Keilipso

Keilipso Gender Female Race Sylvankind Status Alive Alias/Title a gaunt sylvan artist

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Appearance

You see Keilipso the Artist.
She appears to be a Sylvankind.
She is very tall and has a gaunt figure.  She appears to be very young.  She has kohl-smudged, haunted ice blue eyes and bronze skin.  She has very long, platinum hair pulled back from the face by a thin vivid amethyst headband adorned with decorative starling pennae, though the hair is frayed and appears to not have been washed in a good long while.  She has a pair of elegantly pointed ears that frame her narrow, haggard face, a freckle-splattered pert nose and a single, deep dimple on her left cheek.  A light dusting of colorful chalk darkens her slender fingertips, and a single, wayward smudge of indigo chalk touches upon her chin but appears streaked.
She is in ghastly shape.
She is holding a chunky piece of chalk in her left hand.
She is wearing a twine-strung seaglass bauble, an off-shoulder baggy white open-weave sweater that is frayed and sagging from her frame, a series of wide ebonwood bangles, a faded soft leather hip-satchel, a pair of high-waisted burgundy linen serwals with broken strings and a smattering of white jades that still cling to the ankle-cuffs, and a delicate jade and copper footflower that is missing several jewels.

Ambients

Keilipso stares at the frigatebird for a long moment, her lip curled in a maligned grin that twists her features into a grotesque mask.  "Eat his little pets, eat them all," she whispers to the frigatebird before she tries to scrabble away.

Crouching low, Keilipso silently scrabbles up to the woman and tries to bite the woman's hand.  She misses, causing the other woman to turn to her in shock.  The woman lashes out at her with her foot, but Keilipso dodges away from it with ease, only to scrabble out of reach.

Growling like a savage animal, a gaunt sylvan artist stares at Percy for a long moment.  Her expression suddenly softens, the fierceness and feral aspects of it turning towards a gentler, almost smiling continence.  "Keep up the good fight," she whispers to the wind and tries to scamper from sight.

Keilipso issues a feral hiss as mist passes through the area and draws herself into a tight ball as she attempts to avoid being touched by it. 

Keilipso nods, her fingers absently pulling a piece of chalk free from her hip-satchel as she kneels upon the ground.  With frantic movements, she begins to draw with her chalk and creates a beautiful design that slowly comes to life as she pulls more and more colors from her hip-satchel.  Sweat dampens her brow, and she begins to pant as the image is completed.  Slowly, rising to her full, proper height, she smiles, and it seems to melt the haunted look from her.  A shift in the wind unravels the transformation, and she crouches into her hunched posture once more, her fingernails clacking on the ground as she scurries away.

Keilipso stares at her gaunt, broken-nailed fingers in abject horror.  "It will never come off!"  She cries as she scrubs at her hands.

Keilipso draws her knees close to her chest and picks at the scabs on her feet.

