Nilaqui 'Flame' Kinanodel
by David Carroll
Female Elf, 4th level Sorcerer / 3rd level Cleric of Wee Jas
For one version of the character's background, and how she may have ended up in the bandit camp, see the story 'Autumn Flame' in Passing Strange.
STR 9, DEX 16, CON 11, INT 12, WIS 14, CHA 18
33 hp, AC 14 (inc. Bracers +1), Init +3
Saves: Fortitude 5, Reflex 6, Will 10
Feats/Special Abilities: Dodge, Combat Casting, Weapon Focus (ranged touch); Death Touch, Alertness (from familiar)
Skills: Concentration 9, Diplomacy 5, Heal 4, Hide 4, Knowledge (Arcana) 2, Knowledge (Religion) 2, Knowledge (Undead) 5, Move Silently 4, Spellcraft 4, Tumble 4, Wilderness Lore 3
Languages: Common, Elven, Gnome
Familiar: Fireball (toad)
Ranged Touch attack +8
Death is like magic. If you don't prepare properly, it sputters away to nothing
Working as an ill-trained and under-equipped physician to the bandits of Lord Cænnyn Shenariys, Flame came to recognise the essential waste that these men and women had made of their lives. They lived them -- gambling, boasting, feuding, coupling and most of all fighting -- with a fury that had no direction. They did not understand the politics behind Lord Shenariys' fall into the wilderness; they could not comprehend how such forces were petty beside the tensions of the Flanaess. And to tell them that their flesh was just a temporary vessel on a far longer journey was mere breath into the Abyss. Even Cænnyn himself, who conducted himself with a great deal more dignity than those he commanded, was like a boy lost in the world.
Still, her position gave her a particularly good insight into the sheer physicality of these people's life, how grounded they were in the flesh, with all its strengths and vulnerabilities. Many people died in the small hut in which she practised, but they always fought death, no matter how severe the wounds they had received. These people had a will to live. Those that did so, went on to make all the same mistakes.
Of course, she was not simply confined to a hut, or to thoughts on mortality. Weeks could go by with little violence. At other times, it seemed a place steeped in blood. She was a midwife when needed, and when men or women came to her, troubled or in pain, she would sooth them with stories of elven woods. Games were played, parties were held, and Flame would run and drink with everybody else. Sometimes she danced. Sometimes she would be in danger -- even from those she had tended -- but Lord Shenariys' care and her own speed and skill (her will to live) saw her through.
Until the Lord himself died, in a raid gone horribly wrong, and Flame walked away from all of this one cold autumn night.
After the disappointment of the elves, Flame started behaving recklessly and foolishly, seeking out the sort of company she had known in the camp. It took Lyana, an aged half-elf who approached three nights in a row before she was even able to gain Flame's attention, to centre her again, and apply some discipline to the magic she had manifested within her.
When Lyana was killed for witchcraft (or so it appeared to have happened), Flame considered her old ways again, but this time resisted the call. All this death she had seen, had participated in, must be for a reason. She could no longer believe that this life was a fragile illusion on the road to calmer glades, as her heritage had taught her. She slept one last night in Lyana's small house, in front of the shrine to Wee Jas, though the half-elf had spoken little about the gods. In the morning, Flame knew how she must live her life.
Tenets of Belief
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