Istril Ironfist Pitrius Basic Information Race: Isur Birthday & Age: 48 years old, born 84th of Spring, 465 AV Gender: Female Physical Description Istril stands at around four foot nine inches tall, weighing a heavy one hundred eighty pounds. Her blue-tinted skin radiates the sunlight that she so rarely saw in her mountain home. Silver veins trail across the entirety of her body, fanning out on the back of her left hand. Her right arm is made entirely of black, crystalline material, like all Isur. Her deep red hair runs down just past her shoulders, filled with beautiful glass and metal beads. It is often tied up in a pony tail or a bun of simple design, as long hair is not conducive for working with hot metal. One does not want their hair burning off in a forge, after all. Athletic muscles snake over the entirety of her body. She is not as muscular as her brother, who dedicates a little too much time and care to his body for it to be healthy and normal, but she does take pride in having a healthy and muscular body. Reaching a balance between a perfect mind and a perfect body is important, and she strives to achieve that. She has not yet undergone her purjin trials, and as such, her left arm and back are yet to be decorated with the scars so commonly seen on Ano Cultists. However, that is not to say her body is free of initiation scars. As she cherished her body too much to openly display them to the world, she was initiated to Reimancy through her thighs, and bears the scars there to this day, multiple, small incisions on the fronts of both thighs. Because the Isur cherish their bodies so, her uncle did his best to keep the scarring to a minimum, despite the trauma of Reimancy initiation. Character Concept Every aspect of Istril's personality speaks of logic, speaks of balance. She seeks to align every single one of her actions with balance, with logic. She will not so much as smile if she does not think that feeling happy in a situation is logical. If an emotion is illogical, if it does not match up with the thoughts in her mind, then it does not belong, and it must be purged. Of course, she is only a Weight, tipping the scales without thought, so illogical emotions often slip through in both her voice and through her face. She looks to bring balance to all things in this world. She looks to bring a balance between life and death, good and evil, genius and idiocy, body and mind. The latter in particular is something her Sponsor stressed, leaving her training for a long periods of time with both her body and her mind. Her mind is sharp and honed, but is also somewhat bland, due to the cold and calculating demeanor she has hammered into her. Character History Istril was born after her twin brother, Malanos, and as such, did not get quite as much pamperment as him. He was to be the Patriarch of the Ironfists, she was simply another daughter, even if she was the second-born child. She lived her life like any other Isur until she was about eight, the human equivalent of four years of age. At that point, her uncle took her under his wing, deciding that someone in their family had to follow the teachings of Gnora and the Cult of Ano, had to let those traditions live on, and teach them to others when they came of age, much like he was now. Too young to understand, she welcomed the teachings with open arms, basing her life and thoughts around what he taught her. Emotions that did not align with one's thoughts and logic were abominations. They were unnecessary. They drove people to act illogically. Therefore, they had to be purged. This honed Istril into a cold, calculating mind, one that, at age twenty-six, was brought before a Countermeasure, where she presented her argument. He took the edge of a well-honed, Isurian-steel blade, and ran it across the flesh of her shoulder, drawing blood. As her Sponsor had instructed, not a sound left her lips. Not a motion was made to show her discomfort. While her shoulder seared in pain, she remained motionless. Silent. Pain upset logic. Upsetting logic upset balance. She would waste no breath. She was accepted into the Cult with open arms, being granted her hood and robe. To this day, she still wears a hood and robe, as she simply cherishes her body a little too much to undergo the Purjin trials. Sure, caring this much about her body is not balanced... but it is her body, and she is Isur. It sets her apart from all the other races. Surely she's allowed to be a *little* protective of it... After a year in the Cult of Ano, her uncle told her that it was time to expand her learning to new horizons. No longer could she remain in what she felt secure in. She had to branch out. How, she asked? This received a sly grin. By learning magic. He pulled a dagger from his belt, looking her in her unwavering eyes as he dug the dagger through her pants, biting it into her thigh. She didn't move, didn't flinch. None of this bothered her. Pain to the flesh was pain that she was used to by this point. What came next, after five marks were made on each thigh, was not something she could tolerate. As blood flowed freely from her thighs, her face still emotionless, gaseous Res flowed from his fingertips, forming in small clouds around his hands. His voice rang out to her, filling her ears. "What you are about to experience will hurt more than anything you have ever felt. You are allowed to cry. I will not judge you, nor will anyone ever know that you did," Istril dismissed this as insanity. She could deal with any pain. Pain was trivial to her. What came next proved this belief wrong. Without another sound, he moved his arms, guiding his Res forward, until it just barely prodded at the split skin. Slowly, it began to wedge it's way between skin and flowing blood, and that was when Istril felt the pain. Complete, utter agony filled the point of entry as he liquified the Res, spreading it throughout her body through her veins like the natural blood that coursed through her. She collapsed to the ground, back arching, mouth opened in a silent scream as the pain moved from her thighs, down her legs, past her knees, all the way to her toes, while at the same time, it moved all the way to her ears. Every single part of her body knew pain. Her eyes, searing with fiery pain all their own, swelled with tears, which did not hesitate to spill over, mixing with the dirt on the ground beneath her. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse, broken, as even her lungs burned. "Take it out! Stop it! End it now!" He must have had mercy on her poor soul, or perhaps the initiation was just completed, for her did remove his Res at the request. Slowly, the pain receded from her body. Inch by inch, she regained the ability to feel things other than the fire that had been burning within her. Sharp gasps left her lungs as the Res finally snaked it's way out of her body, and then fell to the ground, leaving her uncle as exhausted as she was, eyes bloodshot. He was suffering from minor overgiving, as he had converted too much Djed into Res, and the Sweet Whispers urged him to keep on going. If she had not urged him to stop, who knows if either of them would have made it. From there, her training continued, physical, magical, and mental. When her brother and her cousin fled Sultros, her father flew into a rage. In his rage, he asked her to go after him. Feeling attached to her twin, she agreed, and went before the authority of Sultros. She said she was leaving for academic studies of the surrounding area, staying as vague as possible. Grudgingly, they accepted, and she departed, following her brother's still-fresh footprints to Alvadas. Training (Skills, Arcana, Gnosis, Languages 34 Reimancy (30 SP, Earth and Water) 21 Unarmed Combat (20 SP) 10 Blacksmithing (10 RB) 3 Rhetoric 3 Philosophy 2 Observation 2 Persuasion 1 Meditation Izentor (Level One) Isurian (Fluent) Common (Conversational) Nader-Canoch (Broken) Lore Lore of Gnora; Footpaths through the Eastern Kaleans; Troubles clearing mind; Attracting Water with Reimancy; Creating an orb of water; Using Earth Reimancy; Feeling of Success; Alvadas attracts all sorts of folk; Meeting a Symenestra; What is wrong with Alvadas?; Nasilia (Basic); Attempting to Convert people to Ano Cult; Emotions < Logic Equipment and Possessions One black, hooded robe One set of woven leather huaraches One slender chainmail shirt, Isurian One necklace, depicting a set of perfectly balanced scales in gold. (Heirloom) Ledger 100 GM +500 GM (Cashed in Starting Package) -120 GM (Slender Chainmail Shirt, Isurian, Starting Package) -45 GM (Cost of Living Winter 510, Poor) -105 GM (Cost of Living Spring 511, Common) -45 GM (Cost of Living Summer 511, Poor) TOTAL: 285 Gold Mizas Thread List Isurian Dreams (35th of Winter, 510 AV) The Gaunt and the Spindly (43rd Winter 510 AV) |
Image is courtesy of the ever-lovely Eisi!
