Half-Elf (Firebird Clan) Drunken Brute Barbarian
Tall for an Elf, and towering by human standards for a woman, Muraisa is a good 6ft 5. She looks well built by human standards, and is therefore huge compared to most Elf. She doesn’t try to hide her impressive strength, either – she carries the massive axe Teinntean most of the time, slung across a shoulder, a less than subtle hint as to her nature. If the glowing tattoos and armour wasn’t enough of a hint.
Murasia wears her hair tied back, or occasionally close cropped if something annoys her enough to cut it down, and prefers to keep it in simple braids for the most part. Her already auburn hair is often highlighted by red henna streaks, and her eyes are a striking blue with flecks of navy. Her voice is a deep mezzo-soprano.
One of the first things most people will notice about her, especially in a darkened area, is the glowing tattoos that run along much of her right side – from her fingers and palm up her forearm in gently swirling fire and feathers, up to her shoulder and neck, along her ear and down her back. These tattoos are made of fire ink, a flickering concoction that lights up the area. Among the feathers and the flames are the the words of Muraisa’s life, her lineage, her great deeds. Insulting or belittling them is one of the fastest ways to annoy her. Most of her outfits are cut in such a way as to reveal as much as these tattoos as possible.
Her left ear is pierced several times, and contains several gemmed studs most of the time. She also tends to wear tight necklaces or torcs, and several rings on her left hand. Her clothes are usually utilitarian, meant to keep off the rain, and most have a large brimmed hat rather than a hood. Two bandoliers, full of vials with shots of booze, cross her chest. She tends to smell of soap and, as the day goes on, more alcohol.
None Statistic. (Source)
Feat Name: Description (Source)
Ability Name: Description (Source)
Relics, Wonders & Curios
Teinntean, the Twinned (Masterwork)
Scrolls, Potions & Components
Born into the Firebird Clan, Asiarum and Muraisa were as different as night and day from the moment they came into the world. Muraisa was bigger, bolder, belligerent – when she hungered she screamed and raged, and caused enough havoc to more than make up for her clamer, quieter brother. Muraisa was more human in build, as they grew, and had longer ears. She was the first to walk, to seek, to climb. The slighter Asiarum was the first to talk, to read.
As the two grew they remained inseparable, despite there seeming opposite natures. There was no scheme, no plan, no adventure that Muraisa couldn’t dream up that Asiarum couldn’t plan for. Whether it was the simple toddler schemes of finding the honey pot or the more ‘grown up’ plans to avoid a thrashing for poorly done chores, it was clear which twin got them into trouble and which got them out again – but they were always together doing it.
Children grew, and children are wont to do, and the twin children became twin teenagers. It was soon after her first period that Muraisa started having…problems. A scolding for leaving a floor unswept resulted in a raging tantrum and broken furniture. A slight from another child only ended without bloodshed because Asiarum was there to calm things. Sometimes the rage would end and she wouldn’t remember what had happened, and others she knew but had no control. It got so bad that there were whispers that the girl was spirit-touched, her blood tainted – it was true that such rumours had sprung up around her father, on occasion.
Desperation brings stupidity, and during an especially terrible bout one of the elders dragged the girl to a cellar and locked her inside. Muraisa awoke from her berserk fury in the dark, somewhere that smelled wrong and unfamiliar, and it was several hours before the child was freed again. As she staggered through the dark, she cut herself on stored tools, staggered into walls, and generally made a mess of herself. The child that emerged was wounded and weeping,
For the first time in her life, another emotion ruled Muraisa – terror. She feared the darkness, the shadows took the form of every monster her childish mind could recall of conceive of. She refused to enter a darkened room, and wept if she awoke in the dark. While her bouts of rage could now be stopped by threats of darkness, her mother Kalia couldn’t bear to see the outgoing, outspoken, adventurous girl slowly fold into herself as the fears took hold.
For the first time ever, the twins were separated. Muraisa was sent to the nearby Shaman, to conquer her old rage and new fear, while her brother studied to become a warrior. This annoyed Muraisa, as she was the bigger, the stronger – she often joked her brother could have been Seven Stars if he just had better ears – she didn’t especially want to serve a crotchety old spellcaster by doing all his chore.
Zala’lar was not especially interested in having a small child underfoot, but quickly understood why she was there when he observed both her rage and her fear. The old Half-Orc understood quickly that there was more here – a taint to the blood, a drop of the Infernal in her that brought her rage to surface and showed her the nightmares in the darkness. But the child herself was innocent, and her brother apparently free of it. A quirk of fate, or the hand of something moving? He had no idea, and no idea how to help at first.
