Alysone the Savior of the Fallen, Avowed of Azorinne

Skill List

Role

Chapter 5

Alysone, fifteen years old, practiced her sword techniques on dummies in the
keep courtyard. She had been at it all day, but she had been instructed to
practice until her uncle came back from their raid on an undead stronghold. If
she was not practicing when he came back, she knew she would be in trouble. So
despite limbs aching, verging on numbness, she pushed through. She lost
herself in the movements, allowing her mind to block out the pain in her body,
focusing on each swing. Suddenly, she became aware of noise approaching the
gates.

Jorrill and his men were home! The gates swung open, and the company came
marching in. Alysone saw grim faces, battered armor. Over the backs of two of
the horses were bodies of men who had fallen. She learned that they had lost
three men in total, but one corpse could not be rescued from the clutches of
the undead. They had also lost five horses, a loss that was very dear to the
Knights whose resources were already spread very thin. The mood was dark,
nobody spoke as they stood in a rough circle gazing down at the prone bodies
of their fallen friends.

Alysone looked around at the men, and made a decision. She stepped forward,
and in her pure, beautiful voice began to sing a traditional Barovian song. It
was about the coming of the dawn after a battle that lasted through a dark
night. She closed her eyes and put all of her heart into it, despite her
uncle's usual disapproval of her devotion to music. Nobody said a word, and
her voice carried across the courtyard, filling it. She opened her eyes to see
the men looking at her and one-another with renewed life in their eyes. The
song was not the magic of bard-song, just a regular human connection. Its
power was undeniable.

Afterward, Jorrill came to Alysone and placed his bandaged and bleeding hand
on her slender shoulder. He looked at her seriously, saying nothing. Then he
nodded, his face transformed by a rare smile, and turned to walk away. He
never again admonished Alysone for her song. Alysone thought of this memory
now, as she sharpened her great claymore, and once again a song lifted into
the air from her lips.

Role

Chapter 4

The Knights of the Raven Sword allow only one initiate per year. In the lands
surrounding Barovia, these Knights are known as one of the few bastions of
hope in a dark land, those who stand up for the people against the undead. To
be initiated into the Knights of the Raven Sword was an honor few could dream
of, and a burden few would be strong enough to bear. It is a life-long
dedication to eradicate evil in the land, like other guilds of Paladins. But
this elite group of Paladins is especially concerned with ending the scourge
of the undead, and the greater undead in particular.

As a child trained by their leader, her uncle, it was always understood that
Alysone would be initiated into the order one day. But her day of initiation
was bittersweet. For though her uncle was present, he could not oversee the
granting of her Raven Sword Crest tabard. He lay atop an unlit pyre, for he
had fallen to a wight only that morning. Her initiation ritual was immediately
followed by the funeral service for Jorrill. The Knights gathered around the
pyre, their heads bowed.

As the flames consumed the once proud warrior, Alysone lifted her voice in
song. It rang as clear and true as it ever had, singing The Tale of the
Charging Brigade:

"For once upon a hill so dark, the lich did make his stand. The armies he had
made his mark spread evil 'cross the land. But in the time of fear and pain,
we gathered bow and blade. Our holy light did fall like rain, the charge of
our brigade." The song continued, as all present silently listened, moved by
the words and the emotion of Alysone's voice as she mourned her fallen Uncle,
their commander. The Raven Sword crest upon her tabard seemed to come alive in
the flickering light of the pyre.

Alysone had made a promise to her uncle. The undead had grown too bold, too
powerful for the Knights to fight alone any longer. She was to take their
traditions and seek out like-minded people to aid in the cause. She was to
seek The Holy Brigade of the Phoenix.

Role

Chapter 3

Alysone was woken by a clatter at the gate. She rolled out of bed instantly
onto all fours, grabbing the sword belt from beneath. In only moments, she was
making her way down the stairs, sword drawn. At sixteen years of age, she was
better trained than most of the young men who started service in the Barovian
Guard. Her senses were well honed, for an attack by the undead could happen at
any time. The noise had continued, some sort of commotion now in the inner
yard. But when she made her way out, she saw something entirely unexpected.

