Darcena (prime)

Lady Darcena Wolf-Valslayer eating a black apple as seen by Stormyrain

Lady Darcena Wolf-Valslayer the Ishan Race [[Giantman]] Culture "[[" contains a listed "[" character as part of the property label and has therefore been classified as invalid.]] Class Empath Religion [[::The_Huntress|The Huntress]] Disposition Mercurial, Wild Demeanor Playful, Helpful Primary Trait Protector, Troublemaker Flaw Longing for Belonging Greatest Strength Loyalty, Unconditional Love Greatest Weakness Bloodlust, Insanity Likes Raw Meat, Emeralds Dislikes Dead Wolves, Krolvin Fears Being Alone/Unloved Loyalties Her Pack, Grot'karesh

[[Category: Giantman player characters]] "Category: [[" contains a listed "[" character as part of the property label and has therefore been classified as invalid. player characters]]

Darcena [dahr-SEEN-ah] stumbled into [[::Wehnimer%27s_Landing|Wehnimer's Landing]] in 5097 at the age of thirteen. Discovered as a snarly uncommunicative child in a wolf den in the [[::Dragonspine_Mountains|Dragon Spine Mountains]] a few years prior, Darcena came upon the town alone and in a confusion as to her heritage. Over the years, she has learned that she is an Ur-Daemon cursed [[::Grot%27karesh_Hammer_Clan|Grot'karesh]] with some peculiar magical quirks to include extreme blood lust and waking nightmares she believes are prophetic. Darcena seems driven to heal others, never turning down a request for aid. She regularly remarks that physical pain is nothing compared to the spiritual pain she carries in her heart.

Between bone-shattering hunts, Darcena is often found sitting on a stool in Plur's Pub at [[::Moonshine_Manor|Moonshine Manor]], leaned against the [[::Hearthstone|Hearthstone Steps]], swimming in the [[::House_Sovyn|Sovyn]] mud baths, or chatting with friends in Town Square Central. When not in those locales, she's off scouting Elanthia for signs of Despana's imminent return on behalf of her clan members of Kilanirij.

"I am the Ishan. I am the Butcher. I am the Harbinger. Despana is coming and blood will flood the world. The eyes -- the eyes, they are watching."

Writer's note: This is all considered public knowledge. Darcena has not been shy about expressing these things in public and has probably been overheard by every possible town citizen over the past two decades. A pint at the pub would yield you a lot of this information. This is not all there is, of course, to her. She has many secrets.

Appearance

You see Great Lady Darcena Wolf-Valslayer the Butcher.
She appears to be a Giantman of the Grot'karesh Clan.
She is taller than average. She appears to be in the bloom of youth. She has moss-tinged stormy grey eyes and fair skin. She has very long, thick black hair in a loose mass of purposefully twisted locks. She has a triangular face and high cheekbones. Her eyes are framed by thick, naturally clumped eyelashes.
She has a black Saramar-enruned throat tattoo on her neck.

Clothing

She is wearing a black flyrsilk wolf mask edged in glittering emerald and glaes shards, a moon-clasped black velvet choker adorned with a silver-edged emerald pendant, an emerald wolf's paw dangling from a thick black twisted cord, a hammered silver Saramar rune dangling from a thick leather thong, a sturdy ivory satchel slung over her shoulder, a roa'ter skin satchel smudged with dark coagulated blood slung over her other shoulder, a wrist-buckled black leather coat split down each side, a pure white daisy, an emerald stickpin topped with a preserved crimson-veined luminous yellow eye, a blackened emerald symbol inlaid with a silver eight-pointed star, a sphere encased silver scythe, a well-oiled slate battle harness over some double leather with a wolf's paw stitched on the left breast, a back-laced tightly fitted bodice with diaphanous black lace trumpet sleeves, a silver etched rolton-link bracelet, a substantial platinum ring inset with tiny stone-carved hearts, a silvery grey satchel embroidered with silver-limned Saramar runes, some dark green watered silk pants, and some flat silver-laced sandals.

Tattoo

a black Saramar-enruned throat tattoo
Thick black lines create labyrinthine knotwork patterns from chest to chin, contrasting against the fair skin upon which they're inked. Copious silver-limned Saramar runes are tucked into the crevices of the knots with a pair of vivid emerald green eyes centered just below and between the collar bones.

