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Claire Janatris's Activity
Claire Janatris added a topic in Roleplay(Character Interview) Claire JanatrisCHARACTER INTERVIEW
Name: She goes by Claire Janatris, but her true name is Lady Claire Dalton.
Background: Born to a Mia Janatris an Innkeepers daughter, and Nevin Vinson a wandering smuggler, Claire had a forgettable childhood until natural disasters ravaged the land, leading to the untimely death of her mother and her father’s subsequent disastrous care of her as a single father.
Place of Birth: A village in Valencia, its name lost to a child’s thin memory.
Current Place of Residence: An Inn room if she has the coin. A fireside tent in leaner times.
Mia Janatris was by all accounts an average woman. There was nothing outstanding about her. The daughter of an Innkeeper she kept the kitchen, served meals, tending to fires, laundry, and saw to the garden.
Nevin Vinson was a stark contrast to Mia. An eye-catching, roguish smuggler from places unknown, he swept through the village on his way to better trading towns, leaving broken hearts in his wake with each pass. What is known of Nevin Vinson is in name and the romanticized tales Mia would tell of him. He may have been a black market trader, a pirate, a cutpurse. Presenting as a charming flatterer, he manipulated Mia’s small village with little difficulty, and her heart with equal ease.
When she found herself with child Mia had little recourse but to raise her daughter alone, with only the occasional visit by a doting Nevin. When the strange natural disasters that wrecked the world and brought a war to an end struck Mia’s village, she was caught in its ferocity, leaving Claire, at 13 alone. When Nevin’s path again led him to the now struggling village, he vowed to find Claire a better life and took her away from the quite life she had known.
Economic/social status growing up: Claire grew up a poor village girl, and then a luck dependent smugglers daughter.
Ethnic Background: Her mother was born and raised in Valencia, her father’s origins are unknown to her.
Places Lived: She’s lived in a small village, on the smugglers road, in a landed Knight’s manor, and now wherever her wits land her.
Education: She was taught basic letters by her mother. She is well skilled at numbers from the teachings of her father. She had a habit of reading any book which crossed her path while in living in Sir Dalton’s manor.
Job(s): Currently earns money through various schemes, often involving charm selling, blackmail, illegal trade, and various other ‘unsavory’ enterprises.
Dating, marriage: Claire is by law widowed, though she does not live by her married name.
Physical appearance: Of average height, with a straight posture, she has a lean figure and long well-toned legs. Her skin is lightly sun-kissed, with freckles gracing her cheeks. She looks at the world through often narrowed sapphire blue eyes. With wavy, strawberry blonde hair framing a comely face.
What people usually notice first: Claire does not shy away from eye contact which unnerves some people.
Health/disabilities/handicaps: Generally in good health, Claire has a strong dislike for knights and governmental figures, making it difficult for her to tolerate those sorts of people for more than short periods.
Personality Type: While she speaks with a silvered tongue in most interactions, with her closer friends she relies heavily on equal parts sarcasm and genuine compliments to communicate. It often feels like she has an ulterior motive for everything she says and does.
Strongest Character Trait: Claire is loyal to a fault, if you earn her loyalty, which can be difficult due to her suspicious nature.
Weakest Character Trait: Stubborn as a mule, once she forms an opinion of something or someone it is near impossible to change her mind.
Interests/Talents: Her current interests include: earning coin, playing cards or dice, drinking, and exploration. She also enjoys fishing and sailing.
Political views/leanings: Claire feels all governments are corrupt and prefers to stay out of any discussion involving them.
Possessions: A worn deck of cards, a possibly loaded set of dice, clothing, travel gear, and a silver locket.
Hobbies: Cards, dice, drinking. She enjoys watching fist fights and horse races.
Well-known for: She is well known for reserving judgement on a person until they do something to ‘prove’ they are worthy of her trust.
What’s the worst thing s/he’s ever done to someone and why: While Claire has a long list of ‘sins’, the worst thing she’s ever done was cheat on her husband with his squire. Claire had fallen in love with the squire, and had little concern at the time for the possible consequences of her actions.
Greatest success: Surviving five days without food or water in the Black Desert.
