Clahier Malaika the Caller of Righteousness Incarnate, Honored Elder of the Fortress

Role

Chapter 11

Taking a short respite from her duties, Clahier set back and thought about
the life she has led, and the life she had yet to live. As she always did
when she thought about such things, her mind went to the Mist-Covered Altar,
and the Words of Wisdom and Faith written there. The words themselves were of
course of great importance, but when thinking of her own life, it was the
names written there that brought both joy and sadness to her. Mochodin,
Quelryon, Vallinane, Tairneach, Eachainn, Vozmuir. All of them were names she
would never forget, but over the long years, at times she could hardly
remember their faces.

She wondered, would anyone remember her face when she was gone? Would the
words of hers written here on the Altar be all that she leaves? How many had
she kept at an arms distance simply to try to avoid the pain of losing them
as well?

These were all questions that she posed to herself from time to time, and she
wasn't sure there was even really an answer to be found for them. But this
day, she decided that it was time for a change, even if a small one.

She decided then to try to start building on her legacy through the words
that she knew would be left behind. The Words of Wisdom and Faith shouldn't
be only written for some to read for themselves, they should be quoted, and
spread to those that would not know them otherwise. And perhaps if she were
the one speaking the words, maybe in time the faces of those that said them
would come back to her as well before she met them again in the afterlife.

Role

Chapter 10

There was also still the possibility of something completely unexpected, the
thought of which caused the blade of grass to spin even faster. In her
thoughts, she was startled by a racket above her in the trees. Spinning
around thinking it could be the Chancellor shaped like a falcon, she gasp as
she realized it was her owl familiar, which she had called to rejoin her some
time back. The owl was typically a silent as the wind, but it was pretty
clear that they were struggling as they flew awkwardly, broad wings catching
branches instead of slipping through them gracefully. Finally making it to a
large branch, the owl took a perch there and folded one wing neatly by it's
side, while the other hung limply. "Oh my, you are hurt rather badly again."
Releasing the owl, it disappeared from the tree in a blink and then she
called it again so it would be closed to her, where she could get a better
look. The wing was only the most obvious of its injuries, and it was clear on
closer examination that the owl was very close to death in the short
skirmish it has been in. Grimacing at the sight, she asked the owl mentally
to take some rest so that it could have some time to recover from it's
wounds. She stood up and took a few paces a way, wringing her hands as a
troubling thought returned to her mind. Valiant and brave as her owl was, she
feared for them. They seemed to be more and more exposed with the ferocity
that her enemies now met them with in combat, and she was not sure they could
stand up to it much longer. She had felt the toll on her own body in the
several times that the owl had not been able to wing it's way to safety, and
with the falcons and condors in the skies, she feared it would only grow
worse. Resigning herself to the unwelcome, but necessary conclusion, she
said her thoughts aloud as if to convince herself of what had to be done. "As
strong a heart as they have, the owl must retire from harms way. They will
watch over the Fortress, and take to the skies at times, but they will no
longer expose themselves to those that would do them harm." Hearing her words
fade into the trees around her, she felt sad for the owl knowing she could
not allow them to fight any longer, but she knew that it must be so.

Thoughts on a crossroads put behind her for a time, she set out for the
nearby road planning to turn her now forlorn mood on the enemies of the
Light.

Role

Chapter 9

Sitting in a small grove of trees, Clahier twirled a long blade of grass in
her fingers, thinking. She felt she was at a point in her life that some sort
of a crossroads was coming, and having spoken with her Lady Baerinika on it,
she felt even strong that this was the case. In Baerinika's case, the change
was said to have come quiet unexpectedly, and Clahier expected that is the
case for most people. But she was not one to sit and wait for things to
happen and she couldn't help but think it over and try to plan, even if it
would turn out to be unexpected.

For Baerinika, although she didn't say it outright, the change in her life
appeared to be based on romance. The idea of this for Clahier was out of the
question, as she had no interest in any such relations for herself. But out
of great respect she tried not to scoff outright at such a notion.

