Amisyria Sivali

[Amisyria Sivali]

Amisyria Sivali Appearance Race: Human Gender: Female Age: 30 Birthday: 28th of Summer, 484 AV Birthplace: Sahova, Sylira Region Appearance: Amisyria perhaps boasts Benshiran heritage though whether or not this is true she herself does not know. Her skin is a warm brown with olive undertones denoting a pleasant healthy appearance. There are creases at her eyes and slight wrinkles on her face due to prolonged exposure to the sun and hours of toiling away to eek out an existence in Sunberth. Her hair is an ebony black that is often kept in a bun or braided so that it is easily managed. Unbound it falls to approximately waist level. The strands are coarse and somewhat frizzy but beneath the disarray brought on by a harsh life she possesses the potential to have hair akin to the purest silk. There are bags under her eyes. There is always a hint of them being bloodshot. This is perhaps due to either working long into the late hours of each day or a sign of restless nights. Nevertheless there is a spark in her eyes that although quiet, glows like an ember awaiting the chance to be stoked into a roaring flame. Amisyria possesses the potential to be beautiful. With washing, rest and the right touch her face could be used to model that of a china doll’s. Some might consider that a compliment but to the keen observer it is an apt ode to her outward demeanor. Her body is thin but not sickly so. If there was a time when she was more curvaceous that time is long gone. Character Concept Amisyria’s outward demeanor is that of a dutiful woman always attentive to the needs of others. Her movements are swift. Her gestures are purposeful. Having been a slave chained in the halls of Ahnatep for years she falls into a servitor's role with as much grace and resignation as one can expect. She seldom speaks out of turn. She is rarely where she shouldn’t be. She is, to many of the denizens of Sunberth, a shadow. Always in the background but never a conscious thought in the minds of those she passes on the street. Which is exactly the way Amisyria wants it. Amisyria did not grow up a slave. She was sold into slavery by those who feared retribution should they spill her blood upon the ground. She does not resent her lot in life but she has no intention of staying thus forever. Beneath her quiet, subservient, obedient demeanor lays the mind of a woman who is simply waiting. She is waiting for the moment when she can rise above her present misfortunes to strike back at those who deserve her ire. Cunning, manipulation, and charm are her choice weapons for the time being. This free woman turned escaped slave does her best to be as shrewd a judge of character as she can. Though she lacks the refined education of a high born Eypharian she is quick witted and very aware of her place in things. Amisyria is slow to anger but when brought to wrath she is swift to exact revenge. Amisyria is at heart, an extremely patient woman. She is careful with her words, her actions and with every touch she dispenses to those who believe themselves her better. In her mind, no man is her equal. No woman is her match. For in the end, she will rise above all of them. Character History “This one was happy then. As happy as any could be. She didn’t know any better. She didn’t know that a life could be lived in luxury. It’s funny really. All around her she saw a world filled with fine silks and jewels. Surrounded by so much wealth that she would never possess, do you know what she craved most? She longed for a night back on those awful pillows sharing laughter and tea with sisters who are now naught but ash in the wind…” 484 AV-502 AV Amisyria was born to the broken streets of Sunberth. Beneath the scorching sun and amid the filth of the poor she was brought into the world by a mother who wanted more for her daughter. But this is not a fable and there is no room for a happy ending. Amisyria’s mother, Nordelic Sivali was a whore who worked in one of the brothels of Sunberth. Her father was a nameless face that was seldom brought up in conversation. More than pleasures of the flesh however, Amisyria’s mother provided a service to the denizens of Sunberth. In such a lawless city where suffering, pain and anguish are abound those who perish at the hands of ruthlessness are bound to cling to the strings of the mortal world. Whether it is in grief or in anger, it did not matter. Her mother was a resident Spiritist when not bedding with clients. It was a craft she passed on to her daughter as her mother did before her and her mother before her. Magic however, was no way to make a living in Sunberth. Not if one wanted to survive for long. Selling oneself for basic necessities, sometimes coin or in exchange for information provided the perfect opportunity to practice the shamanistic rituals that had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations. As she grew Amisyria was taught to be both budding hostess and ritualistic medium, a silent caretaker behind the scenes. Her life was never luxurious. It was never filled with fine jewels, lavish perfumes or delectable morsels of more vaulted prostitutes from wealthier cities. However charm, skill and no shortage of men wishing to wet