Name: Sister Sacha, Level 1 Acolyte
Class: Priest Trainee -> Sister (Priest) ->
Character Skill: Charisma (Free): Allies gain a 10 point bonus to Hit and Evasion if they are within 3 spaces of Sacha.
Affinity:
Class Skill: Divine Coincidence: Gain +10 to evasion
Personal Fault: Sinful Sister: If Sacha is in combat with a Female enemy she takes a -10 to Hit and Evasion.Personal Acolyte Skill: Theft of Humanity: If an allied unit is reduced to 0hp Sacha gains 5hp./Personal Sister Skill: Defiant Healer[b/]: If Sacha took damage the previous round she grants an additional +2 health to her heal targets.//Personal Skill: UnavailablePreferred Stats: RES and LUC
Weapon Proficiencies: Staff (E)
Level: 1
Total Level: 1
Progression Spent: 330/330
Current Stats:
HP: 16 (100%) // STR: 2 (0%) // MAG: 5 (70%)
SKI: 2 (10%) // CON: 5 // AID: 4
LUC: 6 (20%) // DEF: 1 (40%) // RES: 8 (70%)
SPD: 6 (20%) // MOV: 5
Levels Gained: 0
Starting Stats
HP: 16 // STR: 2 // MAG: 3+2
SKI: 1 // CON: 3 // AID: 2
LUC: 4 // DEF: 1 // RES: 6+2
SPD: 5 // MOV: 4
Bio: Sacha was never certain whether ‘The Gods’ truly existed. There were plenty of stories about them. Many people dedicated their lives to them. But, for her, that’s all they were. Stories and fools who wanted so desperately to avoid accepting the world for what it was that they’d throw away their rationality in pursuit of a fable.
Such a life wasn’t for Sacha. Whatever the truth or the story of the gods she owed allegiance only to one person: Herself. She travelled from town to town searching for the big score. Her favored ‘trick’ tended to involve passing herself off as a member of the clergy. She eventually grew skilled enough in the use of staves that some people even believed it. As time passed she managed to grow a small following of people dedicated to their ‘prophet’. It was then that she noticed the Dark Sign upon her left wrist.
So many years and dedicated hours of practice to grow her cult and this is what it led to. The second her mark was discovered she would be dead [if she weren’t already. She was unaware of how these things truly worked]. Panicked at the thought of her comparatively lavish lifestyle being ripped away from her she took to wearing a string of beads around her wrist to hide the mark. This worked for a short while only as one morning, in a moment of forgetfulness, she left her wrist exposed.
It wasn’t long after she started preaching from the pulpit before the members of her congregation noticed the mark. Anger and outrage overflowed. Their beloved prophet a filthy undead. None can trust an undead, after all, and who knows how many lies she had told them over the years. They had no idea how right they were about her.
In a panic she attempted to convince them to stay. Their prophet was still a holy woman. She had healed the sick [at a charge], wove prophecies that came true [manipulation], and brought their wives and daughters spiritual fulfillment [sexual encounters]. But they would have none of her lies any longer as an undead cannot be trusted.
As the congregation strode from the small building they hurled insults over their shoulder. Sacha’s well hidden rage at the unfairness of the world built, quickly, to a boil. By the time the group reached the bottom of the staircase her fury reached its peak. With a shout she hurled a small tome of scriptures at them. Unfortunately, in her rage, she put far too much force into it and ended up tumbling down the stairs breaking her neck upon impact.
Some time later she came back to consciousness at the bottom of the stairs. The seclusion her cult used to protect themselves appeared to have worked in her favor one last time. She lay as she died for several hours as she attempted to puzzle together what to do next. When the sun finally rose her eyes fell upon the book of scriptures.
The gods created the world and everything in it. The stories told of that the plague started after the gods sealed their mighty kingdom away from mortals. It was the Monarchs fault that the plague started. It had to be. It was their fault that all her hard work was to be ignored. It was their fault that the great Prophetess would go down in history as a mindless zombie. Any doubts Sacha had about the nature of the gods immediately ceased. They were real. They were vengeful. They were arrogant. They were evil.
She swore that she would find them and make them pay for the suffering they caused. They would pay for the suffering they wrought upon the world. They would pay within the great halls of Truskhang if it was the last thing she ever did.