Magdalena
01-15-08, 08:59 PM
This is only putting two profiles under one account, since it makes them easier to manage. There have been no changes from the previous profiles, except that they cannot fight in the same battle unless the opponent agrees that they both participate. I would be grateful if the stats on La Fantasque could be added onto Magdalena, which will serve as the account for these characters.
'She remembers every sin, the Witch of Snows Forgot.' (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=5301)
http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h158/Necathys/Legacy_Art_VF_004_Favole.jpg
Artwork by Victoria Frances
Name: Sati Sarasvati
Titles: Ex-heiress to the Barony of Salair
Age: Appears to be in her early twenties, but is almost a decade older
Race: Human
Hair: Sinful waves of sanguine scarlet
Eyes: Soft shade of beryl, veiled with sapphire frost
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 127 lbs
Occupation: Excommunicate Priestess
Personality
Sati is very pleasant company. She is gentle and mischievous, though not in the same way as is a child, for to her qualities are added an irresistible seductiveness. Some men and women have said that she ‘aims to tease, never to please’, much to their dismay. What no one knows is that her mind is not exactly suited to the common meaning of sanity. Her nature is not that of a warm-hearted housewife or a docile priestess, as she first appears to be, but that of an arrant witch, living the part, fooling everyone to better manipulate them. What lies beneath her soft exterior is neither woman nor beast, but a vengeful fury, of warped mind and splintered morals. In truth, Sati detests men, and will not hesitate to kill one, given a reasonable opportunity; in fact, she will most likely enjoy it. The one thing she loves in this world is her older twin sister, Sapna, and she will do everything to protect her.
Appearance
In all respects, Sati is breathtaking to behold, her sight the source of a many a dissension amongst the religious ranks of Zarinsk. ‘That mane of blood, like sundown waves, shimmers so hotly in this winter haze; but with gelid eyes of soft green hue does she stare me down with that sinful blue’. Such are the unadulterated words of a priest turned man, turned poet – and, incidentally, unemployed – at her sight.
Sati had made a habit of tying the end of her hair with a wispy white ribbon and throwing the bunch over her left shoulder, not because of the longing glares of free men and priests alike, but because it would otherwise be quite a hassle during particularly breezy days. Little did she know that this accentuated her beauty manifold, contrasting with the peachy complexion of her skin and her deep, almond-shaped eyes of blue-green, the left one hidden behind a cluster of hair that ran down a flushed cheek and curled ravishingly near rose-polished lips.
Moreover, she has a thin neck and a svelte figure, her curvaceous features only hinted at under the customary robes of the priestesses, so bland and dull of whiteness when worn by any other. Around her waist hangs a leather belt, yielding with the weight of many herb-crammed pouches and powder-filled pockets, as well as various tools and vials, empty or filled with draughts of her own making.
History
“Tell me about yourself, Sati.”
Always the same question. She wondered why he hadn’t yet succumbed to sleep, exhausted as he was from their time together – like the others before him had. There he was, head askance on their communal pillow, with those dark, drowsy eyes watching, prying. She sat in silent musing, strangely aware of the pitter patter of the rain, entranced by the watery shades that slipped through the gossamer curtains and rolled down the silk sheet that concealed their mutual nudity. “I told you already, there’s nothing you need to know.”
“But there’s plenty I want to know,” he retorted with a light snicker, brushing her shoulder, and more, with an adventurous hand. “Why do you always have to be so secretive? Look, you already know everything about me, you know that I’m a bank teller, but I don’t even know simple things, like: how was your childhood? Hells, what’s your favorite color? Darling, I almost feel like what we have here is only one way.” Ah, that hurtful look, that sniveling act; so many times had she seen this, heard this already. It was like nails – no, a thousand rusted rakes grating against the proverbial chalkboard. “Plus, we’re in need of a fresh new topic for pillow talk, don’t you think?”
