Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

First Name: Maranna
Last Name: Weylraun

Appearance:
Race: Human
Age: 62
Height Short
Weight: Thin
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Gray

Showing signs of age, her hair is gray, fine, and brittle, her face showing wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and her posture beginning to stoop. Her eyes still sparkle with life, however.


Personality Profile:
General Health: Not sickly, but missing the vitality of youth. She is more frail than the average adventurer.
Deity: Lathander
Initial Alignment: Neutral Good
Profession: Healer
Base Class & Proposed Development: Cleric with background related dips. Likely sub 15th level forever.
Habits/Hobbies: The typical grandmotherly old lady, she will dote on her allies, ensuring they are well fed, well rested, and well mannered.
Weapon of Choice: Staff or Staff & Shield if she fears for her safety.

Background: Maranna once the daughter of a farmer, settled just outside of Beregost. She met and fell in love with a neighboring farm boy, Henrick, who eventually became a caravan guardian between Beregost and Baldur's Gate, and later a small-time 'adventurer'.

During his time away she was a bit of a free spirit, studying music and other bardic talents among the gypsies camped just inside Beregost, though never excelling. Between his adventures Henrick taught Maranna how to defend herself and she taught herself to become an expert healer to tend to his wounds.

His career was short lived, however, and they eventually wed and settled to their farm, became regular members of the church of Lathander, and lived a fairly normal, boring life.

Henrick eventually fell ill, and as he wasted away so too did their farm. When he passed she had nothing. Finding sanctuary in the Song of Morning Temple in Beregost, she became devout, learning to move past her loss and sadness, and to see it as a rebirth, a renewal of who she was, and a new opportunity for life.

A minor priestess in the ranks, she has been relatively under-the-radar for years now, healing the sick, mending the wounded, and offering hope of light in the many periods of darkness befalling Beregost.

Goals: None. She is an old lady, in the dusk of her life and preaching about dawn. Her only goal is to die in the service of Lathander.

Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts: Old adventuring partner of her husbands comes looking for something? An old enemy? Any of the various plots in and around Beregost? She is basically an RP-focused ALT character, and as such I am open to pretty much anything.

The old woman laid herself down on the rickety cot, gathered an old fur about her, blew out the remaining candle, and settled in for the night. The basement was dark, but dry, and was comfortable enough given the circumstances...

It had been a long day. Maranna had returned that morning, just as the sun rose over the wondrous spires of the Temple. At Dawn, beauty truly reigned. Fitting. For the first time in months, having completed her round of tending to outlying farm families and their stock, harvesting herbs and roots for her healing supplies, she had come to where she had called home for the last dozen years, the Song of Morning.

As she finished her morning prayers she saw a face long lost to time, young Tommy Marlowe, or rather the esteemed Thomas Marlowe as it were these days, freshly arrived from Waterdeep as she had heard and looking little like she had recalled. The same soft eyes and reverent facade remained, but gone was the pudgy young boy, replaced by a strong young man. No longer asking for candy, but now leading the faithful as a Morning Lord and Vicar of the Temple.

Their cheerful reunion was short lived, however, as a dwarf entered the temple carrying a young woman, barely conscious and appearing to have suffered greatly. He dropped her without a word, and left her in their care.

Maranna, who excelled in healing, quickly looked after the young woman, who seemed barely older than a child. Nursed to health, offered food and bath, she did all she could to ensure her well being. Hannah, as the girl was called, seemed confused but thankful, however she was eager to head north. Concerned for her safety, Maranna paid an Elf of the Silver Shield, one Tarundil, to escort her toward the Friendly Arm Inn. She had good experiences with these mercenaries in the past, and was confident Hannah would be kept safe.

As they left town she returned to the Temple, eager to rest and catch up with the returned faithful.. but it was not to be. It seemed their halls were filled with the injured, stricken, and lost...

Her day continued much as it began, with revelations made, healings offered, and surprises at every turn. It was exhausting, and made the rickety cot as comfortable as any feather bed she had ever laid upon.

As her eyes closed and until she succumbed to the darkness, her mind continued to race with the events of the day.. what did they mean? Where would they lead? As she gave in to exhaustion she strengthened herself in faith...

At dawn the way is clearer, she whispered to the dark.