Zora Thorn
Zora Thorn (a.k.a. Zee)
It's a hair past closing time at the Moonrock Alchemy store when a grimy young man limps through the door, breathing raggedly. He does not try to look for the alchemist, she is somewhere in the shadows, between dusty potion bottles still bubbling after years of disuse.
"Please, I know it's early. My sister needs a curative. She barely breathes."
A few determined rays of sun cut through some moth holes in the heavy curtains and he takes care to stay in their light. Even though its useless, he can't stop his eyes peering into the darkness, searching for her. He doesn't hear as she sidles next to him.
"Riversbane?" She asks, and he starts. Heart hammering so loud he knows there's no way she is deaf to it. He holds a small ritual talisman, knuckles whitening at his grip as he turns to face her.
She is unnaturally still, somehow immune to the dust that the air carries here. She remains in the dark, the rays of light separating them now seem thinner than before.
"Yes." He breathes, and quickly adds, "please."
So fast he's unsure if she took it from the shelf or if she had it in her hand already, she is holding a small corked bottle out to him. Her arm doesn't fully extend and is too close to her body for his liking but he reaches for it gingerly. He mutters a thankyou and begins to leave.
"Payment?" She asks.
"Oh, uh yes. I'll deliver 2 pints tomorrow." He says, continuing to go, but keeping her in his sights.
His hand is already pushing on the door when she appears silently beside him. He catches himself this time before the jump, but his throat tightens. At this distance even the darkened store can't hide those deep red eyes. She holds a small white roll of cloth.
"For your leg. It will fight infection." She doesn't wait for him to accept or decline, but places it in his hand and disappears back behind some aged shelves. He glances down at his leg, his ash smothered pants completely obscuring the gash he had received in his hurry to get here. He can't quite quell the shudders that scrape up his spine, but he's out on the dawning streets before he is rid of them.
***
It's been five years since she's seen her store and home. Now, she makes a living out of a travel alchemic kit and hunts what she cannot trade for. After over a century of searching for a place of her own, the Moonrock Alchemy store had meant more to her than its sum of weathered shelves and scratched glass tinctures. It connected her to a living, breathing world when she neither lived nor breathed any longer. Her heart keens for the destruction of the undead scum plague that forced her to flee and stole her home.
Physical Description
Body Features
Pale skin, cold to the touch,
Identifying Characteristics
Face distorts and eyes become red when feeding
Physical quirks
Walks silently, and slightly quicker than normal humans.
Apparel & Accessories
Clothes that allow for movement, but cover majority of skin.
A small vial of dragon blood hung on a choker.
A black enchanted parasol hovers above her while she is out in the day light, presumably to "keep from freckling".
Specialized Equipment
Light armor, simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, short swords, rapiers
Alchemy, thieves tools
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Once the daughter of a small town alchemist, she was training to take over the store when she was turned into a vampire. Fearing her own bloodlust and what others may do if they found out, she left in search of a cure.
She has settled into her life as a vampire now after over a century, keeping it a secret from most, but still works on a cure.
Gender Identity
Female
Sexuality
Uncertain
Accomplishments & Achievements
Well known alchemist, keeps an afterhours store, popular among the poor, desperate and those of uncertain character
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Continues to work on the cure, because even though she secretly doesn't want it, she believes that only by being human can she connect with people safely again.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Knows very little about how the living body works.
Is a wiz at creating alchemic agents.
Likes & Dislikes
Hates fur in her teeth. Is morbidly curious about the taste of each race.
Virtues & Personality perks
Fast to act, willing to help the needy, always makes arrangements for anyone too poor to pay for her alchemic recipes.
Vices & Personality flaws
Relishes the hunt and kill.
Is professional and cold until you get to know her.
Keeps people at a distance.
Personality Quirks
Drums her claw-like fingernails when impatient.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Owner of Moonrock Alchemy
Family Ties
Everyone she use to know would be dead by now.
Religious Views
Has never seen or felt anything that would make her believe in a higher power.
