Elandra Of The Silvercastle

Burning houses, recently put to the torch by invaders, illuminated a scene of fighting in the fog with flickering uncertain light. The ominous light of these fires was reflected off cuirass and blade, by shield and axe, by helm and iron tips of spears, as weapons were deflected with the clang of steel, or sheathed in human bodies with lethal result. The sight and sound were strangely eery through black smoke and pale mist rising from a nearby stream, muffling the screams of the dying and the grunts of straining men and woman in armour, creating a sense of unreality. There were no banners, no battle cries and no musicians, only the grim reality of brutal melee.

Under the dark moon, a single figure moved among the combatants, seen only by those who had died. They observed a tall humanoid in sturdy black robes, who was either a skeleton, or a tall emaciated woman. She carried a scythe and walked calmly among the fallen. Occasionally the weapon fell, severing a cord, tying a spirit to its dead body. Some still had a bewildered expression on their face, not knowing what had killed them in the darkness and confusion.

It was, as many wise people have observed, the only true winner of any war. Death, of course, would disagree. She ushered the souls of the dead into the next world, whipping them into the planar pathways, which brought them to their afterlife, or the court of judgement of their faith. While Death herself did occasionally look at the death of anything that lived, only plagues, famines and wars required serious attention for any length of time.

Death existed outside time. This she knew, that this was the beginning of a war that would last a thousand years and destroy the world it was waged on in the end, when both sides unleashed their magical doomsday weapons, when all other resources were spent. The gods of this world were already dying, war and terror leeching away the faith, making the planar pathways unreliable. They would be replaced by others leading to the lower planes exclusively. Death had no power to influence the events unfolding. The folly of people did not concern her.

Death, even in person, was a central principle of the multiverse. She was no concerned with fairness or morality. Death just was.

But sometimes she had to act as a person. Death felt the life of an infant marked by Fate. It was floating along the river, lovingly wrapped in warm blankets, lying a sturdy basket, which was in the center of a small boat. The cry of the baby sounded unnaturally shrill and loud in the ears of Death. She knew her duties were no longer required near the battle, which was nearly over with almost no survivors. The parents of the infant were dead, as they had known they would be. It occurred to Death, that taking the child away had actually doomed the world.

Closing her eyes, Death let all possible futures of the world play out in her mind. The child and the world would die. While Death lacked compassion, she knew the baby had to survive. Once the decision had been made, Death walked quickly towards the river. She picked up the infant and tried to gently cradle the girl in her arms. Death knew, she would not be a very good mother. Quiet, little girl. I will be your mother. Do not fear me, Death said. The infant, whose name was Elandra, snuggled against the breast of the woman and fell asleep.

Death moved on the small boat. The scythe had turned into an oar. She pushed away from the bank of the river and moved into its center, floating with the quickly moving current. The oar was only used to correct the path she was taking, which led without transition from the mortal River to the Lethe, the stream of souls, of which all material streams, even the Styx and Oceanus were only reflections. Wilder, faster and more dangerous to navigate, than any real river, Death concentrated on reaching her domain, forgetting the infant, until she arrived.

The appearance of Death is based on the belief of the observer. Many see a tall skeleton, but on other worlds, she appears as a small dark girl, or as a voluptuous and tall woman, with skin pale as bones, eyes black as death, hair gray as the ashes of burnt corpses, dressed either heavily or scantily. It was the last image, that the infant Elandra observed first. She was confused, for the skin felt like stone, but the nipple gave he milk, just as her true mother's breast had. While not yet capable of overly complex thought, Elandra thought she knew the difference between a rock and a breast.

Death realised she would be locked in this shape in her domain, until the girl left. She would have to grow up first, but time did not pass in her home. Besides a few rooms for mortal guests, which did occasionally make their way to her home, the domain of Death mostly consisted of endless halls filled with rows containing hourglasses, sands flowing down them, as lives passed. There were also great locked and guarded vaults containing the hourglasses for the lives of worlds, entire pantheons and single gods.

Ages passed, before death remembered to will time to flow at a normal rate for her adopted daughter to grow up.

