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Aliza Veiss, Discussion in 'Profiles' started by SenpaiPancake, Jul 6, 2013
post Sep 30 2013, 04:01 PM
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Skylessia Characters

QUOTE("SenpaiPancake @ post: 15216, member: 74")
Name: Aliza Veiss

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Nationality: Plegia

Allegiance: Grimleal

Class: Dark Mage

Level: 10

Weapon Levels: Dark Magic - C

Dark Magic, Corrode, Complex, Drain

A worn black book, Telvus is the first spell Aliza ever learned. As such, it represents her beginning as a Grimleal, and acts as a marker for the start of her new life.

The spell itself is somewhat complex, consisting of a arrow sized bold of dark energy that is fired from the palm, exploding into a handful of pin shaped spikes several feet in front of the caster if it does not strike a target beforehand. When hit with either the bolt or the spikes, armour, clothing, even weapons have been known to weaken and become brittle. As well, any one hit with the spell will inexplicably feel a portion of their energy drained, and transferred to the caster.

NoxiaDark Magic, Defensive, Potency, Area of Effect

Unlike Telvus, Noxia was a creation of Aliza, and Aliza alone. Noxia is Aliza's only means of defense, and as such is considered highly important to her.

The spell creates a tight “bubble” of magic around Aliza, a force-field like dome that nothing can pass through from either side. The spell lasts only a few seconds, and requires some time before using at again, but it allows Aliza time to catch her breath in a situation where she is obviously underpowered.


(IMG:http://i761.photobucket.com/albums/xx259/Tbjl2006/Transparent%20Mugs/AlizaTransparent_zps1cb7668e.png) (IMG:http://i761.photobucket.com/albums/xx259/Tbjl2006/Transparent%20Mugs/AlizaHoodTransparent_zps0a05e591.png)

Upon first glance, most would think little more of Aliza than the “damsel-in-distress” type, ironically opposite of her almost borderline sociopathic tendencies. Standing little more than five and half feet, the girl’s slender build has left her looking thin and gangly, years of purely magical study resulting in her muscles being wholly undeveloped. Two watery turquoise eyes adorn her small face, accented nicely by her gently sloping eyebrows. Below her eyes sits a small, smoothly shaped button nose, and her ever persistent smile, all together giving the girl a bright, friendly gaze. Framing the girl’s face are two long side bangs, drooping down just below her collarbone. Short, side swept bangs rest upon her forehead, before eventually feeding into the two hanging tendrils. The rest of Aliza’s hair sits neatly upon her head, with much pulled back somewhat tight to form a bushy ponytail just above the nape of her neck, which tumbles down to the small of her back.

Whether in the heat of battle, or lounging in the sun, Aliza always wears precisely the same outfit. Her body itself is garbed in a loose tunic-like robe, ending partway down her thighs in a billowing skirt. A rare patch of exposed skin is sandwiched between the skirt and a pair of knee high travel boots, identical in color and texture to the girl’s robe. The fabric is a rich, dark purple, perfect for blending into the shadows. Over the robe the girl wears a simple cloak of matching colour, light and easy to maneuver in, complete with a deep set hood.

“Loyalty above all, and devotion to thy self, thy country, thy faith.” These words represent the sole memory Aliza retains of her father, and represents the core ideal the rest of her life is founded upon. Absolute dedication to the Grimleal and Plegia permeate into even the deepest recesses of Aliza’s personality, influencing her every idea and decision. As if moderation was a foreign concept to the woman, the steadfast belief in righteous devotion once held dear by Aliza has, through numerous circumstances, warped over the years, molding said devotion into a frighteningly fanatical fervour, maintained wholly by her now tainted ideas of honour and morality.

On the outside, “friends” and allies are but tools, simple means to appease the often abhorrent whims of the Dragon God Grima. In truth, the idea of friendship is perplexing to Aliza, and unable to comprehend the idea of selfless love and admiration, Aliza has learned to cope instead by turning her obsessive vehemence upon any object she desires. For the situations where no other options present themselves, Aliza has made an effort to study the reactions and expressions of others in a crude attempt to extrude at least a somewhat plausible air of normalcy, and while she appears to have the basics down, a close examination of Aliza’s “acting” presents the woefully obvious cracks in her mask.

For those that have the “honour” of speaking with Aliza, many would agree that, for a woman, she is exceedingly outspoken. While not the most charismatic speaker (often because she is too busy concentrating on her faux personality) she is often able to deliver her opinions with a decent amount of confidence, though she has been known to lose her composure in the heat of the moment.

Between her daily priestess actives and rigorous magic practice sessions, Aliza is left with little time for mundane activates. However, she has found that she is drawn to housework, and cherishes the free time it gives her to ponder and contemplate uninterrupted.

Born in a forgettable village on the southern coast of Plegia, Aliza was the first of the two children. Ylissian forces had begun their campaign into the country mere months prior, and already they had cut a sizable swath of conquered territory by the time the child's wondering eyes first graced the world. Rayne, Aliza's mother, was gravely weakened by the babe's birth, leaving her bedridden during much of the initial assault. Errol, Aliza's father, feared for his wife and newborn babe, and so he rescinded his wish to join the offensive, opting instead to care for his love as she had cared for him so often in the past.

