- Posts: 8
- Joined: Sun Sep 23, 2018 4:35 am
Last Name: Whitecliff
Height: 1,69 meters (5' 54'')
Weight: 67 kg (148 lbs)
Hair: Light blonde, bound in a braided bun
General Health: Robust and healthy
Initial Alignment: Chaotic Good
Profession: Never-do-well adventuress
Base Class & Proposed Development: Favored Soul / Bard
Weapon of Choice: Flail
Hobbies: Many. Her regular ones include pipe smoking, drinking, reading novels and watching sunsets.
A young woman in her early twenties, wearing a soft smile as if she had not not a single thing to worry about in the world. She speaks slowly and quietly, with a slight northern accent. Her light blonde hair is bound in a braided bun. When she is standing, she tends to pull up her left shoulder a bit more than the right, giving her posture a somewhat lounging and careless appearance. Her clothes are thick linen with obvious signs of wear and occasional patch sewn on. Around her neck she wears a single piece of jewelry, a necklace with a forest green stone that matches the color of her eyes.
Feeling - Cerys is driven by intuition and feelings. A major talent is her ability to empathize and connect to many different people. She makes friends easily and works to overcome her own prejudices. A true individualist, she thinks and acts with her heart first.
Forceful - Cerys is sincere, honest, willful, and has a strong sense of self. She hates to see her own or someone else's worth diminished, and will stand her ground to defend against such actions.
Hope - There are few things that can bring Cerys to despair. A life filled with joy and losses and her connection to Sune form a spark of hope in her heart that is very hard to extinguish.
Wonderlust - Cerys can find wonder and excitement in anything new and unknown. She collects little things she considers beautiful or have a hidden meaning to her. She is not afraid of change and can find the strength to put her whole life on its head.
Envy - She tends to admire those who are in the favor of Sune, be it by professsion, skill and beauty. However, this admiration can turn into a dark and cold envy that that can compel her to act with dire consequences.
Reckless - Cerys acts on her feelings, and in doing so often forgets to consider the consequences for herself or others. She gives and demands respect and will often speak up even when it would serve her better to keep quiet.
Klutz - She just wasn't born a circus artist. This became a problem to her when she became a novice of Sune and met some highly skilled artists to whom her own sculpting and painting could not compete. She usually tries to play it down and blame someone or something else when a misdeed happens.
Trusting - Being raised in a majorly loving environment has made her a little too trusting. She is willing to entertain the possibility of even some of the most absurd stories. It takes a lot for her until she would start to distrust a friend.
Dustan, Cerys' father, was a seasoned adventurer who met his future wife Siana while travelling the North of the Sword Coast. They were both struck by love and not long after they settled down in her home village, the woodcutter hamlet Wolfstead close to the Neverwinter Woods. Siana was beautiful and full of love, but also frail and sickly. She knew that Dustan's greatest wish was to have a child, and saw the sadness in his eyes grow with each year as she was not able to fulfill it. After eleven years of marriage, Siana was desperate. She begged to Sune, offering to trade everything for just the chance to bring happiness to her husband. And indeed, she became pregnant shortly after. However, the strains of delivering were almost too much for the frail woman. When Cerys was finally born and Siana heard the cries of her newborn child, she thanked Sune and died with a smile on her lips.
In her childhood years, Cerys grew up in a rough but tight-knit villager community that had grown out of mutual dependence in the face of hardships living in a frontier hamlet. Although her father loved her dearly, his stoic nature made it difficult for him to show his affection. He worked day and night as a wood cutter to serve the quota that was required of the villagers, and so young Cerys was often left to her own devices. Cerys, however, did not feel like she was missing out. She noticed early on that someone was watching out for her. There were omens and feelings - like a warm caress that consoled her after falling from a tree, or a wreath of dried flowers which inexplicably began to flourish with roses over night. Her father told her of Sune and the plea her mother had made, and explained that these occurences were meant to remember her to be thankful for the gift of her life. Cerys took these words to heart and so she began to search high and low for signs and hidden meanings, collecting little beautiful things she could keep as mementos of them. In the evenings, when her father had returned from the woods, they would sit by the fire and she would show him the things she brought or made, laughing with him about the stories of her adventures that she had lived through, and although they grew absurd at times when her imagination ran a bit too freely, he would earnestly claim to believe them all.
