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Dreamwayfarer
Hedonite of the Abyss
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2024
- Location
- the murky swamp of your dreams!
I'm going to go ahead and post an origin story for my favorite re-occurring character - Vanessa, who I will likely be starting a request thread for myself(later tonight hoefully~).
(I should warn -- my writing certainly isn't the best, but I do enjoy the act of writing/roleplaying)
-------------------------------
TW: Violence / Violence against children / occult sacrifice /
-------------------------------
Born to a human father, and an elven mother Vanessa’ early upbringing is much a mystery to her. Too young to recall how she came to be; of course she pondered, and obviously she made queries after her heritage. Though she was never offered the answers she asked after, and ultimately found the efforts futile given the company she was among.
She was the slave girl of a shrewd and aloof wizard; Frendril. The two were housed in a handsome tower that was attached to a Duke’s castle. Whose practical function and cover; was the teaching of politics and necessary functions of the ruling class. To those on the inside however; he was the means with which the Cult of Zariel remained concealed to wary eyes.
There were brief moments of almost fatherly kindness Vanessa felt towards Frendril. When she grew older and a spark of intellect manifested he had attempted to train her, and shared that he too did not know his parents. Though his impatient and ultimately foul nature spoiled her chances at becoming his apprentice and returned to her menial tasks and preparatory chores.
Vanessa was no stranger to fiends, though exclusively of the devilish variety. A sole child of the Duke’s, his youngest son was a tiefling. It was a momentous time in the history of the family, having served centuries to Zariel and finally be blessed with a child of her fiendish nature. A few year’s her senior, and still the youngest of the litter the two developed a unique bond.
He was to be hidden away, or at least his true appearance hidden behind glamors and illusions. The rest of the kingdom knew him to be stillborn, the last child of the Duchess, and while treated as a princeling behind closed doors he ultimately resented his reality. Vanessa was a mere slave girl, treated as less than, and when not ordered around by her Master; she was the errand runner and favorite rat of the castle.
She was half-elven, the only one among the Duchy and she was fetching and beautiful. The tiefling ‘princeling’; Zandrian d’Bastonne was the only tiefling. They found comfort in being outsiders to each other. Between the visits of hellish envoys and dignitaries, he was the only one with obvious fiendish appearance and to the lower ranks of the cult, and their servants; there was fear and resentment which he held a deep contempt with. Vanessa did not, for she was seen with a much sharper degree of disdain from her human peers.
The two shared in a brief, and very passionate romance upon her reaching adulthood. It was quickly spoiled, as at last, the Bastonne’s had found a suitable match for Zandrian. Their romance ended abruptly, forced to serve at their marriage and the revelries that followed. Zandrian and his wife were plagued by infertility, and out of frustration he returned again to Vanessa, who gladly accepted his returned affections.
As a remedy to their infertile marriage, Zandrian’s family bid him to war and battle, dispatching Frendril to mask his devilish heritage. During his leave, to Vanessa’s horror she discovered she had become pregnant. Without Frendril’s oversight, the abuses she endured became nearly unbearable. Zandrian’s wife, Lillith was a jealous woman and held open contempt for her.
Surviving the many indecencies, Zandrian’s return along with Frendril’s brought a sense of normalcy to her life. Vanessa immediately sought Zandrian and begged for his protection and acceptance of the life they could lead. Zandrian knew Lillith would not tolerate this slight; nor would her own family. A breaking of their families alliance would be disastrous. Together they concocted a wild scheme, she would steal what she could from Frendril’s treasures to fuel their runaway life.
The night they were fated to flee was not destined to be and Vanessa was caught out alone: abandoned by her lover. Zandrian had betrayed her, and although their child would be spared as it was his offspring, Vanessa would be sacrificed and her soul offered to Zariel to fuel the blood war. There was no compromise in this, Lillith demanded her death, and Frendril had abandoned what few feelings he had when she betrayed his trust.
