The sound of battle and the screams of dying echoed through the mist of the night. Fire of houses turned into torches flickered and gave the whole scene an eerie illumination of dancing shadows, making it even more difficult to see who was attacker and who was defender. Shades that already seemed to be dead danced between the flames, the ring of steel on steel barely audible beneath the roar of the burning. The mist muffled and warped echoes and sight, nothing of the battle visible or audible only a hundred steps into the night.
Beneath the foreboding moon shining in the colour of blood a single figure watched the scene, at the same time standing in the middle of the fray, accompanying the last steps of the fallen. It was a dangerous place to be, but the more dangerous and lethal something was, the more likely it was to be there. Death was not repelled by places of danger, it was drawn by them, because duty waited.
There was little to do this night. The gods had a strong presence on this world and took the spirits into their realms beyond without Death having to do much about it. When the battle was done and the fires began to die, the figure walked away, unseen by anyone. People just did not see Death as a person, not for the first time the figure wondered, why this was the case. People seemed to be almost obsessed with killing. For every person dying in peace there where at least a half dozen who did not. It did not seem to be fair, but Death was not concerned with fairness. Death just was.
A scream pierced the mist, resounding and vanishing into night. Death felt more of the tiny live-force crying out than actually hearing the faint echo of the infant's voice. Slowly the figure walked to the river, where the child was. Comfortably rested in a drifting boat, covered with thick blankets to protect it from chill and moisture. It had been cared for well, before it was set adrift, but the child's parents could never retrieve it. They had died a few hours ago.
The figure bent down to see the child. He? She? carefully lifted the baby from its resting place in the reed with one of its blankets. The infant screamed aloud and the figure spoke to it. In spite of it trying to sound gentle, the voice had the resonance of freshly moved earth adorned by a stone. BE SILENT ELANDRA, I WILL HELP YOU. THERE IS NO REASON TO BE AFRAID. The figure gently cradled the child, who amazingly enough shut up. Death wondered if it had been male or female before...
Death stepped into a barge that was as visible to mortals as the figure itself and gently put the child into the boat, the same way it had been lying in its floating cradle. It whirled it's scythe once and it turned into a long staff. The figure drove the ship forward along the river, along a river along a flow of dense ghostly mist. It was said that the marraenoloths navigated the twisted river Styx, but the twisted and intangible flow of souls was far more dangerous and difficult to navigate. Only the Death's true ferrymen could do so.
The figure looked into a crystal ball and shook its head. A movement of its hand deactivated the device and picked up a number of bones. They where tossed into the bowl a thirteenth time, falling the same way as they had the dozen times before. There was no doubt in this prediction. Death sighed and left the private room of its home. People might expect it to be a dark castle or a sinister mansion, but it was none of this. This place did not have an exterior at all. The figure looked at the female it had raised.
She had not only grown into a striking beautiful, if somewhat pale, woman, she had even thrived in this alien environment. A pair of massive bat-like wings spread from her back. They where dark in colour and Death assumed that they might turn to black or even obsidian hue when she became more powerful. The figure had feared that she could not rear the child in this place, where even the most basic needs of natural live where hard to come by. Death had managed to do so. She had expected the child to run away from this horrible and lonely place, but she did not. Death regarded the child for some time before speaking.
YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THIS PLACE, Death said. Elandra turned to her and asked: "Why? Why now? I cannot leave this place." YOU ARE WRONG. YOU COULD HAVE LEFT IT SINCE YOU WHERE A TEENAGER. IT IS NOT NECESSARILY PLEASANT, BUT POSSIBLE. YOUR DESTINY DOES NOT LIE HERE OR EVEN WITH ME. YOU HAVE TO GO YOUR OWN WAY. Elandra regarded her mother for some time and said: "Will you bring me to some place, where I can start? I know little except what you taught me." I WILL SHOW YOU A PLACE. YOU CAN GO WHEREVER YOU WANT, BUT BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU STEP. YOU ARE NOT ME.
Quite obviously not. She did not even talk like her "mother". Elandra sighed and said: "I think I will need a weapon. You tell me that the world is a hostile place." Death pointed at a rack of blades, staves and a scythe. TAKE A WEAPON OF YOUR CHOICE BUT REMEBER THAT THE MIND IS YOUR MOST POWERFUL WEAPON. The young female picked up a scimitar and looked at the other figure expectantly. They entered the barge soon and Death easily navigated through the currents and rapids of the flow of souls.
