking his neck. It was a fairly bizarre thing to happen, and smacked of being manipulated by the powers that be. Of course, the Ebonstryfe don’t appreciate their members killing one another. Not when it doesn’t further some goal of the organization. As there were numerous witnesses to what had happened, Sextus was hauled off and executed on the spot. Vienne only heard about what had happened hours later. Any sadness or grief she felt were matched equally by a growing uneasiness about her own precarious position. Vienne has spent many an anxious night since consulting with her grandparents. They all realize that Vienne would be branded a trouble maker. It wasn’t that she herself would cause trouble, but she would continue to be a cause of trouble, due to her breeding. And she already knew far too much for them to simply let her leave. That wasn’t the Ebonstryfe way. They can only hope that Bernard's position will help to smooth troubled waters and convince those that must be convinced that Vienne's parentage was unknown to any of them. It has been a tense time for the three of them. And with the coming of Spring, came the Djed storm, which they have managed to survive but has certainly not improved the situation for them in any way.

[Vienne]

Possessions 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Shirt -Simple Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Cloak/coat -Simple Boots 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -Comb (Wood) -Brush (Wood) -Soap -Razor -Balanced Rations (1 Week’s Worth) -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel Heirloom: one pair tamo daggers, very plain handles with no noticeable marks to identify who they belong, or belonged, to, but they were a gift from her grandfather, and Vienne knows their long history in her family. 100 Gold Mizas Housing: An average sized, single room apartment with a bed, table, two chairs, wardrobe Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting +100 GM 100 GM Skills, Lores, Magics, Gnosis, Languages Skills: Skill EXP Total Proficiency Weapon - dagger 26 SP 26 Competent Subterfuge 8 SP 8 Novice Unarmed Combat 10 RB, 16 SP 26 Competent Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Arumenic (studied as part of her Ebonstryfe training) Poor Language: Tukant (studied as part of her Ebonstryfe training) Lores: Lore of History of the Ebonstryfe Lore of The Black Sun Gnosis: Chaon gnosis story : Wait!” Eva’s voice was not whining. But there was a brittle edge to it indicating that it might soon slip from its more typical hardness. Vienne sighed in frustration and her shoulders rose and fell sharply with the intake and release of air from her burning lungs. Icy mist hung by her mouth, from the warmth of her breath. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Come on! We can’t stop. You know that!” She did not look back over her shoulder at the other girl. Beside her, Yannick did, however, and Vienne caught the pallor of his already too white face, and the alarm that registered there. But he said nothing, only hooked his thumbs in the straps of his pack, waiting, for her. “I can not walk any further.” Eva’s voice was still calm on the surface. But Vienne heard the tremble just beneath. “You know that, Vivi.” There was a pause, Eva waiting for a reply. When none came, she spoke in a louder voice, as if volume made for command. But her tone became more strident as well. “I’m in charge. You know that as well. And so do you, Yannick.” Vienne still did not look around. But at some subtle shift of her body, Yannick took his cue and hurried back to the other girl. Eva was bent forward, her weight leaning on her hands, which were pressed to her right thigh. Her left leg was bent up, as she tried to keep it from touching the snow covered ground. It was wrapped in a blood soaked bandage, the red bright against the white landscape surrounding them. Her face was as white, and despite the bitter cold, she was perspiring, tiny drops of sweat beading her brow. The boy dropped to his knees beside her, a murmured word of encouragement, or perhaps compassion, passing between them, unheard by Vienne. He took a moment to inspect the damaged leg, but the prognosis was a given. “I really don’t think she can walk any further, Vivi.” His voice was quiet, stoic and resigned. Ever since the day before, this whole exercise in futility had a foregone conclusion. Eva bit down on her lip, and one tear seeped from her blonde lashes to freeze quickly on her chapped, red cheeks. Silently, Yannick slipped his mittened hand into hers. After a moment, Vienne sighed again, more airily, and with a deft motion, she reached up and slipped her backpack from her shoulders. “Alright. We make camp. We will probably freeze to death. But it seems we have no option.” “It’s not as if I planned this!” Eva protested hotly to the unvoiced accusation. “You should have told me Vivi! You should have . . . “ “What?” Vienne whirled around with the speed of a striking snake. “I should have what, Eva? Told you to be careful? Told you to watch where you were going? Don’t you know those things already? You’re a petching apprentice. Not some snot nosed petitioner! How was I to know that trap was there? Am I supposed to read their minds?” The dark haired girl’s voice was intense, but