Clissa the Spectre, Imperial Dread Lady

Role

Chapter 8

The toymaker sighed in relief as he finished a doll that
resembled the Empress of Thera, Eoria. Strikingly lifelike,
the doll was dressed in an elegant robe emblazoned with the
Imperial Codex. It held in its' hand a beautiful, silver
harp encrusted with tiny, interlaced jewels found throughout
Thera. Fulfilling these intricate details through countless
hours of work served as his coping mechanism from the strife
of his lost spouse.

Only one could survive the childbirth. Clissa's mother had
chosen to die so that she could live. The toymaker resented
the decision and the product. He neglected Clissa, and worse
yet she knew why. As she grew, her need for attention led
her to do various things, none of which moved her father. He
remained steadfast in his lack of affection. But Clissa is
a beautiful girl and she knows it. Her boy peers showered her
with more than enough attention to compensate. However, the
torture within her remained and needed to come out. Clissa
found her way to the Necromancy Guild for this reason.

Role

Chapter 7

The toymaker yawned from exhaustion as he finished a doll that resembled
the Marshall of the Fortress, Dungard. Strikingly lifelike, the doll
wielded two large axes that nearly blinded its' beholder by a shimmering
white light. The doll, short and stocky like the typical dwarf, was
outfitted in a thick metallic armor which beared the symbol of the Phoenix
on the chest plate. Having finished the special request from Princess
Renee of Aldevari, he awaited, as the note said, the princess' bodyguard.

Clissa had patiently watched from the back of the shop, invisible to the
naked eye. The time had come. Uttering the prelude to torture, she sent
her father, the toymaker, into a magical slumber. Emotionless, she crept
over and began her incantations of torture. The thrill of power quenched
her thirst for attention. Wailing and moaning, the toymaker lay in fetal
position, shivering from a cold sweat.

Unsheathing the brass dragon's talon, Clissa stabbed her father to death.
A bloody delight, she couldn't help but find correlation between a need
for attention and the power to kill. Leaving the limp body behind the
counter, she glanced at the note that had been left under the door of the
shop that morning. Nodding to herself in approval, she decided to compose
another note, this one would explain why the toymaker decided to take his
own life.

Role

Chapter 6

Attaining power for the sake of itself is meaningless. The nurturing
of a female in Clissa causes a dynamic with her chosen profession. The
torture and murder of her father exemplifies this dynamic. The sinister
side of Clissa surely derived pleasure from exacting vengeance upon him
for years of neglect. But the nurturing, female side of her did it to
put him out of his misery. Having witnessed his sorrow for many years,
killing him relieved his pain. But make no mistake, she doesn't have
multiple personalities or a merciful soul. However, she IS human and
capable of showing some positive emotion.

Clissa swore the bloodoath becaus she believes the path to power lay
through ascension within Empire. But she does not view each echelon
as mere stepping stones. The tenants of Imperial Law have struck deep
within her, the philosophy grabbing her psyche. Ultimately, attaining
power for Clissa will give her the attention she has always wanted and
consequently happiness.

But another form of happiness offers its' chance to her now. Since she
was a child, the apparition of her mother often visits Clissa in her
dreams. It shares to her memories of happiness her parents shared.
Seeking this emotion, she has scribed a missive to Zridv, who looks to
court.

Role

Chapter 5

Cast down from the ranks in Empire, Clissa understood she had failed Keshuk's
assignment. The pushy Elite of the Black Sect that heard her swear the Oath,
had already assumed the seat of Dread Lord for all intensive purposes. The
demotion did not weather away at her will, she continued spreading the message
of Empire throughout Thera. When Keshuk's promotion to Dread Lord started to
become a reality, Clissa was forced to go into hiding.

She wouldn't be made Anathema in regards to anothers' insecurities. Spending
time in the dark city of Arkham under guise, she spent time studying the more
difficult incantations the Guild taught. When word reached her of Keshuks'
demise, Clissa decided it was time to return.

During her hiatus, Zridv had chosen Ophanelu. Slightly disappointed, Clissa's
priorities are dedicated elsewhere. First, she must be reinstated into the
Empire. The scar of her demotion still runs deep, evident by the way many in
the Empire speak to her. But she remembers the taste of power, and it's about
time to get it back.

Role

Chapter 4

Looking afar into the Open Plains, Clissa grimaced at the thornhearts and
spores afflicting her. Straining her eyes to take sight of Grecken so that
she could summon him to her, Clissa couldn't help but accept age had begun
to take its' toll. Many had become inquisitive about her plans to become,
but she had waved them off. Turning into the undead yielded power, but it
comes with a sacrifice. Self-image is important to Clissa, and becoming is
rather detrimental to ones' looks.