So instead he taught discipline, control, focus. The things you needed to cast a spell, perhaps, but also things that would aid a young child whose emotions were eating her alive. As she grew, and learned that control, she got…better. Slowly, oh so slowly for poor Zala’lar’s furniture, she began to reign it in. First she learned to focus it, to choose how to direct it. Then she learned to start it, at her will and not it. And finally, she learned to end it. As she learned control, the old Shaman also taught her uses for it – the sword, the axe, the bow. It was clear she was gifted.
But the night terrors and fears of the dark never ceased, never abated. In the end, he chose a different solution. If she couldn’t bear to be in darkness, he would leave her in the light. He made a special fire ink and had a friend tattoo the girl with the glowing markings, knowing that her odd blood would protect her from the effects (and having checked with normal fire ink markings first). The tattoos…worked, more or less. There was never any dark, and so Muraisa was no longer afraid. Zala’lar hoped that the fear itself would wither and die in time…but for now he had done what needed doing, and sent her home.
Time had passed, as time does, but the twins picked up more or less where they had left off. The only new addition to this was Arakam, who had become Asiarum’s friend while Muraisa was away. This friendship didn’t alter the twins bond especially, and Muraisa accepted her brother having his attention elsewhere – sometimes. Although it was soon clear that Arakam himself prefered it when all three were together.
Muraisa was much more annoyed that so many seemed to have either forgotten her, or remembered only her troubled moments. She came up with a plan to change this. The clan held a mighty weapon with few stories told of it, Teinntean. The axe was too heavy for all but the strongest of warriors to wield, and even they refused in time, for the weapon burned its master as well as its target. But, as Asiarum mused, Muraisa might not burn so easily…
To be able to claim such a weapon, one needed to become a warrior. It wasn’t normal for a woman to undertake the Trial of Ash, but it was a fool who thought Muraisa was normal by this point. She began to train, to become strong enough to pass the Trial, and to wield the monster axe she wished to claim.
It was then that she, and her brother, fell sick. No one could understand it. Both were robust, hale and healthy. Beyond the odd childhood ailment they had never really taken ill. But despite their mother’s care, with the help of Arakam, they fell sicker and sicker.
Eventually the Shaman Zala’lar was called for. By this time both twins were desperately ill, although Muraisa less so. It didn’t take long for the Shaman to discover the problem – poison. A salt made from metal of some kind was destroying the twins from the inside. The old man struggled for several days, casting spell after spell and using every herb and potion he had known of or heard of that might aid the pair, but was only half successful. Muraisa lived and Asiarum died.
It was only then that anyone had time to ask two important questions – who, and why? A noticeable absence in the village answered one – Arakam had fled shortly after the Shaman had arrived. A search of the youth’s home quickly turned up why – an obsession with the twins. His own life had been…less kind, and as he had grown he wished two things. To be with Muraisa and to replace Asiarum. In his twisted mind Muraisa taking the Trial of Ash would eclipse him, and so he poisoned them both – but lessened the dose for Muraisa. Then troubled youth managed to escape.
Muraisa, heart broken, healed. When she was well she took the Trial of Ash, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Only when she claimed Teinntean after several challenges did she feel anything approaching joy again. Her brothers words had been true – she could wield it. She, and she alone.
Now a warrior, Muraisa swore an oath – to find Arakam and to kill him. With her families blessing she left, picking up his weeks old trail slowly, narrowing down his destination – he was leaving the First Lands. At one point she got within hours of him, but somehow he realized that he was being hunted and made his trail much harder to follow – he was better at sneaking and tracking than Muraisa.
The chase continued for several years. Muraisa wasn’t able to track him down on her own, and so instead she worked for gold and for the favour of those with magic that could track him for her. Sometimes she would lose the trail for months, only to have it found by a mage of some kind. This, she enjoyed. This was not a process to be drawn out. She wanted Arakam to flee, to run, to hide – and know he would never, ever escape her in this world or her brother in the next.
She considered the disaster that nearly ended the world a more serious problem, however. Having finally chased the little rat to Earthenwork, she was hunting him in the city when trouble fell. In the chaos she was side tracked, often, by the simple process of staying alive and helping others.
When she heard that a portal was open and people were escaping to the Vale of Talanor, she knew where the little rat would run next…