Description
You find yourself looking at an elder elven woman, her aged beauty
still grand and breath taking. She appears to stand just over five feet
in height, and her body is fit. Her legs are smooth and tone, showing
years of her craft. Long, flowing blonde hair neatly falls half way down
her back, where the tips curl a little. The hair itself seems to have lost
some of its youthful luster overtime. A gentle fragrance of a spring
morning seems to roll off her. Sayra's eyes are doe-like, brown in
colour with specks of green in them. A warm friendlyness can be seen
sparkling in them, along with a learned wisdom. Her lips are soft,
dyed in a gentle red, and seem to carry an almost seductive smile,
while her eyes have a shadowy hue around them. Her skin is milky as
though untouched by the sun, smooth and supple. Her skin at first
seems to hold no blemish nor mar, but a wrinkle or two can be found
on her delicate skin. Her bosom is ample, soft, and inviting. Sayra's
fingers are slender and clean, neatly colored with a soft red color. She
seems to lack the full grace of a full blooded elf, but her movements
and actions still carry a refined flourish.
Role
Sayra Basics
Added Sun Jun 2 07:03:33 2019 at level 1:
Join Herald, become a dancer and poet, adventure
Sayra isn't much of a combatant. She plans to adventure by having
stronger individuals protect her. To do so she will use what charms
she has be it being friendly or seductive, money or treasure.
Eventually by joining Herald, she will be able to use that place to gain
knowledge of places to expore and treasure/riches to find. She also
seeks fame as an entertainer and while finding shortcuts to her goal is
best, she is also not afraid to get her elbows dirty.
She values good looks, treasure, money, and fame. She is a bit selfish,
but at times will do the right thing. She will generally avoid combat,
looking instead of a more diplomatic measure, and if that fails has no
problem trying to escape.
She does have a soft spot for orphans, as she is one herself. Raised in
the orphanage in Balator, she saw all manner of fighting and cruelty.
When she started maturing, people noticed. She was stunning, which
eventually lead her to being "adopted" by a rich man in Hamsah for
his harem.
It was in Hamsah that her talent for singing and dance first emerged.
She was quickly trained in these two areas, along with serving and
seduction. Before her innoccence could be stolen, a fire broke out in
the rich man's home and she was able to escape, finding her way to
Galadon, where she now makes her home.
Sayra and the Immortals
Added Wed Jun 26 20:48:50 2019 at level 51:
For sometime now, I've been roleplaying Sayra as ignorant of the
Immortals of Thera. She knows they exist, but she knows little of
them. As she's been meeting other adventurers, she's been learning
more and more about them. She has already spent time reading about
all the past Immortals in the Lyceum.
One of her new goals is to visit the various shrines. As of this entry,
she has visited three so far.
The Immortal that might best fit Sayra is Morius, however she doesn't
hit each mark. She as of now is no preacher of faith. While that might
change or grow, or her skill set of being a bard might be able to usable
by the faith, as of now, it is not her thing to preach.
As far as sins go, she generally lacks Wrath. She's not an angry person
and generally doesn't strike out to inflict harm in such a manner. She's
also not overly slothful as she likes to do things. The other vices she
does represent in her fashion. She is clearly vainful. She wants eyes
on her. She desires to be beautiful and wear such. Her greed falls to
jewellery, gold, and beautiful clothing, desiring such lavish gifts. She
indulges herself in drink and food, only wanting good strong drink
and the best food. She is also prideful in her dance, and does not take
kindly to others stepping into her domain.
But as far as become a faithful to anyone, I plan to roleplay anything
of that nature slowly, as the character grows and understands herself
and those around her. I'm also not opposed to good and bad things
happening to her.
Of Eternal Youth and Beauty
Added Mon Jul 22 02:44:44 2019 at level 51:
Another day, another night, each has been a moment of delight. Our
heroine of this story wakes from her slumber. She rises out of bed
with grace and deamnor, suitable for a talented dancer. Her room is
neat and tidy, filled with many pretty things. In it stands a mirror, tall
and oval, one good for the user to see their entire body. As with each
morning Sayra takes the time to look at herself, happy with her perfect self.
Yet today is different, ever so slight. She has noticed a wrinkle that
came from no where over night. Panic crosses her face as she notices
other slights. Her hair is no longer as lustourous as it once was. Her
eyes no longer shine as bright. It hits her. No matter how bright of a
star she is, they all fade eventually. Time is against her, against her
wonderous beauty.