As Cerys grew older, she was reluctant to fulfill the responsibilities that were given to her. When Dustan grew tired of fighting the willful head of his daughter, she was settled as an apprentice to the healer Mughwen. This served Cerys just fine, since the old man was growing senile and would often fall asleep in a quiet moment. Cerys used that time to leaf through his private library, looking for lore regarding the gods, and especially her patron. Her findings were meager, but she did not let that discourage her, in fact it only served to further incite her passion for searching hidden omens. She practised her divine magic daily, using any celestial words she got a hold on or even making up ones that sounded similar enough. She often indulged herself in fantasies of leaving to serve Sune, seeking adventure and true love like her father did. But when it came to it, she was not ready to leave her father behind. Then, one night, she dreamt of herself sitting on the edge of a well. She looked into a hand mirror, but it was not her reflection she saw - it was a beautiful woman, many years older than her, but she did not recognize her face. Behind the reflection, she could see an ornate temple with a number of slender towers ornated by crimson flags fluttering in the wind. She excitedly told her father about her dream, but he was gruff and dismissive, warning her of reading too much into it. Cerys trusted him, and eventually she forgot about the dream. However, Dustan had immediately recognized the building from her vivid description, having visited the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep himself in his adventuring days. He knew what it would mean. But he had not the heart to tell her of his thoughts.
For a few years, Dustan did his best to keep Cerys happy in Wolfstead. If she wanted to serve her patron, he thought, she could as well do it here. Still it was hard to ignore that Cerys was asking more difficult questions and growing more restless by the day. He took to the bottle, at first for his old adventuring wounds, later to dull his bad conscience. When he was in a bad mood, he and Cerys began to pick fights over the smallest things. Eventually, in a drunken haze, he hit Cerys with the back of his hand to silence her. It was not a strong hit, barely a smack, but it was the first time he had done this, and for that the pain burned even stronger. Dustan's composure cracked, and he hugged her, breaking in tears of shame. Finally, he told her what he had suspected about the meaning of the dreams, and said: "I was a happy man for the gift the fair lady has given to your mother and I. But the gods do not give freely, and their plans we must obey. You need to go and become a priest to her to fulfill the fate she has determined for you." Cerys was taken aback by the suddenness of events and put up fierce resistance, but her father was now as firm and determined as he had ever been. In the end she had no chance but to yield. When withering spring flowers announced the coming summer, Cerys said farewell to her father and her old life, holding back her tears. Following the path her father had described to her, she travelled the roads to Neverwinter and took a ship to the famous temple of Beauty in Waterdeep.
The priestesses of the temple welcomed Cerys warmly as a novice into their ranks. Living with the Sunites came surprisingly easy to her, their customs fitting like a glove that she never knew she had before. Soon the pain of leaving home was forgotten, finding that she could feel closer to Sune as a priestess than she had ever done before. She made friends with many of the other novices and even fell in love. There were other aspects that turned out to be more difficult: Her brushstroke lacked the finesse and her dancing the grace that many other aspiring Sunites seemed to possess in abundance. She groaned in frustration at herself, unused to being outcompeted and outshined by others' talents. The priestesses had to work hard to try and remove Cerys misconceptions of Sune born from her lack of education and wild imagination, a process that was painstakingly exhausting for all sides. She was too ashamed to admit these feelings even to herself or ask anyone for help. Two years passed, and bit by bit, frustration turned into darker thoughts.
