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A mysterious woman with a cruel past who is drawn to the dark and shadows.

Tristesse Character Sheet

Background

I am the shadow in which nothing good or godly will ever grow...

She named me Tristesse, which meant gift in her native tongue. A gift that came in the wrappings of death. Though I know this only from the books they found on the bodies of one of the dead who surrounded me.

I was born on a merchant caravan that came from one of the towns to the south hoping to trade with those to the north. No name recorded, just a girl child born on the way, recorded much like the wheels of cheese and tins of grain, they intended to trade. Whoever killed them took the cheese and grain, but left me, as my worth to them was less.

But she found me crying amidst the dead, my body shielded by my dead mother, amongst a gathering of ravens who perched upon the dead taking their due but leaving me unscathed. Perhaps my cries scared them off. In some parts, a group of ravens are called an unkindness. But that group brought me a kindness in her...my adopted mother and teacher. She also later told me Tristesse has two meanings in her native tongue, depending upon the accented pronunciation it means either gift or burden, and as it turned out I was a bit of both. My memories of her are fond, I have even kept the nickname she gave me...

Blackbird.

My teacher could not have children of her own, so that is why she called me a gift and she treated me as one, raising me as if I was her own child. She taught me her skills and the teachings of the shadows and the dark calling. She had found me by one of the many rivers in the marsh and I think a bit of that running river flowed into my soul that fateful day.

Her savior was named Fína. She lived alone, in the northern forests, claimed by the barbarian-king of Axoria.

The Axorians called Fína lorga, or wise-woman – one who could foretell futures. It was bad fortune to harm a lorga, and the barbarians went out of their way to avoid bringing her harm. To the contrary, they always brought gifts and sacrifices to her when they passed her way, to curry her favor and bring them fortune in battle.

Fína taught her things – taught her arcane spells and eldritch castings. She read the books at night, poured over the scrolls. She learned of things dark, and of secrets.

Fína tried to emphasize more positive uses for their magic – divination, alteration, invocation. But Tristesse always gravitated toward the dark.

Towards the shadow.

War came to the land.

The savage and cannibalistic Baku to the north had started to press south into the lands of the Axorians.

Soon, the armies of the Barbarian-King came to drive their enemies back where they came from. They were impressive, row after row of men with axes and swords and spears, their faces painted in the green, blue, and yellow pigments designs of their tribe or clan. Amongst them, the chieftains and nobility massed on horses, flying their banners, followed by drums, trumpets, and great horns that announced the arrival of the host. They were confident, a people who had known war since they were born, and they spoke of what they would do with the spoils after the gods granted them victory. But the gods, apparently, were not listening.

The Baku swarmed over the land like a plague of insects. The Axorians were overwhelmed and driven back, fleeing in confusion and fear.

The Baku neither knew nor cared about lorgas.

When they reached Fina’s home, all they saw was an old woman, alone and unprotected.

It was over by the time Tristesse returned from the long walk to the river to draw the water. She remembered seeing Fína’s body, tied to a pole, violated, and partially eaten by the hounds they had brought into battle. The contents of their little cottage strewn about, the precious books and scrolls tossed into the dirt, of no value to the Baku.

The darkness and rage rose within her as tears began to stream down her face and she fell to her knees.

It is me. I do this to people.

I am the bringer of death.

Hours later, she rose. Had any been around to see, they would have recoiled from what showed on her face. A fierce expression of dark malice. She began to gather up the books and scrolls.

Once she had packed them up onto a small cart she could pull behind her, she put the strap over her shoulder and began to walk towards the field where the Axorians and Baku had fought only days ago.

So be it, then.

I shall bring death.

The small group of Baku warriors were taken completely by surprise.

Sitting in a circle around a fire, they were enjoying a meal and showing off the prizes they had taken from Axorians to each other – this one, ears; that one, teeth. Jewelry and coins were displayed, as were fine weapons they had picked from the bodies of their fallen enemies.

The lumbering bodies of their own hounds, now mindless undead slaves to her will, were upon them before they even knew what was happening. While the creatures were far slower than they had been in life, they were now completely silent, and two of the men were dead before the rest could even register what was happening.

They rose, only for the undead horses of the Axorian chieftains charged into the clearing, skin flapping to show bones and sinew beneath. The men were knocked over as the things began trampling and kicking them while the hounds continued to rip and tear.

It was a slaughter. But a righteous one.

Tristesse remained in the darkness, assisting the creatures she had created over the prior few days, casting spells that choked them or caused them to quake in fear and tremble, only to have the beasts slay them on their knees.

When it was done, she walked among the carnage.

She scalped them, taking their warrior braids.

The Baku would learn fear.

They would know death.

After a few more such slayings, the story of the ammo-ley circulated among the Baku – a shadow spirit, a dark, fey thing. To touch an ammo-ley brought all the demons of hell upon one’s clan, and the worst fate of all – defeat on the battlefield, the doom of reincarnation as noncombatants. Those who are prey, not predator.