After she dresses, exiting her room from the star, she heads to the
Lyceum to study, to search, to hope for a way, to stop this aging decay.
Book after book, scroll after scroll, she finds little in what she hopes
for. Sighing deeply, she heads to other libaries, to study them. And
still nothing can be found in eternal youth and beauty.
As hope began to fade, Sayra found herself at the Dragon Head Pub in
Arkham. As she sat alone, though not without great work to do so, she
sipped at her wine, lost in her thought. Night had fallen and the pub
was ablaze with many patrons, Sayra ignoring them all. Then, one fine
fellow entered the tavern. Something about him was different and
she took notice of this man.
He seemed to catch her glimpse and smiled, and in a moment's touch
was at her table, a bottle of brandy in his clutch. "Why so down,
beautiful lady?" he spoke with a certain flair.
Sayra sighed and stared, her lips being fair, spoke "I've spent much
time you see, studying every book in every library from sea to sea.
And still no answer found, to my question so profound."
The darkly clad man poured his drink, and paused for a think, "Oh
what could upset you so, this question of yours tell me, I beg of you."
"One of beauty and youth, eternally. I am star that burns bight, but
even they will eventaully fade from sight. I want to always be, the
beauty of the Inn." she replied, her voice almost a whisper, a plea.
His reponse was that of a smug grin, another drink for him. He held his
glass up high, "Then lady you are in luck, for an answer I have though
it might be grim."
As Sayra makes her way back to the Star, only one thing bothers her.
The answer she was given was unexpected even. One word was his
reply. "Vampyrism"
New Goals for Sayra
1) Become High Herald. A Star should burn Brightly
2) Eternal Youth and Beauty. Is Vampyrism a way? Is there a way to
only have some of it but not all? Is there another way?
3) Still looking at religions from the outside to in. Is there a spot for
her? Somewhere?
Journal Entry - A Chance Encounter
Added Sat Aug 3 09:19:55 2019 at level 51:
How do I put this? Odd, me of all people thinking on how to put pen
to paper. I suppose I am still a bit surprised, little confused, and still
somewhat shaken. I am unsure if I should be afraid, or worried, or
maybe even hopeful. New thoughts that did not occur to me until
now. New questions. But who has the answers? Do I want the answers?
Maybe it was meant. Maybe Aurew knew something I didn't? Is that
why she urged me to seek the Cathedral of Loss? I won't know that
answer since she is dead and gone. But her Lord came to me, found
me, encounted me at the Eternal Star.
He asked me if I knew why they left me? What would I have been?
Ideas I've never thought to ask. I've never known them and why
would I care? But cursed it all, my mind races for the answers.
Who were my parents? Why was I given away? Can I escape my fate?
Will my fear envelope me or can I learn to not be afraid of it? We will
see what the morrow has to offer. What answers it can gleam.
Of Parents and Names
Added Sat Aug 3 09:28:46 2019 at level 51:
"Get rid of it." An older elven gentlemen ordered his men. The trio
looked at each other and then back down to the wrapped babe. A new
mother's weeping filled the room bringing the once warm decor to a
heavy weight that all could feel.
"I said get rid of it. Do not make me say it for a third time." The older
elven gentlemen spoke once more, anger resonating in his voice. The
trio of men quickly gathered the new born and strode from the house
in the still of the night, praying no eyes found them. No one could
know of this humliation. A half breed.
Days passed, the trio close to completing their task. No one was upon
the road this eve, not in the storm that was roaring through the night
sky. The only light that could be seen were from the occassional
windows and the sudden flashes of lightning. They had no need for
light, their keen eyes revealed the lay of the land simply enough.
Jaragh heard the rapping upon the door, echoing through the
orphanage and over the howls of the wind. He checked to make sure
his sword was loose as he approached the door. First a crack to see
who was there. Nothing. He opened the door wider and might not
have noticed the baby girl had she not let out a cry. Another one he
thought. The whores of Hamsah always leaving behind their
misdeeds. But none-the-less he would take them in to be raised.
Jaragh stared out for just one more moment and if willed by the gods
themselves, the air was brightened with lightning revealing the trio a
short distance away. The image was short, very little could be made
out. But Jaragh saw a crest upon one of the men. One that belonged
to a noble house in Darsylon. The crest was that of golden tree. The
mark of House Aranaie.
Please Note
I will not enter a last name unless Sayra does end up discovering her
family name.
How whispers beget whispers and how I broke a man.
