“You do not need to be a cleric to bring light into the world.”
A Mage follower of Isis npc, suitable for use in any fantasy campaign with magic and gods of light.
(reposted with permission from Strolen’s Citadel)
Kisanth is far from what most would consider a pretty girl, the first thing most onlookers notice is her missing left eye and scarred temple marring otherwise graceful features. This unexpected first impression is compounded by the tragic realization she was once breathtakingly beautiful.
At 5’4″ and 112lbs she looks much like any other peasant girl, with a long streak of blond hair trailing down over her left cheek and partially concealing her features.
Usually clothed in a mid thigh length dark blue dress, thigh high tan leather boots and dark brown fur cloak, her manner is somewhat quiet and observant; although she is unafraid of speaking her mind and providing insight when she feels a need.
At her side walks her faithful companion, a large black wolf with piercing blue eyes the color of the summer sky; she calls by the unexpected name Lover. Though dark furred and intimidating, the animal has been seen to display great gentleness with Kisanth and those she chooses to travel with.
Kisanth grew up in a small village, her mother a herb collector, and her father an undertaker and gravedigger. During her early years she was told by other children her mother and father had never wanted her, but was bound by law to care for the child they had given birth to.
Despite the cold detachment her parents treated her with, she was well taken care of by parents that seemed to never be short of coin, even going so far as to apprentice her as a scribe at the local temple to learn the basics of reading and writing. Although surprised at the wealth of her family, she never deeply pondered why they were better off than most of the other townsfolk.
It wasn’t until she turned fourteen and was out walking one night that she noticed a light on within the burial shed and quietly crept closer for a look. Inside she saw her father stripping the bodies naked and piling the clothing and jewelry off to the side, where she realized he must sell it. Shocked that her father was robbing the bodies of the dead, Kisanth headed back to bed thinking about what to do.
The next morning while she was going to the store on an errand, Kisanth noticed a dress for sale in a traveling merchant’s wagon that she immediately recognized as the one her father had taken off one of the corpses the night before. Being unable to remain silent any longer Kisanth hurried to tell her mother, finding her in the forest, collecting herbs. After speaking to her mother of the transgression she had witnessed, she was shocked that her mother outright refused to do anything; reminding Kisanth that the villagers would at the very least run all of them out of town if not tar and feather them as well.
After calling her mother a coward her mother furiously struck Kisanth several times across the face with her walking stick, sending her running to the Temple of Isis near the town center, where she prayed to the goddess for direction.
Shortly after she began worshipping at the altar Kisanth heard a commotion outside and listened at the door. The husband of the recently deceased woman had recognized his dead wife’s dress for sale from the merchants wagon because of a blackberry stain on the hem, and the town had learned of the desecration of their loved ones, and planned on lynching both of her parents.
At that moment she heard her mom assuring them it was a misunderstanding, and trying in vain to calm the people.
Appalled at her mothers lack of conviction, Kisanth ran out and started to tell them the whole story, at which point her mother shoved her down the steps, the sharp metal spike at the bottom of the hand rail gouging a bloody furrow across her left temple before tearing into her eye socket.
As she lay there screaming in pain, clutching the agonizing wound, her mother pointed to her daughters bruised and battered face calling for silence from the crowd. With barely a trace of sorrow in her voice, her mother loudly proclaimed that her daughter was the one robbing the dead; and she had found out this morning and beat her as punishment.
As the crowd hauled Kisanth to her feet her mother told them she was going inside to pray to Isis for forgiveness for her daughters’ sins and to do with her as they pleased. Seconds later the townsfolk heard a loud crash from inside the church, being easily able to glimpse through the open doors the statue of Isis had fallen upon her mother, killing her horribly.
During the confusion, Kisanth escaped into the near by woods, running headlong into the river where she quickly succumbed to the current; weak from blood loss and praying to the goddess for help.
While unconscious she had a vision of a forest and the goddess kneeling before her and kissing her on the head, before leading her through the woods to an abandoned tower. As she stood before the squat stone structure she heard the goddess’s soft voice, “You do not need to be a cleric to bring light into the world my child.”
Kisanth awoke the next morning to find herself laying face down on the river bank, the agony of her wounds abated. Setting up she recognized the forest she was in as the one from the vision. Having little other guidance she followed her dream to the old tower, discovering not only a crude home long abandoned, but many ancient books inside, some of magic, others holy books of Isis herself.
Realizing this place could be her home, Kisanth remained there, practicing the ways of magic and worshiping Isis until nearly a year later, when on a frigid winter evening her studies were interrupted by a mournful howling from outside.