After learning that Sir Dalton, her husband, had instructed his squire to seduce her, Claire flew into a rage and attacked Sir Dalton wielding a dagger as she began to weave a terrible curse set to take control of his life once blood was spilt. Unimpressed by her attempts, Sir Dalton easily parried her attack, rendering her helpless with a well-placed backhanded strike. While she lay dazed, drifting in and out of consciousness, he decided to punish Claire for her ‘betrayal’ by having her staked out in the Black Desert without food, shelter, or water.
What does s/he care about most in the world: Coin and loyalty.
What do you love most about this character: I am enjoying her backstory, and the personality it has created.
Guild: Ravens of War
Claire couldn’t decide if the sun was worse on her bare skin or that covered by the thick cloth of her dress. While the direct contact with the sun’s rays caused her flesh to blister, under the heavy cloth, her body was sweating away the last of her moisture further dehydrating her. Concentrating on keeping her body alive was becoming more difficult, she could feel her strength giving out, her control waning, and so her mind had begun to wander again. There, on the edge of her perception was a tiny rodent, hopping over the scorching hot sand. She began to reach out to the minuscule heartbeat, fingers twisting with muscle memory through the sign, but the chafe and burn of the rope wrapped around her wrists, holding her palms against the rough wood stake, pulling her body up to stand at attention distracted her, allowing the pest to scamper off.
Unbidden, a memory of a night spent in a Calpheon alley, surrounded by dampness and bolder rodents came to mind. Was she fourteen or fifteen at the time? Why were they in Calpheon? Was it the time Nevin had tried to con a local spice merchant into selling hallucinogenic herbs on the side? No, it was the trip when the contact they were to sell Black Stones to had come up dead, leaving them with a dangerous cargo and nowhere to hide it for the night but the out of sight cesspool between an Inn and an Alehouse of ill repute. This was only the latest thought which had wormed its way into Claire’s over active mind, in between bursts of effort to remain alive just a little longer.
At first, when the depression of her situation had taken hold, she had tried to think of nothing, hoping she would pass out and no longer have to suffer through the glare of the sun while conscious, but each time her mind blanked, a new sensation would come into focus, reminding her of the circumstances which had brought her here. Eventually her anger burned away any feelings of depression or personal guilt, it was then that the memories began to play through her mind. At least her physical discomfort was more bearable than the memories that tried to take root. She could contend with the burn of daylight, and the chill of the dark nights which followed. Physical pain was nothing compared to the pervasive turmoil that memories brought. Those from her childhood weren’t so bad. Remembering the Inn, or thoughts of her mother though hazy were a comfort. She remembered cool grass, a thriving garden, and the sounds of the Inn with full tables, the laughter and tales from far off places lulling her to sleep at night. It was strange to think that she had once dreamed of leaving that quiet place, to live in a grand castle with a shining knight to love. The romantic dreams of a young girl. It had been a simpler time. She was just a girl. Nothing extraordinary about her. No way to foreshadow the days that would quickly follow that idyllic time. When the memories of the storms and flooding had tried to creep in, Claire had purposefully opened her eyes, letting the suns white hot light blind her for a moment, distracting her enough to skip over that painful period and the loss of her mother in the process.
Chaotic memories of Nevin Vinson, her mind still could not use the term ‘father’ for him, often came on the cold nights, she remembered the road, so many cities and their dark alleys. The wet, stinking, dirty streets, and flea ridden Inn beds, even the quiet nights in a fireside camp played through her mind. She remembered the cons, the steep learning curve Nevin had set for her and the sorcery she had inherited from him. Learning to charm and distract would be targets, plying her will against much older audiences, and finding hers to be stronger even as a teen. Hours spent at cards, at dice, even learning to drink and still keep her head, all the better to get one over on their mark. It had been a dangerous and yet exciting time.
Claire hated that some of those memories brought a feeling of unwelcome fondness for the figure that she was determined to keep firmly in a frame of anger and hatred. She loathed the voice of reason that occasionally tried to give explanation for his choices. Scrubbing her raw wrists against the splintered wood chased such thoughts away.
