Radia "Misara" E'lyn--Blades and Scars

[Fragglerock]

First Name: Misara
Last Name: Unknown

Appearance:

Race: Moon Elf
Age: 95
Height: 5' 0"
Weight: 90 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Silver
Notable Facial Feature: Jagged scar running from her left eye down to her lip.

Personality Profile:

General Health: Excellent
Deity: Non-Declared
Initial Alignment: Currently Chaotic Neutral
Profession: Homemaker in training
Base Class & Proposed Development: Child of the streets
Habits/Hobbies: Shopping, jewelry, high fashion dresses, exotic perfumes, music and dance
Languages: Known-common and elvish
Weapon of Choice: Dagger

Background:

Misara is not long arrived on the coast. Her mannerisms carry the unrefined character of a street child. It is rumored she is an escaped slave from Surthay, and the scar that she eternally covers with a white mask, does not dissuade.

As an escaped slave for two decades running the streets Misara has developed an affinity for small, easily hidden weapons, most favorably the dagger. In addition to her roguish alley training, she has sought to learn something of weave after her arrival upon the Sword Coast.


Goals:

Misara desires to find her true elven name, a home, and a family. And to rid to herself of the cused scar she covers.

Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts:

She despises Thayans. For more you will need to speak with her in-game.

[Fragglerock]

Warning: This is OOC META: If you attempt to use this IN-GAME, and were not part of the events portrayed here. Misara will hunt you down and kill you. Have a nice read and day:)

She calmed herself with a slow breath, going silent within, the whistling wind rushing off of the Sea of Swords enveloping her. 'How long have I sought this?' she thought as she looked down the cliff face toward the newly arrived galleon. It seemed ages since she had last felt the tinge of fear that now raced up her spine. Her focus settling upon the pirates milling about on the pier.

Misara sinks further into the shadows, blending seemlessly into the rock face, waiting. She half laughes at her fears in the moonless night. 'Not so long ago' she murmurs under her breath as she thinks back upon her childhood. Her hand absently rubbing the jagged scar upon her cheek as she gazes upon the deck of the vessel.

Mealir had warned her, "Never go to Roaring Shore". She pushed his words aside. While he did love her, he still only understood a fraction of who she was. She shakes her head, pulling her hand away from the scar and closer to her daggers.

There, movement at the cabin, her eyes strain through the night to see. 'Yes' twin daggers appear in her hand as she watches the old croon move quickly through the door.

'Forgive me Mealir' echoes through her mind as she leaps off the cliff face....

[Fragglerock]

Misara....ran.

The whole of the cove seemed upon her. She clutched her daggers tighter, red droplets spraying in her wake. 'Damn it' she muttered through her labored breathing as she searched up the cliff for a hand hold, and a shadow.

"Foolish, Foolish girl" the witch's words mocked her as she sprinted into the enclosed canyon. She could here the pirates shouts of alarm, the trample of many feet, and the sounds of arrows whizzing by her as she zig-zagged close to the dead end of the cliff.

Her head shakes back and forth, the realization hitting her. The rock wall was sheer, nimble though she was, her shoulders sagged with the knowledge she could not climb to safety. She glanced, to the corner shaded from the torches and illumination, and smirked.

Misara....ran.

Full sprint trying to desperately get to the shade. Then she heard the old croon's cackle above the hoots and hollering of the pursuing pirates. Her body compressed like a spring and Misara dove for the corner. 'Too late' she blanched as she saw the Faerie Fire begin to lick over her body and the Old Hag laughed louder.

[Fragglerock]

The hideous laughter, echoed across the chasm, the faerie fire flared even brighter as if answering in response. Misara rolled out her dive like a comet skipping across the ground, pulsing and bright. She tried to think of an option, but all her mind did was go to Mealir, and his comforting embrace. His warning now was truth.

She gathered herself into her full contenance and turned to face the rampaging pirates and the Old Croon shrieking behind them.

Her mind raced as she tryed to recall the one of the cantrips she had been learning secretly in the past months. The horde of pirates slowed as they understood what she did, she was trapped, alone, and visible to them all.

As the pirates inched nearer the Old Witch began to drone...some of the words Misara knew. Ignoring the pirates a mere few feet from her, she drew back he glowing dagger. Eyes narrowing, mind settling. The foul wrapped witch was the only thing in her world now.

Whip...the blade flew. True to it's target. A sickening pop, and then a horrid gurgling sound, shrieked from the Old Croon's lips as her spell turned into a cry of pure pain. The witch grasped desperately for blade, sunk hilt deep into her eye socket. But slowly, feebly, her her hands quit reaching. The witch laughed no more.

Misara sensed the scimatar more than saw it. She flipped backwards, spinning in the air and ran further back to rockface. The pirates, enraged at the fall of their charge, sprinted full long at the little elf lass.

Misara, back to them begin twisting, her fingers in odd shapes and traces, mystical words spilling forth from her mouth. She was fully lost in the heat of the battle, uncouncious, her actions and movements.