She would ride through them on her undead horse, her eyes glowering at them beneath her cloak, on which perched the ravens, cawing and flapping.

The Baku would make a path for her. Touching their foreheads and turning their backs.

She could walk through an army of them untouched.

Thus it was that she made her way across Bakuland, untouched and unmolested, finally reaching Blackport.

She had heard of it long before arriving. The Baku went there to trade, but they disliked the place. It wasn’t just that it was crawling with traditional enemies – orcs and northern barbarians. Nor that it was ruled by a power – the invincible and inscrutable Sovereign – who prevented open warfare, the only law the Baku understood.

The real reason they avoided it was that it was a place of magic. A place where wizards and warlocks and demons and djinn cavorted with spirits and ghosts and witches.

Tristesse smiled.

Just her kind of people.

She had been here a year now. It was likely as much a home as she would ever have.

She liked Darklane the best. As the name implied, it was all tall towers, dark alleys, and large, imposing mansions. There she found magical guilds, and she had joined one – The Academy of Night - which was led by Adixiam, a powerful sorceress and necromancer. The Guild specialized in necromancy, and she learned much from the other members and the excellent library. There were also extensive laboratories for potions and other research in the chambers below the building, in the uppermost reaches of the Undercity.

But necromancy was expensive, and she needed funds.

She became a tutor in the magical arts to those in Blackport who could afford it – her students were primarily the spoiled children of the wealthy and nobles. Most never amounted to anything, giving up the study due to other interests or simply because it was difficult. But she had little interest in developing understudies or apprentices. It was simply a way to earn what she needed for her rather modest interests.

One of her current students was the offspring of one of the well-known nobles of Blackport – a boy named Makis, who lived within the Iron City in a huge stone mansion. The illegitimate son of the powerful and feared General Yara Sepp, commander of the Army of Blackport, and the security around her as she came and went from the first tutoring session was intense – first passing the questions of the Iron Guard at the entrance to the outer wall of the Iron City; then the questions of the enigmatic, cloaked and masked member of the Shadow Watch, which lasted over an hour; and finally, the escort and armed guard by the Baku soldiers that formed Yara Sepp’s personal bodyguards, who despite wearing little armor were terrifying. But things relaxed slightly as time went on, and the money was good. Makis was in fact her best student – he exhibited a thirst for knowledge that was impressive. That she caught his eyes drifting to her bust or hips occasionally was natural for a man of his years. She did not encourage it, but she didn’t make an issue of it either – the job was too lucrative, and so long as he didn’t get handsy, boys would be as they were built to be.

She had few friends – inside her, she still felt that some curse befell all who cared for her, and she kept her relationships at arm’s length. But nonetheless, she had found some who she enjoyed spending time with.

She spent time at Amphisbaena in Darklane – it was a quiet place of shadows, lit by the flickering, multicolored lights from the stained-glass lanterns, where small groups talked quietly under the translucent veils that hung above the low, black, glass-like tables, lounging on cushions and puffing on the water-pipes or sipping from the chalices of dream-tea and simply gazing out into the void. She sometimes saw one of those she had tutored in the past there – a woman, daughter of a wealthy merchant in Ironshadow if she recalled – deep in conversation with one of the so-called black elves who for some reason had made Blackport their home.

She spent time in the Midnight Gardens, strolling through the parks and enjoying the sights and smells of the beautiful flowering trees and bushes there. It was here she met Vojtěch Kočí, a gnome, who had similar interests. After some polite conversation, they found common interests in the arcane – Vojtěch was an illusionist, who worked in Moloch’s Circus. It was distasteful work, but one had to earn a living in the city. He plied his trade at a pleasure house call the Balor’s Eye, adding illusions to some of the all-to-real performances and acts that the patrons paid top coin to experience. But his personal tastes seemed quite civilized, and they enjoyed many a long conversation under the stars and amongst the scented flowers, talking of recent discoveries, unearthed knowledge, and general spellcraft.

Her history with the Baku was a thing of the past; the ones who had known her as the ammo-ley did come to the city. Soon enough she was just another resident of Blackport trying to make her way and avoid trouble. The fact that she was tutoring a Baku General’s son was proof enough of this – if anyone was going to uncover her past and be upset about it, it would likely have been The Shadow Watch.

She supposed someday some random Baku that had known her before could find her and make trouble.

But her power had grown, and she felt confident who would emerge the victor if this happened.

Important NPCs

Vojtěch Kočí – male gnome illusionist acquaintance, works in The Balor’s Eye in Moloch’s Circus. They sometimes meet in the Midnight Gardens for talks.

Tristesse was Veroniques tutor for a time; Veronique has not noticed Tristesse at Amphisbaena tavern in Darklane, at least not as yet.

Adixiam – female necromancer & head of the Academy of Night, a necromancer’s guild in Darklane.

Makis Panea – one of Tristesse’s students. The illegitimate son of Yara Sepp Addu-Suk-Bey, the Baku General of the Armies of Blackport and a major member of the Blackport Nobility, and his second consort, Aggela Panea