Thrown into a dark cell, she pondered when her death would come, the injustice of it, how unfair it was that she’d never discover her parents, command magic like Frendril, or power like the Bastonne’s. Most keenly she raged at Zandrian’s betrayal, his coldness, his refusal to even see her. All her life she was taught to treasure the scraps of affection no-- the attention, and lusting of others, their abuse and manipulations and accept their lies. Her rage seethed so deep, so hot, that she swore she was boiling her unborn child in the womb. The anger was ceaseless, its fury growing in pitch to a simmer, to rival even a red dragon whose prized treasure had been stolen.
Then she heard it. In the blackness. Inside the depths of her despairing, maddening rage, the voice of the demon.
He offered to her freely a sacrificial kris, a blade to protect herself. As they knew her rage was unmatched, like theirs. She pleaded at first, begged then, and lastly demanded. More. She deserved more.
He agreed. Emblazoning into her mind; a circle of power. Draw this on the floor of your cell, cover it with the straw she used as a mattress. Then it demanded she wait. Patiently, calmly, like a cattle, resigned to its fate. Awaiting the slaughter after she birthed and nursed her calf.
The voice was silent, and she waited as he asked. The pains came first, the breaking of her water next, her screams wracked through the dungeons, and her captors knew. The midwife had come, and in the bowels of the castle she howled for her child to make its leave of her body. After her battle with childbirth, her tiefling infant cradled in her arm still covered in the aftermath of their struggle. She had not an ounce of maternal love for this creature that had leached off of her.
An explosion wracked the castle to its core, causing the building and the ceiling to shudder and clench like the distressed intestines of a creature struck with dysentery. Screams followed, and madness fell upon the castle. The guards and midwife were dragged from her cell and slain by monstrous alien creatures. They looked nothing like the visiting cambions or devils she had glimpsed; these were nightmarish and horrific.
“Run!” It growled in her mind, laughing almost mockingly. She was frozen with terror; what entity now assaulted the castle of devil worshippers? The shrill inhuman cries of the demons punctuated the madness, Zandrian burst into her cell, covered in blood, his own or the demons she could not know. His knights and brothers filed into the room and he quickly collected her.
“We’re leaving Vanessa--” She slapped him, recoiling away. Snatching the dagger she had hidden under the straw and the mattress they had installed into the room days prior.
“Away; I’d NEVER leave with you!” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her and their child closer.
“Lillith is dead. As is my father and Frendril - please Vanessa, we don't have time to squabble. I am here to offer you the life you begged of me!” She bit her lip, uncertain, but she wasn’t given much time. Warnings made to Zandrian erupted down the hallway and she was pulled and dragged with him.
Zandrian, his brothers, and the guard fought back against the demons, they made it to the courtyard, the sky filled with smoke, dyed red from the setting sun, brimstone raining from above. They were almost out; the fluttering of hope began to soar from her belly into her chest. A shadow of belief bloomed across her countenance; could he truly mean to make a life with her?
A looming figure blocked their escape, and it spoke to her. “Vanessa; I thank you for the invitation into the world. You were instrumental in orchestrating the slaughter you see before you.”
Zandrian spared the briefest of looks towards Vanessa, unable to comprehend the demon's meaning. He rallied his courage before he and his brothers charged, spurred to fight and defeat the demon.
A familiar voice crept into her mind, “Is this the more you wanted?” She didn’t respond, overwhelmed with the chaos surrounding her. Zandrian’s brothers were falling, but the demon was shrinking back, growing more desperate. The guards and soldiers galvanized by Zandrian’s valiant struggle. “You still desire more; don’t you? You don’t wish for the life of a meek, subservient, play-thing. How capricious are his convictions, his feelings for you? He threw you away. Forgot about you. He saved you, only for the milk you will feed his son.”
The tide was turning against the demons now. Cambions and devils filtered out into the courtyard, replacing the guards who lay dead and dying. Zandrian stood alone, crying out the names of his fallen siblings to match the song and whistle of his blade swing.