“If it means you’ll shut up, then I yield.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, she slid further down under the covers, burrowing her arms under the warm quilt as she listened to the rolling downpour outside. In the streets below, a carriage whirred past the window, its wheels cutting through a puddle with a loud splash. There was laughter, there was cursing, and then there was only the silent drizzle. Finally, she spoke. “It’s strange; I can’t remember a time when it rained in Salair. I do remember snow, though; but no one ever yelled, or laughed, when it snowed.” Her breath had slowed, her voice lowered to but a whisper. “It always snowed.”
~
When winter first came to Salair, it never blew past. The snow waxed and waned, much akin to moonlight, but there was never a time when the rooftops weren’t sifted white, when the cobbles weren’t cold and dusty. It was a land of perpetual frost, where time had come to die, where the people had grown accustomed to the unchanging landscape, to the never-thawing monotony of their perfect, perfect lives. In their thick, felt coats and burly scarves, they walked and walked, never thinking back, never looking far ahead. In bitterness did a young girl come to an upsetting realization. ‘All they do is walk.’
Disenchantment had come early to me, by then only a child of five, a daughter born of baronial lineage. I was the second offspring of my parents’ marriage, by seconds only the cadet. Can you imagine? I, a world-weary little girl, had only my twin sister as source of joy, as reason to extend my stay within these mortal coils. Sapna... Sapna was all that mattered.
We were poles apart, so unalike; but in our difference, there was sharing: of tastes, of hates, and of loves. Sometimes, the bond we shared was so strong that one could become indistinguishable from the other; that I became Sapna, and that she became Sati. ‘One and the same, a single soul, sundered when we first came to be,’ I used to tell her. ‘But now, sister, now, we’ll be together, forever and always.’ And it was to be so. It should have been so.
But then came our fifteenth birthday. Nobles, though of reasonably pleasant entourage, were likely to make unreasonably unpleasant enemies. The Sarasvati family had owned the land of Salair for nearly a century, and though it seemed dull and grey to me, the truth was that many sought possession of the wealth and prosperity of our land.
From our bed were we abducted, gagged and tied as we were carried through the frozen snowfall in nothing but our nightgowns. The ransom was sent, one my father could not even hope to pay in full without making unimaginable sacrifices. But Sapna was certain that they would yield, that they would come; that their love for their daughters would exceed their responsibilities as the lord and lady of Salair.
I don’t know if she was right. They never came, because they had vanished the very same night, without a trace, like demons and ghosts after the witching time of night. That was, however, the least of our concerns; we were no longer of any use to them, save one. Our captors were in need of creative ways to vent the disappointment of their failure.
It was agony, days of agony. Tortured, beaten, flogged, forced into vile subservience. I remember, I remember telling her that it would end, that one way or another, we’d be freed from the pain; though only she believed in my words. The idiot... why did she believe? And then came the night, the worst night of all. All those weeks were spent in preparation, so that they could truly enjoy the horrors they would unleash upon two unsuspecting girls. These men were famished, and... and we were ripe for the picking.
Sapna... oh Sapna, why did they take you first? I watched – they made me watch! I watched as she was brutally raped, I was forced to watch the desecration of my own sister, all the while knowing that all the horrors I had seen would be in turn inflicted unto me as well. Every scream, every tear, every drop of her innocent blood... I felt myself break. I could feel the poison as it took over my mind. Why her? I screamed, I cursed. I damned.
Midnight struck, neither twelve nor thirteen times. Only once.
It had become warm, so warm that I feared my exposed skin would char. The grunts, the moans were somehow silenced, but in the dark backdrop there was a peculiar voice, dripping into my ears like warm, dark honey. It called to me, but I wouldn’t listen, I couldn’t. All I did was stare at a pool of water at my feet, watch my fearful reflection in the watery haze in hopes that everything would end, soon; but my lips were moving in the muddled mirror, matching the words that rolled in my head. It asked me a question, but I can’t dredge up what it was – I’ve tried so many times, but I can’t recall a thing about what it was.