Asks

ASK ABOUT	ANSWER
Accursed	Lip curling, her eyes filled with rage, Keilipso says, "I spit on his name, the coward, the knave, he stole my childhood. He stole..." She suddenly glances around, her eyes round with fear, "Is he near?" she whispers. With a wail, she cries, "Have I said too much? Curse this island."
Captain	Tilting her head to the side, the action similar to an animal trying to hear something, the sylvan artist says, "Which do you speak of? The accursed or the cursed?" She dissolves into a fit of haunted giggling that is half-mirth and half-tears.
Cursed	Heartache and sadness paint a strange picture upon her already gaunt and ravaged features as Keilipso says, "Poor Elyssbeth, poor, poor crew. And even more so," she sobs, "Poor Jothi." A gaunt sylvan artist suddenly stands up straight, all trace of sadness and insanity slipping from her face and posture,"The trick is that ring, you know. Destroy it and she'd be free." The moment of lucidity slips away, and she hunches over into her twisted posture once more.
Drawings	"Did I draw for you once?" Keilipso blinks at you like an owl in the sunlight. "My drawings, they show the truth of you, the truth of--" She pauses, and folds in upon herself, her knees around her ears and her fingers trailing their chalk-stained tips upon the ground. Staring into the distance, she curls into a tight ball and rocks.
Escape	"Not possible, not real," Keilipso hisses out in an anguished whisper. Eyes wild and lips peeled back in a grimace, she cocks her gaze up at you. "Or is it?"
Ghezresh	Raising the chalk-stained fingers of her left hand to her lips, points to first the ground and then the sky as she whispers, "Shhh, the great eel god will hear you and then, then, then he will see you." Clutching her hands together, she wrings the gaunt digits in a worrisome fashion that makes them red beneath the chalk. "Do not bring his eyes upon you!" she suddenly cries.
Jothi	"So loyal," Keilipso says wistfully, her eyes darting all around. "So in love that he won't leave, but so afraid that he won't step foot on the island." She stares at her feet as she crouches, her fingers picking at the ragged nail beds of her toes. "Even the ground tries to claim you! Look what it has done to me," she cries, her voice splintering and descending into a maniacal laughter.
Keilipso	Gasping, Keilipso says, "Did you know me? Is that who I am?" She shakes her head wildly, her frayed braids whipping about. "Can it be that it is me? I don't know!" she cries and begins to frantically claw at her face where tears have started to form. Holding her hand out in front of her as if to protect herself from something only she can see, Keilipso turns and tries to run away, her body hunched as she uselessly scrabbles at the ground.
Name	Blinking rapidly, Keilipso says, "My name? I hardly remember my name anymore. It seems as though I knew it a moment ago, but then the mist came and it whispered to me a new name. Not my name, no not my name." She pauses and then begins to giggle; the sound of it is maddening.
Patron (Prime Only)	Groaning loudly, a look of pain passes through Keilipso's eyes as she claps her hands to her ears. She slowly sinks to the ground, a strange keening sound coming from her parted lips. Though her eyes are closed, they move wildly behind her bruised lids. With a savage snarl, she hisses and her wild eyes snap open, the pupils large and round. With tears creating streaks upon her dirty face, she screams unintelligibly and tries to run away, her body hunched as she uselessly scrabbles at the ground.
Transform	"Give it to me," she cries, though the sound dissolves into a bubbling laugh. "I can change it into something fitting for the moons. But once the chaos is in it, it is never to go back to deceit or intimidation." Laughing, she rocks for a few moments before stilling.
Warning	"Heard, yes. Heard of this warning," she gasps out in a rasped hush, lurching closer. "But is it true? Could it be? Or just a trick? A ruse? A lie to draw out the unfaithful!? What of us then? What," Keilipso suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth, her chalk-stained fingers leaving stripes on her lips as she glances frightfully around. "Too much to hope," she finally whispers. OR "Warning?" a gaunt sylvan artist fairly spits in the air. "You would think that she is the first to issue one, but when chaos runs through you, they think your touched or enlightened." She laughs suddenly, the sound somewhere between broken glass and hearts. "My face was pretty once, my heart was light, look at what Caligos has done to me... Look..." She suddenly stops, a calm serenity overtaking her as she gazes into the sky.

History

Keilipso arrived on the island as part of a group of artisans brought there by Captain Junderthal. He had promised them all treasure beyond belief, robust clients, and fame and fortune. What he didn't tell them is that by getting on his boat and traveling to Caligos they were essentially being conscripted. In order to leave the island, they had to work off the debt that they had incurred in getting there and then pay double that fee to leave.

Keilipso was a great artist using chalk as her medium. She had created several chalk or charcoal drawings for the various guests but she hadn't been able to collect so much as a dent against the debt that she had incurred. As a result, she was trapped on Caligos and slowly began to unravel as the mist tried to subvert her to Ghezresh's will. Just strong enough to fight off battle for her soul, her mind was another matter and she slowly devolved into madness.