controlled. She stared at the other two. They returned that look measure for measure, and their hands pressed tighter together. Vienne did not fail to notice that. “You saw it! I know you did! I could see it in your eyes! Why didn’t you say something?” Eva’s face finally crumpled, into an ugly caricature of her usual pretty, bright, and very deadly self. She was one of the best. One of the rising stars. And how she had come to fall backwards into that bear pit was more than a bit odd. They had been arguing, about which direction to head in. Yannick had voted to stay put, in the cabin built by some unknown hands at some unknown point in the past. Eva had insisted that south would take them to the river. Vienne had thought more to the east they would find the pass they sought. Dumped here in the middle of the wilderness, with limited supplies and weapons, in the middle of winter, they needed to get it right – the first time around. Traps and lures and snares set by the trainers – those only added to the fun. Whether the pit Eva had fallen into - while walking backwards, away from her best friend, arguing her case – had been set by the soldiers, or was some forgotten thing created by some forgotten resident of this wasteland, they didn’t know. Nor did it matter now. Eva had fallen fifteen feet and her calf had been skewered on a sharpened tree branch that had been pushed into the ground and lodged there for just that purpose. She was lucky it had been only the one that she had fallen on, and not the others that had remained standing for however long it had been since they had been placed there. That Vienne would have had any inkling that the trap was behind Eva, as she walked away, her mouth going so fast that he brain had stopped working apparently, was ridiculous. The two were best friends, most of the time – and two of the most successful apprentices at that time, excelling in all the numerous areas of training and study required by the Ebonstryfe. They were competitive, yes, but only to urge one another on. They had even shared a kiss or two, or more maybe, in an adolescent, girlish way, and even been in love with the same boy – the same dark haired, whey faced young man who even now held tightly to Eva’s trembling hand. That potential hurricane of teen emotion had blown itself out calmly enough, when Vienne had realized no boy was worth their friendship, and graciously had stepped out of the ring. So the idea that she would want her best friend to fall into a bear pit and get injured, at a moment when to have that happened spelled pending death for all three of them, was obviously the sign of a mind addled by shock. For this reason, Vienne took another stabilizing breath, and then walked to the other two. She wrapped her arm about Eva’s shoulders, helping her stand upright. “Here, lean on me. Let’s get you to those trees.” She nodded at a clump of firs a short way off. Her dark eyes went to Yannick’s. “Go find some wood. We’ll need a fire if we’re to stop moving.” Yannick nodded and let go of Eva’s hand. In a few seconds, he had disappeared back down the ridge they had just ascended. “Come on,” Vienne said encouragingly. “It’s not so far.” They hobbled along at a snail’s pace, Eva gritting her teeth and refusing to moan. She was one of the best, if not the best. A wound like this would not bring her down, though spending very more nights out in the sub-freezing weather well might. After a moment, she said, “I wonder how the other teams are doing?” Another consideration, they both knew. If one of the other four teams came upon them by surprise, they would be forced to fight or surrender. It was not to be to the death, but being one man short, they would be hard pressed to prevent being captured. For either girl, such ignominy was hard to contemplate. Vienne did not reply. What could she say – of dashed hopes and embarrassment? If they were lucky, they would not be found. If they were lucky, they would make it out of the valley before they froze to death. If, if, if. They had reached the trees and Vienne helped Eva down, propping her up against a tree where the branches were not so low. “I’m going to go set some snares,” Vienne said quietly. A half hour, perhaps forty-five minutes had passed. Yannick approached the trees and saw Vienne standing some distance away. He went to her. “Where is Eva?” he asked, his voice laden with concern. Vienne nodded, towards the tree where she had settled her friend down to rest. Yannick hurried over to the girl he thought he loved, and then there came a sharp cry. Vienne looked, but stayed where she was. Yannick was running towards her, his face now greenish in hue. “What happened? What did you do to her?” He was agitated, but still, unsure. He came to a sudden halt a few feet away, snow flying up in a cloud. “She’s dead! What did you do?” As before, Vienne sighed. When she spoke, her voice was like ice. “What do you mean – what did I do? What do you think I did? I left her for half an hour, to set some snares. I came back – she was gone. Bled out or frozen. How would I know which? You think I had something to do with it? How the petch do you figure that, huh?” Yannick looked back over his shoulder at the now lifeless form slumped against the tree. It was true, he had seen no marks – Eva’s eyes were still open. No