Dra Nivera

[Dra Nivera]

Name: Dra Nivera

Race: Ghost

Age: 17 (pre-death) 104 (post-death) 121 (total)

Birthday: 26 Winter, 391 AV

Death day: 2 Summer, 408 AV

Gender: Female

Appearance: A slight thing, barely seen even when she was alive, she stands 4' 5" tall and is barely wider than most doors. With such a small frame she is also seen as very delicate and carries herself accordingly, often keeping her head bowed, her feet shuffling and her shoulders slouched. Her skin appears very pale, even compared to other ghosts' appearances, this is due largely in part to her being a reclusive, solitary child that stayed in doors, rarely venturing out into the sunlight. Nivera's hair is short and seemingly drained of all color, kept in disarray and often in front of her face it drifts around her head constantly, with or without a breeze to stir it. The ghost's eyes are onyx black, pupil and iris both though in darkness her pupils seem to shine slightly with some unseen light. Around her eyes the sockets are bruised and battered to a black pitch that makes her eyes seem abnormally large and gives them a quality of seeming endlessness. In life, Nivera had pale, pinkish lips, in dying her lips were smeared with blood and so in death her lips are a black streak across her luminescent face. The scar beneath her right eye is but one of many such scars all over her body, including a gaping hole where the spike drove through her chest. Nivera wears what she was dressed in for her funeral; her mother's old, tattered, white wedding dress, which dances with the same unnatural breeze that moves her hair. On her feet she wears nothing, the same way she was buried.

Home Region: Black Rock

Personality: Nivera's unlife as a ghost has shaped her in ways she would never have thought possible in life. She is very sporadic and curious, having been not only a child but also highly solitary, she is often naive of many well known facts. What really surprises her however is not what she now gets to see and do, but what she is turning into; she has found herself becoming increasingly sadistic, violent and angry, throwing highly volatile tantrums with intent to maim and kill. During these episodes she does her best to hole herself up and get away from anything living so as to avoid what she would consider a premature end to her 'life' at the hands of provoked peoples. After and between her outbursts she is relatively unaggressive, though she still enjoys the pain of others and always feels ill at ease, she does not act on her more violent nature voluntarily . What sets Nivera on these rampages is usually inexplicable, even Nivera doesn't know why her anger suddenly flares inside her. On rare occasions, however, she has discovered that whenever she notices displays of authority or of a person brandishing another as lower than themselves it will set her off.

Ethics: Being a small child for the short span of time that was her life, Nivera often believed in the good of people and that one should always be kind to other living things. Being dead she doesn't see how that kind of thinking applies anymore, as well, with her death being extremely violent, she believes that there is no good in people whatsoever. She has a large disregard for life in general considering how dead she is and how well it's working out for her. Her ethics involving laws and the rules that govern civilization aren't necessarily ethics so much as the necessity of staying what a ghost considers alive. She obeys the laws and keeps her head down as best she can with her anger issues lest she be hunted down and forced to leave her ethereal state. The few interactions that Nivera has had with living people are very short, choppy and extremely one-sided as she does not care for the living in the least. On occasion she is forced into more prolonged interactions with people, in those she is always to the point and blunt. Nivera is without friends or family, very few people know her name and even fewer would ever be able to recognize her, and that is exactly how she wants it.

Likes:
Causing people emotional, physical and mental discomfort, stress and pain.
Solitude.
Equality.
People in pain.
Scaring people.
Orphans.
Singing.
Knitting.
Disrupting important events (weddings, birthdays, etc.).

Dislikes:
Class systems.
Authority.
Overbearing people.
Living things.
Friends.
Attachments.

Merits:
Knows when to back down.
Anger is justified (sometimes).
Straight forward.
Not superficial.
Low maintenance.
Seemingly harmless.
Mostly reasonable.

Flaws:
Anger issues.
Detests life.
Paranoid.
Self serving.
Solitary.
Sadistic.

