There is one single word to describe Nadia: Radiant. Not only is she an exceptional, exotic North beauty, but she carries herself with both the confidence and the gentleness of the Unconquered Sun. Her blonde hair curls around her face like a sweet halo, framing dark brown eyes and cheeks smattered with sun-kissed freckles.
Normally, Nadia wears the simple robes of her order – in autumn and winter, long-sleeved and hooded white cowls, fitted and trimmed in gold. In the warmer times of the year, Romanesque robes that hook with clips on the shoulders and tie under the bust with a gold chain, underlined in gold trim. When the time comes for battle, however, her clothing is replaced by emblazoned white and gold armor, proving her to be a true warrior of her god.
THE SCRIPTURE OF THE MAIDEN IN CHAINS
Once, there was a maiden…
…and before her came all the peoples of Creation, and knelt.
They set aside their petty squabbles in her name.
They acclaimed her with many shouts.
They prayed for her safety and her weal.
Not one of them struck free her chains.
“To know the world is to own it,” she said.
Seventeen years ago, a pink-skinned, white-haired baby girl was born to two very proud first-time parents in the tiny Northern village of Brynja’s Rest. Like most babes, she was loud and worrisome for the first few months, costing her parents sleep and sanity until her personality developed. However, after that first true smile where her eyes crinkled, and her little face twisted into a mask of joy, she was endeared not only to her family, but to all who saw her. As she grew, Nadia was the light of Brynja’s Rest, bringing laughter to the other children and their parents, and love to the hearts of almost all who saw her. Her childhood was filled with happiness, home-made sweet treats, family, and friends. Until the Crimson Plague.
Like most cities in the region inhabited by Oscalon and Silene, Brynja’s Rest felt the wrath of the Crimson Plague in full dose. Nadia’s memories of the weeks of torment as she and the other children of the city tried desperately to tend to their dying parents before help came are strong and clear. Even as she holds onto the memories of the warm arms of the sisters pulling her from her dead parents’ sides, the most prominent of them is the sight of the red flames and billowing smoke as she watched what remained of her home burn to ashes on her way to Aeovast.
It took months for the sisters of the abbey to coach the handful of Northern children out of their shocked shells. The language barrier – as the people in Brynja’s Rest spoke Skytongue – was just another thing barring the few remaining women from helping them move past their grief. However, patience and kindness prevailed, and as the months flew into years, Nadia found herself comfortable and content in her new home, if not having the true happiness she recalled from Brynja’s Rest, even as it faded into misty memories.
By the time she was a teenager, Nadia was able to take on the full duties of a Sister of Aeovast, and she swore her loyalty to the gods that they worshiped, and accepted her place in the society of the small abbey and outlying village. Still, her heart was troubled and yearned for something outside the walls of her home, a feeling of greatness that she could not express, even as she cheerfully went through her daily responsibilities. The other children of the abbey – those she grew up with, and the few orphans from here and there who came later – loved Nadia and often followed her around like puppies, asking for exotic stories or prayers and blessings from the gods. Her sing-song voice was like music to them, enchanting them with tales of warriors and great battles, of love and loss. Her quick mind easily entertained them as well as taught them lessons through her words. And her prayers were simple, sweet, and perhaps even sometimes heard. If nothing else, where Nadia walked, there was always hope and sunshine.