Darcena Wolf-Valslayer at the pub as seen by Divone

Affiliations

• Follower of Kuon, 5097-5117
• [[::House_Sovyn|House Sovyn]], 5097/5098?-present
• [[::Clan_Snar|Clan Snar]], 5098-unknown
• Hearthstone "porch puppy" (her words), 5100-present
• [[::Order_of_Lorekeepers|Order of Lorekeepers]], 5100-5104
• Architectural and Landscaping Association of Elanthia (ALAE), unknown-5104
• Devotee of The Huntress, 5117-present
• [[::Moonshine_Manor|Moonshine Manor]], Ivastaen 5118-present
• Wehnimer's Landing Militia, Koaratos 5118-present
• Order of the Sphere and Scythe, Phoenatos 5118-present

Pack of the Ishan

The Pack of the Ishan has no formal structure and is not recognized by any sort of authority - à propros, since Darcena likewise doesn't recognize most authority. Darcena decides who is part of her pack and once she has invited a person to her pack, the membership is for life regardless of what the person does to her or to other members of the pack. She is absolutely loyal to and protective of her pack regardless of her personal feelings towards them - although she reserves the right to punish them for transgressions. Outsiders do not have that same privilege. Conflicts within the pack are for the individual members to sort out themselves.

• Cruxophim "The Betrayer"
• Khaell "The Loyal Night"
• Kipara "The Slayer"
• Madmountan "The Mountan"
• Meureii "Salts"
• Stormyrain "Storm"
• Sweetsin "Sweets"
• Ulkov "The Dwarf"
• Xannorath "The Shadow"

Love Letter to the 5th

Darcena's heart was broken in the fall of 5117 after a whirlwind month where she felt she had found a place to belong. The mercurial and impulsive giant tried to nose her way into a place that wasn't hers and then lost her mind when her interest was unreciprocated and she was rebuffed. This provoked an unnecessarily excessive reaction and conversion to The Huntress. She swears she will never fall in love again... as long as her mate is still present. Wolves, after all, often have just one mate until its death.

Darcena recites:

   "He smelled like home, like dank blood-soaked loam.
    He called to her soul - completely under his control.
    The nights were flavored with tricks and death screams
    And yet she never wavered from loyalty stretched to extremes."

Darcena recites:

   "A quick wedding under Charl's purview
    A band, a dip, a kiss and yet he had the nerve to-"

Darcena recites:

   "Break her heart and shatter her mind
    It wasn't her with whom he wanted entwined
    So now her veins scream to the Huntress
    For her pain and sorrow demand redress."

Darcena recites:

   "When the howls echo as the moon spotlights
    The crimson-veined yellow-eyed should take wing-quivering fright.
    She's coming-
    With no mercy and a throat-ripping bite
    And in his complete and utter destruction she will delight."

An Eye for Emeralds, or, the Emerald Tax

Darcena always had an eye for [[::Emerald|emeralds]], but the interest became very keen around 5098 when Porcell would wander to wherever Darcena was healing to say hello. Porcell had a certain reputation for thievery, but Darcena adored him nevertheless and couldn't resist talking with and teasing him. Every once in awhile during their conversations, Porcell would pocket a gem. Darcena was paying attention and when he liberated her customers from their hard-earned and well-fought gains, she would give him the option of giving it back or giving her an emerald. If neither was chosen, she would have tattled on him. The Emerald Tax netted Darcena quite the collection, which she always carries in her ivory satchel. Amusingly, individuals started to notice that Porcell would tip Darcena an emerald, so they began to do it as well. To date of this writing, Darcena has 47 emeralds, 30 uncut emeralds, a star emerald, 3 black-cored emerald orbs, a bottle-shaped emerald, 2 dragonfire emeralds, 11 small emerald coins, and 2 sparkling emerald talons - many from the Emerald Tax.

Out of the Wolf's Den (Backstory)

5094, Spring

Lifting her filthy head, the giantman child stared up at the husky man from her half-crouch. The mossy green flecks and rim of her stormy grey eyes seemed to grow in vibrancy as she assessed the threat in front of her. A low snarl emanating from her full lips, she flexed her lithe muscles.