“Kill the child. Pay him for every pain and tragedy his family and your master ever inflicted upon you.” She gripped her dagger harder.
“Do this; and I will grant you might that you would have never realized.” She held her infant son aloft.
“Do it! Give unto me your child.” The tone became desperate, almost pleading, as if a key to an escape was nearly in reach. It was wholly lost on Vanessa, combating sensory overload, conflicting morals and values, weighing which life, which dream she wanted to realize more.
She raised her dagger high, eclipsing the dying red light of the sunset on her childs cherub-like features. Schllllick schlack! The demon blocking their escape fell to Zandrians blade. Instinctually the babes eyes widened, screamed, Vanessa plunged her dagger down in one swift violent motion.
It all happened so fast she screamed, Zandrian turned, adrenaline and emotions ran rampant behind her eyes. They spilled throughout her body so fast she could barely decipher them; maddened joy, relief, freedom, loss, sudden gravity of her actions, regret. Pain. So much pain. She locked eyes with Zandrian. He stared at her deadpan, clarity gone leaving him dumbstruck. His face contorted with rage, hate, an anger that dared to rival hers, he shouted her name, but she didn't hear it. He kept asking why; why; what have you done? She couldn't hear him though, she just stared, dumb and confused. He advanced towards her, threatening. He halted, startled, a massive hand grasped the limp corpse Vanessa held from behind her. The large form stooped over her, leaning into her ear.
“More, is yours now. For you; my dear, I will save your life this one last time.” It’s growled words were also a purr and a threat at the same time. She dared to not look back, for she saw the look on Zandrian’s face and she saw nothing but madness and terror. Her vision went black, and when she awoke it was in an abandoned, ruined cottage. She wore traveling clothes and a hooded cloak. On the soiled mattress was her pack, and the sacrificial dagger she had once gripped. With her pact made, she collected her items. Her mind made quick work to block out the most traumatic of the experiences, and quickly rooted into her heart the motivation to achieve power. To do unto those what had been done unto her. She would command awe, fear, and admiration all.
(I should warn -- my writing certainly isn't the best, but I do enjoy the act of writing/roleplaying)
-------------------------------
TW: Violence / Violence against children / occult sacrifice /
-------------------------------
Born to a human father, and an elven mother Vanessa’ early upbringing is much a mystery to her. Too young to recall how she came to be; of course she pondered, and obviously she made queries after her heritage. Though she was never offered the answers she asked after, and ultimately found the efforts futile given the company she was among.
She was the slave girl of a shrewd and aloof wizard; Frendril. The two were housed in a handsome tower that was attached to a Duke’s castle. Whose practical function and cover; was the teaching of politics and necessary functions of the ruling class. To those on the inside however; he was the means with which the Cult of Zariel remained concealed to wary eyes.
There were brief moments of almost fatherly kindness Vanessa felt towards Frendril. When she grew older and a spark of intellect manifested he had attempted to train her, and shared that he too did not know his parents. Though his impatient and ultimately foul nature spoiled her chances at becoming his apprentice and returned to her menial tasks and preparatory chores.
Vanessa was no stranger to fiends, though exclusively of the devilish variety. A sole child of the Duke’s, his youngest son was a tiefling. It was a momentous time in the history of the family, having served centuries to Zariel and finally be blessed with a child of her fiendish nature. A few year’s her senior, and still the youngest of the litter the two developed a unique bond.
He was to be hidden away, or at least his true appearance hidden behind glamors and illusions. The rest of the kingdom knew him to be stillborn, the last child of the Duchess, and while treated as a princeling behind closed doors he ultimately resented his reality. Vanessa was a mere slave girl, treated as less than, and when not ordered around by her Master; she was the errand runner and favorite rat of the castle.
