Motivation: To Discover a better way of life for her Tribe
Appearance: Diemut is a little smaller than most of her tribe. Her silky, wavy soot black hair is often slicked back with a diluted form of the lubricating oils that rain down upon the tribe’s home. Her wide blue eyes constantly searching, watching for something. Her wardrobe is simple and practical.
Melee 3 [Dire Lances + 2]
[F] Occult 3 [Initial Thaumaturgy Degree in Exorcism and Wards]
Presence 1 [Asking Forgiveness +1]
Survival 2 [Autochonia +1]
All others default to 0
Artifact (Sigmund’s Legacy) 2
Heirloom Stone 3
Resources 1 [1 BP]
Smoke 2 [3 BP]
Excellency of Smoke
Smoke Harmony [Stealth]
Improvised Ritual Art: Exorcism and Wards
Seeing Without Eyes
Grasping the Ephemeral
Essence: 2 [10 BP]
Essence Pool: 27 motes, 5 committed
-0 [ ]
-1 [ ] [ ]
-2 [ ] [ ]
-4 [ ]
Incapacitated [ ]
Dodge DV: 2
Parry DV (Dire Lance): 4 (I rounded down per Heroic Mortal rules, -1 if Specialities do not count)
Join Battle: 8 [3 Wits + 3 Awareness + 2 from Communion]
Sigumnd’s Legacy Melee Attack: 11 [2 Dex + 3 Melee + 2 Specialty + 4 Accuracy
Uncle Sigmund [Pride – Living up the Legacy]
Charleigh (Mother) [Love – Unconditional]
The Silver Lady [Hope – Inspiring]
The Guilds [Shame – Petty Bickering]
Her Bound Elemental [Empathy – Both bounded to the wills of something greater]
Rolf Hesser [Respect – There is a lot I can Learn from him]
Nyklis Eisen [Friendship – We all grow up sometime]
Sigmund’s Legacy: A Soulsteel Dire Lance artefact weapon used by her uncle, Diemut inheirated it when he died ten years ago.
Speed 5; Accuracy 8L/2; Defense +2; Rate 2; Two handed, Lance Type, Overwhelming, Reach, Thrown
+4B/3L; Mobility -1; Fatigue 2
Equvilent of peasent clothes
Diemut was always a little odd as a child. Quiet and calm but not obedient she undoubtedly gave her mother (an Alchemist & guilds woman) many a headache. Not the she’d put others in danger, but Diemut would often go and…well watch things. It was as if she was trying to finish a puzzle This trait became more noticeable as she got older. It didn’t stop until after she was bonded to her stone but often her softly spoken apologises got her out of trouble.
Prior to her following her uncle’s foot steps however, Diemut was a fine student studying thaumaturgy. In particular, wards were a favorite of hers. It was fully expected that she was to join her mother’s guild and profession, albeit with a slightly different area of focus. Not many how she was going off and practising with her uncle’s soul-steel pike.
So it was to be a bit of a surprise when, on her birthday Diemut appeared before the council early in the morning and asked to join the ranks of the Domini, long dead uncle’s binding stone in hand. As the old saying goes, “Still oil seeps deeply.”
From Diemut’s perspective, it was always a foregone conclusion. Growing up, uncle Sigmund was the closest thing to a father figure she had, (her real father was member of a travelling tribe). He told all sorts of stories about the Sliver Lady from before the First Offence and the great explorers who blazed trails into the Great Taker. She had always wanted be among them one day. Since she was too young, she explored the village.
She didn’t like what she saw, the petty arguments driving the guilds into counter-productive polices. She saw the suffering of the Tribe. And like many others, the little girl wished she could get away from this life. To go somewhere far away and build a better world.
Now she can, but first her tribe needs her.