Daggers moving lithely in her hands, she spins around, her mouth full ancient words...spewing forth. A dark flare, shoots from her hands before her. The ground becomes slick with a black, viscous grease. The pirates immediately sense the change and attempt to slow themselves, to no avail the mob falls. Thier outrage is palpable as try to gather themselves. Misara smiles as the glowing dagger begins to pulse brighter, the lightning bolts circle it seem to hunger for the ground, and she nods.

The grease erupts into flames as the dagger's lightning strikes it. The howls of the pirates seem to snap Misara back into the now. Quickly she utters and shapes an incantation for darkness and places it upon the whole of the flaming men. She nods and disappears into the shades.

[Fragglerock]

//btw pm me with replies if you wish to read more. I sort of think of this as book. Most of this should be considered out of game. But the history will reflect in game. If anyone wants to know what happens next...let me know PM. Or you can talk to me in game...ooc most likely unless you are there for the events. Thanks:)

ps...damn beer:P

[Fragglerock]

Past the Prophet's Tongue

Calla followed them, openly, brazenly. Besides, her mistress, Misara, hadn't said word about hiding, so the feline reasoned why not prance and dance around the two.

Reds, that is how her mistress referred to them when she had given Calla her mission. But they seemed dark to her. The man, in his dark armor, black, shield and sword. The woman was similar in appearance, though smaller...she was obviously the leader. At least as far as the cat could reason.

She had trailed the reds from the Minotaur Caverns to the Orcs of Sharp Teeth. A perilous journey, but Calla had entertained herself by running circles around the two reds, to their great irritation. The female tried to approach but Calla merely hissed and ran off to her great consternation. The cat felt secure she had accomplished her master's task, to observe them, and to make sure they knew someone watched, and waited.

[Fragglerock]

Misara, looked over her goblet at Bentley, quietly remembering her meeting with the old gyspy. She had gained the information she needed to finally break the bounds of her past, something she had desperately sought since her arrival on the coast.

Pulling a large draught, the crone's words echoed in her mind,

The Tie it binds
The mark is red
Gather to you
The past is bled

She flinched from her thoughts as Bentley pointed to the calicoat cat prancing upon his bar.

[Fragglerock]

Misara wrenched the dagger free from the corpse, strange she thought, even in death the displacer's body continued to blur momentarily.

"Are we private enough dear" she wiped the blade on her boot, the blue blood staining it.

Mealir glanced about listening closely and nodded. "So this is our special night then" she smirked, slowly easing into his arms. He smiled and embraced "I am sure you find the surrounding, just delightful, but no." He glanced once more around the small dusty alcove.

"My...friends have informed me of Roaring. But, strange you have not." he steps back a space looking closer at her.
She was caught, in defiance, in her head strong way, as always. "I know. But, to tell you, after you already...warned me. And what fun would that be?" she tried to deflect him.

[Fragglerock]

Her head hung low, as always, he saw through her. "But this is why you chose him, isnt it" she reflected as his gaze bore through her. Mealir had...a talent for judging those around him, close to him. And his vision was crystal clear when it came to his bride.

There were many things he loved about her, and many things-he tolerated. Finding out about her doings was neither, and Misara could tell he was worried and disappointed.

"If you constantly do" his hand sweeping across the horizon "this. How will I ..." he stammered, she pulled him in close. "

And if I didn't, could any other woman even think to tame Captain Mealir?" her brows arched as she let the words play out.

[Fragglerock]

Misara and Mealir left the secret place and camped upon a hill overlooking the tower.

They spent the night as lovers do, and the sun came too soon. She watched him stir, his arms unwrapping from her, just as a dream slips away.

"The ship?" she asked, though she knew his thoughts already. He grunted, putting on the last of his garments, the brown leathered boots slipping on easily. "Ah, what do the bards say my love?" he smiled "The heart, can only take so much happiness."

And so, he was gone, and without another word about her 'excursion'. Misara nodded to herself, the witches words still swirled about her mind.

She whispered "I am so sorry my love. Freedom always comes with a price." She uttered some small magics, drew her blades and disappeared into the shadows.

[Fragglerock]

The Pursuit of Happiness

Misara pulled into herself, digging deep to within her former child. Her senses stood on end as she approached the red tower. Unseen, or so she hoped, but the Gate was warded at various junctions, some, even she could not know. She had to trust within herself, something she virtually could never give to anyone. She slowly approached the wood hewn door.

She stopped, the wards that she could percieve, pulsating, instantly halting her progress mid-step. "Misara, you have much to learn." her mistress's words coming to her as she recalled her 'formal' training. She shook her head and concentrated, searching. 'There' she found the touchstone, the familiar mark for those who entered into the tower with affinity.

She knelt down, still part of the shadows and pulled a small, crooked implement. Her hands worked with practised ease.

The pulsing wards faded before her, she shouldered the door.