Added Thu Aug 29 02:41:20 2019 at level 51:
It was me. I broke a man. It was easy, but long. First it began with
whispers. Small suggestions. A stroke of my pen. Humility was
destroyed with but a simple title added to his signature. I encouraged
him to relish in his pride. I encouraged him to love his vanity. It began
with the stroke of my pen.
Then I filled him with false hopes. A hope that is star was bright
enough to make him the highest of the Heralds. But each step he
took, I took enough to be one ahead. First one poem, then another,
words to rapture Thera and show him where he stood. My dance was
beginning and he was lost in it.
It was me. My skill with thread and needle left him wanting more. I
pushed him. Gentle. A nudge. He wanted to match me so learned to
pour. Little did he know I danced around him.
It was me. I found him, tears and shambles. I found him. I whispered
into his ear. I whispered of a long dead god with he power to heal.
The power to mend, the power. It would be simple. We could rescue
him I whispered. He would be thankful. He would heal her, I plotted.
His desires and his failings were easy to show. Easy to get him to go. It
was me that place that spot upon him. That black ashen dot on his
soul. The light never knew. My dance grew and grew.
It was me. He showed me his painting. He was proud. And I laughed
because I knew there was more. I made subtle suggestions. I offered
him what his brush should show. He took my words directly, putting
them into his art. His painting was not fully his, my lips grinned. I gave his
signature another title. And he grinned. My flourish, my dance.
It was me, declaring I should be the star of the show. My pen awake, a
sword that delievered its blow. My words filled the world with wit
and ryhme. Blow after blow I reigned upon him, I would not be
denied. He hasten his own words to shield his fame. But they did not
have the strength to hold on, his greatness gone with his painting
done. His star was burning brightly, but mine even more.
It was me. The whispers in his ear. They cannot be trusted, I
whispered ever clear. Slowly and slowly, the crack began to grow. Just
like the one outside the Fortress. I put on a show. And as he began to
unfold, his dream, his desire of being the bright star, unraveled. It
was me. I became High Herald.
So it drove him, his anger out of control. He tried to focus it upon the
Fortress, upon the Village. His teeth gnashed, his star blazing as did
Glimmers. And when he stepped to far, he fell, now broken, now
scrambling. Glimmer has fallen, to burn no more.
It was me. It was me that dropped the curtain on his final act. He may
try and he may want, but there will be no curtain call. The world sees
him as a liar. And now they come, come to praise me. To see me. This
dance with Sel, finally at its end. See how he lies there, looking up at
me. It was me.
It was me.
A private letter just to Sel - Do you remember?
Added Fri Aug 30 00:47:43 2019 at level 51:
Do you remember? Do you remember? The story of how I came upon
the Heralds? How I was an orphan, adopted and bought? How I was
taught to dance and sing, but also to be a man's fantasy? That upon
the night I was to be made, a fire broke out and escape was made for
me? Lucky you called it, but luck had helped from me. Some dry paper
guided me.
Then how I was sold again to three bandits? How they hoped to do
whatever they wished with me? I told you I whispered into each of
their ears, their desires, their lust for me. I drove them to fight each
other and when one was left, it seemed most dire. Then luck
happened again and I was rescued by a bounty hunter. This bounter
hunter was my own guard at the noble's home. Whispers upon
whispers, looks upon looks led him to follow me. Luck indeed.
So I heard rumors of a place I could ply my trade, and joined the
Heralds, to dance and sway. My vainity was quickly noticed by one
humble ranger, how quickly I could find prey. And so I played naive
and innocent, capturing a spot in his heart with my story. First I began
with adding a title to your signature, whispering words that nothing is
wrong with being proud and vain.
Then I told you of my fear. My fear of aging and of an idea. It was
crazy, I know, but there was a way for my aging to slow. The seats of
the leaders of Thera's cabals, age slower, so I began my work. I
encouraged you, pushing you, to seek it, knowing it would put eyes
upon you. Then I started my dance, slowly enveloping you.
A whisper to a friend, and a whisper to another. A sweet girl's smile is
all it took, to sew ideas of doubt in hearts. Then I made it clear, that I
should take center stage and unleashed my blade. Then the wedding
happened and the next day was a gift to me.
Found you sick and drunk, despair in your eyes. I whispered what ifs,
and saw fire grow. I urged you to take action, it would happen anyway
and what we freed would be grateful. I made this play. And I
whispered to others of what you sought. More seeds and I danced.
Then I was made High Herald, a sting upon your ambitions. All the
while your titles grew along your name. And I told you what I would
do to you if I wanted to hurt you. I would defame. I never hurt her,
because that was too easy, but instead it was your name.
