Venara Scaramanga the Sounder of the Horn of Fate

PK Wins

Role

Chapter 3

Alignment- At a young age, Venara's body began to develop to the shape of a
woman. Her body was desired by ravenous men and suffered great abuse.
Because of this, her innocence was stolen along with her ability to bear a
child. Broken, beaten, and cold to the world she despised men, especially
priests of the light. She would use her looks to trick the weak minded and
make them her victims whenever possible. Stories of the sirens luring seamen
to their death in the deep water would make her laugh with glee.

Disposition - She laughs to keep the pain away and give her life. By finding
humor in her tired, cold world she maintains her sanity. To her, men and
their desires are a joke; they are all the same. She is fully aware of a
man's primal nature to procreate so she will feed on their desires and use
them to do her bidding, like the female praying mantis. However, she will
kill not for sustenance or habit, but because she wants them dead to prove
their weakness to her lord. She will become the temptress siren, accepting
her natural gifts, and destroy the weak. In her great tragedy she would
become the comedic bard, cackling madly to the lament of her foes.

Religion - The teaching of Scarabeaus has found her in whispers and rumor,
but of what she knows at this young age, it is an ideal where absolute truth
empowers. To be pure from lesser desires, to bow to no man, and to be self
sufficient is a life she seeks. To be free from mediocrity and embrace her
will, becoming the truth of her Lord Scarabaeus to take her to the path of
purity, and destruction.

Cabal - Following her Lord, she aims to please the undead master, a being
beyond the desires of the flesh who has walked as bone and knowledge to
vanquish the light, ridding Thera of the blind and meek. Venara will find
her place in the temple, strengthening her faith, embracing his truth, and
appeasing the Lich Lord to one day allow her to lead as either Eye, Voice, or
Flame when ready. To accomplish this she will cut the weak from Thera and
smother out the light.

Role

Chapter 2

She released her grip from his neck and collapsed backwards, releasing what
little contents were in her stomach in a fit of gagging and tears. It was
over. Flooded with emotion, she wept for a time and cleaned the refuse from
her hands. Vengeance was exhausting. She moved to the door and stepped
outside only to fall to her knees. Civilization was nowhere to be seen, but
it did not matter. Fresh air and freedom lay beneath her, and that was better
than the fat, hairy old priest by many leagues.

He had taken her from the orphanage when she was six. In a month she would be
sixteen. At that young age, her body developed rapidly, giving her a more
womanly shape which brought on much of the wrong type of attention for a
child. The priest used his clout to purchase the child with promises to give
her a new home, but instead kept her as his sex slave in the back hills of
Aldervari away from prying eyes. Fate had not been kind to Venara, she didn't
even know her real name. Venara was word the priest called her and after ten
years of torment she simply forgot her name.

She looked up to see a crescent moon above her and scanned her surroundings.
The dim light from a single candle in the shed flickered and she stood up to
retrieve it. Stepping over the abomination, she grabbed it the candle off a
small table and stopped to look at her tiny bed. She put a hand on the wooden
bedpost and felt the grain and texture of it one last time. Jerking her head
up as if suddenly realizing something she produced a small wooden sliver from
the edge of the post. The wood had a very sharp point but overall it was
very dull. She lifted her tunic and revealed hundreds of tiny red lines she
had scratched into her flesh. One for each day she spent in this twisted
prison. Bringing the wooden sliver to her pelvic bone she pressed, drawing a
small bead of fresh blood. The pain was something she relished and she knew
she was alive and that this would be her last mark. In time the scars might
fade, but she would not be able hide the real damage done within. She would
never be the same.

Role

Chapter 1

A latch swings away from the door and the hinge creaked loudly in the quiet
night. The sound ran a shiver up Venara's spine and suddenly her throat felt
very dry. 'Is tonight de night?' she thought to herself. Her hand begins to
tremble nervously and she held back tears just thinking about what is to
come. 'Use the fear' she internalizes. Her hand became still.

"Allo me pretty! Expecting me were yeh?' said the robed man with a sensible
chuckle to himself. The priest began lifting his robe over his head, and at
the precise moment, Venara kicked her rolled bedding towards his feet.

"Wha' da.." says the man caught in surprise, and he stumbles, loses his
balance and Venara directs his momentum to a bucket of what looked like thick
mud near the corner of the room. The priest tried to raise his hands before
him, but caught in the robe, he falls face first into the bucket. Flies
scattered and Venara jumped onto his back, wrapping her legs around his
torso. She held his head into the bucket and he shrieked in pain and anguish.
The bucket smelled foul and some of the liquid splashed onto her exposed
legs. Venara held his head in the pool and the man, gasping for air,
aspirated the substance. Slowly the sludge enveloped the back of his head
and over her hands as she held him by the neck and ears with a death grip.
Sounds of wrenching, coughing, and struggling filled the small shed, but
Venara kept her composure through the ordeal and soon his flailing began to
slacken. It was working. Life was beginning to leave the man.

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