Deora Lal

**Deora Lal** is an aspiring necromancer, coaxed from her comfortable city life by the promise of asylum and teaching in Darkwall under her mother's guidance.

## History

### Parentage and Birth

The story of Deora Lal begins before her birth, with the meeting of two bizarre figures. From the very edges of Senfalas came an elven druid by the name of Gael Cridhe, considered an ill omen to her own people for her foul demeanor and unnerving air. This was a well deserved wariness, in some ways- she was a pale druid, who dabbled in arts forbidden the world over in the secretive depths of the woods. From the simple Catanian town of Whitestall, meanwhile, came a masterful aphorite craftsman known as Donnel Lal. He was a skillful craftsman of both the mundane and the magical, but lived well within his means and sought no more ambition than to live well and comfortably. While Donnel plied his trade as a young man and built up his business, the witch Gael was making mockeries of life and death- the kind which eventually drew the attention of the Order of Metamortis. They courted this promising necromancer into their fold, gradually teaching her ever more advanced techniques while guiding her to ever more horrific actions and philosophies. This training was to lead, as with all members of the Order, to her ascension into undeath- but that would be waylaid for a time by a chance encounter.

One day, while travelling to meet a contact, Gael happened to stay in Whitestall for a few nights. Her carriage had broken, and when she was directed to the finest repair shop in town she was faced with the almost unnervingly precise form of Donnel. As an aphorite, he was a descendant of perfectly engineered beings- the Order of Metamortis and her own convictions had taught Gael to appreciate and seek perfection in the world, and this was a rare chance to examine such a thing. The two spoke while he worked, each becoming enamored in a way- they found each other intelligent and well-spoken, a match in both intellect and witticism. Beyond that, each found the other an anomaly- Gael found Donnel’s humility in the face of his superiority a quaint eccentricity, while Donnel found Gael’s bitterness in the face of her great gifts quite tragic. Even after his work was done they continued talking through the night, and once her business was done she was drawn to return to Whitestall and stay a while- she despised the city, but wanted to be close to him.

This desire led to a friendship, which blossomed into something more over the weeks. Yet, even as they became lovers, Gael remained puzzled at her own actions. Donnel’s form was near-perfect, but only near, and the rest of him betrayed how much mortality the man had. He could be stubborn, or shortsighted, or emotional. He could get hurt, or sick, or tired. He was by all accounts far from what she strived for, and her attraction nevertheless confounded her until one fateful day: when he had hurt himself working, and she realized how glad she was that she could help him. It hit her that she hadn’t been growing so fond of him just *in spite of* his flaws, but *because* of them- and that horrified her. She was to be a perfect being, to empathize with vulnerability was antithetical to her purpose on this earth. After thinking it over, she left in the night while he slept, intending never to return- and realizing only several months later she had taken one last ‘gift’ from him, in the form of a new life growing inside her.

This was unacceptable on every level. To the Order of Metamortis, mortal dalliances were folly- her love for a mortal would be embarrassing, but bringing a child into the world was an expectation of one’s own death, the ultimate violation of their philosophy. With her own sense of identity shaken so firmly, she decided to return to her work- she would ascend to undeath, and leave this child behind in her weak mortal shell. Plans long left dormant were sprung back into action, and over the months she gathered up all she needed for the Welcoming of the Blighted Soul. In the dark of a moonless night she worked, in forests where she had once walked with her beloved- her sacrifices were made, and at the culmination of the ritual she took her own life, her soul taking host in a beautifully prepared body of marble and bone as she was reborn an accursed Siabrae. While she admired her new form, its unchanging and pristine design, her old body was worn away in moments by the necromantic magics- and she heard a quiet cry.

There, among the bones of her discarded mortal form, was her fragile newborn child, spared by luck, providence, or mere timing. Her new undead instincts would normally dictate an obvious path- the dead had no affection for the living, nothing for them but hatred or vindictive hostility. If what was before her had been an animal of any kind, even any other child, they likely would have been the first to taste her new power. But when Gael looked on that fragile little creature, there was only one thought rising from deep within her.

        That this was the single most perfect being she had ever seen.

Her instinct was insurmountable- she took the crying child in her arms, effortlessly pushing away all thoughts of doing her any harm, and comforted her. She wanted to hold her forever- but knew it was impossible. A child could not be warmed by arms of grave earth, a child could not be fed by a teat of stone. Her child needed a parent- she needed her father. So, Gael carried the child through the night, keeping her safe and considering what to name her, savoring what would likely be her only moments with her daughter. Even as the night guard of Whitestall raised alarms and tried to strike her down, her stoney body simply shrugged off their blows and kept walking. When she reached the home of Donnel, who’d been awoken by the combat, the two exchanged few words- they didn’t have to. He didn’t know what had happened, but he could see who she was- and he could tell who she was carrying. All that was said between them was the girl’s name- “Deora”. With that, Gael left, to be struck down later as passing adventurers took up arms to ‘defend the town’- she was fine just a short time later, her new body could not be killed so easily, but she wanted to assuage the panicking city. With that, she left, setting sail all the way to Darkwall- she never wanted to see something that reminded her of this time, her thoughts were painful enough already.

