The Legacy of Joan Verani

[Mogrand]

♛

Joan Verani

[[ Most spoilers redacted, but minor ones below - read at your own risk. DO NOT METAGAME! ]]

[Biography] -  [Journal] - [Theme] - [Screenshots]

Full Name: Sister Joan Verani
Birthdate: Year 1316.
Birthplace: Redholme

Appearance:

Handedness: Left.
Posture: Upright and Relaxed stance.

Physical Description: Style.

Personality Profile:
General Health: Excellent
Accent: Redholme
Profession: Former Regional Operative of Decus,Defender of the People.
Languages: -Redacted-

Description:



Age 0-13: Born to a homeless street dweller, the woman at least had the common sense to give the baby to the church to have a better life than she could afford it. This baby was to be named Joan. Raised by a church in Redholme till the tender age 8, where she was then told that in order to remain living at the convent she would have to pick a craft. From there she choose to go the path of heaven called. Learning and speaking the divine language. Though as she grew older and hit puberty she began to have problems concentrating and maintain the heavenly powers.

Age 14-22: The church in Redholme kept an eye on Joan from the moment she had displayed such ability, merely waiting for the right time to bring her purpose to that of the church. At age 14 they took just that moment. Requesting that Joan be sent to Angelspire for formal training and indoctrination into the faith militant. Joan Studied the words of heaven 4 hours a day and another 6hrs was spent doing martial katas to focus the mind. She soon regained her focus over her craft and continued her path of virtuous training within the confines of Angelspire for eight long years.

Age 22-26: After the many years of training had been completed at Angelspire, Joan was sent back to Redholme. Where she became traveling eyes and ears for the church in various regions. Keeping them apprised of the happenings of areas, and solving any minor issues that might need smoothed over in the process. On her 25th name day, the church granted her a surname as a testament to her raising and vigilance to the church. The Surname was Verani. With the status of now being a competent regional operative, The church used Joan to great effect in some of the more forward regions of those provinces. Making sure people got out of areas alive and that order was maintained in the region. It was with that thought that with the flurry of news with troublesome words coming in from Fort Presidium, the church decided to send Joan Verani to the region, to get a true scope of things and to make sure everything is maintained.


Presidium: Joan met with decent success early on in her time at presidium, keeping order and defending the people. A time came when that all began to flounder. The efforts of the republic became less about reclaiming the province and capital and more of a power struggle between the inner factions of a crumbling republic. A point came where the bubbling tensions erupted into marred conflict and Joan was branded a rebel against her own Republic and Church. The wound to Joan's core over these events caused an opening in her mind she never thought possible. A life not under the Church. As time continued on as it always does, Joan moved forward with her mission. Defending the people, though now Joan was the one to dictate the rules for doing such. The Church had failed Joan and with that, her faith failed as well. Joan now patrols the first province, her duties the same, keeping the Tormented at bay and the people safe in the night.


Traits: Proud,Respectful,Sullen

[Mogrand]

The Legion:


Joan had spent little time back in the fort before the old familiar faces began to show themselves. They were peppered in the throngs of the new but with them came constant reminders. Reminders of the life she walked away from. Kaine and his blunders coupled with the resurgence of The Order left Joan feeling the hatred growing in her once more. She thought she had left it behind, buried in the blood and dirt of Tenebrae, but alas that is not a feeling one can ever truly be rid. The feeling of betrayal, betrayal from the very fabric in which you were forged.

Joan distanced herself from Fort Praesidium, keeping her patrols to the area of the plantation and monitoring the northern pagans and their numbers. This work kept her occupied and content, but she knew that her efforts would be minimalized by her working alone. She took days of consideration to devise her next steps. Where could she apply her skills the most effectively to keep the citizenry safe and not have to deal with the lie that is Decus constantly.

The answer was fairly easy to reach, it came down to whether she wanted to use her talents for singular high-profile elimination or in the thick of the fight against the hordes. While she knew the value of what a well-applied operative could accomplish, Joan was always one to be in the thick of it. She found most of her peace of mind while in the heat of battle and thus the decision was made.

She brought herself to join The Legion. She knew Legatus Silvercrest from her days as an operative of the church. Silvercrest’s disbelief and gratitude shown through in their reuniting, disbelief in her falling so far from her faith, and gratitude for her landing in the lap of the legion.

Joan spent much of her time on sentry patrol of the legion fort, combined with her occasional hunting and scouting trips most of that time was spent in contemplation. She knew the legion wasn’t a perfect fit for her. The personalities border on that of mere cutthroat behavior, but the structure, training, and routine were familiar and a much-welcomed security to fall into as she watched how the resolve might react to the new reinforcements in the area setting up fortified positions the like which rivaled their last show of force.

