-- General --
*Name: Luna-Mees (OOC: @LamiaCritter)
*Class: The best match would be Pathfinder's Magister. Versatile in magic, but arguable very physically fragile.
*DoB: Sundas, 17th day of Sun's Dusk, 562
*Residence: Black-Marsh. Currently lives in a secluded Mudhut by herself.
*Occupation: Alchemist, General Mage. Tailouring, Enchanting
*Hobbies: Reading, magical studies. Experimenting to create new potions (very rarely poisons). Tailouring. Candlemaking/ Carving!
*Quirks: Does not have much ability to stay awake. Usually asleep or napping for most of the day. Heavy sleeper. Luna is mostly up and active at night. Even so, usually only for a few hours a day.
-- Physical --
Height: 3-4 feet tall* (*Due to her 'breed' of Argonian. Paatru. Described as Toad-Like, so I can only imagine that they are very short)
Weight: 40 Ibs.
Body Type: Thicc. Well-fed/ well-nourished, but not overweight. I'm seriously not sure how else to describe her. Stocky/ chubby, I guess?
Eye Color: Formerly Red. When she had her eyes. Burned out by her former slavemaster.
Skin/Fur/Scale Tone/Colour: Scales, white.
Hair/Horn Color:Horns, white
Hair/Fur Texture: Horns are kept polished and carefully 'carved' into sharp points; not enough to gore someone outright, but enough to cause some scratches and bruising. I.E. Not sharp enough to tear her hood!
Feathers: Soft and silky, black in colour and silky akin to a raven's
Hair/Horn/Feather Style: Feathers, a small cluster of feathers resting on the back of her head.
Prominent Features: Toad-like facial and body features. Can croak. Wears a blindfold to cover her burned eyes.
-- Persona --
A Member of the Order of Inkweavers
A villager/ aide in the Banescale Tribe.
Allied Merchant/ Artisan with the Covent of Dibella
Occasional adventure-lizard with the High Road Inn/ crew.
*Alignment: True Neutral
*Religion: Respects and venerates the Hist, but does not actively 'worship' it.
*Strengths: Spells, identifying and sensing scents and sounds.
*Weaknesses: Physically very fragile. Has low physical stamina. Cannot lift too much physically; easily overwhelmed by too many scents, sounds, or sensations of touch, leaving her confused and disoriented. If a spell is cast on her that disables her hearing or sense of smell or touch, she is left completely helpless. Even ONE sense that gets knocked off-kilter knocks her completely out of whack.
*Weapon of Choice: A tome that she keeps on her person.
*Skills: Enchanting, Alchemy, Destruction, Restoration, Conjuration, Alteration. *MINOR:* Illusion magic
*Traits: Quiet, Reserved. Slightly cranky, but compassionate. Keeps to herself.
-- Relations --
Friends: Jeet-Maht, Khadava, Shanen-Jei, Earl Seeks-The-Shadows, Briza, Jeetum-Neeus
Enemies: Her former slavemaster *3
Partner: Her former slavemaster *2
-- Style --
Clothing: She usually wears long, modest robes; typically of darker colours, such as a swampy-venom sort of colour. Does this to try and hide scars.
-- Background --
Born to a pair of Argonian parents in the land of Black Marsh, her life was peaceful enough. Love the Hist, worship the Hist. You know. The whole traditional Argonian upbringing. Part of the prestigious Miredancers tribe, at the age of 10 she had begun training to inherit the title of Sap-Speaker, which would be at least two decades of training before she'd be considered prepared for her role. She had wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps, even if her mother wasn't the one teaching her. She was discovered to have an aptitude for alchemy and restoration magic (among others), so in the off-while, she was given an apprenticeship to a very close family friend, that taught her ways to better hone her magic and skills.
This apprenticeship, and the healers as a whole, were entitled to a separate claim of land that was but a week-by-foot journey from the Miredancer Tribe's Hist Tree. This claim of land, while small, was home to a collection of modestly sized buildings and a decent cloister of workers. This was a healing lodge, where they tended the ill and injured. If an argonian actually managed to become ill, they were sequestered with these healers to ensure such a strong illness (or mild, for argonians) was not spread. The Half-Swim Sniffles stood no chance. Unless you were a dryscale who somehow managed to reach that deep into Black Marsh. Then you're fucked.
