Oranthia Waverly

Player: Kana

Character Name: Aurora Faithborn

Alias/Nickname: Oranthia Waverly. Ora for those she considers familiar.

Race: Enlightened

Age/Date of Birth: 23, FrostDown the 22nd

Apparent Age: 23

Gender: Female

Height: 5’6

Weight: 121 pounds

Hair Color/Style: Oranthias hair is a misty lavender gray. It’s parted in the center and falls from her scalp in waves down to her waist where it ends in a straight cut line. Two small pieces of hair are tied back in a ponytail over the rest of her loose locks.

Eyes: Her eyes are a pale cornflower blue. Ora’s lids are weighted with thick, medium length eyelashes and come to sharp corners on either end, her lower lid somewhat flat before turning up sharply toward the outer end, her upper lid in a round, tilted arch.

Marks/Scars/Tattoos: She has the mark of her troupe tattooed on her upper right arm just beneath the shoulder. It is a Gold lyre with three stars spread out across beneath it.

Physical Appearance: Oranthia is a bit taller than the average girl, long limbed and slender. Her skin is a creamy ivory, her elbows and knees always seem to have a touch of rosy blush on them. A similar pale blush is permanently in bloom across her rounded cheeks, her jawline coming down to a somewhat pointed chin. Her nose is soft, but with a pointed, refined tip. Her eyes always seem to betray a certain intensity, a spark of passion that she puts into anything she does. Ora has very large and pillowy lips, dusky rose in color, that are her most prominent facial feature. Ora carries herself with a confidant, unapologetic grace and a full (and perhaps a touch vain) understanding that people want to look at her. She is more than happy to oblige them.

Class: Wizard.

Skills: 2 water, 2 dark magite. Sings, Dances, plays the lute, the lap harp and the standing harp. Speaks common, elsyven and dwarven

Abilities: minor magnetism (bloodline)

Professions: Bard

Carried Possessions: Ora carries an ornate wooden lute and a small 8 string lyre. She carries three outfit changes complete with accessories for when she performs. She also carries a two part pendant, it can come apart into two individual pendants, on a chain that she keeps in her bag. One of the pieces once belonged to her sister. She also carries one long, white celestial feather.
Aside from that Ora always keeps a bar of expensive soap, wash rags, bath salts and oil perfumes. She has a canteen for the exclusive purpose of cleanliness. It is NOT for drinking. If she runs out of drinking water, that water will still be used for hygiene unless she’s in real peril.

Clothing and Armor: Changes at a whim. (To be added/edited)

Weapons: Ora has two magite stones, water and dark, embedded in a metal choker necklace she wears. They are technically their own separate pieces, jewels in a metal casing that locks into the choker. This is so that she can easily take them off one piece of jewelry and pop them into another. She has two chokers and two sets of bracelets with slots for them. She also carries a black dagger for emergency up close defense.

.:Character’s Personal Information:.

Likes: Singing, dancing, drinking, reading, meeting new and interesting people, good conversation, learning new things, parties, window shopping, actually shopping, fine food (particularly if there is gravy or sauce involved), the sensation of a job well done, justice (she gets borderline turned on when she hears about people getting their just desserts)

Dislikes: Brash, illogical people, being ignored, ugly clothes, hangovers, not being able to understand something, churches, the deeply religious, bullies and/or criminals, people getting away with being bullies and/or criminals (very little infuriates her more), cabbage

Merits: Loyal, strong moral compass, generous, confidant, very intelligent, fast learner, passionate, steadfast, courageous, kind. Ora is an excellent singer and lute player. She’s not as good on her lyre, but still pretty good. She’s also a fair dancer, but only as far as it would apply generally, she can’t dance on the same professional level that she can play and sing on. If it were a leveling system shed be on the highest level of casual dancing that would come before moving up into professional.