A soft, disembodied voice on the island tried to ease her suffering by giving her a focus of the history on the island but that knowledge only furthered her depression and unraveled her further.

Prime

Keilipso had a Patron at the end of her first visit, before falling into madness. He promised her that he would set her up in a shop in Solhaven where she could thrive. She was thrilled at the prospect, but still needed to work off her debt. At some point, something happened with that patron and she felt deeply betrayed.

Touch of Zelia

It is unclear when exactly Zelia's influence suffused the tiny artist, but not surprising. Her descent into madness was a year or two in the making and the Goddess knows a thing or two about giving warnings and being ignored.

Warning

In an attempt to let visitors know of the sinister designs in Caligos, Keilipso tried to fight the madness that gripped her and turned to her artwork. She issued warning after warning about the true nature of Ghezresh.

Olienne knew what the artist was doing and would send mist out to unravel her designs.

She is a little bitter at the moment that Galaytea has shown up on the scene and everyone is accepting her cry of a warning so readily. She has, after all, practically been screaming one for years.

Paintings

Keilipso will occasionally burst into a frenzy of drawing, creating pieces of artwork on the ground that feature loresongs with the knowledge she has should have no way of possessing.

Paintings by Keilipso

• an eel-filled watery expanse painting

Look: Grey, black, and silver hues blend together to create a chalk painting of a watery expanse. Anguilliad forms linger in the shadows, their dark eyes watching the drifting form at the center of their cyclonic formation. Fair of face and appearing to slumber, a sea nymph drifts in dark waters that are illuminated by ragged cracks of molten lava painted in crimson and burnt umber. Larger than those at the edges, an enormous eel coils about the fairer creature, its touch producing a flush of warmth in her pallid skin.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "Trapped beneath the sea, its death, and torment always at hand, the eel-king saw beauty for the first time and decided to bargain with it. Her wounds grave, his warmth keeping her safe, she had no choice but to believe in him. That was her, and many others, first mistake." Slowly, the song fades.

• a bloodied and rocky shore painting

Look: Moonlight paints the rocky shore in silver hues, the delicate strokes of the chalk painting turning jagged and harsh as they darken near the rocky shore. Silhouettes of palm trees and high cliffs cast shadows on the face of a being formed of part man and part eel, its vicious grin a scar of jagged white and crimson. Anguillaid forms churn in the water, their bodies turning the placid waters to a sanguine froth around a delicate fin of iridescent hues.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "And so she drew him from his depth, her heart longing for a promised salvation. Her kindness and pain blinding her to the hunger that filled him. Her promise was fulfilled and so, to some extent, was his. Good deeds do not go unpunished and every one of his promises is laced in deception. Remember, when you go to him and fall into his embrace that it could be you whose blood the water is laced." Slowly, the song fades.

• a mist-shrouded seascape painting

Look: Indigo and silver most stretch across the seascape, their twined hues commingling in a wispy shroud of false lights and darkness. At the heart of shadows, several small crafts are illuminated by tiny crimson lanterns that brightening their riggings. The bows are turned towards an opening in the mist, where the promise of land offers salvation. Lightning illuminates the darkness near the shore, the malformed and misshapen shape of a strange eel-like man beckoning from its banks.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "Is it salvation to show someone out of a maze that you have created? It is godly to create the promise of land with no hope to leave it? Where does the line in the sand get drawn? What must you sacrifice to obtain that freedom? Is it even still called freedom?" Slowly, the song fades.