All in happenstance, during her apprenticeship, a wounded Archein had stumbled into the lodge's territory. Young Luna was taking a walk with her teacher and discussing magic at the time with her, when they came across this very Archein, who was collapsed on the ground. He claimed to have been ambushed by a very prejudiced Black-Tongue. It had not taken them long to get the poor man shepherded into one of the reedhuts of this small haven. The wound was spinal, so it took two entire days straight to complete the healing. An incredibly delicate process which led to multiple healers passing out and being shuffled away for another to take theri place and continue the work. Once the bleeding had ended, he had been let to rest.
A long many months it took to rehabilitate this Archein, and they did so with gracious hospitality. Once healed to a competent, self-sufficient capacity, he was let go to his own people once more.. The healers didn't care who came from what tribe. Everyone deserved succor, whether Tum-Taleel, Archein, or Ghost-People.
What they didn't know was that this wound was a willful infliction. All of this was a year long scheme. The stab was intentionally performed by the Archein's fellow conspirators. They knew the value of slaves. Argonian slaves. And better yet. Healers. Healing slaves fetched pretty coin as far as Dunmer dealings went. Only a week later he returned. With others. So many others. The entire lodge was raided. Everything was burned to ashes, and the healers? Stolen away for slavery.
Luna had awoken just in time to see one Archein standing over her in her own quarters of the lodge. The same one that she had healed "Why?" was all she uttered before blacking out. When she had awoken, she had found herself in an auction house. She had been kept magically asleep. That explained the seeming sudden change of scenery. Once sold, so began her slavery for a whole 4 years. During this time, she met a Dunmer named Vrezydal*3. The Telvanni that he was, quite often he used her for profane experiments. Not a day had gone by when she was left unscathed. The first of many damages to come was her eyes. His aptitude for magic enabled him to burn them out utterly. He had his reasons. He wanted her fully reliant on him. To keep her chained to him, in a less-physical method.
Next over these 4 years, all of them, was his Illusion magic. What magic he used on her was focused on her mind. He had used his arcane prowess to rip away what memories she had. Either he tore them away from her.. or he rewrote them. He took her name. He took away her parents. He took away most of her training as a Sap-Speaker. Instead, he inserted falsities. Lies crafted by himself to instill a twisted loyalty*2 in her. A few more twists of magic here or there.. and he had her practically hardwired to obey anyone that was Dunmer.
Of course, she knew just what he had done, in this context. She knew about this obedience he forced upon her. She kept it deep in her mind, hardly ever to be revealed. She had known it was wrong... and yet...
She loved him. His dark machinations let her feel no anger towards him. But regardless, even if she were at a peace with him, his experiments continued on her, this time upon her body. The exact nature of these is unknown, even to her, but all she remembers of them is that 'the knife' is no friend of hers.
During her 4th year of slavery, a tribe known as the Banescales had rescued her, having made a violent exodus to Vvardenfell. He was slaughtered, and she was brought back to her homeland of Black Marsh. She had attempted to join them . To stay with them and aid them.. but she wasn't able to. Tribal life was now something she was displeased with. It was not routine at all. Her brain was now basically wired to appreciate and desire routine. So unfortunately, she had to leave, which... surprisingly was difficult (though not unexpected), given her blindness. But she managed to. In her travels, she came across something she wanted. Routine and orderliness.
This came in the form of the Keepers of the Dusk. The Keepers of the Dusk are a hermitical group, perhaps even sect, of Argonians who stray from the typical philosophy of impermanence that is prominent in many tribes. These argonian are scholars. Historians of Saxhleel history and tale collectors. Their philosophy is that everything can teach a lesson. Even the past. They collect historical tales, and create their own tales to present lessons or warnings. Wisdom, warnings, historical accuracy. Passing on the lesson. These are the Dusks' specialties. Being inducted into the order took a half year of training before she was permitted to join. Thus she had joined, and so began her isolation once more.
Spoiler: The Keepers of DuskShow