Social Aptitude
Quietly charasmatic. Is best at small groups or one on one conversations. Good at putting people at ease, as well as intimindating information out of them.
Hobbies & Pets
Collects small plants and herbs.
Wealth & Financial state
Owns her own afterhours alchemy store,
lives above it. Has a small saving since she doesn't require gold for food.
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Moon Alchemist
Birthplace
A small town she can't quite remember the name of
Children
Eyes
Dark brown / Blood red
Hair
Long, sleek, raven black
Height
5''
Weight
Slight
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Getting Made and Losing Freedoms
Reeman, my only connection to the Watch Commander Byrl, blinks out of sight as he guzzles an invisibility potion. Perfect.
My three guard entourage has to hurry Torgen along every now and then as he is still 90% absorbed in his new tome. I resign myself to silence as we walk back to the Watch Tower, flexing my wrists in the itchy rope binds.
Goodnight Sweet Wisp
The tavern is free from its malignant shadows and wisps. The last disappeared through a network of hollow vines snaking away from the public house. These vines are obviously constructs of the druids and the evidence against them continues to grow. Tonight we sleep in our free rooms and tomorrow we’ll pick up the tome causing the librarian trouble. Landar’s new friend Graves bothers me. He just bothers me.
Out About Town
The sun seemed vengeful the next morning when I awoke in my free room at the Green Spire Tavern. Tonight we find out what haunts these walls. I decided to share a few morning drinks with Torgen and Cannonball to dull the glare. There is a quiet enthusiasm to the Tortle that I enjoy. And Cannonball is stoic but perceptive. Neither could outdrink me but their attempts later might be cute.
My companions and I sort out the local notice board for clues to any undead leads, and then continued to take on a few odd jobs, raising gold for our journeys ahead. I’ve gotten in contact with the shadier elements in this town and it seems as though the new druid’s dealings may not be all above board.
Missing: Brains
We entered Aramouth today, a town I'm familiar with from my travels but haven't seen in many months.
Waterskin filled with 4 pints of pigs blood. The butcher recognized me immediately as a “pale skin” and offered his human supply. My tongue twitched at the thought, but I politely refused. As soon as you begin feeding from your own kind they begin to look like little more than cattle.
***
Milla glides around her Alchemy store with a familiarity and grace that seems unnatural for such a well-built orcish woman. As soon as I stepped into the store I felt like a weight lifted off me. Conversation came easily as we discussed her sale. I’ve learnt to listen to my gut over the century and this feels like a woman I would trust at my back.
I’ve started to brew my healing potions, and they should be ready by the time we leave with Milla and her father in two days for Roc’s Roost. While my companions have proven themselves in brawn and courage, I fear they may have a problem with their brains being missing. It took the promise of reward to convince them to wait until Milla and her father could accompany us, as if having a better chance of living through the encounter up there wasn’t enough of a reason.
Boneyard
I write this as I "relax" on a superheated fire elemental bed. A Godsend, if I worshipped such things. Cannonball outdid himself in our time of need, summoning this garish flame mobile in the nick of time. If it weren't for my healing properties, I would be another corpse left to rot in that necrotic town. I find years of solitude and the fear I instilled in my patrons has left me with an unearned sense of confidence in this place. These aren't just poorhouse humans looking for a cure-all. These undead beasts are dangerous. More dangerous than I. A lesson well learned I believe.
***
We arrived at a small abandoned fishing village. I should have thought I would feel at home in the lonely dust here, but something about the dry skeletons in the basement of one of the houses, and the still air makes me uncomfortable. If I am to survive this plague, I fear I will have to give in to some of my more primal instincts. Perhaps it is time to leave the rabbits and foxes alone for more egregious prey.
First Meetings
Constant companionship is strange after so many years keeping to myself. I find I prefer to keep ahead and scout in the darkness keeping an eye on my companions.
The Tortle seems wise and kind.
Reeman is a practical lizard if nothing else, and amusing in his way.
Lambar is still a mystery.
I take pity on Cannonball, mortal wounds are unpleasant as I recall, and to see so many of his comrades dead must have taken its toll.
Comments