Today, had it been today? Perhaps it had been the day before? Or was it today? Yes, today, in the early hours of dawn there had been the bittersweet memory of seeing Sir Gregory Dalton’s manor for the first time, its high walls, the well-kept grounds, and the politeness of the servants all remained clear in her mind, and even now 15 years later, the first view of Sir Dalton himself was a pleasant thought. For all his flaws, all the lies, and even this most recent and ultimate betrayal, he had been easy on the eye even being old enough to be her father as he had been. The shock of learning that Nevin had sold her, -sold- his daughter, to this Knight, to this day constricted her heart and made breathing difficult. They had thrown around words like ‘betrothal’, ‘bride price’, “arranged marriage’, and other such nonsense, Claire knew what it was even then. Nevin had trading her for gold, to a stranger, title or not, and she was meant to stay there and marry a man near twice her age. While she had cried that night and many others after over the years, on this day, in the heat of the desert, she felt nothing but hatred.
Years of pent up irritations, moments of disrespect, of barbed comments, and the stifling control of her husband’s foul temper married to a heart soaked in jealousy over her every movement had been distilled into a stronger, more dangerous emotion. Hatred for Nevin, for Sir Dalton, and a fresh, new, fiery hate for Erik Wilder, the squire who had thrown away her love, for a chance at a better place by Sir Dalton’s side, kept her going now.
The scorching sun of the desert would have made short work of Claire, had her desperation and strong emotions not driven her will to a narrow focus, a single goal, survival. Even bound by rope and motionless, she recalled the rites of her inner magic and did her best to live, day after day, night after night. Survive, above all, no matter what low creature’s essence she would have to absorb.
Lesser life forms always left a bad taste in a spell worker's soul. Draining the life energy from a human being could be compared to feasting on fine meat and drinking choice wine by comparison. But Claire showed no discrimination now. A lizard running by, a sandworm, a dead rat infested with maggots, insects in the air... anything that came close to the death stake, she consumed. Her fingers, tied above her head against the stake, covered in welts, sweat, irritation from the rope, worked the ritual signs and struck anything that flew or crawled by. A carrion bird was a meal, a scorpion - a snack. She salvaged as much as she could. Didn't bother healing the welts or the burns. Her focus was on channeling the drained energy to keep herself hydrated, her heart beating, he head's temperature regulated, and her lungs sucked in hot air with eagerness, fighting for every breath. A circle formed around her, the furthest extension of her magic’s reach, marked by the dead bodies of various vermin.
By now her mouth was so dry she could taste her own tongue. She could taste the maggots' souls as if they stuck in her throat. To survive. The hatred pushed her to do it. As her anger swelled, so too did a curse she dare not speak, its ramifications so dire they would surely mark her soul forever. Besides, if she chose to not spare her magic on sustenance and instead burst all of it into her vengeance, the consequence might not have be worth the effort. Magic had a way of exacting a price, and for this curse, she was sure in her weak state, she would not be able to pay the cost without losing her life in the process. Instead she focused on opening her eyes one last time, tilting her head enough to wonder if that dark figure on the horizon was a hallucination, the grim reaper come to finally claim her, or salvation riding in on a tired horse.
Claire gathered what magical force was left in her, drawing in even the minuscule energies around her, draining life from anything she could, just to not die before the rider would reach her.
She did not realize how long she'd been there anymore. Later she would learn, that she'd survived the Black Desert for 5 days, a feat incredible.
The last thing she recalled was the tall shadow covering the sun offering her relief, and the pain of the bonds sharply spiking, peeling from her skin they welded into, and releasing, as she fell into supporting arms, large and strong, before finally passing out.
Only several weeks later had she learned that Sir Gregory Dalton had disappeared without a trace, and that his keep was sacked and stood in ruin, the priest and the servants burned; that young knight Erik Wilder's body was impaled, among others, on spears in the outer palisade, next to a messenger, who had hurried on horseback to the magistrate to file a marriage annulment, but was caught and brought back to the keep as hostage and eventually disposed of. None who knew of her exile and dishonor survived or were heard from, but what did survive - was an original parchment and accompanying seals, and holy papers, confirming her legal marriage to Gregory Dalton, and making her the new Lady of the manor, nobility by law. Had her curse let loose without her knowing? In those weak moments before passing out, had she freed her hold allowing her will to take over? She did not feel a drain on her magic, nor a stain upon her soul, it could not have been her doing. And yet it fit her desires for revenge so snugly. It was a mystery. Despite learning of her new status and gained stead, Claire chose to follow her savior as she possessed neither the resources nor desire to rebuild the ruined land.
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