Clissa dedicated her life to Empire long, long ago. She swore the bloodoath
at a time when many were simply afraid. Despite her reinstatement, she draws
scorn from many others. Likely because of her profession, because Clissa has
tried to keep distance from the majority of Imperials. The scar of Keshuk
still runs deep.

Clissa has taken a liking to the gnome race. Jennil and Schlage are friends
to her. She enjoys their company. But in her pursuit to build a network of
gnomes to do her bidding, she does not find any comfort in the Nexus. That
is likely the influence of the Empress, who deplores defenders of her Key.
Unfortunately, Eoria hasn't been as warm as she once was to Clissa, but she
is comforted to Zoder's promotion to Dread Lord.

Zoder is a symbol to Clissa's youth, where they engaged in the kobold caves
prior to his swearing the bloodoath. In terms of being warm, he has taken
the place of Eoria, showing her much of Thera. Losing the eye of Zridv was
the work of fate, because she feels something for Zoder. Likely left just
as that, at least she doesn't have to feel guilty about spending much time
with another man.

Role

Chapter 3

Teleporting about the vastness in Thera to seek a higher understanding,
Clissa stumbled upon an oasis ironically right off the Eastern Road. She
had grown thirsty from the incantation, so she knelt down before the water.
Just as she was about to splash water over her face, she caught a sight
of...herself. The first wrinkle, the first damn wrinkle.

Turning forty demeaned Clissa. She isn't insane, Clissa understands how
Death works. Afterall, amidst using torture as a therapeudic technique,
she's learned a lot from the Guild of Necromancy. Reflecting upon her
past yields remorse, but not the type you'd think. She may acknowledge
the sanctity that is abused through her manipulation of the dark arts.
But she's ever so fervent of the necessity to bring Thera under the power
of Empire.

What she does have remorse is for the lack of accomplishment. Mid-life
crisis' tend to do that, to make one question if anything they've done
has had any significance. At this time, most fall to a familiar rhythm,
in fear change will cause loss. Few pioneer to paint a new canvas for
themself, a piece that will vindicate that remorse.

Clissa has always intended to seek out and speak with both the Crazy
Cleric of Arboria and the Conservator underneath the desert city of
Hamsah Mu'tazz. But until now, she wasn't sure if she could make the
sacrifice necessary to -become-. It was that first damn wrinkle.

Role

Chapter 2

Zoder's abrupt departure to the Eternal Abyss haunts Clissa. What was it
about the Dark Arts that would trigger the suicide of someone prestigious
as Dread Lord of Thera. With no word to her, no discernible signal, he
took his own life. Though disgruntled, Clissa has developed an appetite
for curiosity. Flawlessly traveling under the depths of Hamsah Mu'tazz,
Clissa lifted the mallet and sounded the brass gong, the very gong she
believes led to Dread Lord Zoder's insanity.

At first, the four tokens the Conservator demanded in order for him to
urge the Seed to grow seemed a daunting task. However, as time elapsed,
the journey throughout Thera has proved fruitful. Faraway places that
once were merely names to her, have revealed themselves under exploration.
The sense of achievement flows strongly right now for Clissa, pleasing
her Guildmaster nearly each time they discuss.

The Black Sect wanes in power. As the rightful heir to the seat of Dread
Lady, Clissa has already begun contemplating a strategy to strengthen the
Sect. Firmly believing that you can not cull the weak if there is noone
to cull, she intends to take a much more proactive approach in recruiting
the Dark Magicians of Thera.

It still seems like just yesterday Clissa turned the heads of every man
she encountered. But a recent trip to the High Tower of Sorcery reaffirmed
it wasn't yesterday. Staring for just a moment in the mirror, a flash
lasting no longer than a few seconds startled her. Wrapped in bandages,
all she could discern from the image were brown eyes, her brown eyes.

Role

Chapter 1

With the dawn steadily approaching, Clissa stood in the gust of fresh air
that she had never experienced. She knew today was going to be a big day.
49, and all the wiser, she was ascended to the seat of Dread Lady. The
wait made it all the sweeter, a sense of satisfaction that few can share.
The first conversation with a Lord of Asgaard was daunting and inspiring
at the same time.

Though Clissa had praised Lord Enlilth many times aloud and in private,
she never expected direct dialogue with Him. Hesistant and fearful, she
responded as best as she could. However, He inspired her to do two things.
First, her lifestyle that lacked spiritual guidance left a void that needs
to be filled. Second, the path to retaining power heads to the Conservator,
all four tokens in tow.

War Master Kostyan and High Priest Khrathtyn have both begun a campaign
for Emperor. They both offer attaining the tokens the Conservator has
demanded. Clissa, though salivating at sitting upon the Throne, would
support either if they can deliver. Whereas she was once confident with
the locations of the four tokens, Clissa has begun doubting the second
and third. Who would have thought the price of the Throne lay upon her
quest to "become".

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