At the time, Cerys was in a relationship with novice Iothan. This was not uncommon for acolytes of the Lady of Love, as was the fact that many of
them were rather short lived. Signs of their detachment had been on the wall for some time, although Cerys had made her best attempts to ignore the fact. That ended when one morning, Iothan finally took a heart to end their relationship. That it did not come entirely surprising offered little consolation to her. And the day would only continue to get worse. She broke a sculpture she was working on, and was afterwards reprimanded sternly when she cussed "like a Luskan sailor" about it. She was so mad that later on she got stuck reciting the dogma of Sune's ally Lathander until another novice helped her out. By the time of the sunset service to Sune, she was livid. Sitting quietly in the holy halls of beauty, listening to the head priestess with the other novices and older clergy, she could hear novice Merid whisper in a low voice behind her. The aasimar Merid was to Cerys the epitome of annoying perfection, and she fostered a dislike that had grown to be entirely mutual. She believed to hear her own name among those whispers and stifled laughs, although she did not understand exactly what was said. She did not need to. Cerys' humiliated and exhausted mind began to fill the gaps by itself until she saw herself caught in a net of hate and intrigues. She fought down the rage, a feeling that was not proper for a Sunite, as her father had told her often. Slowly, it faded, until she felt only tired. So tired of being judged and ordered around. So tired of being the clueless country bumpkin. So tired of competing with celestial perfection. None of them were chosen like her. If anything, they should ask her for guidance on faith. It was downright a disrespect to the godess herself! Someone needed to put that haughty mockery of a Sunite into place. Anyone. A cold emptiness filled Cerys' heart. She turned around and grabbed Merid by her perfect red hair. Then she slammed her face into the wooden bench with all her strength. Blood spurted on the dark wood and trickled down on the marble floor. Once they regained their senses, several novices jumped to them, both to help the injured and to hold back the attacker. Others tried to defend Cerys from Merid's outraged friends. Cerys just stared blankly at the crying girl trying to stop the blood flowing from her broken nose, feeling nothing at all.
A hearing followed. Cerys couldn't bear to see the looks in the eyes of her friends, and she certainly couldn't look at the damage she had done. Cerys' defense was arrogant and barely coherent as her voice kept breaking. Marring the beauty of another Sunite on purpose and out of petty reasons was unforgivable. There was only one decision the Sunites could make. It was her last day as a novice, and the first day of her journey. She began to wander on her own, trying to leave the past behind but not daring to face the questions that would await her back home. To her confusion, her divine abilities were not diminished despite falling in disgrace. She lived from day to day, following her whims, sometimes following adventurers on quests and at other times, spending every coin on song and wine. A few years later, she arrived at the Sword Coast - both hopeful and desparate for change.
Take control over her life - Cerys has become uncertain of Sune's intentions and her own willingness to follow them. She took to adventuring and still helps when "something gets dropped at her feet", but she is starting to question the wisdom of this lifestyle.
Leave her past behind - Her failing as a novice is haunting her, although she isn't aware how much. She is desparate for change, however, hoping to regain the inner peace she lost.
Pick up a new art - She used to dabble in many different arts when she was young, but stopped after being outshined in many of them during her time as a novice. Circumstances might allow her to pick up something new that she will finally stick with.
Find a new goal -Ever since she was little, she has focused her life on Sune. Leaving her old dreams behind and learning that adventuring was often far more bloody and less illustrous than she had imagined has left her aimless.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas:
[*] She can be moved to act easily by individual fates, especially when it comes to romantic perils.
[*] Cerys has never learned why Sune has not punished her for her failing. It might still happen at a later point as Sune could have waited for an unknown reason - maybe to give her a chance at redemption, or to hold it against her when she fails again. Cerys might also choose to relinquish her connection to Sune herself, which would likely lead to RCR and alignment shift.
[*] Her dream vision was understood as a sign for her to become a priest, although it was too vague to say for sure. It could turn out that it was interpreted incorrectly all along.
[*] She has never told anyone why she quit being a novice, ashamed to confront her own deed and to be judged for it by others. If the past came knocking on her door, in form of resurfacing people or a threat of her secret becoming known, it would prompt her to act.