“Easy now,” the man murmured in the common tongue, sliding his hatchet back into its loop and lifting his hand off. “Easy. I won’t hurt you.” He lowered his shoulders and tried ineffectively to make himself look small.

Before peering into the cave opening, the man noted the piles of rolton bones near the entrance. Most had been torn into, but some bore the mark of flatter teeth. Inside, the wolf den was damp and smelled wild and musty. A glaes armband lay abandoned in the corner half buried under long-compacted dirt.

The man hesitated, reaching out a gnarled and tanned hand, “Do you want to come out, miss?”

The child tilted her head to the side, masses of twisted, matted, and tangled locks of hair stiffly following the angle of her face as she moved. Her eyes continued to watch the man intently, noticing his body language and making quick assessments.

“Can you speak?” He whispered it, a distressed expression chasing across his face.

The child stalked forward on all four limbs, pressing her face near the man’s clothing, and inhaling deeply. He smelled like the forest and the people of the nearby village. She’d seen them before, wandering the woods… and avoided them, of course.

With a low growl, the child crawled back into the den and curled up in the back. She huffed out a breath.

With nothing on hand to convince her to come with him, the man softly said, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Stay here. I hope you will learn to trust me. I will not forget you; I will not abandon you.”

He turned away from the opening and set off at a quick jog for his home, his brain whirling as he tried to figure out how to convince the child to leave the den.

"What are you doing home already?" The woman had a broad face with wrinkles near her eyes and laugh lines as well.

"You won't believe what I just found." The man shook his head in disbelief, his hands shaking. "There's a young child up in a wolf den. She looks like she's been living there awhile."

The woman startled, paused, and then asked, "Well, where is she now?"

"I had to leave her there. I'm not sure she could understand me."

"You left her there?!" Already holding a towel in her hand from drying some dishes, the woman swung her arm and the damp dishcloth smacked into his elbow.

"Ow! Yes!" Rubbing at his elbow gingerly, pulling the damp fabric away from his arm, the man continued, "I was hoping you'd have an idea of how I could speak with her."

The woman scowled, "I have more than an idea. I'm coming with you."

The man looked everywhere except at the woman. His eyes settled on the worn and sparse furniture of their cottage, noticing that the run-down wooden floor was clean and dust free. The old quilt on the bed had been patched again. A small fire was going in the hearth with a thin soup bubbling on top. He glanced back at his tracks, noting that he'd left a clear trail of footsteps into their home. Grabbing a broom, he made quick work of sweeping after himself.

"That's probably a good idea, but we're going to have to think of a way to communicate with her."

The woman's face furrowed. "How old is she?"

"I'm not sure. She's giantkin. Maybe 10, 11?"

"What do you think she's been eating?" The woman asked.

"If I had to wager… raw rolton."

A myriad of expressions crossed the woman's face. Once she'd settled, she simply finished, "…Oh."

The journey back to the den was more laborious since the woman was not as used to picking her way through the forest. Her study and sensible shoes helped, of course, but her muscles still weren't acclimated to climbing over so much detritus. She didn't utter a single complaint, instead just pressing her lips together and carried on.

The well-muscled man furrowed his brow as he watched his wife, sometimes holding out a hand in her direction as if to help her over a log or up a hill. She always huffed out a breath and ignored him, carefully placing her feet as she went.

Once they arrived at the den, the man pointed out the weathered and gnawed on rolton bones to the woman and her eyebrows climbed comically. "I see. I think you are right," she murmured thoughtfully.

The woman peered into the dark opening of the den. "How did you even see in there?"

"The sun was shining in this morning," he rumbled in return.

The woman nodded sharply and motioned him back. She laid on her stomach and pulled herself into the den. Immediately a loud snarling sound could be heard from the back corner. The woman stopped moving and crooned in a low voice, "You are safe. We will not harm you." The woman carefully reached back and opened a well-worn leather belt pouch, pulling out an ivory parchment-wrapped package.

"I have something for you," the woman continued in a soothing voice, unwrapping the parchment and revealing a stack of various gory rolton bits. She carefully stretched out the gift, dropping it onto the dirt floor of the den. The woman then scooted back out of the dank den and sat on the ground, waiting patiently.

After many minutes, soft noises emerged from the den and the woman smiled with satisfaction.