Elandra of the Silvercastle had grown into a tall and beautiful woman, slender and voluptuous, strong, fast and gifted with a sharp mind, which strangely enough did not cause her to question the strange surroundings of her lonely upbringing. Dark leathery wings spread from, her back, enabling her to fly swiftly. She wore nearly knee-high boots of black leather and a short black velvet dress, contrasting sharply with her pale skin.

A strange sense of unrest filled her mind, since some time, but there was no way to measure it in this eternal domain, were only the names in the book and on the hourglasses seemed to change. There had to be more than this in the whole multiverse, but Elandra had never seen it and Death only talked about principles of existance, the cycle of life and other abstract concepts, which was the only thing the incarnation of an abstract concept was able to think.

Death came from her study, her expression unreadable as always. Idly Elanra wondered, why death was such an impossibly beautiful woman, with lustrous red lips, a voluptuous feminine body, if somewhat tall and strong for the taste of some men and generally be scantily clad. There was something strange in the atmosphere this time. Elandra sensed a subtle tension, wondering what it foreboded.

Death spoke: I gave cast the bones thirteen times, looked into mirrors and crystal balls, always to the same result. I have done all I can for you. You will have to leave this place and live a real life in the multiverse. "I have never even found an exit," Elandra said. "You always seem to move right through the walls." Death shrugged. She knew the mortal woman was unable to move through space and time like her.

I will move you to a place, which is known as a crossroad to everywhere. There you will find your destiny. Never forget that you are strong, but you are not me. For one thing Elandra had a deep and resonant voice, but it lacked the sepulchral tone, which was so typical for the emotionless voice of Death. She was also a mortal person, even though her long stay in Death's Domain might have changed the length of her life, but she did not know, because she had never actually found her own hourglass.

"I think I need some armour and weapon," Elandra said. "You told me the world outside is dangerous." Death agreed: I know this better than anyone. There are seven people who die of violence for every one, who dies peacefully. I have often wondered, why this is. Elandra shrugged. "Probably because people are fools," she spoke, as she followed death into the armoury. The strength of your mind is your strongest weapon and armour, but having both will help.

Elandra looked over the rows of blades, axes and other weapons of more kinds than she ever imagined possible. She chose a slender scimitar with a slightly curved blade of alien black steel. Armour was even more difficult, for many of the metal suits were too heavy and did not allow for her wings. Finally she found an ornate leather armour which covered her torso and groins, locking precisely with her wings. I is used by a mortal race called Miaegat, who have wings similar to your, when they move on their airborne patrols. I think you should wear a dress over it.

"No," Elandra simply said. She cast off her dress, found some underwear and put on the armour. The girl regarded herself in a mirror and liked the reflection, but wondered, if the decolletage of the breastplate was not a bit too much for safety. Death punched her, but the fist hit a solid plate. Magical Forcefield she said. Elandra nodded and said: "I should be ready."

Elandra sat down in the small boat of Death, while her adopted mother moved into the River of Souls. The girl did not exactly remember, how she had moved from the study of death to the small pier. She had the strange impression of a violent, impossible journey, then a bit of reality seemed to reassert itself. While she was not sure, she thought that her journey to the Domain of Death had taken longer. This place is Sigil, the City of Doors, death said. It is easier to reach than the world, where I found you.

She knew it had been shivered to small pieces of dead rock more than five hundred years ago. Listen to me, but do not show you do. No-one else can see me, Death said. Your life is your own, as far as I am concerned. I will only say that much: Many are not what they seem. Choose your path, your friends and your companions carefully. Elandra nodded in spite of the warning, but the few other passers-by believed she had been lost in thought. Death faded away, but Elandra did not notice.

Her attention was focussed on the next two people she met, a tall warrior-woman and a heavy minotaur towering over her. She instantly sensed there was something strange about them. They were half-mortal creatures, whose parents were fiends, but their hearts were not with the lower planes. They were near immortal, wild and dangerous. Elandra instantly felt drawn to them and revealed herself. She became the companion of Tandra Fiendslayer and Mireluki el'Irand, but their adventures are chronicled elsewhere.

Death returned to her home, almost falling into the river of souls. She wondered, what would happen to her, if she did. She shrugged and looked into a mirror. She still was her feminine self. Death wondered if that was just self-deceit, pretending to be a real person, which she was not. Death shrugged these thoughts away and entered her study. A page from her book, where she noted, which souls required her attention was missing. It was an empty page, but what would it do in the hands of a mortal?"