She was half-elven, the only one among the Duchy and she was fetching and beautiful. The tiefling ‘princeling’; Zandrian d’Bastonne was the only tiefling. They found comfort in being outsiders to each other. Between the visits of hellish envoys and dignitaries, he was the only one with obvious fiendish appearance and to the lower ranks of the cult, and their servants; there was fear and resentment which he held a deep contempt with. Vanessa did not, for she was seen with a much sharper degree of disdain from her human peers.
The two shared in a brief, and very passionate romance upon her reaching adulthood. It was quickly spoiled, as at last, the Bastonne’s had found a suitable match for Zandrian. Their romance ended abruptly, forced to serve at their marriage and the revelries that followed. Zandrian and his wife were plagued by infertility, and out of frustration he returned again to Vanessa, who gladly accepted his returned affections.
As a remedy to their infertile marriage, Zandrian’s family bid him to war and battle, dispatching Frendril to mask his devilish heritage. During his leave, to Vanessa’s horror she discovered she had become pregnant. Without Frendril’s oversight, the abuses she endured became nearly unbearable. Zandrian’s wife, Lillith was a jealous woman and held open contempt for her.
Surviving the many indecencies, Zandrian’s return along with Frendril’s brought a sense of normalcy to her life. Vanessa immediately sought Zandrian and begged for his protection and acceptance of the life they could lead. Zandrian knew Lillith would not tolerate this slight; nor would her own family. A breaking of their families alliance would be disastrous. Together they concocted a wild scheme, she would steal what she could from Frendril’s treasures to fuel their runaway life.
The night they were fated to flee was not destined to be and Vanessa was caught out alone: abandoned by her lover. Zandrian had betrayed her, and although their child would be spared as it was his offspring, Vanessa would be sacrificed and her soul offered to Zariel to fuel the blood war. There was no compromise in this, Lillith demanded her death, and Frendril had abandoned what few feelings he had when she betrayed his trust.
Thrown into a dark cell, she pondered when her death would come, the injustice of it, how unfair it was that she’d never discover her parents, command magic like Frendril, or power like the Bastonne’s. Most keenly she raged at Zandrian’s betrayal, his coldness, his refusal to even see her. All her life she was taught to treasure the scraps of affection no-- the attention, and lusting of others, their abuse and manipulations and accept their lies. Her rage seethed so deep, so hot, that she swore she was boiling her unborn child in the womb. The anger was ceaseless, its fury growing in pitch to a simmer, to rival even a red dragon whose prized treasure had been stolen.
Then she heard it. In the blackness. Inside the depths of her despairing, maddening rage, the voice of the demon.
He offered to her freely a sacrificial kris, a blade to protect herself. As they knew her rage was unmatched, like theirs. She pleaded at first, begged then, and lastly demanded. More. She deserved more.
He agreed. Emblazoning into her mind; a circle of power. Draw this on the floor of your cell, cover it with the straw she used as a mattress. Then it demanded she wait. Patiently, calmly, like a cattle, resigned to its fate. Awaiting the slaughter after she birthed and nursed her calf.
The voice was silent, and she waited as he asked. The pains came first, the breaking of her water next, her screams wracked through the dungeons, and her captors knew. The midwife had come, and in the bowels of the castle she howled for her child to make its leave of her body. After her battle with childbirth, her tiefling infant cradled in her arm still covered in the aftermath of their struggle. She had not an ounce of maternal love for this creature that had leached off of her.
An explosion wracked the castle to its core, causing the building and the ceiling to shudder and clench like the distressed intestines of a creature struck with dysentery. Screams followed, and madness fell upon the castle. The guards and midwife were dragged from her cell and slain by monstrous alien creatures. They looked nothing like the visiting cambions or devils she had glimpsed; these were nightmarish and horrific.
“Run!” It growled in her mind, laughing almost mockingly. She was frozen with terror; what entity now assaulted the castle of devil worshippers? The shrill inhuman cries of the demons punctuated the madness, Zandrian burst into her cell, covered in blood, his own or the demons she could not know. His knights and brothers filed into the room and he quickly collected her.