Character History:
*It was a cold day on the farm of Tan Holshin. Winds blew hard through the valley in which he resided, scattering the dust that had been his only produce for the past two years of his living in Kalea. No matter what he tried the mountain soil just wouldn't take the seed and water practically seemed to run off it. The porch of his small one room cabin creaked beneath his feet as he shifted his weight nervously, he knew that if he didn't make next years crop the money would run out and they be out here on there own with no food and no safe travel back to town.
*"Good morning dear," came his wife's voice from behind him. He turned to see Sleer Holshin laying in their bed, her swollen belly protruding into the air like a small hill, "How was your night love?"
*Tan walked over and sat on the bed, "My night was fine, and yours?" He leaned down and kissed her pregnant belly.
*"I barely got any sleep," she said smiling slightly and rubbing her belly lovingly, "this one was kicking all night."
*Tan smiled down at his still unborn child, but the smile was only half hearted as he knew that if his crop didn't take there would be no life here for his baby. It won't end like that, he told himself, we'll find a way, we Holshins always have.

*********************

*The long shifting rows of yellowing grain that lay before Tan were but a fraction of the field that needed cutting by the end of the day. The Sun beat down malevolently on his head as he hefted his scythe and began to chop away at the massive field of grass, slowly carving out a little niche in the sea of wheat. A spray of mist and dew would rain over him every time he swung his blade, showering him in perfect coolness as he worked through the day.
*Somewhere back at the cabin he knew Nivera would be working tirelessly away at he quilt she was knitting for them, in spite of this warm weather. She was always in the cabin, doing the little chores she could, at 17 years old she was a tiny little thing and just couldn't lift a scythe or anything else larger than a water pail.
*During his time in the fields, Tan would often let his mind wander back in time, to seven years ago . . . He quickly thrust the thought from his mind as a sharp burst of pain caused him to tense up and become suddenly very hot. Must never think of that day again, he told himself, Nivera is here with you, she is all that matters and you keep her safe Tan.
*
*********************

*"You keep her safe Tan," said the women laying on the bed, blood smattering her lower half. She was no longer pregnant, the child being born moments ago, the woman was seemed so much smaller, almost frail to Tan.
*Tan held his wife's hand and said, "We'll keep her safe love, you and me, the farm will pick up and we'll all be fine," but even as he said the words he felt her hand growing cold and saw her eyes beginning to dull over.
*Somewhere, barely even in the back of Tan's mind, a baby squalled and cried loudly, tears streaking through the blood that covered its body and cheeks. The tears that ran down Tan's face were not accompanied by any sound or outburst, just a shuddering of the shoulders and a long exhaled breath. His wife's hand slipped limply out of his own, her eyes still wide open staring at him.
*He looked away and said "I will my love, I promise."