"Good, you are up," her Uncle Jorrill said. He was just securing a train of
horses, which had pulled in a small cart. Upon the cart was an iron cage. And
within the cage, a frightened-looking but dashingly handsome young man dressed
in velvet and lace. He looked like a princeling from one of the nearby
kingdoms, or perhaps a travelling bard. Jorrill looked at Aysone levelly, his
grizzled face revealing no emotion. "This is the one who killed your father.
It is up to you to determine his fate."

So he was a vampyre, then. Alysone moved around the cart, her green eyes
expressing fascination. The man in the cage fell to his knees, seemingly in
terror. "Please! Please, young lady," he said. "It isn't true, what they are
saying about me! I am just a man, a stranger to these lands. I have been shown
no kindness, no welcome. Please do not let them hurt me!" Alysone reached her
hand out toward the man, kindness etched on her expressive face. He reached
back, his own expression grateful. Suddenly, Alysone thrust her wrist against
the man's arm, where she wore a thin, silver bracelet. A slight sizzling could
be heard as it made contact with his flesh, and he recoiled back. His face
suddenly transformed to rage, as he knew his true identity could not be
hidden.

"Shall we commit him to the flame?" Jorrill asked.

Alysone looked at the vampyre for a long moment, imagining his flesh slowly
burning off his writhing bones. "No," she said at last. "Let us give him a
quick death." Her uncle looked back at her, his face dark. But his expression
was quickly replaced by pride. He placed one calloused hand on her shoulder
and nodded.

Role

Chapter 2

Jorrill looked down at the babe in the bascinet before him. He had never sired
children himself, had never had the fathering urge. His life had been focused
upon duty, battle. But the baby girl was his sister's child, and his sister
had died birthing the girl. The father had only days ago fallen under
Jorrill's command, fighting back the undead. And so now, "duty" took on a
different meaning. The baby was his to raise, may the gods help her.

He reached down and stroked the baby's smooth, pale cheek with one caloused
finger. Alysone, they had named the child. She had her father's bright, green
eyes and the small tufts of downy fluff on her head suggested she would have
her mother's raven hair. Alysone had been the name of his grandmother, a good
Barovian name. Jorrill hoped she would also have her great-grandmother's
fighting spirit. She would need it.

---

Alysone, age seven, moved through the forms her uncle had taught her. In her
small hands, a wooden sword that looked too large and heavy for such a small
child. And indeed, her arms trembled as she tried to move smoothly through
each transition. The forward lunge into the upward sweep, stepping back while
the sword swung forward and to the side, and always the footwork moving in a
triangle, legs never crossing. Finally, her small body could lift the sword no
longer and she rested it on the floor.

She strained her ears to determine if Uncle Jorrill was nearby. She heard
nothing, and a joyful smile lit up her face, her green eyes beaming. In a
bright, beautiful voice she began to sing. It was a simple folk song often
sung during the harvest, but Alysone's voice made it sound like something
more. She had always had a talent for music. "Alysone!" came her uncle's voice
from around the corner. Alysone's voice cut off instantly. But it was too
late, of course. She continued her sword training, a bruise already darkening
her cheek where her uncle had struck her.

Role

Chapter 1

-Backstory
+ Alysone comes from the lands surrounding Barovia
+ She was raised by her uncle Jorrill under the shadow of the undead
+ She is part of an order of Paladins known as The Knights of the Raven Cross
+ The Knights are a dying order, as they fight the undead that grow more
powerful every day
+ She has sworn to her uncle before his death that she would seek to join The Fortress

-Goals
+ Become empowered by Azorinne
+ Join The Fortress
+ Become a Maran
+ Kill any undead adventurers that come to be, especially vampyres

-Personality
Alysone is inherently a very expressive person, prone to whimsy and humor. Had
she been born somewhere else, she likely would have pursued a career in music
or the arts. But she wasn't. As a result, she is very guarded about her
emotions, especially around new people. This might catch some people off guard
as she lets her defenses down. She is willful, and her true nature
irrepressible. Despite that, she believes fully in her duty as a Paladin and
is proud of her people's tradition. She is not a person who seeks approval,
but rather focuses on her own judgment in all things, guided by the Paladin
code.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Title History

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges