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Arena of War - Chapter 1: In Character
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<blockquote data-quote="Shayuri" data-source="post: 6409083" data-attributes="member: 4936"><p>Valya opened her eyes with a start at the racket of the 'wakeup call,' and looked around her cell. It was not the cell of a prisoner. By Thayan standards, it was paradisiacal compared to such. But it was a cell that had harbored prisoners, and slaves, and foreigners and monsters. Even with her many mental gifts, Valya had lost count of how many times she’d reconsidered her plan, yearning for her quarters; for her own bed, her own room. It wasn’t that it was necessarily more luxurious, but that it was hers.</p><p></p><p>Her right hand strayed up to the tattoo on her forehead, a spiral with three-part radial symmetry, representing the Unity of Things, a pillar of transmutation theory and alchemy. Unlike many Red Wizards, she lacked the inscriptions of clan and family. Her noble pedigree had come from her elevation to wizard, earned by a peculiar combination of caution, recklessness, fortune and talent. Thay was not known for upward mobility, but it could be done. Laws and even traditions would be set aside for someone who gained power, and used it successfully.</p><p></p><p>Valya was a long way from done with that. As the daughter of servants, she’d leapt at opportunity despite the risks, and it had paid off. Now she meant to make that lightning strike again. It wasn’t enough to be a junior Red Wizard. Her voice was just one among many, and she had not earned more than a grudging, patronizing respect from any of them. Far too many viewed her as an aberration; a pest who had gamed the system. They had to be shown otherwise or it all meant nothing.</p><p></p><p>She splashed water on her face and rose to dress herself, grimacing as her fingers brushed over her scalp at one point. Her hair was starting to grow back. Just a fine fuzz right now, but she wouldn’t be allowed to shave it again until she won this. In here, she was not a Red Wizard. Just another gladiator. In theory at least. Valya suspected that, if she made issue of it, she could still get some good from her title. Of course many of the gladiators had cause to despise the Wizards of Thay, so it behooved her to exercise that option as seldom as necessity dictated.</p><p></p><p>Though Valya no longer had the splendid robes of her office, she still insisted on wearing red, even if it was little more than peasant rags now. She WAS a Red Wizard, no matter the wardrobe and she would wear a linen shift as a queen would wear her regalia, so long as it was red. On seeing the garment that had been provided, Valya had to laugh in fact. A sleeveless, knee-length dress; the clothing of a servant. But yes, it was red. A calculated insult, she thought, courtesy of one of the other Wizards. A reminder of her ‘true’ station.</p><p></p><p>It didn’t matter. Vengeance and vindication would come when she rose over her enemies. And if she failed, well then she’d be dead…and then she’d be quite beyond such concerns.</p><p>After some time studying her spellbook…she’d had a very bad moment when she thought it hadn’t been put into her room with her…Valya emerged into the cavernous common room, in her red maid’s dress, chin lifted and eyes flashing, as if daring someone to mock her. Aside from a few disinterested glances at the door as she entered, no one took her up on that challenge immediately. Being ignored was worse than being the object of hate or scorn, she reflected. It kindled a seething, impotent anger in her heart. It made her want to spill fire and rampage. And, of course, die. Horribly. The heart’s advice was so often the worst thing one could actually do. She paid it no mind. These people would know her soon enough.</p><p></p><p>Her eyes drifted over the other gladiators as she sifted through deductions as to who they were and why they were here. The power of magic was strong, but Valya knew that one Wizard on the field could be slain by a warrior of sufficient strength and tenacity. To win her way through this, she would need allies. Now was the time for a softer touch, a gentle word, and a sympathetic ear. It was not her strongest suit, but she had spent enough time with servants to know how to swallow her bile and smile sweetly when needed.</p><p></p><p>(Persuasion vs DC 10 to gain information) [roll0]</p><p></p><p>...unfortunately, the audience was less than receptive. Or perhaps the problem was Valya herself...she knew HOW to play the fool, but doing so here and now, among this rabble... It was simply too much. Her smiles were strained, her words insincere, and she walked away with nothing for her efforts. Which of course, only made her feel even angrier.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Shayuri, post: 6409083, member: 4936"] Valya opened her eyes with a start at the racket of the 'wakeup call,' and looked around her cell. It was not the cell of a prisoner. By Thayan standards, it was paradisiacal compared to such. But it was a cell that had harbored prisoners, and slaves, and foreigners and monsters. Even with her many mental gifts, Valya had lost count of how many times she’d reconsidered her plan, yearning for her quarters; for her own bed, her own room. It wasn’t that it was necessarily more luxurious, but that it was hers. Her right hand strayed up to the tattoo on her forehead, a spiral with three-part radial symmetry, representing the Unity of Things, a pillar of transmutation theory and alchemy. Unlike many Red Wizards, she lacked the inscriptions of clan and family. Her noble pedigree had come from her elevation to wizard, earned by a peculiar combination of caution, recklessness, fortune and talent. Thay was not known for upward mobility, but it could be done. Laws and even traditions would be set aside for someone who gained power, and used it successfully. Valya was a long way from done with that. As the daughter of servants, she’d leapt at opportunity despite the risks, and it had paid off. Now she meant to make that lightning strike again. It wasn’t enough to be a junior Red Wizard. Her voice was just one among many, and she had not earned more than a grudging, patronizing respect from any of them. Far too many viewed her as an aberration; a pest who had gamed the system. They had to be shown otherwise or it all meant nothing. She splashed water on her face and rose to dress herself, grimacing as her fingers brushed over her scalp at one point. Her hair was starting to grow back. Just a fine fuzz right now, but she wouldn’t be allowed to shave it again until she won this. In here, she was not a Red Wizard. Just another gladiator. In theory at least. Valya suspected that, if she made issue of it, she could still get some good from her title. Of course many of the gladiators had cause to despise the Wizards of Thay, so it behooved her to exercise that option as seldom as necessity dictated. Though Valya no longer had the splendid robes of her office, she still insisted on wearing red, even if it was little more than peasant rags now. She WAS a Red Wizard, no matter the wardrobe and she would wear a linen shift as a queen would wear her regalia, so long as it was red. On seeing the garment that had been provided, Valya had to laugh in fact. A sleeveless, knee-length dress; the clothing of a servant. But yes, it was red. A calculated insult, she thought, courtesy of one of the other Wizards. A reminder of her ‘true’ station. It didn’t matter. Vengeance and vindication would come when she rose over her enemies. And if she failed, well then she’d be dead…and then she’d be quite beyond such concerns. After some time studying her spellbook…she’d had a very bad moment when she thought it hadn’t been put into her room with her…Valya emerged into the cavernous common room, in her red maid’s dress, chin lifted and eyes flashing, as if daring someone to mock her. Aside from a few disinterested glances at the door as she entered, no one took her up on that challenge immediately. Being ignored was worse than being the object of hate or scorn, she reflected. It kindled a seething, impotent anger in her heart. It made her want to spill fire and rampage. And, of course, die. Horribly. The heart’s advice was so often the worst thing one could actually do. She paid it no mind. These people would know her soon enough. Her eyes drifted over the other gladiators as she sifted through deductions as to who they were and why they were here. The power of magic was strong, but Valya knew that one Wizard on the field could be slain by a warrior of sufficient strength and tenacity. To win her way through this, she would need allies. Now was the time for a softer touch, a gentle word, and a sympathetic ear. It was not her strongest suit, but she had spent enough time with servants to know how to swallow her bile and smile sweetly when needed. (Persuasion vs DC 10 to gain information) [roll0] ...unfortunately, the audience was less than receptive. Or perhaps the problem was Valya herself...she knew HOW to play the fool, but doing so here and now, among this rabble... It was simply too much. Her smiles were strained, her words insincere, and she walked away with nothing for her efforts. Which of course, only made her feel even angrier. [/QUOTE]
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