In the blur of that night, but one thing remains clear in my mind. The strange mirror in which I – no, it spoke. It wasn’t what I thought it was. I… I wasn’t staring into a pool of water. I thrashed, trying to break free from my bounds, feeling the tears burn down my face. I was helpless! I was so helpless, that I allowed it to flow. I had allowed my sister’s blood to flow so far. In a burst of despair, I answered, cried out to the wordless query it had posed. ‘Yes!’
Things became a tad hazy. No, to be honest, the whole hour that ensued is but a blank in my memory. When I came to, I was holding my sister and running in an addled frenzy. I looked back, and I saw that no one was in our pursuit, but I kept running, as though something unseen were staring me in the back, waiting in vicious mercy before setting on the hunt.
The following day, the constables found in the old abandoned tower the corpses of five men, or at least that is what they believed to be five men. Their bodies were melded into a singular mass of horrid flesh, with several smouldering limbs, charred bones and half-burnt heads bulging from the mere of molten skins. Strange, isn’t it? And oddly, the very same day, I learned I could do this.
~
Under the sheets, Sati’s hand had slipped to grab his manhood, quite literally pulling him out of his trance. “D-Darling, what are you doing?” He muttered lowly, his whole body wincing as the pressure increased. “H-Hey! You’re going to break it! What’s wrong with you, didn’t you say this was the best night you’ve ever had? D-Don’t lie, darling, I could hear you moan, I saw you bite your lip!”
What an odd smell. Like soot from a fire, though there was no crackling, only a faint seething. Then, through the silken drapes, a red stain permeated, impregnating the fabric as it spread further and further out. Her left hand shot out to his mouth, muffling his scream. “Shush, boy. I’ll let you in on a secret, so you listen well, yes?” Those seductive blue eyes, they stared down at him, frozen in contempt, but her lips were curled like a sickening slit of blood. “First off, you said you wanted to know my favourite color? “ Her hand jerked under the sheet, spreading the warm stain. “It’s red.”
The stench of burn began seeping from his stifled maw, sending jolts and tears to his dilated eyes. “Second of all, and more importantly, you never slept with me, dear. All the things I did to you – all those things you did to me? The mouth, the breasts, the lips you felt? Those weren’t mine.” She withdrew both hands, letting the flow of blood unabated and his warped lips melted shut. After removing the covers, she revealed her breathtaking nudity, unmarred – enhanced, even, by all the red rivulets and blotches of burnt meat that stuck to her hand.
But there was something very wrong with this picture. Not unlike a vision blurred, he saw a faint outline behind the woman, like a duplicate ghost, but it quickly became a juxtaposed image. There were two of them, exactly the same, save for the evident fact that one was fully clothed, donned with a lilac corset. She was silently observing him, evincing no apparent emotion from those frightening blue eyes – so familiar, yet so alien. The man groaned unintelligibly, though Sati could easily guess what he was saying. “Don’t mind Sapna, she was just here to lend me a helping hand. Instead, you’d better look down.”
Fearful as he was, he complied. His quavering eyes went from her generous chest to the dark mass beneath the drapes, its outlines obfuscated by the shadows. Sati jerked the silk off the bed, and he saw. Muffled screams stifled by fire-knit lips. What was it? The repulsive sound of retching. How amusing that it stewed there in his mouth, unable to burst through the fleshy dam. The thing wasn’t obscured by the shade; it was black, blotchy and dry, covered with sandy dirt. It had a mouth, and from it dripped a sheen familiar, the same that was oozing out of its nether parts. Flies buzzed about his flesh and the burnt remains of his manhood, as though realizing they had a new corpse to inhabit.
“Can you believe it? The time of your life, and it was spent fucking a corpse!” How could it be? So innocent her laughter, ringing clear and pure; yet, only devils could laugh so honestly in the face of a dying man. “A man’s corpse, should I add! Don’t think I’d ever let you desecrate a woman, dead or alive.” Her hilarity rang loud, a thousand bells that tolled for him. Before he died, he wished for his last rites, but there was no priest to grant them, only a demon in purloined cloth, in angel’s garb.