Clahier's crossroads, she expected, would come from a few possible sources.
The Fortress was an obvious possibility, and though she again tried to avoid
speaking of the subject, (especially regarding Vallinane since she knew how
it would affect Baerinika when the time comes now) she knew the Marshall and
Captain were both quite elderly and could not live forever. When either, or
both of them passed away, there would be a void in the leadership of the
Fortress that she could perhaps help fill. Either directly, if she was asked,
or just by her presence and words supporting whomever took their place.

The art of conjuration itself was also something that she thought might lead
her to something life changing. She didn't see her as a teacher like Muir was
to her and others of their craft. But she didn't see even more study on her
own as being out of the question. But beyond seeking out new knowledge, she
wasn't sure that could be what might be coming for her, since she didn't see
herself ever embracing it to the point of being a crossroads for her, as it
would take too much time from her life as a Maran.

Something she thought was very plausible, was what she had heard of Lord
Liam, who had recently revealed himself. Baerinika has given her blessing
already to approach Liam regarding his efforts to restore the Golden
Grimoire, and though she knew little of it so far and had not been able to
meet with him, she could see how this could lead to something quite life
changing.

Role

Chapter 8

*This sheet of parchment is a copy of the standard Paladin code, often seen
posted near Paladin Guildhalls. There is writing all over it with a neat
hand, but with the amount of crossing out of words and entire lines it is
somewhat difficult to read.*
1. Live to be the guiding light for all to follow and look towards. Your
loyalty to your beliefs must be as solid as the God that teaches them.
2. Your belongings are what they are. Tools for you to do what you are meant
for, which will come and go.
3. Think and control your actions before action. Planning and preparation is
most easily done before blood is shed.
4. Never abandon your friends, allies or your beliefs. Fight with courage,
and if you must you will die. Betrayal and cowering in fear is for your
enemies.
5. Fight and exact justice.
6. Provide example for all, you shall risk your own life to fight the wicked,
and when able aid others do to the same.
7. Speech and actions define you, do not let them betray who you are.
8. Your words are tools as well. Use them wisely.
9. Laws of the land come with consequences. Avoid crossing the lines set so
that you do not make yourself target to those that you risk yourself to
protect.
10. Do not become like those you fight. Respect, Integrity, Valor.
11. Do not tolerate those with the taint of evil. If combating them is not an
option, then they are nothing to you but someone to scout for others.
12. Respect those that earn it. Either by their nature, or by earning it.

Role

Chapter 7

My plan it to try to make Clahier as similar as I can to what an archangel in
a mortal body might be. She will be a woman of few words, preferring action
and observation for the most part and keeping her thoughts to herself unless
she thinks they are needed. Depending on the familiar she gets, she might let
the familiar do a lot of talking for her.

She is chaotic, but is well aware of the consequences of her actions. She
will avoid breaking the laws, not out of respect for the laws themselves, but
for the people that enforce them.

She will have no tolerance for evil, to a point as she grows more confident
that she will not tolerate the touch of evil on anything that is worn by
those that are near her. She will hold no love for those that are not of the
light, and although she will not see a reason to strike neutrals unprovoked
or condone it happening, she will have no reservations in striking back at
those that harm herself or those of the light.

With her affinity for angels, she will seek to be a squire with the Fortress
early, and also will seek out Baerinika with hopes to be one of her
followers.