Flaws: Egotistical, vain, judgmental, drinks her emotions away, perfectionist, authority issues, soft hearted, reckless, vengeful, paranoid (religion), hot headed, entitled

Worst Fears: (1.) That, maybe, the religion she left behind was right, and the gods will punish her for defying their will.
(2.) That the religion she left behind will one day find her and convince her that #1 is true
(3.) That she will never find the cult (she’s fine finding them, she just doesn’t want them finding her and figure out what happened to Victor.
(4.) That Victor will be one of them when she finds them.
(5.) That she will never find a direction of purpose in life after she finishes hunting down both the church and the bandit group that ruined her life, and this constant call to action she feels inside her will drive her mad.

Personality: Oranthia is a friendly, outgoing individual. She loves talking to interesting strangers, performing and generally having a good time. Oranthia thinks very highly of herself and as a result she puts 110% into everything she does because she simply cannot allow herself to be associated with anything less than perfection. This means she has very little tolerance for anyone she feels is slacking, or failing to reach their potential. It also means she is especially hard on herself when she fails. Ora is confident and extremely aware of her positive attributes, she wastes no time with false modesty and actually suffers from a certain amount of vanity. She is particularly concerned with her looks, Ora is always very carefully scrubbed, groomed and dressed and only the most dire circumstances are capable of disrupting her beauty regimen. She even takes great care to constantly think about her movements, and the best ways to position her body for maximum beauty, even if that just means draping across a chair as elegantly as possible, or finding the most attractive way to casually lean against a wall. She won’t let it get in the way of having a good time, but for most day to day interactions it’s a constant background thought.

Oranthia has a thirsty, curious mind and she deeply enjoys slaking that thirst by studying historical and cultural texts at various libraries whenever she visits large cities. She always carries a book or two so that she doesn’t get bored when she passes through places with less literature available, donates them when she’s done and purchases replacements.

Ora is always happy to lend a helping hand to people who need it, and her moral values of showing kindness, understanding and selflessness are hardwired in her heart. The thought of others suffering pains her. In these principals she is utterly unshakable, she has no problems with putting herself in harms way for others (and when she does, she shames herself for the impulse). Ironically her bleeding heart is also a deeply temperamental one: Ora’s anger, when roused, can be vicious. Once you have made yourself wicked in her eyes she becomes a force of vengeance. She realizes this is somewhat of a problem and can be talked down if the person trying to calm her has a skilled tongue.

Ora, while maintaining a healthy respect for law and order, does not particularly like authority figures and resents being told what to do by anyone who she hasn’t personally vetted and approved of.

Since she’s come to be on her own, Oranthia is lonely, though she would never admit it. Truth be told some of that courage she has comes from a depressed disregard for her own continued existence. The losses she has suffered cause her to be reckless with herself, as though she has something to be gained or proved by teasing the specter of death. On some level, she hopes death takes her up on the offer. She knows this, deep down. Ora avoids facing this truth and the pain she feels with as much wine as possible.

There is one more feeling Oranthia will occasionally drink away. It’s this nagging feeling in her heart that she should be doing something, what she isn’t sure. She hopes that finding and exposing the people she came from is the answer.

History: Oranthias story begins with her mother.
Elysia was a celestial, living on her own in a strange world she could not trust, her soul heavy with several lifetimes worth of loss and sorrow. Or at least that was most of her time in this world. One miraculous day she found another of her kind, against great odds. The two became instantly inseparable and fell quickly in love, though truth be told that love might have been founded more on their shared race than their personalities. They would not remain together long enough to find out – just 50 years after finding each other, a very short time by celestial standards, he became extremely ill and died.

Elysia took it hard. She was devastated. She felt betrayed, taunted by a fate that teased her with some semblance of home and comfort only to cruelly take it away again.

She had reached the end of her rope. No land, no purpose and no one to live for. Pleading for Evithanon to forgive her and bring her home, she plunged a blade into her chest.

And woke up in a basement.

She had been found, unconscious and mortally wounded by a priest. He and his congregation had saved her, though the term is used here loosely.