With unfazed elegance, Sati rummaged through the pockets of his discarded pants, producing with a victorious beam a russet key. Returning to her sister, she pulled her into a deep embrace, uncaring that she was still naked. Into her ear, she murmured lightly. “Well I’ve had my fun; now, we have vaults to empty.”
Skills
[I]Sickle Manipulation – Since herbal compounds are always required for the concoction of her draughts, Sati has learned to use sickles to gather her ingredients at a young age. Her skill with the sickle is unmatched, but this is not tantamount to any sort of combat proficiency. Though she wields her sickles with ambidextrous agility, speed and accuracy, she has not yet learned how to effectively defend herself using these tools.
Compounding and Brewing – Because of her training, Sati has become well-versed in what herbs and other such substances can be used for, and how to mix and process them to make draughts with special properties. Therefore, she is capable of creating herbal medicine to improve health, some antidotes to cure certain ailments, but also harrowingly painful, sometimes even deadly, poisons. (For fairness, Sati can only prepare one common brew per day, and the more specialized and dangerous blends may take several days to complete).
Abilities
Benign Touch – Through direct physical contact, Sati can induce soothing effects or mild sensations of euphoria by favoring the secretion of certain hormones. However, her true prowess is the ability to rapidly heal benign wounds such as scratches, cuts and bruises as well as mild burns. Anything more malignant, like broken bones, deep gashes or profuse hemorrhage, usually takes much more time and perhaps multiple sittings to be completely restored, while lethal wounds are currently untreatable. However, the exact rate of healing depends on contact surface and the level of her focus. Also, to a certain extent only, she can alleviate the effects of weak poisons, and can possibly cure more powerful illnesses with the synergic combination of her curative powers and her potions.
Malign Touch – Like with the Benign Touch, she can stimulate the secretion of hormones for the specific purpose of causing pain. Though she can induce the feeling alone, Sati is also quite capable of inflicting true pain. Not only can she reopen recent wounds by touch, but she can quite literally create adverse effects on a living creature’s body, such as surface gashes and peeled skin – though the level of the injury depends on the length of exposure and the level of her focus. Regrettably, with this ability alone, she cannot inflict wounds as well as she can heal them, for now.
Cauldron of Flesh – Though Sati appears to be a standard human from the outside, her inner workings are something else entirely. Her body is analogous to a crucible in which countless unnatural reactions occur; though she possesses all of the expected organs, they have transformed in a manner that allows her to secrete various liquids through any part of her body, from simple fragrances to harmful substances such as acids (the strongest having a pH value of 2.5) or poisons (the most effective, similar to curare, only capable of inducing short term paralysis). As a safety measure, her body becomes temporarily immune to the substance she is secreting. In the heat of battle, she will be unable to resort to her strongest substances, for they require a considerable amount of time to produce. Side effects of abusive use include intense physical exertion, muscular pain, nausea, headaches, shortness of breath, blurred vision, dry mouth, rapid heartbeat and/or lethargy.
Equipment
Leather Satchel – Used to carry vials, mortars, pestles and crucibles of various sizes, as well as whatever ingredients she has gleaned during her travels. She also carries a few packs of matches and some bags of kindling, which are useful when she needs to heat her decoctions. On top of the standard traveler’s items, it is also used to carry her feminine articles and a change of clothes.
Compartmented Leather Belt– Cinched tightly around her waist, this belt grants her quick and easy access to the tools and raw components she used the most. Most are crammed with herbs, though some contain solids grounded into a fine powder. None can be used to inflict anything other than temporary impedance of vision (by being thrown into the eyes). Objects she carries that are worth of mention are two potions of mild healing, secured in one of her many vial-slots.
Sickle (x2) – Hanging from her belt are two sickles, as hard as steel, used to glean herbs, saplings or the bark from trees. The shafts are made of a red-tinted wood and measure six inches, while the sinuous blades are roughly twice as long (though the curvatures are steep and pronounced, reducing the overall length of the sickles to just about thirteen inches).
