Victareia Black the Grand Mistress of Artistry, Provincial Magistrate

Skill List

Role

Chapter 6

- Mother dead. Died in fire. Doll Shop razed by Frost Giant lover. Reasons unknown to Victareia
Frost Giant was likely outlander.

- Father unknown. Victareia is full human like her mother. Father likely also human.

- Survived fire. Hidden away by her mother or followed pre-set instructions as 3 year old.

- Morbid fascination with dolls. Her friends. Likes to collect and make new dolls from
the hair, skin and bits of the fallen. Friend and foe. Doesn't really share.

- Grew up on the docks and rivers of Voralian City after walking away from outlander razed
mother's doll shop as a toddler. Became her "family" but the tribunal refused to protect
many dockmen and urchins and sailors. She found her darker side killing raiding groups of three
when they'd rest outside Voralian City. This is a seed for Tribunal Leadership goal to ban
all violence against non-sentient creatures in protected cities.

- So far she is not very skilled beyond her advanced knowledge of talismans and scrolls, but
seeks to dominate through fear, reputation, and tragic songs.

- She's very aggressive for tribunal outside the cities on her own time. Trying to learn and
train to apprehend and chase for future outlander and criminal hunting. Those are her
priority targets, but she's not above practicing on others. Usually avoids imperials and those
actively working with tribunal colleagues.

- Goals including provincial and then progressing to Provost through preferably vindicator or
Justiciar if it is better for the spire. She is training to apprehend and trains for the first
path through vindicator, wondering if a bard can put together the tools to succeed. As Provost
she wishes to lead a policy of complete non-violence within all 4 cities. And better martial
training for the spire beyond pen and paper.

- Religion: Despite being charming when she hardly tries, and an obvious boon for Order and even
respected by most imperials, she can't seem to get Rillan's attention or appreciation for her
gifts since outside the imperial palace (as she believes it)

- Failings: She thinks she's better than most everyone else. While she offers patience
administratively, she gets quickly frustrated at tactics that get other tribunal killed or let
criminals escape. She is especially hard on herself for easy to make mistakes in apprehension.
She overestimates many of her enemies expecting clever traps that rarely spring. She has
a soft spot for paladins and those of the light in the spire who would probably kill her in
her sleep because she confuses "respect" with "friendship".

Role

Chapter 5

Adventurers came. Dockworkers, urchins, panhandlers, and even commoners died.
Sailors as well. But adventurers died also. They were immune to the laws of
the city when they killed on the docks, but not immune when they took rest
outside the Voralian City gates.

But the voralian shopkeepers began to grow suspicious. Victareia began to
feel that the looks and glances coming her way were no longer imaginary. She
did not belong in this city. She would move to Galadon.

Victareia wanted to be good, but Galadon was not a good city. And sometimes
her dolls were bad, very bad. She entered Galadon determined to be a good
person like her mother and start a vocational life of making dolls. Perhaps
she would make them her mother's way with simple wood and horse hair.
However, Galadon was expensive. She could not afford to build a shop here.

She stared at the tribunal recruiting office. One poster showed a paladin
standing in the market square, protecting the city. Sort of boring. Yet wait,
another showed Tribunals executing an outlander savage. In her mind, memories
of a frost giant burning her mothers doll shop came flooding back and she
paused. She thought. Maybe she could influence the laws that ignored her
childhood community on the docks. Maybe she could learn to execute savages.
Maybe she could eventually afford her own dolls shop in Galadon. Whatever the
components.

They would never accept a vigilante nor doll maker. She stared at her
scrolls and talismans. She would apply as a scribe and librarian. Put her
instruments to use. Perhaps they would accept and trainer her on that alone.
And they did.

And so Victareia Black spent day by day training in the Spire. Part of
her sought to work up the ranks of leadership and change the laws to make ALL
violence in the city illegal, even that against the less sentient and
helpless. Yet she quickly learned she was fascinated with the Vindicator's
work and methods of killing and hunting.

Killing and hunting. She would definitely need more practice. She could use
more doll ingredients as well. And so her work began.

Role

Chapter 4

She arrived by dusk, but she would not kill in the city. That would violate
the very thing she sought to change. Instead, she waited to nightfall. The
adventures would come, they always came. Yet she knew, she knew so well. They
always rested outside the city gates. Always. So the urchins and commoners
would return. So they could kill more. An endless cycle of unprotected
violence in this city of "light".

Full on Dorothy's bread they finished their massacre of urchins and
panhandlers. And oh how boisterous and proud they felt for the guild
accomplishment of murdering the children and dockworkers of Voralian City.
Even a gnome was among them, not thinking himself evil, but proud of his new
found training. She hated that they were entitled and outside the laws while
her orphan community was not.

