Maegara

Character Name: Meg (Maegara)  Player: Francis
Rank/Position/Concept: Unwilling and still good priestess of
dark powers
Sex: Female
Race: Either human or tiefling (born human - see background
story for why it might have changed)
Ethny: Altany
Homeland: Altanis
Age: 17
Height: 5'2" (plus anything up to 5" heels)
Weight:
Colour of - Hair: Black
Eyes: Ice Blue
Skin: Olive
Appearance: Small, dark, and the sort of curvy you gain as part
of a pact with dark ... things.  Other than the eyes, could
possibly pass as a succubus.
Clothing: Normally black leather - if there's any excuse for
modest clothing providing an advantage she'll take it.
Demeanour: Surprisingly innocent for a dark pact warlock.
Generally cheerful and enjoying the good life.
Motivations: Conflicted - she wants out of her pact but wants
no one else to risk what she's gone through so she likes
playing rescuer and really likes the power she wields.  And
slowly it's getting to her.  She also likes letting her hair
down, splurging money (even if she doesn't buy her own drinks),
and having fun.

Her brain was foggy with smoke and the ropes dug into Screaming
had been pointless even before she'd been placed on the dark
altar.  And in stories this was the time the hero arrived.  But
she'd never believed in heroes.  She had, however, believed
Mattrim's honeyed words when he'd lured her here to be his
sacrifice to she knew not what.  Never again, not that that
looked as if it would be an issue.  She arched her chin to
avoid being cut, shivering.  He raised his knife high in the
air.  This was her only chance.  She twisted so her back was to
him, grabbed his belt knife and stabbing him in the gut.  His
own blade descended, scoring a line down her stomach as he
doubled over.  Which brought his head and neck into reach.  One
hard bite and she and the alter were drenched in blood as the
waste of skin expired messily.

Dark laughter from a cacophany of inhuman voices erupted in her
mind as she felt as if her body caught fire.  One voice spoke
to her, sounding like a hundred snakes hissing.  "The ritual
has been performed, and the sacrifice accepted.  Welcome, our
newest priestess.  Now what do you wish to do with your two
acolytes?"  Feeling much calmer than she ought to, she looked
at one and mentally reached out.  She glared and wished looks
could kill.  He collapsed, blood pouring out of his nose and
eyes.  Apparently her looks now not only could but she felt
high on the surge of energy that flowed into her.  Her other
captor screamed and brought his club down on her stomach, but
as it was about to touch her much of the energy she'd taken
earthed itself through the club and it's unfortunate wielder
causing his hair to stand on end - and his heart to stop.

In her mind the laughter, which had died down, erupted again.
"Very well done."  The sibilant voice continued.  "Corruption
is so much sweeter than inherent evil and you will make a fine
priestess.  And an entertaining one.  Enjoy your remodelled
body.  If you try wearing clothing we find inappropriate other
than for malicious purposes, it will itch.  And do something
about that tiresome virginity of yours."  As she blushed she
wished that heroes did exist; one would be useful right about
now for many reasons.  But right now, getting free and getting
out of here seemed like a good plan.