'She remembers every sin, the Witch of Snows Forgot.' (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=5301)
http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h158/Necathys/Legacy_Art_VF_004_Favole.jpg
Artwork by Victoria Frances
Name: Sati Sarasvati
Titles: Ex-heiress to the Barony of Salair
Age: Appears to be in her early twenties, but is almost a decade older
Race: Human
Hair: Sinful waves of sanguine scarlet
Eyes: Soft shade of beryl, veiled with sapphire frost
Height: 5’8”
Weight: 127 lbs
Occupation: Excommunicate Priestess
Personality
Sati is very pleasant company. She is gentle and mischievous, though not in the same way as is a child, for to her qualities are added an irresistible seductiveness. Some men and women have said that she ‘aims to tease, never to please’, much to their dismay. What no one knows is that her mind is not exactly suited to the common meaning of sanity. Her nature is not that of a warm-hearted housewife or a docile priestess, as she first appears to be, but that of an arrant witch, living the part, fooling everyone to better manipulate them. What lies beneath her soft exterior is neither woman nor beast, but a vengeful fury, of warped mind and splintered morals. In truth, Sati detests men, and will not hesitate to kill one, given a reasonable opportunity; in fact, she will most likely enjoy it. The one thing she loves in this world is her older twin sister, Sapna, and she will do everything to protect her.
Appearance
In all respects, Sati is breathtaking to behold, her sight the source of a many a dissension amongst the religious ranks of Zarinsk. ‘That mane of blood, like sundown waves, shimmers so hotly in this winter haze; but with gelid eyes of soft green hue does she stare me down with that sinful blue’. Such are the unadulterated words of a priest turned man, turned poet – and, incidentally, unemployed – at her sight.
Sati had made a habit of tying the end of her hair with a wispy white ribbon and throwing the bunch over her left shoulder, not because of the longing glares of free men and priests alike, but because it would otherwise be quite a hassle during particularly breezy days. Little did she know that this accentuated her beauty manifold, contrasting with the peachy complexion of her skin and her deep, almond-shaped eyes of blue-green, the left one hidden behind a cluster of hair that ran down a flushed cheek and curled ravishingly near rose-polished lips.
Moreover, she has a thin neck and a svelte figure, her curvaceous features only hinted at under the customary robes of the priestesses, so bland and dull of whiteness when worn by any other. Around her waist hangs a leather belt, yielding with the weight of many herb-crammed pouches and powder-filled pockets, as well as various tools and vials, empty or filled with draughts of her own making.
History
“Tell me about yourself, Sati.”
Always the same question. She wondered why he hadn’t yet succumbed to sleep, exhausted as he was from their time together – like the others before him had. There he was, head askance on their communal pillow, with those dark, drowsy eyes watching, prying. She sat in silent musing, strangely aware of the pitter patter of the rain, entranced by the watery shades that slipped through the gossamer curtains and rolled down the silk sheet that concealed their mutual nudity. “I told you already, there’s nothing you need to know.”
“But there’s plenty I want to know,” he retorted with a light snicker, brushing her shoulder, and more, with an adventurous hand. “Why do you always have to be so secretive? Look, you already know everything about me, you know that I’m a bank teller, but I don’t even know simple things, like: how was your childhood? Hells, what’s your favorite color? Darling, I almost feel like what we have here is only one way.” Ah, that hurtful look, that sniveling act; so many times had she seen this, heard this already. It was like nails – no, a thousand rusted rakes grating against the proverbial chalkboard. “Plus, we’re in need of a fresh new topic for pillow talk, don’t you think?”