*********************

*"On the cold winters gloom, a fire doth rage, the city consumed, won't the gods come to aid? As their people are lost, to the fires of that day, when the world was shattered and the blood price was paid," sang the small girl as she sat on the cabin's one bed, her needle and thread darting in and out from the small piece of fabric she was adding to her almost finished quilt which had so far taken her three years to complete, now seventeen years of age, she was almost finished.
*The sun shone in through the door as the first of the mornings heat washed over the land. Nivera Holshin sat on the bed of the cabin, knitting and singing as she did almost everyday, she'd done it so much that the walls of the cabin were lined with her knit projects and the farm was always filled with the sound of her high, lilting voice.
*"The people are lost and forgotten in death, for the war of the Heavens sundered every breath. Life itself is born a new, the world reshaped and torn in two. Heaven remains watchful as before, but I'll never forget the Valterrians lords."
*Nivera stopped her knitting as the song finished and looked up from her work. The cabin was now very dim and through the door she could see the sun bending below the horizon. A panic suddenly took the small seven year old, where had so much of the day gone? She recalled all the words of the song she had been singing and knew that it wouldn't have taken up even an hour.
*She slowly set her knitting aside and stood from the bed. Looking about cautiously, she walked towards the door and peered outside. The dimness of the twilight met her eyes and a dimness of sound met her ears for not even the wind blew through the grass, nor the birds chirp in the sky. There was a coldness to the air that was far too cold for the nice summer day they'd been having, a certain crispness that settled on her skin and chilled her to the bone.
*Something was wrong, Nivera could feel it, like the growing swell of a tidal wave within her. Then there was a sound on the air, a soft melody, almost too quiet to be heard. The grass that stretched out across the land before the porch on which Nivera stood started to move, but not as if it were blown by the wind, more as if something were moving though it. The movement started far away from the porch, a slight rustle of a patch of the grain. Then there was another, and another, seeming to move at random in wide arcs across the field.
*Nivera was overjoyed to see the movement, her father was finally returning from his work in the fields. In her excitement Nivera jumped down from the porch and ran to the edge of the field.
*"Father! Over this way father!" She called out into the grain rows, "Where have you been? It's almost night!" With her calls finished she turned and scrambled back onto the porch to await her father's reply.
*Once on the porch she saw the movement again, only this time it was much closer, almost at the edge of the field and now it was coming straight at her. The movement began to pick up speed and Nivera shook with excitement as she knew her father was now running towards her. The movement was at the edge of the field now, its speed blindingly fast when it suddenly stopped. The grass at the close edge of the field swayed forward with the motion, but no one came through the grass to greet Nivera.
*The girl on the porch was again stricken with sudden panic which caused her to shudder slightly and her entire body to go numb with a dreaded chill. Then, seeming to come from all around her, there was a sweet, dark melody on the air.
*"On the cold winters gloom, a fire doth rage, the city consumed, won't the gods come to aid? As their people are lost, to the fires of that day, when the world was shattered and the blood price was paid," sang out a woman's voice, sharp and clear in the darkness.
*Nivera screamed at the top of her lungs as a black sash was tightened around her eyes, but even through her screaming and struggling she could her the song still being sung, "The people are lost and forgotten in death, for the war of the Heavens sundered every breath." Nivera was tossed backwards through the air to land hard on the floor, "Life itself is born a new, the world reshaped and torn in two. Heaven remains watchful as before, but I'll never forget the Valterrians lords."
*A high pitched laugh filled the room as the song finished and the woman's voice said cheerfully, "Come now Nivera, I know you know the rest of that song."

*********************

*Tan looked up towards the sun and saw that it was just barely past midday, and what a nice morning it had been, with the exception of his momentary thought of his deceased wife. Looking back down to the field in front of him he decided he would stop for now and go have lunch with Nivera, hefting his scythe over his shoulder and wiping the sweat from his brow he began to walk back to his cabin, whistling a partially remembered tune as he walked.
*When he reached the cabin he leaned his scythe up against the porch and called out, "Nivera, come on out darling and get some sun, I think we'll have ourselves a nice picnic up in the hills!"
*There was no reply.
*"Nivera?" Tan asked the the reply that never came. Strange, thought Tan, I've only been gone since this morning, where could she have run off to?
*"Nivera?" he called again, striding up the porch steps and turning around to check his fields for his daughter. The sun glared down into his eyes so he stepped back into the shade of the houses overhang and called out again, "Nivera!"
*When there was yet again no reply he turned and headed into the house.

*********************

*Cries of agony filled the air of the valley as a father found his daughter dead in his very house. The one room of his small shack was covered in blood, the furniture was all destroyed, its splinters lay in bloody heaps on the floor or stuck into the young girls corpse. On the ground lay a blood covered quilt, nearly finished, the needles that had been working on the quilt lay smeared in blood at the girls feet.
*The girl herself was suspended in the air by a large sharpened floorboard that protruded from the ground to impale the girl through the chest. Blood leaked from her limp corpse from dozens of lacerations and gashes covering her body. Her lips were stitched tightly shut with multicolored yarn, dark red blood dripping from each of the stitches and from in between her closed lips. Her eyes, which had been so full of life and happiness, were now glazed over with death. The sockets around her eyes were bruised to a deep black, and she died before they'd had time to swell up.
*The father was on his knees by her side, not caring for the blood that covered the floor around her, he sobbed and cried and screamed for no words could find their way into his mind as he looked up at the massacred body of his daughter. He took her limp, lifeless hand in his and held it to his face, hoping against the gods of life and death that she was still alive, that he would feel some warmth in her hand.
*Looking up at her one last time he saw some blood that looked like it had already dried itself onto her chest, just above where the spike had entered her. Standing, he peeled away the blood soaked blouse she had been wearing to reveal a red hand print in blood, the palm of which was where the spike had been driven through her chest.
*The man collapsed to the floor, still screaming and crying as the last thing he loved in this world was torn away from him.