[Mogrand]

Joan struggled to find her place among the soldiers and in turn, drew herself further inward. She focused on the arduous tasks at hand, which for this fledgling fort and quickly expanding civilian housing seemed to be resource gathering. The needs of the people at this junction were lumber and food, and Joan was not one to disappoint.

Joan found her sense of belonging out in the forests of Tenebrae and her old home The Plantation.
The land was bountiful, though the new surge of people would surely soon squander its slow rebirth. They hadn’t seen the desolation this area had been reduced to not so long ago. With growth and rebirth comes the shadow to all light. The forest in Tenebrae had continued its regeneration, likely emboldening the Ancient Dae that is bound there. Animals in the area seemed to lose their minds and become aggressively feral if they lingered for too long. These animals provided the meat and hide needed to keep the swelling numbers fed and clothed, while also clearing the way for safe travels through the Tenebrae region.

The attack on Riverside chapped Joan’s ass. She considered Riverside and Plantation region her home, more so than anywhere else in the area. Her fondest memories come from the dark times spent entrenched there, fending away the true evils that blight this land. Due to the nature of the attack, Joan moved her patrols further eastward. The taint that dwells upon the land of the old mansion, along with the old Consortium were to be the focus of her active patrols. If their hope was to garner people’s attention and cause destruction, then in that they were a success, for they now had Joan’s.

[Mogrand]

Joan could hear the groans and disjointed howls echoing into the forest, she marched on letting the harrowing sounds be her beacon. It wasn’t long before the small tower of the mansion came into view, the enslaved spirits ever lingering just beyond in the graveyard. She unslung her heater shield and slid the magical scimitar from its sheath as she double-timed it over to the specters.

She slammed her blade against the thick metal of her shield, sending an echo of her own to be heard into the forest. The specters reacted immediately, a new prey for them to feed on had arrived. Their shadowy essence speedily crept across the short distance left between them. Joan lifted her shield and charged through the pack, forcing them to disperse and recoalesce. As they reformed Joan already had her scimitar in motion, connecting with the black shadow and visibly causing darkness to leak into the air. The second specter sent out a beckoning screech while slamming itself against Joan, ripping and tearing at her plate armor in the hope to reach her flesh. Joan kept her focus on the leaky specter, shoving the other away with her shield, then promptly lowering it to land a finishing blow. Joan pivoted herself onto the last specter, but the last strike had left her exposed to the dangers that emerged from the ground.

Skulls had erupted from the loose graveyard soil, their eyes glowed green and emitted an ectoplasmic discharge that seemed to linger in the air as though it were its body. Joan caught the floating ectoplasm in her peripheral and she knew the battle was soon to begin. She tightened her stance, feeling her confidence and conviction to avenge the people of Riverside well up inside her. Joan once more pushed her way through the specter but turned her attentions to the three floating forms that now had her surrounded. Joan hacked the skulls down in quick succession, though erupting ectoplasm burned like a strong acid. It clung to her armor and dripped onto her skin, eating away at both as it did so. Joan grit her teeth in pain but kept her form as she expertly slung her shield onto her back and leapt at the remaining specter. Its shadowy form instinctively clawed the air in an attempt to stop her, but her timing was flawless. The scimitar pierced deep and used her momentum to slide through the center mass of the specter, leaving it leaking shadow into the morning sky. As Joan got herself ready to block the incoming onslaught of the nearly dissipated specter, she felt a terrible weakness over herself. Her joints weakened and her muscles ached, but worst of all was the pain of hunger that now dwelled in her stomach.

This was not the work of the specter and Joan knew it. She started a dance with the specter, pivoting herself around to make it follow her while she got a better view of the graveyard. The specter took another strong swipe at Joan, allowing her the opening to strike it down with her blade. With the shadowy form now dissipated Joan panned the area as the pains in her stomach twinged once again. Beside the corner headstone erupted a bolt of electricity, it singed across the graveyard and struck Joan. The bolt scorched clean through the armor, Joan and continued into the headstone behind her. Joan unslung her shield and dropped to a knee, taking a few controlled breaths to compose herself. She saw a tattered robed figure which had already begun to mumble its next incantation. There was no time to delay as Joan forced herself back into action, nimbly shuffling her armored self through the headstones to close the distance. The robed figure seemed to be conjuring another energy bolt in front of it, Joan slammed her shield into the center of the figure disrupting its ability to manifest the energy required. The figure bellowed a terribly disjointed and pained howl as Joan slashed at him repeatedly with her scimitar, refusing to give the figure time to recover and use its dark arcana. Quick work was made of the figure, to which Joan learned that itself was a twisted and haunted spirit. She suspected as much when she heard the disjointed cries and she would have stayed to investigate the full extent of the growing evil at the mansion, but the dark magics that had been cast upon her prevented such. She needed to get food, rest, and report her encounter to her commanding officers, so for now Joan retreated from the manor in hopes of bringing reinforcements for future investigation.