The people who found her lost their minds over her. She was an angel, and nothing she could say would convince them otherwise. Addled from the drugs they were giving her to prevent infection and ease her pain, she made two errors that sealed her fate. She admitted she’d been trying to kill herself, and that she was one of the last of her kind.

With those words a cult was formed.

The congregation began to practically foam at the mouth with their rabid faith. The gods had clearly judged them as the most holy, the most worthy, and as their reward had entrusted them with a sacred task. Evithanon sent them this wayward angel who had callously turned her hand against herself so that they might redeem her. By her womb and their pious seed, they would fulfill their god given mission to repopulate the angels and let their blood lines continue forever in the glory of divinity.

Seven years later Oranthia was born as Aurora and given the surname Faithborn, a name she was meant to share with all who descended from Elysia and in fact already shared with an older brother who was born four years before her.

Growing up, Aurora knew nothing outside the world the cult created. She knew she was special, connected to Evithanon in a way only she and those like her could be. She was holy, irreplaceable, a vessel for Evithanon’s will. She knew that when she grew up she would become one of Victors (who was her half sibling, though it was literally forbidden for anyone to directly mention the whole troublesome incest aspect of their grand breeding plan and so she did not know it) blessed brides and their children would aid in bringing the glory of their god back to Calamia. She never met anyone who wasn’t a member of the inner sanctum of the church, and never stepped beyond the walls built around it, although she did sometimes climb trees so she could gaze over that wall and ponder the land on the other side.

She never wondered much about her parentage. She was raised communally by the priests and she never actually witnessed a family unit until much later in her life. All of this was on purpose, of course. They were kept away from any normal idea of what a family looked like. They had never laid eyes on Elysia from the day after they were born and had no idea she even existed, bound and constantly drugged and kept in a windowless room. The cult, who came to call themselves the order of the angels, were extremely careful. After all, it would be infinitely easier to get the half breed males to mate with their mother if they had no idea what a mother was, outside of being the thing children came out of. The females would be less likely to rebel against their children being removed from them if that was all they knew. With enough careful in breeding, the order of angels could restore a creature that was almost all celestial.

They consistently discouraged emotional attachments for similar reasons, preaching that the only devotion, the only love they should ever give or receive was to Evithanon. Their plan was to, when the child came of age, reveal to them the existence of the angel that god had given them and explain in full the weight of their responsibility.

When Aurora was three she gained another sibling, a half-sister named Dawn. As when any child was born to Elysia, there was much celebrating and thanks to Evithanon. The years passed.

The teachings of the church never sat exactly right with Aurora, and those feelings were validated by Victor, who also always felt somewhat uneasy. Neither could put their finger on why, why there was this nagging sense of apprehension inside them, why every ritual, every spiritual lesson and every sermon always felt sort of….off. Eventually Victor started disappearing. He always had an excuse or answer for where he’d gotten off to. The priests, though displeased, accepted it as the beginnings of his teen years. Victor was 12, and it was simply the nature of adolescent boys to need space. They had no reason to be concerned, they were confident in their indoctrination. They shouldn’t have been.

Victor had found several loose stones in the church wall, blocked from view by a gnarly tree root and had begun sneaking outside. At first it was simply to satisfy his curiosity. But as he observed the people that lived in the village near the church, he began to see that things were not what he had been told they were. That nagging feeling that something wasn’t right grew with every secret adventure until, finally, he came to a decision.

One night Aurora woke to find him standing over her bed with a sleeping Dawn in one arm. Quickly, quietly he told her about how he’d gone outside, how everything was different. She was shaken to her core, frightened for their immortal souls. But he asked her to trust him. She did. Despite what they had been taught, they could not help the connection they had. Victor and Dawn were the only other children Aurora had ever met, and they did everything together, learning, praying, playing. They confided in each other and broke rules together. The very feeling of their presence was different from others and served as glue that stuck them together. Even if they couldn’t admit it, even if it was considered blasphemous, their bond and solidarity with one another was iron clad. She would stick with Dawn and Victor to the ends of the earth if they asked.

