Birth Name: Isen Wuldor
Current Alias: Sceatt Wræcca
Age: 26
Race: Human
Gender: Cursed Female
Hair/Eye Color: Black/Gray
Height: 5’6”/128 lbs
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Occupation: Adventurer
Personality:
Isen Wuldor was a liar, cheat, thief, a callous son-of-whore who played at being a noble when he was not as pissed as a newt, a trickster who played unfair games and honored no authorities and sought only self-gratification．A gender-changing curse cannot change one’s personality. Sceatt Wræcca is a cheating, lying, thieving, hedonistic trickster bitch who plays both sides, plays every side, plays all the sides, and plucks at frayed strings wherever they appear to let the world fracture without discrimination until the games grow and grow till no one can exert any control, including herself. And if the world blows up in her face, then so be it and she will accept it and go on with the debauchery of life, pursuing one of her only goals without regard for the rest of humanity.
Skills:
Literacy – In addition to the common tongue, Sceatt is schooled in Elvish scriptures and speech, as much of the world’s magical writings are in this language.
Social Etiquette – She knows how to set the spoons and forks and napkins for a proper meal, how to dance with words and lies that promises everything and nothing at once, but the knowledge rarely comes into play.
Basic Navigation - If the skies are clear and the stars shine bright, Sceatt can find her way out of the middle of a forest without a trail.
Basic Trapping – With a hardy twine or cord, Sceatt can snare a squirrel or a rabbit in a foliage.
Dagger Proficiency – She is a decent fighter with a pair of daggers in hand, though the lady is more prone to throwing her blades or stabbing her opponent’s back.
Abilities:
Minor Fire Conjuring – She can conjure a small flame—the size of a candlelight—from her fingertips at will, and hold it for three to five seconds before the fire blows out. This happens to be bloody useful when lighting firewood.
Equipment:
Steel Dagger Set – A set of six throwing daggers and two hand-to-hand combat daggers, usually stored in a well worn leather roll.
Unnamed Grimoire – Bought off a wandering panderer of stolen goods, this book contains the teachings and theories of Sacrifice Magic.
History:
Isen’s mother was a prophetess, one from a line of magic practitioners who held themselves apart from the world. Unlike her family, Isen's mother willingly threw herself into a sea of the drunken, lying, spitting charlatans, cheating good men and women in the middle of a crowded street. She enjoyed lying between her teeth with a straight face too much to hold to any sorceress’ creed, but sometimes she spoke truth in the midst of lies for the hell of it. When mother prophesized that Isen would one day drown himself in a storm of hail and hellfire of his own making, the boy he was rolled his eyes and took it with a grain of salt.
Father, on the other hand, was a blueblood Lord from a long string of Lords and Ladies. Much to his own parents’ horror, this descendent was the fun sort of nobility who preferred drinking like a pissant and sweeping grand old titles under chewed down rugs where no one could see them. It came as no surprise, really, when father wed mother in a small ceremony in a den of dissolute debauchery. The ceremony, to which both sets of Isen’s grandparents were not invited, also served as a polite fuck you to said grandparents.
So Isen Wuldor grew up with a liar for a mother, a drunkard for a father, and two pairs of disapproving grandparents who refused to disown their children. His grandparents attempted to mold their grandchild into a decent human being, but their disagreements on what quantified as a decent human being led to failures after miserable failures. So Isen grew to become an intelligent-but-not-very-decent youth, and then a very-intelligent-but-not-at-all-decent young adult who took after the worst of both his parents.
When the twenty-four year old Isen accidentally, or not accidentally and most likely purposefully, insulted a powerful old witch who had no moral compunctions whatsoever, the young man was cursed and locked into the form of a young woman for eternity to come*. However, Isen Wuldor liked being a man, and when the novelty of being a woman—goddamned pregnancies**—wore off after a week or two, Isen was willing to do anything to change back. Unfortunately, and quite possibly because fate saw Isen as a personal chew toy, the old witch passed away in those two weeks.
Two years later, Isen Wuldor became Sceatt Wræcca, mercenary, adventurer, a beginner in the art of witchcraft and sorcery, and still looking for a way to break her curse.
* The curse came complete with incantation, flashy bright lights, curved runes running up the victim’s forearms, a set of cuffs welded onto the victim’s wrists, the condition that nobody but the caster may remove the spell, a heavy lingering nausea, and a great deal of agony.
** She/he mothered bastard twins, and his two sets of grandparents claimed one child each. The old prunes deserved the little demons.
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