Role

Chapter 6

There were permanent affects from how Clahier was born. The whiteness on her
lips proved to never fade away, and with the stresses of how she was born,
she would always be very small in size. Muir was an old man to begin with,
and he knew that age would take him sooner than later, and he wanted to make
sure that Clahier was prepared for when the day came. Teaching her what he
knew best, conjuration, he was glad that she appeared to have a gift for it,
and learned the basics of the art well. It was during his teachings that he
learned of another long lasting affect of of her birth. He was showing her
some of the more obscure conjurations and told her to watch as he conjured a
smoke mephit as a lead in to explaining what he knew of them as he had with
various other lessons. But this time, when he turned away from the mephit, he
found Clahier had moved from her seat nearby and was now standing right in
front of him. Her slap was much stronger than he expected she could be
capable of at her age of just thirteen, but it left his ears ringing and he
stumbled back into his chair wondering what had come over her. Her blue eyes
were narrowed with outrage and she had one finger pointing at the mephit.
Keeping her eyes locked on Muir for a few moments, then the girl who rarely
spoke said quietly "Never again." When she turned and left, Muir clearly
recalled the look the archangel gave him years earlier, and he never touched
the negative planes again.

After the mephit calling, Muir paid more attention to more than just
Clahier's conjuration studies, and began to teach her what he could of what
might draw her once she was on her own, starting with organization such as
the Fortress of Light, which he thought might interest her, and also gave her
some writings that spoke of several religious groups that could also appeal
to what he saw more and more in her. The closer he looked, the more he saw
that the archangel that looked over her when her mother died left something of
itself with her, and she saw the world in ways that must be similar to what
they saw on this plane. He was frightened for her, because he saw a life of
hardship if that was where her life would lead her, but he knew what he was
showing her now would help her to have the heart to stand up to face it.

Role

Chapter 5

As foreign as the notion of having a daughter could be to Muir, he fell into
the life easily enough after that day. He felt a connection to the babe
already, having known her mother for years after she begged a job of him once
in his travels, and he also felt that failing to meet the expectations of
that archangel would not be a wise thing to allow to happen. There was also
the fact that he was fascinated by the idea of Clahier's birth, and he had
spent endless hours trying to think of how her birth could have happened, but
as the years passed he gave up the study of how it all happened, and was
simply glad that he had the quiet little girl for company.

Role

Chapter 4

The scene in the laboratory that Muir was met when when he returned home was
one he could hardly comprehend. It took him several minutes of searching
before he checked there, and he stood there in shock for a time when he did
and found his young housemaid. The diluted blood of the pre-term labor was
nearly dried by then and the body of young woman that had cared for the needs
of his household for several years now stared back at him with lifeless eyes.
The thaumaturgic circle that he had been working on was completely destroyed
and he noticed a strange bundle near the edge what remained of it on a portion
of the floor unstained by the blood. Taking an unsure step into the room, he
yelped in surprise to see an archangel glide closer to the center of the room,
placing itself between him and the circle. His years of training told him at
a glance that the angel was straining to keep itself in the prime plane, and
his breath caught as he realized this meant that the angel would be unbound,
and thus quite dangerous. Poised to flee, or perhaps to call a banishment
spell to his lips, he was unsure of himself in his state of panic, he was
surprised to see something out of sorts in this archangel, and there had been
many he had called through the many years. This one was looking at him,
weighing him, judging him. Not in the way that he had seen before in the
scant moments before they sprang to attack some loathsome enemy, but in a way
that was more akin to what he imagined a god would look like before sending
one of their devout on a crusade of some sort.

The seconds passed like centuries, and apparently the archangel decided it
had found whatever it was looking for in Muir, because it nodded its head
once in the direction of the circle, and then dissipated a moment later,
leaving the prime plane in a flash. Looking where the angel indicated before
it parted, he saw the gold colored cloth bundle again and went to take a
closer look. There he found that it was an extremely small baby girl,
swaddled in the golden battle cloak of an archangel. She was sleeping but
appeared to be healthy despite her small size, with bright pink cheeks and
blond hair. The only oddity that he noticed was the baby's lips, which were
discolored in a way that he could only compare to what it would look like if
someone were kissed by someone that had white powdered their lips.

Role

Chapter 3

Standing in the center of the circle as the light faded, an archangel took in
the room. It's stance could be described as nothing if not deadly.

