Lyanna of Pangolais

Portrait

Description
Name: Lyanna of Pangolais Age: Seems late twenties Sex: Appears Female Build: Lean and wiry Place of Origin: City of Pangolais in Nidal Profession: High Priestess of Zon-Kuthon, Barber Surgeon and Torturer Accent: English - London - Middle class Sexual Preference: All Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVpxXWQhhXc Appearance: This pallid woman has a narrow oblong face with angular cheekbones, hollow cheeks, and a somewhat chiselled jaw. Her deep-set eyes are a dark violet, gazing around carelessly. Her ears are pierced with small silver rings while a turned-up celestial nose is accompanied by full pale lips. Long dark hair hangs down to her bosom in a wavy fashion. Lyanna is a tall woman with broad shoulders and an athletic yet slender figure, lean with wiry strength due to her strict diet when living at the temple. Her strides are long and purposeful with her shoulders held back. Scars can be traced down her back from when she was flogged as a slave. The rest of her body is a wreckage of scars almost completely covering her form. These however are not haphazard scars acquired through combat, but rather precise scars of a surgical nature accompanied by marks left from the usage torture devices. Though hidden by hair, a small tattoo can be seen on the left side of her neck, marking her as a former slave. Lyanna wears a mail hauberk that reaches to her shins, with knee high boots and a long black leather coat worn over the mail. Underneath her coat, chains can be seen firmly wrapping and entangling them selves around her body, acting as a belt around her mail. The chain is specifically a spiked chain in which this priestess used as a chosen weapon in the past. A skull necklace with a chain threaded through the eyes can be seen around her neck, representing the holy symbol of Zon-Kuthon. Bio: Lyanna's life began in despair, a bottomless pit in which she spent many years clambering to climb out of, however, despair truly is, the sickness unto death. Due to the fact she was born a slave, her life was one of servitude to others, carrying out their every whim and ensuring they maintained their comfort. During the days, she had to do a lot of chores, small menial things mostly, a cup barer of sorts one might say. When mistakes were made however, her master punished her, age was no excuse and she learned the sting of lashes early on. Located in the Uskwood, Black-leaved trees towered over Pangolais, shrouding the city in shadow. Enveloped in lassitude, the inhabitants were wan, thin, and silent. Shadow magic was at work, the very city itself draining their vitality to sustain the darkness. A city of no youth, there were few children found wandering the glassy streets at all, only emphasising the ancient feel that clung to the obsidian buildings. In those early years, Lyanna was woefully weak, her frail body mere skin and bones. Her life was meaningless. Days melted into weeks, into months, into years and life as a slave never changed, she lived to serve and served to live. When twelve, she came of age to be sold off to a new owner. Her master sold her off for a fee that more than covered the investment he had put in her over the years. Anxious, she feared a new master; a young adult was always a prized possession amongst the depraved. Lyanna had stood atop a platform in the slave market. Silver twinkled on banisters and decorative spires; pale moonstones gleamed serenely on the brows of the citizens who walked the wide avenues. Great grey moths had flapped among the trees' branches, and their wings were luminous with spectral dust. She of course knew, someone from the crowd would buy her, mark her as theirs, and command of her whatever they desire. Soon though, she was purchased, the bidding quite, orderly and swift. Large callous hands had grabbed her from behind, untying her and marching down to be collected. A mature man had stepped into view, dressed in black leather robes. His face was gaunt, stern and hard. The deep pools of darkness he called eyes had settled on her, appraising her skinny form. There was an emblem on his robes, a skull with a chain threaded through the eyes. Lyanna could still remember how her stomach had dropped. Her face went cold; a chill ran up her spine while hairs stood on end. Her heart had thumped so hard in her chest it threatened to explode. It was a priest of the dark prince who purchased her. The priest took her to the cathedral, a monstrous building that burst up into the sky. The biggest and grandest of all structures, it was the heart of Pangolais. The cathedral was a soaring building of smoky glass. Its pointed arches and long narrow windows drew the eye upward, as did the twisted spikes that crowned its towers in silver and steel. Clerestory windows, tinted in a thousand shades of grey, created a ceaseless play of shadows as the ghostly lights of Pangolais fell through them from both sides. It was to be her home for the rest of her young life. As the years went by Lyanna was indoctrinated, brought into the fold and became one of Zon-Kuthon's most devout followers. Raised to be a priestess she was educated. They taught her to read and write proficiently. She studied the human anatomy, how to exploit it and to heal it. Her most important classes however, had been the great tortures and of course, prayers. She became an accomplished surgeon and priestess, though being raised by sociopaths and those considered insane, she too developed a singularly cruel and sadistic personality. That said, all priests and priestesses were learned in techniques to conceal their inner darkness. At the age of the twenty six, she was in a hall, surrounded by her elders and peers. All dressed in their ceremonial robes, they made a grim spectacle. She could still remember the experience vividly. The stone floor had been bitterly cold against her feet. The scent of incense and hot metal drifted about the hall, along with an undercurrent of burned flesh. Eerie shadows had moved about the room like umbral tendrils crawling over every surface. Naked, Lyanna and her competitor had taken seats across from each other. The tables at their sides littered tools of their craft, knives, needles and clamps. They had duelled, not with swords, but in a battle of escalating self-inflicted harm until one conceded, could no longer perform, or perished. After hours of gruelling self torture, her competitor slumped, falling to the ground in a puddle of her own blood, unconscious. Lyanna had been a ruin herself, mind swimming as she struggled to remain conscious. Her body was a wreckage of sore weeping muscle, flesh hanging while needles pierced and contorted her. The priests and priestesses stood about her with twisted sadistic smiles, eyes gleaming in joy. Then they prayed. "Desolation fell upon us, and the Midnight Lord gave us succour. Death came to hunt us, and the Midnight Lord gave us its leash. Pain tried to break us, and Zon- Kuthon taught us that it held nothing to fear. By his grace we are Nidalese. By his gifts we master the night." Those were the last moments she remembered before passing out herself.
Player:	Lyanna Gordon
Gender (Visually):	Female
Race (Visually):	Human