### Early Life

And so was Donnel left to the craft of the father. He had already mourned losing Gael once- though he didn’t know why she’d left, he’d both worried for her and hoped for her every day she was gone. He knew the woman was unhappy, and had cursed himself for not being able to help- seeing her that night, however, made him realize just how out of his understanding her troubles were. Now, he had to tackle both the pain of losing her again, and the rigors of raising his new child. Her infancy was the most hectic time; after how Deora was delivered the townsfolk were rightfully worried about the rumored “devil-child”, only falling short of trying to rid the town of her due to Donnel’s shining reputation and the apparent death of the monster who had brought her. After that, she was in no more real danger, she was simply- unsettling, and alone. It was at a young age that Donnel began to notice his girl’s worrying eccentricities. She never wished for a pet, and got upset if he ever suggested one- eventually she settled on a “pet” in the form of a stone with friendly eyes carved into it. She never wanted friends, she settled for her stories- at first Donnel thought the young girl simply couldn’t find friends due to her reputation, but he came to realize that even when other children treated her kindly she scorned them. It worried him, but what was he to do? He barely would know how to raise a ‘normal’ child, let alone this girl.

He resigned to simply do his best to keep her happy and prepare her for the world- to his relief she didn’t mind his presence as she minded others, and she was more than happy to learn about his crafts. She could at least work- or, she would if she had any ability to deal with customers. As she grew up from his young apprentice into a young lady Donnel worried for his daughter more and more; she never pursued romance as other teenagers did and she proved inept at speaking with others. He worried how she would support herself without him, and more importantly how she would be happy. For she wasn’t- he knew it, she spent most of her days miserable, or at best calm, and it tore him up that he could not do better for her, just as he failed to do better for her mother. It was perhaps lucky, or perhaps monstrously unlucky, for him then that there was someone else who could help her.

### The Path to Greatness

In spite of her pain, Gael did not turn her back completely on her daughter- she simply couldn’t. It was only a few months of worrying after her birth before she scried upon the girl, feeling immeasurable relief to see her living, safe and with her father. She tried to stay away for good after that, but simply couldn’t- eventually, she fell into a routine, checking in on the growth of her girl when she could, watching as she grew up. And what she saw… broke her heart. She saw Deora’s misery perhaps even clearer than her father did, as it stung deep at memories of her own mortal life. To see her daughter despise the cage of flesh was painful, yet in a guilty way also comforting- it made her feel she was not mad, to see another so fervently align with her own beliefs unprompted. In Deora’s later teen years, her mother finally transgressed, crossing over the line from observer to participant- she visited her daughter in a dream, posing at the time as a simple figment of imagination. She comforted the girl, and guided her- and in time, this too became routine, as imaginary friend grew into trusted mentor. The highlights of Deora’s days became the dreams she spent listening to this strange figure, a creature from across the world who comforted her about her days, and made her feel safe instead of disgusted. The highlights of Gael’s days, meanwhile, became seeing how her daughter felt about these nightly meetings- her eagerness to get to sleep and meet her ‘friend’ again, her serene calm for a few moments after waking before having to face the world again. This was, in a strange way, happy- but Gael would not be satisfied. She wanted to hold her daughter again.

She began guiding Deora more firmly- she told the girl of a place without the hustle and squirming and breathing of the living cities, where she could be still and calm for all her days. Every night, Deora was met with more tales of all she could be and all she could do if she left for Darkwall. But she was wary- This place, disgusting as it was, was all she’d ever known. And more importantly, it was where her father was- the one person, aside from her dream mentor, around who she felt at ease. What pushed her over the edge at last, however, ended up being her father- tensions between them had risen as she retreated more and more into her dreams and books; Donnel tried his best to pry her back out of her shell and received only ever-rising vitriol in return. The tensions flared one night, when she demanded to know about her mother, and why he always evaded telling her much about her. In a moment of anger he gave her the answer that her mother was a very sick woman he couldn’t help, and he feared she might end up the same. It was that that pushed her to her limit- just like her mother before her, Deora disappeared into the night- though in her case, with the added insult of taking her father’s wagon. She would do magical work for money along the way, make her way to Darkwall, find her mentor, and finally find a place and a body where she felt *right.*

## Appearance

A lean and diminutive aphorite woman, her white-gold skin and silver hair stand out at quite a distance, while her bright golden eyes have an eerie intensity. While she possesses at first glance a cool beauty, her behavior quickly devolves into a paranoid and twitchy demeanor whenever forced to interact with others.

## Personality

A borderline biophobe, Deora possesses a deeply ingrained irrational disgust towards most living beings and processes which overtakes much of her personality. In an ideal world she would pursue her interests- craftsmanship, the study of magic, and reading. But this is far from a perfect world, and so instead most of her day is devoted to barely concealing her revulsion to those around her while lamenting her own living state. The only living being she seems comfortable around is her father, Donnel Lal- while she has had personal fallings out with him of late, she does not feel the same degree of visceral disgust at his presence she does with other people. Her disgust response is strangely absent when dealing with undead and constructs, even those which are exceptionally disgusting.

## Noted figures

* **Donnel Lal:** Her father, a talented sorcerer and craftsman. Once well-respected around Whitestall, but of middling reputation ever since her birth.
* **Gael Cridhe:** Her mother, a druid and siabrae who has worked her way into a rather respectable position among the The Order of Metamortis and within Darkwall society.
* **Seven-deaths Duncan:** Upon realizing Deora had actually left home, Gael wished to give the girl some modicum of protection without making her involvement obvious- to this end, she sent only her single most loyal intelligent servant, a violent ghost by the name Seven-Deaths Duncan. Duncan does not manifest to serve the girl directly, but instead has taken up permanent residence in her left hand, moving to defend the girl and strike at her foes automatically. His crass attitude can at times annoy Deora, but he knows well not to upset her too much, lest he face her mother's wrath.

## Goals

* Reach Darkwall safely.
* Master the craft of necromancy.
* Attain peace through undeath.
* Meet her mysterious mentor.
* Learn more about her mother.
* Eventually patch things up with her father.