5094, Fall

Many weeks had gone by with the woman visiting the den and bringing more gifts for the feral child inside. Sometimes the child was absent and the woman left the items near the opening. Other times the grimy girl was curled up in the back, carefully watching every move the woman made. As time went on, the child was less and less wary of the woman. The woman was changing, too, growing physically stronger and more capable in the woods. Occasionally on her journey through the forests, the woman would see a large black wolf slinking through the trees and shadowing her, a green hue glowing in the wolf's otherwise grey eyes. This companion became familiar to the woman, and she no longer worried about her trips. She was, though, becoming concerned as the leaves turned colors and the air became more and more chill.

The morning that she called out a soft "hello" to the child as she reached the cave opening and in response heard a muttered "hello" was the morning that she sat next to those gnawed bones and cried. The bedraggled girl slunk out of the den and curled up near the woman, watching her carefully and intently, several feet between them.

"Do you speak then?" The woman looked at the ground near the child, her voice hesitantly speaking the common tongue.

The girl carefully enunciated, pausing between each word, "I… speak… little."

The woman's mind raced with a million questions, but she swallowed them down, placing her hands solidly on her knees. "Do you want to come home with me?"

Slow blinks were the girl's response. Crawling closer to the woman, she buried her face in the woman's cotton-clad side and inhaled deeply. Her nose picked through the scents of the various trees and the dirt of the forest, the bread the woman had baked that morning, the soap she used to wash with, and so much more. It smelled okay, the girl supposed.

The woman didn't move as the girl ran her face over the woman's back and sides, ending near her hairline. Once the girl finished, the woman asked, "Do you have a name?"

Cocking her head to the side, the girl wonderingly spoke, "I… am…. Darcena."

The woman gasped under her breath, excitement shining from her eyes to have connected with the child, "My name is Oxana. Will you come home with me? Our cottage is warm and the weather is turning."

Darcena hesitated for several long moments, but then she nodded her head. Once. And very slowly.

Around the Village (Backstory)

5094, Winter to 5097, Summer

The winter months passed slowly, but Darcena learned to speak many words in Common. Oxana and Thraes, the woodsman, were very kind, stable, and patient with the giantgirl. They had to teach her a lot of basic life skills - especially about hygiene, but eventually they gave up on some of her other foibles. Darcena had a tendency to use her sense of smell to figure out more about the world around her, and to their surprise, she was able to discern more than the average person. It came in handy during the lean winter months, when Darcena could scent a squirrel or rabbit hiding in the woods. In trade off, though, they had to explain to many of their fellow villagers exactly why the socially-blundering and bumbling child wanted to press her face against them and inhale. As most could imagine, the many small, yet unacceptable, mannerisms that Darcena had acquired in that time before she came to the village were a barrier to her acclimating to the village. She wasn't quite liked, but rather tolerated.

The years passed. Darcena became a useful member of Thraes and Oxana's family, bringing in meat and helping Thraes out in the woods to chop wood for the townspeople. She was growing as well, lengthening until she was much taller than the couple. Her hair, which had been shorn to her scalp to rid her of lice - as well as remove years worth of twigs, dirty, and gods know what else, grew long. Oxana helped her keep the thick hair plaited; every night, they spent an hour together as Oxana brushed Darcena's hair until it shone and told her stories about the world around them. Darcena began to feel as if she belonged somewhere and she cherished that feeling.

Thraes bonded with Darcena, too. They'd head into the woods together to accomplish the day's work, and Thraes would point out various herbs and flowers to Darcena, letting her know about their healing properties. She would collect and forage for the herbs to bring back to the cottage for Oxana to use, prepare, and sell.

Many evenings the small family would light a fire and the couple would tell Darcena engaging stories about the gods and the lands. Darcena began to grow interested in Kuon, a former giantman who worked with Imaera to heal the world after the Ur-Daemon War. Thraes explained that Kuon was given the gift of immortality for his deeds and that he was the originator of the healing powers of herbs.

Over the years, things were improving for Oxana and Thraes as well. With the steady influx of meat into their diet, they both began to look healthier. Excess meat, wood, and herbs were able to be sold to the villagers, so their cottage began to have more personalized touches here and there. Oxana also had more time to tend a garden, though Darcena wouldn't touch the food that came from it, and prepare for the winters. With the improved health, the couple found out that they were expecting. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time that Oxana was healthy enough to carry a baby to full term.

