The Beginning (Naomi)
From Toosigma
| Title | The Beginning |
|---|---|
| Author | Philip Mann - Naomi |
| Campaign | Convergent Threads |
| Session | Character Origin Concept |
| Posted | |
| Game Date |
Some people begin a character with a bunch of stats and try to make sense out of it. For me, I start out with a story and, if the GM is willing to give it a go, I put a character sheet together based on the concept rather than chance. This story is the original “sales pitch” that I used when I proposed Naomi for the Convergent Threads campaign. Her actual history evolved during the game to be something slightly different, but I would be doing a disservice if I left this story out of the bunch. Enjoy!
Eberron Character Idea
Concept: Prototype “Infiltrator” Warforged (artistic construct for the New War)
– The war is not over. The fighting continues, but the tactics have changed from battlefield slaughter to back-alley subterfuge. Cunning warriors have adapted to the new war, adding the skills of the politician and thief to their arsenal while the most deadly weapons are now made to appear benign…and over forty millennia ago, there are those who have crafted the two into one…
A Labor of Love
The storm giant artificer had paid my master handsomely to retain my services. The deal was well above my normal commission in fact, and was a considerable sum to sculpt the beautiful elfin statue. His project, while complex, sounded very doable, and he brought forth the finest alabaster and gold to complete it. He also demanded perfection.
He instructed me again and again, “She must appear as one stone…take what time you require for her form must be flawless.”
I complied.
Winter had come and gone three times while I worked in the far-off keep. Meticulously, I removed every grain that did not belong to her beautiful form. Tiny scales of marble became her skin as I fastened each small tile to the mithral acrolith which made her skeleton. Each sliver, worked carefully as stone in my calloused hands, felt smooth and supple when it found its place among the others.
As her body grew slowly toward completion near the beginning of the third year, I felt more than saw what I was doing. In my heart, she was already with me. Her soul watched from behind my own eyes and guided my hands. My every breath gave her life. And realizing her existence gave meaning to mine.
When I began to form her face, the artificer told me that her eyes would be precious stones that he would provide when the time was right. Weeks passed quickly though it took most of the spring and the whole summer to complete her visage. My benefactor had not yielded the stones that he had promised, so I began to work the metals that would otherwise finish her.
Platinum had joined the gold and, though I could work them using hammers and more mundane sculpture, those techniques would not be enough for her. Instead, I requested metal working equipment that, while very expensive and difficult to find, was the only thing that could aid me to complete her as requested.
The artificer smiled and said that these things would be granted. He told me that it would take a few days and that I could leave if I wanted until I was sent for. Instead, I asked that I could leave just for the day and return in the evening. Again, he smiled and said that I could do as I wish.
I could tell that he knew I was obsessed with her now, maybe in love would not be a stretch, but that did not matter. She had my heart and soul, and I would see her brought to life if I could. Maybe he could sense this from the beginning…
My status as an artist of some renown, though still a slave, allowed me to travel freely about most lands without fear of capture as a runaway. My special status also allowed me to earn and keep a certain amount of money from my assignments. This was a privilege that very few elves had in this realm of giants, and I made certain that I did nothing to put that status at risk. I had a feeling that, so long as my works were in demand, I would remain as free as any elf could possibly be.
I journeyed into a nearby slave town with some of the substantial retainer that I had been paid. While the world seemed controlled by the giants, these towns allowed the elves to conduct business between themselves on behalf of their masters. This town, far away from anything except a garrison and my benefactor’s keep, was home to many who had lost their masters since the fighting with the quori began.
Before I took this project, I would have likely spent every copper on women and booze, but this time I felt different. No, I felt free. Free from my previous vices as if the creation from my heart had purified me as she took form. Poets and minstrels write of the power true love has, but no words can describe the truth of it to a heart that has only now realized the feeling.
My only goal in leaving her is to return with suitable garments to cover her delicate form. Something simple but elegant because her beauty would only be detracted by the trappings women seem to love. Silk, as light as the wind on her skin; yes, that would be perfect; gilded silk, of a style and color to compliment her charms.
I spent the morning shopping for the fabric that I desired and took those to a seamstress that came highly recommended. Because I requested a custom garment rather than something more popular, she told me that it would take several days to work into her other projects. I took this as a hint that she wanted a premium price, so I told her that I was willing to pay a premium price only if the finished garment was premium and done by this evening.
We agreed on a price, far more than I would have spent on my own finery, but the old woman promised to send a runner to find me when she was done. I gave her the measurements that she required, surprising her with my familiarity of the feminine form. I could not help but smile as I told her that I was only so familiar with this female form. She blushed slightly and, again, she assured me that the article would be done, and that it would be suited for a woman of such magnificent proportions.
I found myself famished and sought nourishment at a nearby tavern. I spent what remained of my retainer on the best meal that could be found. One draught made its way to my table though the barmaid attempted to increase the number and, potentially, her gratuity. She was charming and beautiful, and I might have tried to bed her in the past, but my mind was back at the keep and that is where it would stay.