The youngling grew as the Ylissian approach stalled before losing much of it's momentum, the bulk of the forces pushed back to the Ylissian-Plegian border. Four long years passed before Errol, content with his wife's rapidly returning health, bade his family a tearful farewell to heed the summons sent forth for every able bodied man. The Plegian army aimed to make a full scale push against the Ylissian devils, hoping to push their enemy back across the border before then setting upon the offensive themselves. Errol promised his distraught wife he would return, before turning his attention to the young Aliza. “My sweet princess,” he cooed, ruffling her smooth, blonde hair, “stay strong for me. Protect your mother, Aliza. And remember, 'Loyalty above all, and devotion to thy self, thy country, thy faith.' Got it?” Aliza nodded in silence, the corners of her serene blue eyes glistening with fresh tears. Her father's words made little sense to the four year old child, but his conviction struck a chord in her heart, and the young girl watched as her father left for the last time.

Soon, word of the aftermath of the Plegian counter-offensive trickled back to the village. Nearly six months to the day that Errol had taken leave of his family, Aliza watched as her mother, freshly displaying first signs of a second pregnancy, collapsed to her knees in a fit of wracking sobs as two uniformed men stood in their doorway, looking on with a gut-wrenching mix of pity and regret. Aliza crawled towards her mother, and embraced her in a gentle hug. Rayne pulled her daughter close as the wails of agony crescendoed, her body shuddering in physical pain.
“I'm sorry.”
Aliza looked up, and saw one of the men kneeling down beside her.
“Your father... well, he isn't coming back sweetie. Something happened and... just know, he was a hero.”

Aliza's younger brother, Quinn, was born later that year. Rayne had become a cold and callous woman by that time, her resurgent faith providing the only link she had to her former self. Quinn was raised largely by the five year old Aliza, her mother spending most of her waking hours confined to her room pouring over tattered Grimleal scrolls, appearing only to fix the evening meal. The young girl was forced to mature far beyond her years, adult stresses playing havoc upon her child psyche. This way of life continued for half a decade as Rayne slipped further and further into isolation. Eventually, the children counted themselves lucky if they saw Rayne once in the span of a week, catching shadowy glimpses as she stole forth from her room to restock dwindling food supplies. A heavy weight pulled down on the ten year old Aliza's heart, as she pondered if this was the way life had to be.

It a was cold summer day when Rayne finally broke.

Aliza and Quinn had just finished their morning meal, a pathetic combination of stale porridge and mushy berries. A loud crash reverberated through the house, momentarily stopping the hearts of both children. Wild screams echoed forth from their mother's lair, shrieks of hatred and rage. Another crash rang out before her door flew open, the hinges groaning in disuse. Rayne stood in the shadows, her auburn hair a tangled mess upon her hair, foam frothing around her mouth. Slowly, she exited the room, stepping over broken shelving and torn paper. Aliza jumped down from her chair hesitantly, peering down the hall towards the woman who had once been her mother. The woman entered the small kitchen, where she stopped and stood disturbingly still for a moment. Tilting her head down slowly, Rayne's eyes met Aliza's, two bloodshot pits of hell tearing deep into the girl's heart. Reaching down, Rayne held the girl's shoulders softly for a moment, as she had once done so lovingly long ago, before she began to violently slam Aliza's head against the wall, howling in complete bloodlust. Aliza's world turned red as her head exploded in pain, her senses overcome by the shock. A sudden, painful gurgling brought Aliza back to reality, the sudden assault replaced my her mother's sudden spastic convulsions. The woman clutched at her chest, a sudden clarity illuminating her eyes, before she dropped to the ground, dead. Dropping to her knees, Aliza shook her mother's crumpled body as the dripping blood and falling tears mixed together on Rayne's skin, a sick metaphor for her confusion and pain. Quinn screamed in the background, unable to fully understand the event that had transpired, nor the severity of the situation. Ten years old, and Aliza was completely alone.

The next decade passed Aliza by in a blur, her emotions stunted by the atrocity that was her childhood. Like her mother before her, Aliza turned to faith as a means to cope with the emptiness she carried inside. The Grimleal initially were to be a simple distraction, but as Aliza sunk deeper in, she found herself needing more. Soon, all that mattered to the young woman was priestesshood. Her life became consumed, every waking thought and restless dream centered around the dark cult. Quinn watched as his sister's life was consumed by Grima, just as her mother had before her. Dissatisfied with the disconnect her felt between himself and his sister, and determined to break the cycle, Quinn slipped out late one night before his fifteen birthday. Aliza, her heart already scarred and broken, found no emotion with which to mourn the loss of her baby brother. The tears refused to flow, the dull ache in her chest no stronger than the day prior. Errol's words echoed in her head as she backed away from the only home she had ever know. The Grimleal were her family now, and they were all she needed.

- Hates Naga and her followers passionately
- Takes gleeful pleasure in slaughtering Ylissians

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