Darcena began to grow anxious about being displaced in her happy family, but even worse, she began to have prodigiously horrid waking nightmares intermittently as her anxiety grew. She started to slink off into the woods at odd hours, coming back smelling of blood and viscera. Oxana and Thraes noted the change with worried eyes, but their trust and love for the giant girl was absolute. They felt that when Darcena was ready, she would tell them what was worrying her.

Perhaps they shouldn't have trusted so much.

5097, Summer

Darcena lifted her head off her pillow, her vivid green eyes unfocused. The dream had been so real. They’d been getting increasingly worse – even sometimes happening while she was awake. She’d worried about her inability to sleep, finally bringing it up with Oxana. She’d laughed and said that no one was getting any sleep now that little Brone had been born, suggesting that maybe Darcena was just getting woken up by the strident cries of a hungry brother. Darcena hadn’t elaborated on the contents of the dreams.

Dreams. So many of them. And so real. Darcena had never seen the nearest city, Icemule Trace, yet she knew that was where the numerous waves of wailing banshees, orcs, and trolls had overrun this evening, slaying citizens until blood ran and froze in the streets. She’d watched helplessly as a nine-foot-tall massive troll king had snatched an infant from its mother, rending the child’s body with his razor-sharp claws, and first wrenching off then tossing the infant’s head into his giant maw. Coppery sanguineous fluid dripped down his face and she desperately yearned to lick the warted green skin. She had learned, from the three years with Oxana and Thraes, that this wasn’t right. This wasn’t good. The unease in her gut grew worse as she realized she could still smell the orcs and trolls on the air. That dream. So real. The eyes. The eyes had been watching. It felt like they still were.

Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep in her perspiration-soaked sheets, Darcena threw them back and stood up. Dressing quickly, she escaped the cottage where her family slept, and she fled into the humid air of the woods. The scent followed her, twisting through her flared nostrils and coiling into her limbic system. Danger, alarm, and disgust flooded her and fear-scented sweat poured off her body.

The axe she’d used earlier to help Thraes chop wood for the evening fire still rested against the wood pile. She snatched it up as she ran, her breath starting to grow short from her panicked and heedless pell-mell flight. When she finally slowed, she realized she had run five miles into the woods. It wasn’t far enough, though. The eyes were still watching. The scent was still there. Her body shuddered violently and she dropped the axe…

Darcena groaned and lifted her head off the pebbles upon which she rested. Where was she? Her stormy grey eyes fixated first on the footprint-covered porch with the pot of acantha resting on its side, then on the splintered askew door. No. No. Her muscles bunched, and she leapt to her feet. Racing to the door, she peered inside. She already knew what she’d find, though. She had smelt it before she’d even awoken.

Blood.

Oxana was sprawled near the fieldstone hearth where she often made stew and hearty loaves of oat bread. Claw marks decorated her torso and blood sparkled like jewels in the flickering light of the coals. Slack cheeks and hollow eyes pointed towards the quilted bed where Thraes slumped with one foot in Brone’s cradle. He, too, had new jewels up and down his torso and a shallow irregular puddle of blood near his outstretched hand. Written in tremulous blood-soaked letters on the roughhewn floor was a message, but Darcena could not read it. “Ware da eyes.”

Darcena knew they were both dead, and perhaps a couple hours so at this point. She could smell the differences in their body, and she couldn’t hear a single heart beat. Her horrified gaze took in the cabin, yet kept skipping past the corner where her own pallet rested. With shallow pants, her grey eyes dilated an alarming amount, she forced herself to see. Brone’s body rested in a disheveled nest of her sheets, pinpricks from claws along his rib cage, flesh incised by sharp teeth. A low howl of anguish erupted from Darcena’s mouth and she fled the cabin, swiping the spare axe from the woodpile and taking off into the woods, heading southwest.

Intuitively, she knew her time in the village was done, she was not welcome, and she would never return. It was time to find a new home.

Suppressing the Beast (Character History)

5097, Fall - 5104, Summer

The Ishan (Character History)

5104, Summer - 5117, Summer

The Butcher Emergent (Character History)

5117, Summer - Present