“If it means you’ll shut up, then I yield.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, she slid further down under the covers, burrowing her arms under the warm quilt as she listened to the rolling downpour outside. In the streets below, a carriage whirred past the window, its wheels cutting through a puddle with a loud splash. There was laughter, there was cursing, and then there was only the silent drizzle. Finally, she spoke. “It’s strange; I can’t remember a time when it rained in Salair. I do remember snow, though; but no one ever yelled, or laughed, when it snowed.” Her breath had slowed, her voice lowered to but a whisper. “It always snowed.”
~
When winter first came to Salair, it never blew past. The snow waxed and waned, much akin to moonlight, but there was never a time when the rooftops weren’t sifted white, when the cobbles weren’t cold and dusty. It was a land of perpetual frost, where time had come to die, where the people had grown accustomed to the unchanging landscape, to the never-thawing monotony of their perfect, perfect lives. In their thick, felt coats and burly scarves, they walked and walked, never thinking back, never looking far ahead. In bitterness did a young girl come to an upsetting realization. ‘All they do is walk.’
Disenchantment had come early to me, by then only a child of five, a daughter born of baronial lineage. I was the second offspring of my parents’ marriage, by seconds only the cadet. Can you imagine? I, a world-weary little girl, had only my twin sister as source of joy, as reason to extend my stay within these mortal coils. Sapna... Sapna was all that mattered.
We were poles apart, so unalike; but in our difference, there was sharing: of tastes, of hates, and of loves. Sometimes, the bond we shared was so strong that one could become indistinguishable from the other; that I became Sapna, and that she became Sati. ‘One and the same, a single soul, sundered when we first came to be,’ I used to tell her. ‘But now, sister, now, we’ll be together, forever and always.’ And it was to be so. It should have been so.
But then came our fifteenth birthday. Nobles, though of reasonably pleasant entourage, were likely to make unreasonably unpleasant enemies. The Sarasvati family had owned the land of Salair for nearly a century, and though it seemed dull and grey to me, the truth was that many sought possession of the wealth and prosperity of our land.
From our bed were we abducted, gagged and tied as we were carried through the frozen snowfall in nothing but our nightgowns. The ransom was sent, one my father could not even hope to pay in full without making unimaginable sacrifices. But Sapna was certain that they would yield, that they would come; that their love for their daughters would exceed their responsibilities as the lord and lady of Salair.
I don’t know if she was right. They never came, because they had vanished the very same night, without a trace, like demons and ghosts after the witching time of night. That was, however, the least of our concerns; we were no longer of any use to them, save one. Our captors were in need of creative ways to vent the disappointment of their failure.
It was agony, days of agony. Tortured, beaten, flogged, forced into vile subservience. I remember, I remember telling her that it would end, that one way or another, we’d be freed from the pain; though only she believed in my words. The idiot... why did she believe? And then came the night, the worst night of all. All those weeks were spent in preparation, so that they could truly enjoy the horrors they would unleash upon two unsuspecting girls. These men were famished, and... and we were ripe for the picking.
Sapna... oh Sapna, why did they take you first? I watched – they made me watch! I watched as she was brutally raped, I was forced to watch the desecration of my own sister, all the while knowing that all the horrors I had seen would be in turn inflicted unto me as well. Every scream, every tear, every drop of her innocent blood... I felt myself break. I could feel the poison as it took over my mind. Why her? I screamed, I cursed. I damned.
Midnight struck, neither twelve nor thirteen times. Only once.
It had become warm, so warm that I feared my exposed skin would char. The grunts, the moans were somehow silenced, but in the dark backdrop there was a peculiar voice, dripping into my ears like warm, dark honey. It called to me, but I wouldn’t listen, I couldn’t. All I did was stare at a pool of water at my feet, watch my fearful reflection in the watery haze in hopes that everything would end, soon; but my lips were moving in the muddled mirror, matching the words that rolled in my head. It asked me a question, but I can’t dredge up what it was – I’ve tried so many times, but I can’t recall a thing about what it was.