She shrugged and turned to a crystal ball. She spoke the magical words to activate it and spoke the name of her adopted daughter. The small sphere revealed the image of the Fiendslayer Companions, who had just been joined by the dwarf Dirkinigar. Death smiled. The choice was just perfect for Elandra's personality.

The Rules Section

You see a tall and slender voluptuous woman whose skin is unnaturally pale, her hair raven and her eyes are pitch black. She wears black leather armour like a second skin. Wings of the same material spread from her back. She carries a night black scimmitar at her girdle (which is also black).

Elandra of the Silvercastle CR 30

Lawful Neutral Medium Humanoid (pl/f miaegat/Psion 20th, Death's Servant 10th)

Environment:

Any (The Beheaded Fiend Inn)

Initiative:

+3 (Dex)

Senses:

 

Languages:

 

Armour Class:

20 (+7 leather +5 +3 dex)

Hit Points:

195hp (30d4+120)

Immunity:

Poison, fire

Resistance:

 

Saves:

Fort +14 Ref +13 Will +22

Weakness:

 

Speed:

30 feet; fly 60 feet (good)

Melee:

+23/+17/+13 Nightsteel Scimitar (1d6+7 - 18-20/x2)

Ranged:

—

Attack Options:

 

Space / Reach:

 

Combat Gear:

 

Spell-Like Abilities:

At will - cause fear, fading; 3/day - enervation, spectral hand, vampiric touch; 1/day - time stop; 3/week - magic jar, scream of despair (15d6 sonic, -5 morale penalty on all rolls).

Psionics:

210 Power Points

Powers Known:

Powers Known: 0 — control shadow, detect psionics, elfsight, far punch, know direction, missive, talons, telempathic projection, 1 — biofeedback, charm person, empathic transfer, know location, matter agitation, 2 — body adjustment, darkvision, ectoplasmic coccon, sever the tie, sustenance, 3 — charm monster, claws of the vampire, dimension slide, ectolplasmic form, shism, 4 — dissolving touch, fate of one, freedom of movement, inertial barrier natural armour, 5 — adapt body, brilliant blast, energy barrier, true seeing, 6 — breath of the dragon, disintegrate, null psionics field, retrieve, 7 — energy conversion, plane shift, reddopsi, teleport without error, 8 — hypercognition, mind store, recall death, shadow body, 9 — dissolution, greater emulation, psychic chirurgery, true metabolism.

Abilities:

Str 15 Dex 17 Con 18 Int 20 Wis 21 Cha 21

Special Qualities:

Death pact, spell-like abilities, SR 25, takes twice as long to suffucate as human, Wings have DR 5/+1.

Feats:

Armour Proficiency (light), Deep Impact, Ghost Attack, Improved Sunder, Maximize Power, Power Attack, Quicken Power, Sex Appeal, Speed of Tought, Weapon Proficiency (Scythe), Weapon Proficiency (Swords)

Skills:

Autohypnosis, Concentration, Diplomacy, Heal, Profession (Cook), Ride (Ground), Swim, Use Rope, Psi Skills. (210 ranks) Alchemy (Int), Concentration (Con), Craft (Int), Diplomacy (Cha), Heal (Wis), Knowledge (all skills taken individually) (Int), Mysticcraft (Int), Profession (Wis). Death's Skills (70 points)

Advancement:

By character class

Equipment:

Leather Armour, Scimitar "Nightbringer" — made from an unknown substance black as the night itself, possibly even frozen darkness. This masterwork weapon can cause blindness in an enemy and summon a globe of darkness. It is considered an epic weapon in respect to overcoming damage resistance. The scimitar is believed to be from death's personal armoury.

Treasure:

Standard, but Items: Equipment only.

Death's List (Su):

is probably the most important and responsible task of Elandra. This bleached bone-white parchment lists a number of names in death's odd handwriting with serifs. Whenever in a battle that lasts longer, death's servants will fade for a round to check their list and mark of everyone who died. She has to do this, no matter how much she would prefer to help her friends.

Death Pact (Su):

Undead will not attack Elandra, unless she attacks first.