Which as far as she was concerned, was exactly what Victor was asking for. She was more frightened than she had ever been, but she agreed to follow him.

Little did they realize another chain of events was about to hit its peak as well. It had been more than a decade now since Elysia had been brought to their church, and not everyone remained on board. Three members had begun having misgivings, misgivings that grew with each new child. One in particular, Theodore, was less adept at hiding his emotions, he was gentler, warmer when he interacted with the kids. He treated them like people as opposed to grand pieces of a holy plan. The sad fact is that was likely their downfall.

You see, unbeknownst to the children, Theodore and the two others intended to spirit away with Elysia and her offspring that very night. But things would go very wrong. Not only could they not find the kids who were not in their beds, but the other members of the cult had been keeping a very close eye on Theodore, sensing his weakness. The three were caught in the halls of the church red handed – Elysia, disoriented and weak, carried in one of their arms.

The kids would stumble upon this confrontation as they tried to sneak out. They could hear the angry voices and shouting and could see Theodore confronting the head priest, Walter, and several other others. It sounded like the entire priesthood was there, past the narrow line of sight the hall provided. they were extremely lucky not to be caught. They were less fortunate in that even now, with Elysia out of her prison for the first time in 15 years, they would still not see her or even know she existed, held out of site and around the corner from their vision. What they did see was a horror that ensured they would never come back. Theodore was stabbed and killed on the spot before them. Aurora covered Dawns eyes, the noise had woken her, and Victor covered Auroras mouth to stifle the cry she let out. As he fell, bleeding, he noticed them at last. His final act was to mouth the words ‘run away’.

And they did. They ran away from that scene as fast as they could, Victor yanking out the loose stones in the wall so fast he scrapped his knuckles before the three threw themselves through the hole and ran for everything they were worth.

They had no idea where to go, what to do. How to process what happened. They just kept moving. Three days later the order of angels found them, and in escaping Aurora and Dawn became separated from Victor. They haven’t seen him since.

Times were hard for Aurora and Dawn. Aurora was only 8, Dawn 4 and they had precious little idea of what anything in the world was like. Three things kept them alive : Auroras sharp intelligence and ability to learn swiftly and the pairs minor auras. People were drawn to a sort of instant likability Aurora held and they stayed for the touch of optimism provided by Dawn, who seemed to help people feel calmer in her presence. They became fairly successful beggars, and Aurora kept them moving, always afraid the order was right behind them.

Two years later the pair had set up near an opera house. There was a very popular troupe in town who would be performing there that night and Aurora felt confident that the crowds that came to see them would be enough to put food in her and her sisters stomachs for at least two or three days. She sang for her money, as she often did. While she was a woman approached them and gave them a coin, listening and looking them over with a critical eye. Aurora finished her song and thanked the woman. That’s when this stranger started asking questions, like where they’re parents were and how long they’d been on the streets. This wasn’t alarming, well-meaning people asked these things sometimes and Aurora answered them with stuff she had made up for these occasions (they died in a fire and they’d only been on the street a few months). The woman asked them to wait there and Aurora nearly took Dawn and left, but it was early and they hadn’t earned much money yet. Feeling anxious she stayed and the woman returned with a man and another woman and asked Aurora to sing again, tossing two more coins in their bowl. So she did, her sister hoping in for the chorus.

The group gave each other looks for a moment before the woman turned back to the girls and offered them a place to stay with their troupe. The three people were from the troupe performing at the opera house! Auroras first thought was to balk and reject the offer, she didn’t trust people, after all. But then she thought about it. The troupe traveled, which meant she and her sister would be doing exactly what they were doing now- relocating frequently. And if she was honest, they desperately needed a home. The last winter had been horrific, and for a while she had been genuinely concerned Dawn was going to lose some of her toes to the cold. There was also the fact that they couldn’t just beg forever. She accepted.