In the blur of that night, but one thing remains clear in my mind. The strange mirror in which I – no, it spoke. It wasn’t what I thought it was. I… I wasn’t staring into a pool of water. I thrashed, trying to break free from my bounds, feeling the tears burn down my face. I was helpless! I was so helpless, that I allowed it to flow. I had allowed my sister’s blood to flow so far. In a burst of despair, I answered, cried out to the wordless query it had posed. ‘Yes!’
Things became a tad hazy. No, to be honest, the whole hour that ensued is but a blank in my memory. When I came to, I was holding my sister and running in an addled frenzy. I looked back, and I saw that no one was in our pursuit, but I kept running, as though something unseen were staring me in the back, waiting in vicious mercy before setting on the hunt.
The following day, the constables found in the old abandoned tower the corpses of five men, or at least that is what they believed to be five men. Their bodies were melded into a singular mass of horrid flesh, with several smouldering limbs, charred bones and half-burnt heads bulging from the mere of molten skins. Strange, isn’t it? And oddly, the very same day, I learned I could do this.
~
Under the sheets, Sati’s hand had slipped to grab his manhood, quite literally pulling him out of his trance. “D-Darling, what are you doing?” He muttered lowly, his whole body wincing as the pressure increased. “H-Hey! You’re going to break it! What’s wrong with you, didn’t you say this was the best night you’ve ever had? D-Don’t lie, darling, I could hear you moan, I saw you bite your lip!”
What an odd smell. Like soot from a fire, though there was no crackling, only a faint seething. Then, through the silken drapes, a red stain permeated, impregnating the fabric as it spread further and further out. Her left hand shot out to his mouth, muffling his scream. “Shush, boy. I’ll let you in on a secret, so you listen well, yes?” Those seductive blue eyes, they stared down at him, frozen in contempt, but her lips were curled like a sickening slit of blood. “First off, you said you wanted to know my favourite color? “ Her hand jerked under the sheet, spreading the warm stain. “It’s red.”
The stench of burn began seeping from his stifled maw, sending jolts and tears to his dilated eyes. “Second of all, and more importantly, you never slept with me, dear. All the things I did to you – all those things you did to me? The mouth, the breasts, the lips you felt? Those weren’t mine.” She withdrew both hands, letting the flow of blood unabated and his warped lips melted shut. After removing the covers, she revealed her breathtaking nudity, unmarred – enhanced, even, by all the red rivulets and blotches of burnt meat that stuck to her hand.
But there was something very wrong with this picture. Not unlike a vision blurred, he saw a faint outline behind the woman, like a duplicate ghost, but it quickly became a juxtaposed image. There were two of them, exactly the same, save for the evident fact that one was fully clothed, donned with a lilac corset. She was silently observing him, evincing no apparent emotion from those frightening blue eyes – so familiar, yet so alien. The man groaned unintelligibly, though Sati could easily guess what he was saying. “Don’t mind Sapna, she was just here to lend me a helping hand. Instead, you’d better look down.”
Fearful as he was, he complied. His quavering eyes went from her generous chest to the dark mass beneath the drapes, its outlines obfuscated by the shadows. Sati jerked the silk off the bed, and he saw. Muffled screams stifled by fire-knit lips. What was it? The repulsive sound of retching. How amusing that it stewed there in his mouth, unable to burst through the fleshy dam. The thing wasn’t obscured by the shade; it was black, blotchy and dry, covered with sandy dirt. It had a mouth, and from it dripped a sheen familiar, the same that was oozing out of its nether parts. Flies buzzed about his flesh and the burnt remains of his manhood, as though realizing they had a new corpse to inhabit.
“Can you believe it? The time of your life, and it was spent fucking a corpse!” How could it be? So innocent her laughter, ringing clear and pure; yet, only devils could laugh so honestly in the face of a dying man. “A man’s corpse, should I add! Don’t think I’d ever let you desecrate a woman, dead or alive.” Her hilarity rang loud, a thousand bells that tolled for him. Before he died, he wished for his last rites, but there was no priest to grant them, only a demon in purloined cloth, in angel’s garb.