I asked her if she would like to talk a while and, since the room was normally slow at this hour, she obliged. She introduced herself and we made small talk. My meal made a convenient tool to keep her talking about herself and the town between bites and coaxing questions. When I was done, she asked about me and what had brought me into town. I told her that I was in town to pick up a gift for a woman that I had not met yet. Of course, she thought this odd, so I made up a story that seemed interesting but somewhat believable.
I told her that there had been an arranged marriage between myself a beautiful but young girl who served an heiress in far to the East. The barmaid asked if I knew the girl's name. Since I had not yet thought of one, nor had my benefactor informed me of one he desired, I told her that her name was of a different tongue and was very difficult to pronounce.
"I imagine you can help me here," I said.
"Oh?" she asked, "how do you suppose that I can help?"
I told her that, since the native name of my bride to be was so difficult to pronounce, that she could help me to come up with a suitable common name for her. I then described her beauty as I had come to know it.
She thought for a few moments and then she said, “Naomi.” The name, she explained, means ‘beauty above all things’. “She sounds so very beautiful, so Naomi is perfect.”
“Naomi it is,” I told her.
As if on cue, a runner from the seamstress that I contracted found me at the tavern. A small child, he beckoned me to return to the shop and pick up my order. I thanked the barmaid and tipped her handsomely with a gold piece, and followed the runner back to the shop.
The old woman showed me a masterpiece made of the material that I had brought to her. It was simple, but elegant…The garment should work well to cover her modesty but none of her beauty. With that, I paid her the promised compensation and made my way out of town.
I was two or three miles outside of town when I became aware that I was being followed. Thinking back, it was not surprising that my spending activities had gained the attention of some of the less honest individuals. I quickened my pace; maybe they would give up pursuit as I closed on the keep. My pursuers also sped, and soon they overtook and surrounded me. They demanded my gold, but I had spent it in its entirety while I was in town.
When I thought my life forfeit, the booming voice of the storm giant that I worked for sounded from the trail toward town.
“It is unwise to trifle with my retainers,” he said.
One of my assailants gasped, “Dear God…” and the world went black…
It felt like an eternity before my vision returned. My whole body ached and I had no memory of how long I had been out, but I had evidently survived the encounter. The surroundings that I found myself in, while unexpected, were most welcome.
“I thought you might like to see her when you awoke.” I turned toward the voice and found that I was on a cot near my creation…my Naomi. She was dressed in the silks that I purchased, and her empty eyes gazed approvingly.
As if from inside of my own mind I could hear him continue, “You have been out for several days,” he began again. “I feared the worst initially, but it is good to see that you are awake. The equipment that you requested awaits your masterful skill. I will take my leave and let you continue your creation as you feel up to it.” And my benefactor was gone.
I gazed at her for quite some time before beginning my work again. I could no longer tell where the tiles were joined or where any detail from a living elfin woman had been missed. Maybe my time away had removed any imperfection from my own mind.
I found the equipment that I had requested, still packed as it must have arrived, with the gold and platinum powdered and placed in bowls nearby. The artificer must have realized that the metals would be easier to melt as powder. He is indeed an intelligent man.
A week later, with the gold and platinum melted together and pulled into thread, I began to place each hair on her head. Every strand went exactly where it wanted to go…where she wanted it to go…every eyebrow…every eyelash. I also covered her nails with the alloy, which created a beautiful bit of accent to her slender fingers. She would be blessed with hair that would always be perfect, and painted nails that would never chip or break. Her appearance would never need the preening as is common to women in this age. Were she alive, I imagine she would be envied by many.
Though it has been several years, it seems like just weeks ago when I began to create this beautiful statue, and during that time she has become as much a part of me as from me. Now, except for the promised gems, she is complete.
“You have done well craftsman,” he said from behind me. “She is magnificent.”
“Yes, she has become my finest creation. I could never create another like her.”
“Indeed,” his tone suddenly turning dark and ominous, “nor shall you…”
I felt the dagger pierce my back and withdraw, the pain making my legs collapse. His hand guided me to the floor on my knees with a strength I could not have opposed in the days of my youth. He then put the dagger to my throat, chanting in a language I could only imagine held some ancient power. A slow and painful slice cut off my wind and he cast me aside. With the last of my life draining upon the floor, I saw two brilliant sapphires covered in my blood. He walked to her, a stone in each hand, and pressed them each into their respective resting place, my blood running down her face as tears.
He continued chanting as a scarlet flash enveloped her. In that instant I thought I had passed, but the flare subsided. Before the artificer stood my Naomi, as real as I had imagined her to be. Her head and eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, then turned and she looked at me, staring uncomprehendingly…
I saw blood everywhere. It was the blood of a thin man, lying on the floor with sharply pointed ears…like mine. I could feel the warmth trickle down my face and when I touched it with my hands I saw it was the same color as the blood of the man lying before me. I could tell he was dead and, though I do not recall speaking with him, I know his name was Dametrio.
I know he was an artist…a sculptor…a genius…
And I believe he was my father…
A large hand picked me up gently, but with enough force that I knew I was not going anywhere. Up, up off of the floor and before a pair of cold pits that were his eyes. The gigantic hand opened flat as if to be a stage for my unrehearsed performance.
“Stand so I can see you,” the booming voice commanded.
I stood in the middle of the palm that held me, and turned slowly as if involuntary answering the intent of his commands…