So they were taken in by the StarSong company, a well-loved troupe of actors, dancers and singers. There Aurora would learn to perform, to speak other languages, to use magite. The magite she was particularly keen on. The few members who had magite usually had illusion, working the magic to enhance their performances. They had two magic wielding members who weren’t performers, but there to keep them safe while they were on the road and they had water and wind magite respectively. Aurora, wanting to learn how to fight and defend herself for obvious reasons, eventually got magite of her own. She practiced regularly with the people tasked with defending the troupe, and found that not only did weaving magic come naturally to her, but that she very much enjoyed fighting. There was satisfaction in taking matters into her own hands and something very specifically satisfying about punishing those who looked to hurt her makeshift family.

The troupe was the golden period of Aurora life. They were generous, kind, compassionate people. They showed her what it actually meant to be a good person, what it meant to be moral. Incorporating the principals she learned from them into who she would become as an adult was one of her most fiercely held life goals. She and Dawn thrived. While Aurora excelled at music, Dawn turned out to be a superb seamstress and set designer.

The years rolled by in a flurry of song and costumes. She and Dawn took new names. Aurora adapting the name of a vast sea for herself and becoming Oranthia Waverly and Dawn becoming Rosie Heartwood. Rosie had put the past behind her. She was too young when it all happened to remember it well. Oranthia, however, remembered and thinking on it kept her up a night sometimes. Still does.

Who had their parents been? They shared enough similar features that she was comfortable assuming that at least one of the parents was the same for each of them. Which led her to the understanding that the church had wanted her to wed what was likely her brother. What had happened to Victor? Where was he now? Did he escape? Was he alive?

And above all, why? Why had they done any of it? Why had they kept a bunch of kids locked up and spoon fed them insane lies? What did they think would come of it?

It was an uncomfortable feeling, the knowledge that she might never know, but she comforted herself with her new life and tried to let it go.

Everything was well until Oras 21st year. They had stopped in a village on their way to a larger city, to resupply and spend the night. While they were there bandits raided the town.

It was chaos. There was screaming everywhere, bright orange flames consumed homes against the backdrop of the inky night sky. Oranthia desperately searched for Rosie, putting out fires as she went and cloaking herself in shadow, helping people she came across, but couldn’t find her. She did find other members of the troupe, who insisted she had to run with them. If Rosie was alive, she’d be escaping as well, staying and searching was a death wish.

Rosie was not alive. They found her, at last, her body draped defensively over a child. Two bolts were in her back.

They lost two thirds of the troupe that night. Oranthia was beside herself with grief and guilt. If she’d woken faster, if she’d kept Rosie closer…all those years protecting and caring for her, watching her blossom into a wonderful woman, all of it gone, erased in one terrible act.

She was consumed by Rosie’s death. For months she moved from inconsolable misery to incandescent rage and back again. Finally she understood that she simply couldn’t stay with what was left of the troupe any longer. She had to DO something. Anything.

What she decided on was something she realized the moment she made the choice was something she was always going to do, one way or the other. She was going to look for Victor. It was time to master her fear of those people. She was going to go back and find that church and if there were more kids there she was going to free them.

Ora didn’t know where the church was exactly, she had known nothing of the land it was on or surrounding it when she’d fled all those years ago. But she had it narrowed down to a general area. For a full year Ora searched and trained, so that when she met them she would be prepared to strike them down. When she found it, it had been long since abandoned. There was nothing left but Theodore’s blood stain and one very long, very old white feather. Ora couldn’t imagine where it came from, it was certainly too big for any bird she had ever seen. It being the only clue there, she took it with her, not really certain of what to do next.

She wanders now, performing to keep herself in coin, and hoping that maybe somewhere she will stumble on a clue to where they disappeared to. She also looks for the bandits that raided the village and killed Rosie and her adoptive family. She’s not sure what she plans to do when she finds them, except that she is going to make each and every one of them die painfully in whatever manner she has to.