Finally at long last, you made the move I was waiting for. One out of
anger and spite, out of vanity and pride. You were no longer the
humble hunting painter. I filled my eyes with tears as I clenched
something sharp in my knuckles for pain. In your anger it was easy to
look the part as I removed you from everyone's heart. So in these
final years you have left, you can see my dance. Thera cheers my
name.
Your dearest friend,
Sayra
***No matter what Sel says or does, I will deny this letter ever existed***
Lets see if we can unwrap a mummy.
Added Sat Oct 5 00:52:05 2019 at level 51:
Aztezul has a plan. One that he wishes me to help him with. Convincing
people he is mad. This seems like an interesting choice. A choice that
can allow me to undo all that he is. Though I do not strive to take a
stand in the politics of Thera, some things need to be dealt with.
Unchecked by others, he will grow powerful, perhaps to powerful. I will
see how this plays out. I shall begin my dance, starting with the leaders
of Thera. And I whisper to him what he wishes to hear. The music is
subtle, so shall I dance.
Letter to the Emperor about Aztezul - First Act
Added Sat Oct 5 00:57:59 2019 at level 51:
My dearest Emperor,
While we have not been allies of any merit, we have not been enemies.
I generally take pride in my neutrality in the world, but there is a grave
matter which might need to be addressed. I am often given certain
insights about folks, and so I have come to learn something very dire. I
write to you now, privately, in hopes my words can show you.
The Mummy, Aztezul, is planning something. Something very wicked
and mayhaps more than then Empire would wish. You may have noticed
his edict about the Tribunal. There is no mistake in his words. He wishes
to push the Light from the cities so that he might execute his plan with
no opposition.
You see, he has come upon an ancient ritual, so dark, so evil, that it was
guarded by several angels, all which fell. In this ritual, he shows how he
can raise a horde of undead, a massive army, and control them. His
army, his target, is that of the people of the cities.
I don't know exact goal, but I do know he wishes absoulte dominion
over the land and this might be his way towards it, if not for some
darker goal. I do not know how this plays against your own agenda, or
the Empire's for that matter, or if you have an army that could possibly
oppose this nightmare of a situtation. But I thought I might at least let
you know of this. As I discover more I will share it with you, though your
own agents and resources could open more venues.
Sincerely,
Sayra, High Herald of the Eternal Star
A letter to the Light about Aztezul - First Act, Part 2
Added Sat Oct 5 01:02:40 2019 at level 51:
Dear Friends,
For a while now, you've known my stance on the politics of Thera, and
how I do not intercede in the happenings of the world, but merely
observe them. Yet, I must let you know of something that could be very
dire, very dark, and very damning to the world.
You should know that Aztezul has made a declariation to out the Light
from the Tribunal. He has a reason. Not something just for simple gain
either. He is removing all opposition that might occur within the Spire.
He has come across an ancient ritual, one that was guarded by several
angels, yet now in his possession. This ritual provides instruction on how
to raise a horde, an army of the dead. The easiest way to find bodies for
this you might ask. Use the people in the cities the Tribunal protect.
I do not know the full details of the ritual or how to stop it. I do not
know what he plans to use this army for if he succeeds. I do know that I
must at least inform you of this so that you might prepare. I would
advise not to let him know that you suspect something, else the one
advantage you have would be gone. Also, I would not speak about it yet
to those not of your council until we learn more. Be ever vigilant my
friends.
Sincerely,
Sayra, High Herald of the Eternal Star
Paintings....
Added Sat Oct 19 02:53:23 2019 at level 51:
Oh how they do not know. Az knows, but the others, they do not.
Only Az has seen me paint and knows of what skill I hold. It should
have been evident of my touch in Sel's great masterpiece. It was my
touches that gave it real breath.
And now, Gruntner listens to my whispers. Where he cannot draw
his blade, I in turn placed a brush in his hand. His art is surprisingly
better than I thought it would be, granted he took elements from
my own paintings. Even presented it the same way as an unknown
artist. But the first three were all me.
They were a step, a shuffle, to draw the attention of the others. The
only regret is that the Emperor Oniflond took his own life. A pity. But
there are more paintings to be done. More to push my story. I hope
you are watching.
((PS, I did the first three paintings. Gruntner did the most recent at
my suggestion. There will be more))
PK Wins
Jun 17, 2019|Lv 45|Mortorn|Blunde vs 2: [45] Sayra (0%), [51] Aehwic (100%, shield of electricity)