[Dagger]

Discord ID:

Dagger#8456

 

Previous Characters:

None

 

Character Name:

Josephine Althaus

 

Character Race & Sub-Race:

Human / Witch

 

Alternate Graphic:

None

 

Character Description:

Josephine is an echo of the fallen heroes of Nöth. Although she is of average height and weight, her figure is commanded with such ease that it speaks of power in its unwavering, focused control. Her countenance exudes misplaced nobility, pale flesh stretched across high, wide cheekbones that taper down into a narrow chin. Her lips are stained a healthy pink beneath a pointed nose, but they seldom spare a smile except for the benefit of present company. Light honey brown tresses spill like a thick mane around her face and shoulders, a chaos permitted for a lack of appreciation of perfect order within war as her ancestors had known before her. Darker, neatly arched brows and thick lashes accentuate blue-grey eyes set deep within the woman’s skull. Her voice tends to be reminiscent of an augur, gentle enough to be that of a humble farm girl and smooth enough to be that of visionary capable of talking a dying man into a peaceful end.

 

Shard Plot Line:

Josephine may need to find her bearings at first, but she’s been raised on war stories from the history of her own world. In short time, she’ll rise to meet the struggle demanded of all those who mean to survive the war.  

 

Special Roleplay Ability:

She is an amazing cook, and she makes some bomb stew.

 

Previous World:

Nöth

 

Backstory:

Nöth was a small world born into chaos and rife with the cruelties of foul monstrosities and the fury of dying gods. For thousands of years, the world did not know peace, and its people were a hardy and wretched bunch. Its final war witnessed most of what was left of its men perish within bloodied swamplands and usher in a new age of peace, which Nöth had never known before. Josephine was a small child when the final battle was won, and she was raised by the haunted heroes of it.

 

Foliage grew where soldiers’ heavy foot marches had kept it from doing so for hundreds of years. In the scars of the old, new life allowed the world’s broken people to finally hope and dream within the promise of an era in which the last of the gods were dead and the last of the demons were the sparse and weakened shadows of what they had once been. Josephine found respite with what survived of her family on an idyllic farm. There, she tended to the animals while her brothers worked the fields.

 

Their generation did not understand the same fear that that of their parents did, so Josephine was patient when her disabled father set a barn aflame for the sighting of one frail demon, a remnant of the great evil that had once been. She even humored her tense mother when she stockpiled food, clothes, and weaponry only to then insist upon the development of what defensive devices were inherent in magic and required no great material without the soul.

 

The gods were blamed for the long war, and the worship of any divine was thought to be such a dangerous offense that some of the battle-scarred men would kill their own brothers if they witnessed the practice of a whispered prayer. Yet cults existed within the realm, and there were those who attempted to raise the odd god or, more commonly, heal the one they claimed had only ever been maimed but never killed. Some of the cults insisted Nöth’s peace was the work of an ailing god, still to be saved from death’s grip.

 

Josephine did not believe nor truly worship… but just in case, she offered wordless prayers and gratitude to the sky at night until the zealots brought a burlap sack over her head and placed a wicked blade against her throat to bleed her out for their god. There was a split second that she believed as they did, for she felt no pain. But their sacrifice was stolen from the blade and from the world. Josephine awoke in Sanctuary, initially believing herself to have died.