Fearing the scent of her cook fire had drawn a mob of starving mongrels to her door, Kisanth prepared herself with the lone offensive spell she knew, and stepped into the knee high snow. What greeted her was an unexpected sight, a wolf cub huddled next to its dying mother. Bloody foam gathered about her jaws and a steaming crimson trail of bluish purple entrails vanishing into the snow behind her from a ragged antler wound to her abdomen.
As Kisanth stood staring in surprise the young pup once again howled pitifully, the mothers’ eyes glazing over in the cold sheen of death. Overcome with memories of her own sudden abandonment to the harsh wilds, Kisanth took pity on the 8 month old pup wrapping it in a blanket and placing his shivering form next to the fire while she disposed of his mothers’ body in the icy waters of the nearby river.
During the harsh winter she cared for the black furred beast she came to call Lover, finding him a welcome companion amidst the solitude of the tower and lonely woods. That spring, Kisanths’ magical knowledge having grown considerably, she bonded with the loyal canine in a traditional familiar summoning ceremony, knowing in her heart he was the perfect match for her.
Four years later, having learned all she could from the manuscripts within the tower, Kisanth left to spread the teachings of Isis and seek her place among a people whom she had all but forgotten.
Her short dress, boots, dark fur cloak, and a simple 5’ long wooden branch she has hand carved with many runes and glyphs to be her mages staff are the only items of value.
When traveling she keeps most of her possessions in a small leather backpack and her mages tome concealed under her soft cloak.
The trauma of her teenage years has left Kisanth distrustful of large crowds, knowing all too well the fury of angered townsfolk.
Having lived alone for so many years, Kisanth has also lost much of her social skills and grace, now speaking very plain and direct when she feels a need. If she believes someone’s course of action is folly, or their over sized hat makes them look silly, she will readily come right out and tell them without any forethought to their feelings or social status.
Another side effect of her prolonged seclusion deep in the wilderness, Kisanth has bonded closely with her Familiar, often talking to him for hours on end about wizardly matters, as well as readily sharing her meals and bed with him without any hesitation. In her mind he is her only true friend and companion, and regularly treats him as one would their closest mate.
Many people are deeply shocked upon first seeing her share supper with her familiar or hearing her calling him by his name Lover, let alone listening to her one sided conversations with him about faith, magic, and their place in peoples lives.
Although she may seem a bit uncivilized, she will readily go out of her way to aid those in need with her magic, and eagerly share with them the tenants of her faith. However she is quick to point out while she may be a devout follower of Isis, she is no cleric, and her skills while of a different nature, are none the less dedicated to the light.
Currently she is traveling the land looking for a place her influence and talents are needed, and is willing to join up with nearly anyone that shows her and her familiar the respect she feels they both deserve.
Market Place Brawl
Kisanths’ direct and truthful nature has offended local merchant Harathgor with her honest opinion of the quality of his leather goods, the heated argument quickly fanning out to near by market patrons who had always found his prices steep and manner too gruff for their liking.
Now as things begin to turn violent Kisanth has become desperate for an escape route for herself and Lover, fearing a repetition of events from her distant past. If a friendly group was to help her out of this unfortunate predicament they may find themselves with a pair of unusual, and very grateful traveling companions willing to lend their magical expertise to their cause.
Two Halves of a Whole
When a group of shady looking brigands, dragging a huge unconscious black wolf meet up with the heroes nothing much seems out of the ordinary. Proudly they recount how they caught the beast in one of their snares and stunned it with their slings, boasting of how much money the local arena will pay for such a creature.
The conversation is ended somewhat abruptly; as a young blonde woman bursts from the brambles nearby, demanding they release her companion at once. Defusing the situation without violence could prove challenging as Kisanth has little patience with the kidnappers of her familiar.
By the Fireside
A young blond woman in a short blue dress lounging next to the fire in any tavern is sure to draw attention, even more so if she is snuggled romantically with a large black wolf that cautiously monitors patrons with ice blue eyes.
Even the wary but curious inn keeper knows little of this mysterious traveler and her furred shadow, and is willing to offer anyone brave enough to find out more a fine discount on their evenings lodgings.
A Matter of Ingredients
While visiting the local alchemist (or herboligist) the group of heroes over hears a young woman discussing with a wolf about the best way to acquire a few somatic components she needs for a magical ritual.
Upon noticing their attention she boldly asks them if they can aid her in gathering the few missing ingredients from the forest near by for a handful of coins, off handedly mentioning a group of brigands rumored to be in the area that make the task to difficult for her and Lover to gather alone.