The Ballad of Oma Shillar

The Ballad of Oma Shillar She plays her lute in another dusty roadside inn, Another hovel of base vice and sin. Her music is sad, but beautiful everyone’s attention rapt, Before she even finished her final notes, she could hear how the people clapped.
She had come from a small village called Honeypond, far to the west, In her home as a musician, she was by far the best. At a young age she had shown a talent for her chords that no one he ever seen, As her music played, images would appear to accompany her routine.
She could play a song and cast a spell as she did, Either through her music or her magic, the town would do as she bid. This horrified her and her home she immediately fled, At age sixteen she hit the road to live as a traveling bard instead.
Oma Shillar, performer, and former adventurer as she was known, Her days of excitement are long past and now she travels alone. Long ago she had friends she travelled with, heroes every one, But after their last adventure, her hero days were done.
The Radiant Claws they were called, and many beasts did they slay, They took whatever jobs were offered so long as their clients could pay. They defeated goblins, orcs, giants, bandits and gnolls, It didn’t matter who they fought; they would take on all.
When they were told to kill a vampire, they had no concern, This beast was a far different foe as they would all soon learn. The creature slaughtered her friends right before her eyes, He then turned to her in his expression she could see her own demise.
In a moment he was upon her, his fangs singing into her vein, She could feel her life leave her and she could feel so much pain. She realized through the haze that her lute was still in her hands, She strummed a quick tune and started giving him commands.
“Stop,” she shouted, and the vampire immediately obeyed, It seemed that for now her death would be delayed. “Leave me alone,” she said through gritted teeth and lost blood, Before she knew what happened, she was face first in the mud.
When she awoke later, her enemy was gone, While she was asleep, he must have withdrawn. Something was different now, she did not know what it could be, She was all in one piece, at least as far as she could see.
Over the next few days, she could feel herself growing cold, And a strange hunger came upon her, one that could hardly be controlled. She had lost all sense of taste or pleasure of any kind, As this went on, she felt like she was losing her mind.
She could feel the tug of the vampire on her beckoning her back to him, Only her music soothed her and helped her to resist his whim. She hit the road once again to get as far away from him as she could, Perhaps distance would keep her away from him for good.
For over two hundred years she has traveled, fleeing ever farther away, She travels at night for she can’t stand the sun’s rays. She moves from inn to inn and plays not for gold, but to soothe her mind, The music and the approval of the crowd helped her resist the call she would find.
For two hundred years she travels and perfects her art, Her tunes are perfect as she plays from her non-beating heart. As she grows in talent, so too does she grow in her spells, She learns more magic as her talents begin the swell.
Her songs are always sad, but beautiful, lamenting the humanity that she lost, To come back from undead to living is a line that can not be crossed. Never again will she have pleasures of the flesh, drink, or food, Remembering this always puts her in a somber mood.
Her time in these places is for her a time of bliss, These seedy dives and taverns are full of brigands that no one will miss. She can’t always stop her cravings for blood with her music and magic, When that happens her feeding on these louts is less than tragic.
She once again feels the pull of the vampire that had made her undead, This time she’s had enough and decides to stop running instead. Her sire wants her back, that much is clear, It’s now time to face him and stop giving in to her fear.
On the road once again, travel clothes and lute in hand, She now moves west, back towards the vampire’s land. Perhaps she’ll win, perhaps she’ll die, maybe she’ll thrive, Whatever happens he won’t take her alive.

Current Status

Undead and nomadic

Age

218

Pronouns

She/Her

Gender

Female

Eyes

Formerly brown, but now midnight black

Hair

Long, raven black

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale, alabaster white skin

Height

5'2

Weight

110 lbs

Belief/Deity

None