PLAYED BY: Amber Kroening
CONTACT INFO: firstname.lastname@example.org
CHARACTER NAME: Vivi Ebonstarr
AGE: Slightly younger than middle-aged
RACE: Feral Syndar
HAIR: Long, dark brown, often tied back in some way
OCCUPATION: Independent mercenary/bodyguard for hire
KNOWN SKILLS: Shield Proficiency, Toughness, First Aid, Dual-Wielding, Breakaway, Mana Reserves (Syndar), Mana Transfer (Syndar)
The day my parents died, I fought a battle within me. I was to become a great warrior in the vein of my sister’s success, but the most immediate links to my bloodline had just disappeared. The magic they respected and put so much faith in had not saved them. My sister had been the only one with any real sense, putting her trust in the ability of her sword arm, gauging her safety by the durability of her shield. She had honed her skills and trained herself as a defender of the weak. She was awfully protective of me too, but not in the way that made me feel lesser. Though my parents had all but given up on me, instead choosing to place the entirety of their favor on her shoulders…she still believed, that if I trained hard enough I could fight just as well; though I wasn’t always sure I believed that myself, until one of her pep talks lit my soul. But she had disappeared too, and I hadn’t yet had the chance…to show her… The last I saw of her she was pushing me away from the falling debris as we watched our parents be swallowed by the flames. We were going to leave Faedrun, *all* of us. For all I know, I’m the only one who made it out.
We had been fighting off the undead on the way to the ships when someone made the decision to set everything alight at the garrison, in hopes of burning those in pursuit. But the undead weren’t the only ones caught in the flames. I heard my mother scream as my father tried to prepare some sort of spell…he wasn’t quick enough. All of that time spent poring over texts and studying, almost worshipping the magic, it was our “purpose”, but it made no difference in the moment. Annoyed at their naivety, I cursed the gods that day, but I doubt the gods even heard my curses. As my sister pushed me back towards the ships, the heat must have made her hand sweat and she dropped her sword. I went to pick it up, and when I raised my head again, she was gone. I looked for her, but there wasn’t time, I had to get out of there, hoping she was already on board. I felt increasingly sick as the days went on, and the ship swayed, and I couldn’t find her amongst the crowd. I hated everyone aboard that ship who refused to talk to me, didn’t want to tell me anything about where she went or even try to help. But holding my sister’s sword in my hand, and hearing her voice in my head, I had to go on. I knew this was my time now. There was nothing left here, but in a land I could start anew…there was work still to be done.
As my fellow shipmates regarded me with unbridled disgust, I was reminded again and again what I was. My family…we were ferals; the “ugly” Syndar. The ones that fell short of the perfection the gods had tried for, so they tried again, and they tried again, and eventually birthed the Celestine. When I was born, my parents had been trying to give my sister a partner, another warrior to fight alongside her. They felt we would be stronger together, but I fell short in my abilities. No matter. Even as they berated me, wishing I could be more like her, she exceeded all their expectations and became so skilled in everything she chose to do, through brute strength, force of will and determination, it more than made up for me. My parents thought she had a respect for the magic too, how could she not, being so perfect? But only I knew the truth on that. It -almost- made me laugh… though I didn’t resent her for being great. Aside from my parents’ disappointment, I gladly lived in her shadow, trying to catch a glimpse of that light and instill it in my own soul. I knew she still thought I would grow up to rival her prowess. Amongst the gods’ ugliest children, disappointing offspring of my own parents…she gave me hope that there was still a plan, some way I could make something more of myself. In her eyes, I was not a lost cause.
Maybe I should have died alongside our parents, and I will carry that scar, as deep or as shallow as it chooses to remain, but I will not let -you- down, sister. They thought you better, but you did not see it so. I have not found my answers on so many things. But the answers I -do- find will be carved from the veins of existence by the blade of my sword, and etched into my own soul as a testament to you.
You will never be forgotten whether I find you or not. Alive or deceased, you will remain alive in me. And I promise I will make myself worthy of wielding your blade.
I hope someday to return it to you, with the knowledge I’ve finally made someone proud.
* * * * *
Vivi broke from her reverie as a spark danced across her sister’s blade and fell on exposed skin, slightly above her knee. She brushed it off and adjusted her clothing, then continuing to sharpen the sword by the fire. The latest human she had taken coin from, being hired on as a bodyguard of sorts, was sifting through some notes and a well-worn guidebook, not too far away. He was involved in things, so many things…following trails lit by curiosity, enterprise and conspiracy. She still weighed the risk in the back of her mind, but the coin was good…they would travel often…and he promised her a chance to be more. To serve a greater purpose.
Whether that would come to pass, it was still too soon to tell.