With unfazed elegance, Sati rummaged through the pockets of his discarded pants, producing with a victorious beam a russet key. Returning to her sister, she pulled her into a deep embrace, uncaring that she was still naked. Into her ear, she murmured lightly. “Well I’ve had my fun; now, we have vaults to empty.”
Skills
[I]Sickle Manipulation – Since herbal compounds are always required for the concoction of her draughts, Sati has learned to use sickles to gather her ingredients at a young age. Her skill with the sickle is unmatched, but this is not tantamount to any sort of combat proficiency. Though she wields her sickles with ambidextrous agility, speed and accuracy, she has not yet learned how to effectively defend herself using these tools.
Compounding and Brewing – Because of her training, Sati has become well-versed in what herbs and other such substances can be used for, and how to mix and process them to make draughts with special properties. Therefore, she is capable of creating herbal medicine to improve health, some antidotes to cure certain ailments, but also harrowingly painful, sometimes even deadly, poisons. (For fairness, Sati can only prepare one common brew per day, and the more specialized and dangerous blends may take several days to complete).
Abilities
Benign Touch – Through direct physical contact, Sati can induce soothing effects or mild sensations of euphoria by favoring the secretion of certain hormones. However, her true prowess is the ability to rapidly heal benign wounds such as scratches, cuts and bruises as well as mild burns. Anything more malignant, like broken bones, deep gashes or profuse hemorrhage, usually takes much more time and perhaps multiple sittings to be completely restored, while lethal wounds are currently untreatable. However, the exact rate of healing depends on contact surface and the level of her focus. Also, to a certain extent only, she can alleviate the effects of weak poisons, and can possibly cure more powerful illnesses with the synergic combination of her curative powers and her potions.
Malign Touch – Like with the Benign Touch, she can stimulate the secretion of hormones for the specific purpose of causing pain. Though she can induce the feeling alone, Sati is also quite capable of inflicting true pain. Not only can she reopen recent wounds by touch, but she can quite literally create adverse effects on a living creature’s body, such as surface gashes and peeled skin – though the level of the injury depends on the length of exposure and the level of her focus. Regrettably, with this ability alone, she cannot inflict wounds as well as she can heal them, for now.
Cauldron of Flesh – Though Sati appears to be a standard human from the outside, her inner workings are something else entirely. Her body is analogous to a crucible in which countless unnatural reactions occur; though she possesses all of the expected organs, they have transformed in a manner that allows her to secrete various liquids through any part of her body, from simple fragrances to harmful substances such as acids (the strongest having a pH value of 2.5) or poisons (the most effective, similar to curare, only capable of inducing short term paralysis). As a safety measure, her body becomes temporarily immune to the substance she is secreting. In the heat of battle, she will be unable to resort to her strongest substances, for they require a considerable amount of time to produce. Side effects of abusive use include intense physical exertion, muscular pain, nausea, headaches, shortness of breath, blurred vision, dry mouth, rapid heartbeat and/or lethargy.
Equipment
Leather Satchel – Used to carry vials, mortars, pestles and crucibles of various sizes, as well as whatever ingredients she has gleaned during her travels. She also carries a few packs of matches and some bags of kindling, which are useful when she needs to heat her decoctions. On top of the standard traveler’s items, it is also used to carry her feminine articles and a change of clothes.
Compartmented Leather Belt– Cinched tightly around her waist, this belt grants her quick and easy access to the tools and raw components she used the most. Most are crammed with herbs, though some contain solids grounded into a fine powder. None can be used to inflict anything other than temporary impedance of vision (by being thrown into the eyes). Objects she carries that are worth of mention are two potions of mild healing, secured in one of her many vial-slots.
Sickle (x2) – Hanging from her belt are two sickles, as hard as steel, used to glean herbs, saplings or the bark from trees. The shafts are made of a red-tinted wood and measure six inches, while the sinuous blades are roughly twice as long (though the curvatures are steep and pronounced, reducing the overall length of the sickles to just about thirteen inches).