They arrived soon in an odd place. It was a city covered with blades, a city that curved in on itself to form a ring without beginning or end. THIS PLACE IS SIGIL. IT IS EASY TO REACH FOR ME. LISTEN TO ME, BUT DO NOT SHOW ANY SIGN THAT YOU DO. NO-ONE ELSE CAN SEE ME. One last time Elandra nodded and forcing herself to listen without acknowledgement. The mental discipline she had to learn to control her psychic powers was of great help now, while she walked through the roads of the city of doors. YOUR LIVE IS YOURS, BUT CHOOSE CAREFULLY.
Elandra did not even notice that she was alone, when an odd pair, a minotaur and another creature she could not identify drew her attention. They seemed to be surrounded by a nimbus of wildness and danger, so Elandra started to follow them, being sure to stay unseen the way her mother did, or at least a very similar way. She followed them for a long time, not realising that almost two years passed until she finally revealed herself to the companions. One was Tandra Fiendslayer, the other called himself Mir'Djanas, but his name was Mireluki el'Irand. Both where immortal in their own way.
Death entered the Barge again to return to her home. She thought about her lost daughter and almost capsized the vessel in a rapid of the river. Death cursed and concentrated on her journey until she was within her disembodied home. She looked through her equipment and cursed in a way that would even give an abyssal lord pause. Elandra still had a page of the book of the dead. The girl would think she was associated with Death and act in odd an alien ways. Death sighed and shed her robe. She walked into her private room and looked into the crystal ball again. A smile curled her lips as she saw the friends Elandra had chosen.
A good choice indeed.
Elandra Of The Silvercastle (pl/f miaegat/Psion 20th, Death's Servant 10th/ln(g))
Combat:
Combat:
Attacks: +18/+13/+8 Nightsteel Scimitar
Damage: 1d6+2 (18-20/x2) Nightsteel Scimitar
Initative: (+3 dex)
AC: 15 (+2 leather +3 dex)
HD: 30d4+120 (195 hp)
Speed: 30 feet; fly 60 feet (good).
Special Attacks: psionics, spell-like abilities
Special Qualities: Death pact, immunities, spell-like abilities,
SR 10, takes twice as long to suffucate as human, Wings have DR 5/+1.
Skills: Autohypnosis, Concentration, Diplomacy, Heal,
Profession (Cook), Ride (Ground), Swim, Use Rope, Psi Skills. (210 ranks)
Feats: Armour Proficiency (light), Deep Impact, Great Sunder,
Maximize Power, Power Attack, Quicken Power, Sex Appeal, Speed of Tought, Sunder,
Weapon Proficiency (Scythe), Weapon Proficiency (Swords)
Attributes and Saves
Fort +14 Ref +13 Will +22
Str 15 Dex 17 Con 18
Int 20 Wis 21 Cha 21
Special Qualities
Death's List (Su): is probably the most important and responsible
task of Elandra. This bleached bone-white parchment lists a number of names in death's
odd handwriting with serifs. Whenever in a battle that lasts longer, death's servants
will fade for a round to check their list and mark of everyone who died. She has to
do this, no matter how much she would prefer to help her friends.
Death Pact (Su): Undead will not attack Elandra, unless she
attacks first.
Immunities (Ex): Elandra is immune to poison and fire damage.
Spell-like Abilities (Sp): At will - cause fear, fading; 3/day -
enervation, spectral hand, vampiric touch; 1/day - time stop; 3/week - magic jar,
scream of despair.
Psionics:
Powers Known: 0 - control shadow, detect psionics, elfsight,
far punch, know direction, missive, talons, telempathic projection,
1 — biofeedback, charm person, empathic transfer, know location, matter agitation,
2 — body adjustment, darkvision, ectoplasmic coccon, sever the tie, sustenance,
3 — charm monster, claws of the vampire, dimension slide, ectolplasmic form, shism,
4 — dissolving touch, fate of one, freedom of movement, inertial barrier natural armour,
5 — adapt body, brilliant blast, energy barrier, true seeing,
6 — breath of the dragon, disintegrate, null psionics field, retrieve,
7 — energy conversion, plane shift, reddopsi, teleport without error,
8 — hypercognition, mind store, recall death, shadow body,
9 — dissolution, greater emulation, psychic chirorgery, true metabolism,
Power Points: 210
Attack and Defences: All
Special Equipment:
Elandra carries a nightsteel scimitar called "Nightbringer",
made from an unknown substance black as the night itself, possibly even
frozen darkness. This masterwork weapon can cause blindness in an
enemy and summon a globe of darkness. It is considered a +5 weapon
in respect to overcoming damage resistance and works that way on all planes
of existence, but has no actual enhancement bonus other than that for a
masterwork weapon. The scimitar is believed to be from death's personal
armoury.