Claire Sientel

The friendly necromancer

Description:

Long brown hair is typically tied in some sloppy fashion behind her head, and tucked under a cap. An average body, but is usually covered in layers of clothing, but most especially a dark grey woolen coat that is cleaned religiously.

Bio:

Claire was a welcome addition to the party after the sudden disappearance of Leila.

She was invaluable when set against the various undead sent forth by the Ebon Triad.

For reasons only she knows, Claire left the group shortly after infiltrating a cabal of doppelgangers in the Free City. Perhaps she had seen enough death for one lifetime.

Her story:

_ I’ve been working with Master Crimshaw for close to ten years, now. He came through my old town a couple times a year, always bringing news of what was going on else in the world. Sometimes he’d have a few baubles to sell to the town for some small amount of coin. When I first met him, I was arguing with him the price of this small bird toy. It was a small thing of clay and wood. It was painted pink, and he was telling me that it was, in fact, a rare kind of vulture. I told him he’s wrong, and that he must not be a good wizard if he thinks there are pink vultures and that lying to me was fair. He told me he’d bring me one, one day. I told him he was a daft man. I loved him ever since, that man.

I was the third daughter of a family of eight. The middle child, with an older brother and sister above me, and twin sisters below. Ma and Da were real big in their community, I remember. So when I found an escape, I took to it like a crazed man. Our town’s small library were a safe haven for me. I read every book in that town, I did. Felt every rough parchment glued to covers, thick or thin, vellum or leather. My brother Lance said that one book was made of dragon leather. I told him his brain is made of dragon leather. I love him so much, my brother. I need to remember to write to him. The next time I saw Crimshaw, it was my tenth birthday; three years since I saw him last. He still looked as tall and powerful as the day I met him, but now that I was older, with my new found sense of maturity, I laughed at him for wearing a dress. He laughed at me for not knowing magic. Laughing, I responded as always with my tongue so damnably daft, I told him to teach me. He asked me if I was kidding. And I said, I remember this, I said: “Yeah! Maybe then I could learn why you think there’s a pink vulture!” He smiled at me, told me, maybe. I told him lying is bad. In the time he was gone, I got curious about magic. I knew he wasn’t like a cleric, because he wasn’t religious. And I knew he wasn’t a sorcerer, because he mentioned all the time that he was, in fact, a wizard. So when I could get away, which was often enough when you have four siblings, I ransacked the library, looking for mentions of spellcraft. Hours and days and weeks I would spend, looking and re-checking those books. It wasn’t until months after I turned ten that I found… it. It was in the librarian’s desk where I shouldn’t have been, in a hidden bottom that I should not have been able to find. Inside was a book that I never, ever should have read. It called itself Grimoire. It didn’t say it to me, no, it was written on the first page. And I read through it slowly, carefully, trying to comprehend what I was reading through. There was only one section that I could make sense of, and with no care or thought, I removed the pages from their glue binding, so the librarian himself would not notice the shredded paper left behind. It took only an hour to get the handful of things I needed for it. Fallen feathers, bones of prey, blood of a uh… maiden. In a small circle, in a dark room, in a quiet home under the watch of a cautious and trembling girl, I spoke words I never had known before, or ever thought of in the first place. The blood made a circle, which ate the prey to give form to the feathers. In a moment, all three components were gone, and in its place was a small, pink vulture. I named him Lexus. I’ve loved him ever since. The next time that I saw Crimshaw, I was eleven, and things were very, very bad for our town. The librarian was, in fact, a Necromancer, and a very… poor one, at that. I make that observation in hindsight. At the time, it was absolutely terrible. He had taken to poisoning our well and crops with a disease that would rot the mind. Lexus, who I kept hidden at almost all times, helped keep me strong. And while others struggled with the disease, I remained immune. The librarian found out, and thought I had a knack. A strong will of mind. And took me on as an apprentice. I cried long and hard when Crimshaw finally killed him. Its been years since then. My Brother and I was taken from my home, now barren and ruined, by Crimshaw. My Brother joined the military soon after, and after much arguing, I stayed with Crimshaw. I told him about Grimoire and Lexus when my Brother departed. He told me not to cry. He told me not to worry. He told me he’d help me understand what all had happened to me. He told me that I was damaged, from having so much magic go through my body from binding a Familiar, and that being bound to the Librarian’s service took its toll, now. I felt cold almost at all times. Seeing my breath even in pleasant weather. He held me close and gave me a wool coat, told me he made that for me. I felt warm with his care. I have loved him more ever since, if such a thing were possible. Two years now since I’ve started travelling. Crimshaw thought it best I left the ‘nest’, as it were. I decided on a light task, to simply write down the history of a small out of the way town called Diamond Lake. But I am nervous, however. Crimshaw has told me over and over the dangers of my knowledge. So I keep one spellbook now, to hold the spells that others can understand. And I keep a second one, hidden in a bag made with love to keep away the cold, in a pocket hidden from sight to stave off fear. It is made of leather from an animal I know not, and it once belonged to the man that took my home from me.

It calls itself Grimoire, and I keep it at bay._

Claire Sientel

DrK's Age of Worms redzimmer