their whistle kept her, her mother, and their sister prostitutes moderately comfortable. Amisyria took to communing with the Spirits like a fish takes to water. They were her friends. They were her link to a world beyond the mundane dirt caked backdrop of Sunberth. While she was an attentive student when it came to the art of seduction and persuasion she was far more fascinated with the spirits. It was a passion that would be her greatest joy, her most bitter regret and her fiercest weapon in time. For in a land where the only law is the Law of Survival no happiness lasts forever… “You might believe that as a woman who once lived to sell herself, she knows nothing of the values of intimacy. You would be wrong. she knew love once. She knew it well. She knows it still. It was love that gave her everything she ever dreamed of. It was love that cost her the same.” 502 AV-504 AV Amisyria grew into an attractive young woman. She was not the prized harlot of the brothel but she had her share of clientele. With the exception of more mischievous spirits she had taken over entirely for her mother in the duties of a Spiritist. The craft had touched her giving her an enigmatic air that appealed to some men. It would be this appeal that would bring two men into her life. Hector and Rykan. Hector was a thug who touted himself as being one of the toughest men in Sunberth. He had recently thrown his lot in with a rising gang styling itself as the Daggerhands. He had taken an interest in Amisyria and made no secret of it though she refused his advances on multiple occasions. On Amisyria’s eighteenth birthday he declared that he would not rest until he had made Amisyria his and his alone. Then came Rykan. He was an Akalak sailor who hailed from Riverfall and sailed to ports across the sea. He came to the brothel one night and of all the whores to choose, and he could have had any of them, he chose Amisyria. Handsome. Strong. Passionate. He wooed her with his stories of places beyond Sunberth. In a single night he won her heart. The following morning he left and Amisyria fully expected never to see him again. Such was the nature of her life when it came to men. With the exception of Hector of course, but that was a man she would be glad to be rid of. Rykan returned that following night. He again asked for Amisyria and again they shared a night together. So began Amisyria’s careful dance of refuting Hector’s advances as tactfully as she could, for fear of bringing down the wrath of the ever growing gang he was a member of, and her romance with Rykan. It would be a romance that lasted two years. It would end in the disaster that was heralded by the delivery of joyful news… As it happened, nature eventually ran its course in the romance of Amisyria and Rykan. She eventually discovered that she was with child. At the time of the discovery Rykan had already departed Sunberth to set sail to various ports with the promise of returning in two seasons time. This placed Amisyria in a precarious predicament. Hector had begun to become more forceful in his advances. No longer was it enough to satisfy his lust he was beginning to demand that she abandon her life, her mother and her sisters to devote herself to him. That was something she simply could not do. At first she hid her pregnancy from as many as she could but the natural course of bearing a child began to make itself evident. Soon her mother and her fellow harlot’s noticed the change. The night that her life went from joy and romance to tears and sorrow would be a night that Amisyria would never forget. “Some say that Rhysol, in all his malice, is the Lord of All Evil. She says He is just a mirror. He is the reflection of mankind’s endless cruelty. He is the nightmare lurking in our dreams. He is nothing more than the monster in all of us brought to life in a single form.” 504 AV Hector’s fury was indescribable. His anger was blinding. His wrath…was terrible. Though they had done their best to deflect him with excuses or Amisyria had convinced him that she was ill eventually he would not be refused. When he discovered that not only had Amisyria been avoiding him but had been forming plans to leave Sunberth, with an Akalak, bearing his child no less, he had been livid. It was only when Amisyria’s mother, Nordelic, made a small display of using magic to frighten him did Hector run off. Under the advice of her mother, Amisyria packed her things readying herself to leave Sunberth in search of a ship that could take her to Riverfall. There she would go in the hope of finding Rykan. But though Amisyria would embark upon a journey it would not be the one she desired. Hector returned that night. He decried Nordelic as a sorceress, a practitioner of the black arts. But while Nordelic had been convinced she could reason with the brute, Amisyria turned to more desperate measures. She turned to Spiritism. Using every ounce of knowledge at her disposal, Amisyria begged the spirits that she could find or had been working with to come to her aid. While some refused or simply were not interested others, the more bloodthirsty, more twisted ones jumped at the opportunity. By the day’s end she had enlisted the aid of three spirits. She had been wise to