signs of a struggle. Nothing. Just those dead, staring eyes, looking so . . . accusing. Maybe it was his imagination. Vienne had stopped to tie up some of the wood he had carried back with him. Securing it to her pack, she hoisted the lot to her shoulders. “Let’s go.” She said, simply and quietly. “There’s nothing we can do for her.” Vienne began to walk away, to the east. Yannick looked at the dead girl in the trees, at the two crows who were now perched above her. He looked at Vienne’s receding back. Picking up his own pack, he adjusted it on his back and then hurried after Vienne. After many hours of walking, stopping only to melt some snow to drink, and almost finishing their meager supply of food, augmented now with the portion that Eva would no longer need, the two had found a shelter of low rock and huddled together under it, a fire standing guard between them and the creatures of the winter night. There was much more risk of freezing than of being eaten, so eventually they had settled down, their bodies pressed as closely to each other as they could be. Yannick drifted off, but Vienne did not sleep. Her mind passed over many things, touching lightly upon this or that concern, but one weighed heavily. They needed food. If they did not kill something soon, they would weaken with every passing hour. Without food, their bodies would chill, and they would freeze, no matter how many fires they built. Even if she was right about their course, and she knew she was, it would take days to walk out now. And they needed food for the energy to do that. If they didn’t kill soon, they would die. Finally she fell into a fitful sleep. In her dreams, the fire no longer burned red and yellow and orange, but it was black. A black flame. Vienne realized that she knew that flame. The flame of her god. Rhysol. She heard a voice, and it called to her. Waking, she looked about, but all she saw was Yannick, still sleeping. His face was that of a child in slumber. She wondered suddenly in disgust what she had ever found attractive about him. He was pretty to look at, but that was all. He was nowhere near as skilled as Eva had been, or herself for that matter. He wasn’t even close to the top of the trainees, so why had they picked him for their team anyway? She looked at him and considered, how would he help her get out of this frozen hell? Of what benefit would he be? Her fingers strayed to the knife at her belt. If they did not kill soon, they would die. She knew how to get out of the valley. She knew where the pass over the mountain was. All she needed was food. Her fingers closed about the handle of the knife. One quick slice, ear to ear, and it was over. She moved to the far side of the tiny cave, only a few feet away from the quickly cooling corpse. She would miss his body heat. But she would survive. Once more, Vienne fell into a fitful sleep. She felt his weight upon her back. She was naked, and he mounted her from behind. His voice was hideous, triumphant, heart wrenching – the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, or did she feel it? She felt him, inside her. A tearing, burning pain. Passion and ecstasy and hands on her back. One hand, burnt black as if it had just been pulled from the fire. Her face, turned to the side, her cheek rubbing painfully against the cave floor as he rode her, her eyes saw that claw like hand reach for her knife. Traces of the boy’s blood still on the blade. That charred black thumb pressing down on the point. A drop of blood. His fingers, and thumb, gripping her flesh, her shoulders, as he came inside her, a boiling, churning river of fire deep, deep inside her. Vienne woke with a start. The pale light of morning illuminated the sky. She was alone, with the corpse. Her shoulder burnt with an intensity like none she had ever known. Down to the bone, through muscle and sinew, deep into her heart, and then it spread outwards. Every fiber of every muscle, every cell of every organ, every drop of blood in her veins and arteries burn with a pain so intense she screamed, though there were none to hear. It seemed that the blood then leapt straight to her head, leaving her body numb and lifeless but filling her brain until surely it must burst. It pressed against her eyeballs. It pounded in her ears. It made her teeth ache and still the pressure grew, and grew, and grew. Her head would explode and she wished it would hurry up and do so. Let her die and be done with it. She could take it no longer. Let Rhysol take her and destroy her. Let Eva and Yannick know their betrayal had been avenged. Just please, please, please – let it stop! And it did. Just as it had begun. The pressure, the pain, the burning – all ceased, as if turned off by a switch. In their place, came cool. Came calm. Came bliss. Her body felt like it was floating, tingling, alight with warmth and slightly aroused. It was a sensual feeling, an erotic one, like being rubbed in all the right places. This was her god. This was Rhysol. She understood now. The deaths – her betrayal of her friend’s trust with a poisoned kiss – her murder of the boy – they weren’t being avenged. They were being rewarded. She was being rewarded, by her god. She had been marked, with his blood. He had looked upon her, and found her worthy. She was Ebonstryfe. She was his.