They took camp. They slept. And when they did, she recited her new found
scroll of blindness on the strongest of the party. Was it the blindness or
the confidence of the first target being blind that gave her the means to
slit her first throat? In hindsight, she should have saved up for a second
and third scroll, but there was no need. The second died waking and she was
surprised at the pleasure she took in killing the third, a gnome, who looked
her in the eyes as he died. Curious.

She started to leave. But stopped. Instead she pulled out her little toy doll
and propped it near the dying fire's embers to keep her warm. Then she
began to play the violin. She should do something nice for them. They
deserved a song. When the tragic notes hung on the air, she collected her tiny
doll friend and decided it was time to move on. But something made her stop.
She looked at her tiny doll and decided she would need more friends. And so
she began to collect some hair and skin from all three of her dead audience.
Perhaps she would make some new dolls.

Role

Chapter 3

The young girl, Victareia, ran the streets of Udgaard. Often seen between two
places, the scroll shop and talisman shop, the former was her destination today.
A new shipment had come in! She was there when dawn arrived. The doors opened
and she dragged the udgaardian watchman items across the threshold and up to
the counter to barter.

She was no stranger to the talisman and scroll shopkeepers in Udgaard, having
taken a dark fascination to the power that even an aspiring street urchin
could harness. With a wry smile, the scroll shopkeeper was not surprised to
see her.

"Victareia, I don't supposed you are here for the invisibility scrolls
today are you?"... but shaking their head, they moved a scroll from the new
shipment forward. "I'm not even supposed to sell you the detect
invisibility scrolls, let alone this, but..." he sighed, "Yet you
are quite the black and twisted little girl aren't you with your curious
ambitions? This is a scroll of blindness..."

Victareia gasped, sliding the items for barter across the Udgaard scroll
counter, she didn't even consider if the trade was fair. She caressed her
scroll of blindness like a new found crush. Out the door she ran. "Such a
cute little thing. And so unusually charming for such a rag-a-muffin." the
shopkeeper said to Victareia's back as she ran out the door and towards the
southern gate.

Yet the young girl wasn't feeling cute today. She was feeling excited,
powerful, and determined. And only one thing consumed her, the docks of
Voralian and those of her community so often murdered and left unprotected in
the Shining good city of Voralia.

Role

Chapter 2

The little urchin ran along the southern docks of Voralia, dodging
dockworkers and giggling as she walked the tightrope of a ship line. The
sailors whistled, and she whistled back. An expert from watching their work
daily. They were far along in their morning work and she began to hum and
play her violin. The dockworkers and sailors grunted, for while they
appreciated it, a woman, or little girl for that matter, on their ship was
always a bad omen.

Victareia did not care, for she loved the bustle and the docks were the only
home she knew and it was a break from the constant panhandling. So few
possessions except her doll, trinkets, and makeshift music makers, the
industry of the docks brought her the closest thing she knew to happiness,
orphaned on the streets of Voralian City. The most good city in all of Thera.

Yet maybe she WAS a bad omen. For they came again. They always came.

They weren't always evil. But they were never good. They always came in
from one of the six gates. They were here. The sailors and dockmen were
rarely ever ready. Not even the urchins and panhandlers were safe. They came
in day, they came in the night. The adventurers rapidly began murdering
everyone.

The tribunal looked on and did nothing. Urchins, panhandlers, and sailors and
dockworkers were not protected the Tribunal Law. Victareia ran, not knowing
if the tribunal would save her and not quite understanding why the Tribunal
protected some and not all from violence in her city. She would not watch her
new family die. But someday she would change it.

Role

Chapter 1

The little girl played on. The girl's little toy doll house the focus of
her rapt attention as the female screams pierced and fire burned outside the
cubby her mother had hidden her in. "Don't cry" she told the littlest
of the dolls as the heat and smoke that overwhelmed the outside doll shop
began to seep its ways into the cracks of the stone pantry behind the
Volarian doll shop's workbench. Her mother screamed as the frost giant
roared. This time was different. This time her mother died. This time the
ignition of the outlander fire the ultimate rage of the frost giant monster
that stalked her childhood. The fire that brought the death of her mother.

She stared at the family of dolls, so perfect, so different from her own, and
wished she was anywhere else. Her mother was good. Her little doll had a
father. But not all outlanders were good. And now her mother was dead.
"Don't cry little one." she told the tiniest doll. "YOUR father is good like

But wishing would not to make it so, and when morning came and the doll shop
lay in ruins, she was still there. She wasn't somewhere else. A little
girl, barely older than a toddler, opened up the stone cubby door, her
favorite tattered doll in hand and stepped over the corpse of her mother and
the vandalized doll shop that had housed and been frequented all too often by
the frost giant who "visited" her mother. Mothers were good. Her dolls
were good. She was good. She had kept quiet and stayed where her mother put
her. But now she was so very hungry.

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