The shield glowing on its arm was raised expecting an attack, and sword
raised ready to strike. Seeing nothing, the angel paused for a moment, and
slowly lowered the sword and shield, the simple motion seeming out of
character, and it looked down on the nearby form of the freshly expired
corpse of the pregnant woman. Turning its head quizzically, the angel stared
at the woman for some time, more specifically at the swell of her stomach and
the small baby within her that was quickly dying as well without its mother
to sustain it. The sword and shield vanished into a radiant mist as the angel
let go of them, and it took a step closer as if looking closer at the baby
concealed within the flesh and bone that was no longer a living being.
Speaking to itself in the tongue of the celestial it said "Even with the best
at the woman for some time, more specifically at the swell of her stomach and
the small baby within her that was quickly dying as well without its mother
to sustain it. The sword and shield vanished into a radiant mist as the angel
let go of them, and it took a step closer as if looking closer at the baby
concealed within the flesh and bone that was no longer a living being.
Speaking to itself in the tongue of the celestial it said "Even with the best
of these mortals on this plane, they are so surrounded by evil that I can
often scarcely tell them apart. But here, for the first time I think, there
is nothing but pureness in one of them. " Bending down, the angel reached out
its arms toward, and then into the woman, the glowing arms passing through
the flesh of the corpse like it was not there, to touch the unborn baby
within. The baby's tiny form began to glow like the angel itself, and then
was no longer held back by the body around it, becoming insubstantial as it
was lifted free of the womb that had now become a coffin. On the brink of
death, the angel held the baby before it and leaned close, gently kissing the
infant's lips and breathing life back into her.

Role

Chapter 2

If anyone would have been in the laboratory with her, it would have been a
painful thing to watch as Clahier's mother struggled with the premature
childbirth, and they would have had to have been without a soul to have left
her to go through it alone as she did. Her first instinct was to go for help
when the first contraction ended, but she was alone in the middle of nowhere,
and the man she worked for was not going to be back for many hours, so she
said a silent prayer to the gods that the lone contraction would not be
followed by another, and she gingerly shuffled across the room, trying to get
to somewhere she could lie down. The second contraction took her just as she
was skirting the edge of an intricate circle that dominated the center of the
lab.

Unable to rise again, the mother struggled with her labor that refused to
subside, but the baby was not positioned within her to be delivered yet, and
there was never any hope for either of them in such a state. As she went
unconscious for the final time, she dimly noted that as the water and blood
that was slowly spreading around her mingled with the strange oily ink that
made up the circle around her, the circle itself started to glow brightly.
But whatever was happening with the circle, it was too late for her and she
died as the glow of the circle quickly spread and a flash of bright light
overtook the room.

Role

Chapter 1

For Clahier, life itself did not come easily. Her mother was indentured to an
aging conjurer of some renown, and she served him as his only housemaid in
his home and laboratory in the remote hills northeast of Voralia. Her birth
came unexpectedly, and far before the time it should have.

At the time, her mother was alone in the laboratory, cleaning in the
summoning chamber. She had always been cautious going in there, especially
alone, fearful of all the unknown devices and sigils carved into the floor or
created with various inks or powders. But in time she grew accustomed to the
strange things in the room, and with the gained comfort the door opened to
carelessness.

Cleaning in a rush, her mother wanted to be done with the daily chores so
that she could have the day to herself. She was long enough with child that
she had the gambit of aches and pains associated with childbearing, and she
wanted nothing more than to sit in a comfortable chair with her feet up and
something hot to drink. She was nearly done when the handle of her broom
caught a slender rod of some sort on the table behind her, sending it rolling
to the edge of the table. Instinctively, the expectant mother's hand darted
out and caught the rod as it fell off the edge of the table, and she found
herself held rigid for an instant in some sort of an electrical shock. It was
brief, but left her breathless and panting but she quickly set the rod back
on the table with a sigh of relief that nothing was broken. But as she
straightened from the table a contraction twisted her stomach into knots and
she doubled over in pain and crumpled to the cold floor.

Immortal Comments

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