do so. Hector had returned to the brothel with no less than six cohorts. Men as vile and superstitious as he was. Nordelic’s attempts at reasoning with them had failed. At that moment Hector had been rounding up the whores tearing through the brothel uncovering the tools of their craft. The ransacking of her home only ceased when Amisyria came into view walking down the road deep in thought. Somewhere in the shadows the spirits she had pleaded with trailed behind her. The Spiritist had no direct control over the ghosts save for their word that they would listen to her but it was the only hope she had. Upon seeing Amisryria the destruction ceased. But Hector, for all of his superstitions would not be dissuaded. In a fit of disgust and anger he grabbed hold of Amisyria’s mother threatening her death if the woman did not renounce her plans to leave and rid herself of the babe growing in her womb. She begged him to simply go his own way and leave her and her mother and sister prostitutes in peace. Hector’s answer? He slit Nordelic’s throat. Something snapped in Amisyria at seeing her mother’s blood spill onto the ground. The scream that escaped her lips was a haunting wail that still echoes in her memory to the present day. Nordelic’s murder was soon followed by the slaughter of her sisters. The spirits who promised their aid saw their chance to satisfy the rage that burned inside them. Amisyria made no attempt to stop them, not that she could. She had no power over them, only their promise of help. And help they did…by visiting death upon all in their path. Amisyria just watched. She watched the murderers who had invaded her home be killed. She watched the brothel catch fire. She watched the building burn. When she finally turned from the scene there stood Hector who delivered an animalistic blow to her abdomen crumpling Amisyria to the ground. He continued to beat her as she lay there. Amisyria only stared up at him an empty expression on her face. What intentions he might have had for her after that, she would never know. He kicked her in the face rattling her awareness causing her to begin to fade. In his eyes she saw hate. In his eyes she saw fear. And in that moment as her own consciousness faded…she could feel only satisfaction. “They were right to fear me. If only they had listened to their cowardice. Had they not ripped from me all I hold dear, I would not have ripped their lives from them. Once, I was banished. A slave bound for Ahnatep. I heard the rumors. I saw the terror in the other slaves eyes. I cannot help but wonder is it fear of this City of Veils that brings them to cast their eyes downward, to hang their heads low or is it fear of me? It matters little now. To me? One land is like any other. The shadows are my friends. The dead are my allies and one day the terror of my enemies shall be the nectar that sweetens my wine. If I am to be cursed for the justice of the evil that was done to me, then a cursed life is one that I shall live with gladness.” 504 AV-513 AV When Amisyria awoke she was on a ship. She was in rags. She was bound in shackles. As heavy as coming to such a realization might have been it was nothing compared to the weight that slammed down upon her soul shortly after. She had lost her baby. When her grief finally cleared Amisyria made a vow. It is the vow that drives her to this day. It is perhaps the spark that caught the attention of her Eypharian masters. She didn’t know if Hector was still alive. She didn’t know if perhaps the ghosts that had aided her had ferreted out death upon him. One day she would find out. One day she would have her revenge. For a time though, she served. She waited. She was beaten into submission. She was trained to serve and to listen. Until the time came when the attention of her masters slipped and Amisyria made her escape. The journey was not easy and the story of her trek from Ahnatep back to Sunberth is one that she keeps close to her heart. Needless to say, it changed her in many ways. There is no compassion in Amisyria's eyes. There is no warmth in her heart. There is only hate. Where will the road that she now walks lead her? Only time will tell and Tanroa seldom shares her secrets... Language Fluent Language: Common Basic Language: Arumenic Poor Language: Tukant Skills Skill EXP Total Proficiency Acting 10(SP) 10/100 Novice Fortune Telling 10(SP) 10/100 Novice Auristics 15(SP) 15/100 Novice Spiritism 15(RB), 15(SP) 30/100 Competent Lores Acting Character: The Dutiful Servant Spiritism: How To Make Soulmist Possessions 1 Set of Clothing -Simple Shirt -Simple Skirt -Simple Undergarments -Simple Cloak -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: A deck of tarot cards. Left with her, perhaps as a cruel jest, when she was first enslaved. Neither the slavers nor her masters saw fit to take them. As a slave she often entertained her masters with her readings. They are Amisyria's memories of a life she longs for but will never have. Housing Location: Sunset Quarter House: 20x20 cottage as per the Starting Package. Ledger Purchase Cost Total Starting 100 GM 100 GM Fall 514 L.E. -45 GM 55 GM Travel Fare -5 GM 50 GM Travel Rations -5 GM 45 GM Thread List Link your current & past threads here!