“We’re leaving Vanessa--” She slapped him, recoiling away. Snatching the dagger she had hidden under the straw and the mattress they had installed into the room days prior.
“Away; I’d NEVER leave with you!” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her and their child closer.
“Lillith is dead. As is my father and Frendril - please Vanessa, we don't have time to squabble. I am here to offer you the life you begged of me!” She bit her lip, uncertain, but she wasn’t given much time. Warnings made to Zandrian erupted down the hallway and she was pulled and dragged with him.
Zandrian, his brothers, and the guard fought back against the demons, they made it to the courtyard, the sky filled with smoke, dyed red from the setting sun, brimstone raining from above. They were almost out; the fluttering of hope began to soar from her belly into her chest. A shadow of belief bloomed across her countenance; could he truly mean to make a life with her?
A looming figure blocked their escape, and it spoke to her. “Vanessa; I thank you for the invitation into the world. You were instrumental in orchestrating the slaughter you see before you.”
Zandrian spared the briefest of looks towards Vanessa, unable to comprehend the demon's meaning. He rallied his courage before he and his brothers charged, spurred to fight and defeat the demon.
A familiar voice crept into her mind, “Is this the more you wanted?” She didn’t respond, overwhelmed with the chaos surrounding her. Zandrian’s brothers were falling, but the demon was shrinking back, growing more desperate. The guards and soldiers galvanized by Zandrian’s valiant struggle. “You still desire more; don’t you? You don’t wish for the life of a meek, subservient, play-thing. How capricious are his convictions, his feelings for you? He threw you away. Forgot about you. He saved you, only for the milk you will feed his son.”
The tide was turning against the demons now. Cambions and devils filtered out into the courtyard, replacing the guards who lay dead and dying. Zandrian stood alone, crying out the names of his fallen siblings to match the song and whistle of his blade swing.
“Kill the child. Pay him for every pain and tragedy his family and your master ever inflicted upon you.” She gripped her dagger harder.
“Do this; and I will grant you might that you would have never realized.” She held her infant son aloft.
“Do it! Give unto me your child.” The tone became desperate, almost pleading, as if a key to an escape was nearly in reach. It was wholly lost on Vanessa, combating sensory overload, conflicting morals and values, weighing which life, which dream she wanted to realize more.
She raised her dagger high, eclipsing the dying red light of the sunset on her childs cherub-like features. Schllllick schlack! The demon blocking their escape fell to Zandrians blade. Instinctually the babes eyes widened, screamed, Vanessa plunged her dagger down in one swift violent motion.
It all happened so fast she screamed, Zandrian turned, adrenaline and emotions ran rampant behind her eyes. They spilled throughout her body so fast she could barely decipher them; maddened joy, relief, freedom, loss, sudden gravity of her actions, regret. Pain. So much pain. She locked eyes with Zandrian. He stared at her deadpan, clarity gone leaving him dumbstruck. His face contorted with rage, hate, an anger that dared to rival hers, he shouted her name, but she didn't hear it. He kept asking why; why; what have you done? She couldn't hear him though, she just stared, dumb and confused. He advanced towards her, threatening. He halted, startled, a massive hand grasped the limp corpse Vanessa held from behind her. The large form stooped over her, leaning into her ear.
“More, is yours now. For you; my dear, I will save your life this one last time.” It’s growled words were also a purr and a threat at the same time. She dared to not look back, for she saw the look on Zandrian’s face and she saw nothing but madness and terror. Her vision went black, and when she awoke it was in an abandoned, ruined cottage. She wore traveling clothes and a hooded cloak. On the soiled mattress was her pack, and the sacrificial dagger she had once gripped. With her pact made, she collected her items. Her mind made quick work to block out the most traumatic of the experiences, and quickly rooted into her heart the motivation to achieve power. To do unto those what had been done unto her. She would command awe, fear, and admiration all.