Basic Information
Name: Desahri Ammarell
Aliases: Desi
Gender: Female
Race: Aasimar
Age: 19
Profession: Sorceress
Languages: Common
Speech Pattern: Her voice is low pitched with a panicked undertone Physical Information
Height: 5'6''
Weight: 125 lbs
Body Build: Curvy in all the right places
Skin Type: Porcelain and smooth with no blemishes
Hair Style: Usually has the sides pulled back with the rest let loose and long.
Face: She has an ethereal beauty about her face.
Hair: Black
Eyes: Dark Blue
Skin: Pale
Handedness: Left
Mental Information
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Deity/Beliefs: Selune
Last edited by Pentralia on Sat Apr 02, 2011 11:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Life is an amazing journey full of lessons to learn. One such lesson is that anything worth having must be earned, otherwise it is taken for granted and tossed aside on a whim.
The young woman studies the book her teacher gave her until her eyes are bleary and the words blur upon the page. With a frustrated sigh, she slams the book shut and stalks into the main room of the tiny cottage the old master and his young student share. She finds the old man hunched over the table, carefully cutting roots of some sort and throwing it into a small cauldron to his left. In her rage, she slams the book down in front of him and glares. “Orlan, when am I going to be able to put this magic into practice? You’ve had me reading about the theory for ages!”
Orlan simply ignores the slamming book and continues to cut the roots, taking a good minute before gratifying the seething sorceress with a response. “You will never use this magic, Desahri. The theory is all you need to know.”
Desahri’s nostrils flare at his answer. “Then why in the hells are you having me read so much about it! What is the point of learning all about blood magic if I will never use it?” The girl paces in front of the table, wringing her hands in her frustration.
The old man finally looks up at her from his work and folds his hands in front of himself upon the table, regarding her with a cool gaze. “You are learning the theory so you can recognize it should it ever be used against you. I’ve told you that it can be used for very dark purposes. Not all magic is used for the betterment of the world, Young Lady.”
She lets out what sounds like a mixture of a scream and a huff before turning and going back to her room, slamming the door hard enough to make the walls shake. Orlan chuckles and runs his fingers through his long white beard, musing to himself. “What did I get myself into when I accepted this girl as a student?” His quiet mutterings continue as he resumes cutting his roots with meticulous care.
Meanwhile, Desahri sits in her room, staring at the book she was reading, stewing at the absurdity of learning about the magic she is not allowed to use. She looks through the book and sees the outline of a simple spell and mutters to herself. “This does not look hard at all. I just need to get some of Orlan’s blood somehow.” She sits and thinks it through for a while, then decides on a plan of action.
Orlan barely looks up as Desahri comes out of her room with a small smile of apology. She walks up behind the old man and wraps her arms around his neck and chest, giving him a warm hug from behind. “I am sorry, Orlan. I’ve always been impatient.” With a quick kiss to his cheek, she pulls her arms from around him, accidentally scraping her fingernail across the thin skin on his neck. “Oh! I’m sorry, Orlan! I didn’t mean to do that!” She quickly grabs a towel and wipes up the blood from her mishap then takes it back to her room, a self satisfied smirk crossing her lips.
“Alright, I have the blood. Now what else do I need?” The young sorceress looks at the book and makes a note of everything she needs to perform the spell. A frown crosses her face as she sees one item she doesn’t have. With a thoughtless shrug, she closes the book. “It seems pointless to have a compass when I know where I’m going to teleport him anyway.”
She walks into the main room where Orlan had fallen asleep at the table. Desahri smirks at the scene. “Perfect; he will not get in my way.” She wastes no time in preparing the spell, just as the book said, except for the compass, which she did not have. She focuses her energy at the bloody towel and suddenly the blood is pulled from the cloth and wraps around Orlan in a red haze. Desahri smiles as the haze begins to glow and suddenly, Orlan is no longer sitting at the table. Instead, a ghostly figure is standing right beside her with an angry scowl upon his face.
“Uh oh…what did I do wrong?” Desahri looks at the ghost of her angry master, only to hear a disembodied voice within her mind.
“You silly girl! Do you realize what you’ve done! Where is my body? Put me back together right this instant!”
The voice continually berates her as she searches the tiny cottage for his body but comes up empty. She then looks around the yard, even up in the trees. Finally, she looks at the ethereal image of her teacher with a panicked expression. “I…I cannot find it!” She sits on a stump and buries her face in her hands, mumbling over and over that she is sorry.
After a few moments’ time, Desahri looks at Orlan with a tear stained face. “I am sorry, Orlan. I don’t know what to do.”
In a rare act of pity, Orlan directs her to a mirror and tells her how to scry for him. The only images that are shown are a grey area with withered trees. Orlan’s body is under one of these trees; it’s back resting against the trunk. She also sees a large city with high walls surrounding it. “Baldur’s Gate.” The voice of Orlan resonates in her mind as he gives her the location to where she must travel.
As Orlan’s rage grows, his mental torment on the girl increases. He is constantly berating her for her mistake and will not give her a moment’s peace. She used to be able to ignore his jabs but it has driven her to the point of near insanity and she will argue with him openly, not caring what other people think of her.
Life is an amazing journey full of lessons to learn. One such lesson is that anything worth having must be earned, otherwise it is taken for granted and tossed aside on a whim.
