The world is governed by two simple principles: life and death.
Nimmeth, born as the fourth daughter to a minor house in Unlit City, grew up
immersed in these two principles. As a young girl, she innately knew that
to remain living, she must appear as simultaneously useful and a non-threat.
Had she been overtly allied with one of her first two sisters, she would
have met an unfortunate end in a cave-in or hook horror incident. If she
had shown designs toward climbing in status, her sisters would have disposed
of her through more direct means. Walking in political shadows induced
Nimmeth to pursue training as an assassin.
The mightiest columns of the Unlit City are formed over the millenia until
they one day form the support for all of Serin's surface. They bridge the
chasm separating the stony depths and the dirt grubbers, yet these lithic
structures are built slowly.
Strength of spirit is built slowly, too, and this youngest daughter sees the
importance of building her spirit through the accretion of power until the
day she is strong enough to stand on her own, a pillar of the Unlit City.
And from the priests of Ilythir she has come to see how the principles which
have guided her life will shape her death, and the deaths of those around
her. Her training may one day help her harvest spirits akin to the great
columns of her homeland, and those strong enough will cross the bridge from
this life into death.
Description:
Faint wisps of smoke curl around the form of a small dark-skinned female
looming before you. Long, black hair coils and writhes behind her,
appearing alive with the winds transforming it into a serpentine creation.
Large eyes that expressively betray her emotions remain set deep within her
face, but as you study them for a moment an astounding flash of radiance
fills them and then fades. Her mouth, that terrible creation, does not seem
to be entirely natural. No, as you puzzle over it for a moment you realize
that it is not just her own expressions that are changing, but that of a
tattoo of an imp over and surrounding her lips. As her mouth opens
unexpectedly, an icy gust of air releases, filling the surroundings with an
eerie chill. At her neck, a long, clean scar drips a tiny bit of ooze which
evaporates by the time it reaches a seemingly unremovable molten pendant in
the shape of a spider. Her fingers are long, agile, and delicate, but more
astoundingly seem to be webbed with fire. Condensation collects on her
regardless of her environment and drips to the ground.