*********************

*Nivera awoke at the sound of her father screaming and looked down at him from where she was. She was instantly concerned for him, what would make him cry so hard? She was about to speak when something caught the corner of her eye, turning, she saw a great wooden point sticking out of her chest. She screamed then, as the memories of her death came back to her in vivid sight and feeling.
*In the memory of her pain and torture she began to flail, but she could not see any of her limbs moving. Instead what she saw was a mist rising from her corpse, to move silently with her actions. Again she screamed and this time the power of her raw emotion sent her ethereal body forward, throwing itself from the corpse and through the door of the cabin.

*********************

*A day later the father held a funeral for his daughter, he was the only attendant. There were no prayers spoken, no words of any kind, just the wind blowing between the two graves of a mother and daughter as they lay forever on a small hill, beside an old cabin.
*
*********************

*Watching the man the entire time was a ghost, the ghost of a girl torn from her young life in pain and anguish. She watched as the father removed the stitches and splinters from the body, bathed her, scraped away the dried blood of the red hand and finally clothed her in a long white dress that had once belonged to her mother.
*She watched as the man had lowered the body int o a newly dug grave and then filled it in with dirt. Watched as he had slowly carved the name Nivera into a stone and placed it at the head of the grave. Watched as he had walked back into the cabin and lit every single candle he could find, then held the still blood covered quilt around him as he started a fire out of what had been the bed.
*Nivera sat crying outside the cabin as her father burnt it down around himself, never once did he cry out, never once did he say anything. All he did was sit there, his face an unreadable stone, clutching the bloody, nearly complete quilt to his body as he burned.

*********************

*After her ethereal transformation, Nivera began to travel, for years she walked Mizahar without any real want or purpose. Everywhere she went she sang what she remembered of her song, took delight in scaring people through her appearance and use of ghostly abilities, and along the way found out some very puzzling facts about life outside her secluded farm. She learned where the hand print that was on her chest came from, learned what it meant to be a ghost and received some small teachings in what she could do as a spirit. The last thing she learned is what her unfinished business is, though she is both reluctant and eager to find it.
*Whenever she sings the verses of the song she knows she remembers every little detail of the night of her death and often goes into a trance state. This brings about anger and she has an overwhelming need for vengeance towards whatever it was that did this to her. The second thing she needs to do is find the missing words to the song that her murderer spoke of, because for some reason she has only ever been able to sing the beginning and ending of the song.
*She has journeyed to Black Rock in hopes of finding someone who will know more about her song and more about the goddess of murder. She's looking for a ghost or other undead being who may have been taken by the goddesss' servants or perhaps even a servant of Krysus. While in town she also wants to get training in various things so she might be ready when her time comes.

Goal:
To find the rest of her song
To find the meaning of her song
To find and hopefully kill her murderer

Training and Skill Points:
Materialization 16/100 (10 RS) (5 SP) (1 RP)
Possession 14/100 (14 SP)
Soulmist Projection 26/100 (26 SP)
Singing 5/100 (5 SP)

Ledger:
100 gold mizas (starting package)
500 gold mizas (sold starting equipment)

[Dra Nivera]

Language:
Common (Fluent)
Fratava (Basic)
Arumenic (Poor)

Lores:
Lore of ancient verbal song
-Due to Nivera's long search for her song she has picked up lots of knowledge on other old and strange music
Lore of psychological terror
-Though much experimentation and personal experience, Nivera has gained the knowledge of how best to make most people feel more afraid than they ever have before
Asking for a performance
You really liked it?
This is my song

[Dra Nivera]

Thread:
http://www.mizahar.com/forums/topic17288-10.html

[Dra Nivera]

Time Stamps:

Winter 37th, 511 AV - Performance at Dusk

[Dra Nivera]

Name: Seline

Age: 18

Race: human

Height: 5' 5"

Weight: 110 lbs

Skills: 10 stealth, 10 begging, 10 meditation

Purpose: provide my character with a companion, as well as act as a vessel for possession.

Appearance: Small and thin despite being full grown. Light mocha skin color. Wide, green eyes. Long and straight black hair.

Characteristics: An easily frightened girl who never knew her parents, she has extremely few friends but is also extremely loyal. She often feels she's getting in the way when things are happening because of her lacking applicable skills.