• a wind-tossed cliff painting

Look:Dark, severe lines of inky black and deep brown form the edges of a cliff, its top covered in indigo and silver grasses that sway in an unseen breeze. Vapid-eyed individuals move towards the edge, their hands holding relics of their past life away from their bodies as if they were diseased and corrupt. Those closest to the edge direct those that follow, their own hands empty and scared with crimson wounds. At the bottom of the cliff effigies to Charl and Niima lay broken and scattered, eels rolling over them and destroying them further.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "And lo did he bade them cast away their old gods, for he had provided them their salvation and no other. His was the path to ease their burdens and only in their adoration of him would they find shelter and salvation. And so they cast them aside and in this fashion sealed their fates. For what god would help those that have taken him from their hearts?" Slowly, the song fades.

• a shadow-filled cavern painting

Look: Tangled roots dangle from the rounded, dark brown cavern ceiling, their edges dripping azure water upon the uneven floor. Weathered with age, elderly elves -- some eight or nine in total -- gather before a fire drawn with crimson embers and very little flame. Crudely carved talismans of a trident and a dolphin decorate the necks of those that are gathered, the images barely hidden by the clothing they wear. In the darkness of the cave, a pair of yellow eyes watch those gathered.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "Some few remember, some few gather in the darkness, their fear like mine and they plot against the false salvation. Their gods, those deemed false by the new god, will only help those that help themselves, and so they plot, but nowhere is safe from the eel-god and his followers for everywhere they watch and listen. Brother would betray brother, sister would give up sister, all will be made right, or wrong, in the eyes of his salvation." Slowly, the song fades.

• a bloody cavern painting

Look: Tangled roots dangle from the rounded, dark brown cavern ceiling, their edges dripping azure water upon the uneven floor. Twisted forms, laced with sanguine-hued chalks, lay crumpled in deformed parodies of life, their toes licking at the flames of a small fire that grows as it consumes small talismans that resemble dolphins or tridents. Anguilliad eyes watch from the shadows and a low mist of indigo and silver spreads through the tunnel.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting, a childlike voice rises to your ears. "Do you not see the betrayal that follows in his slithering form? Do you not see what becomes of defying him? Even those that are strong, those that meet in secret are discovered and his wrath is complete in its vengeance. But nothing turns the eye of a good to his people more readily than their sudden and abrupt silence." Slowly, the song fades.

• a lightning and storm-struck painting

Look: Charcoal and grey chalk create a whirlwind of storms that are illuminated in sporadic spaces by the insidious flash of bright white and yellow lightning. Cliffs are portrayed as if tumbling into the sea, the larger rocks falling from the heights to land in the ground with frothing splashes. Figures move in the shadows, their bodies only barely illuminated the lightning, and sanguine rivers trail the rocks to darken the sea.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting a child's nursery rhyme suddenly fills your ears.

Eel-god, Eel-good,
Filled his children with slander.
False gods, old gods,
His children said without candor.

Eel-god, Eel-god,
Some children were not believers
False gods, old gods,
Your children met the cleavers.

Eel-god, Eel-god,
What did their children's silence attain?
False gods, old gods,
Gave you a grave in which to reign.

Slowly, the song fades.

• a watery grave painting

Look: Indigo and silver chalk war with one another as the paint a watery tomb of lost buildings and broken shrines. Ghostly shapes vie for the light, their shapes leaving behind the broken vessels that were once their bodies. However, just as the shapes rise anguiliad shapes encircle them, drawing them towards the broken half-shadowed form of a half-eel, half-man shape that is bound to a small steam vent embedded in the ocean floor.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting a childlike voice rises to your ears, "Oh, but he is a jealous beast and would not give up his worshippers so easily. He would use them, promise them salvation once more and steal them from their final death. No winter or silence could reach them where he hid them away, no decay could keep their souls from feeding him, and in those intolerable moments, he plotted anew." Slowly, the song fades.

• a mist-shrouded island painting

Look:Silver and indigo mist swirls lazily around a small island that bobs in an azure sea, its shores rocky and dappled with the froth of new waves. Plantlife, new and young, rises in the distance, and a rugged mountain dotted with arcane buildings is painted in the shadows of charcoal and silver hues. An opening in the mist shows a small boat making its way towards the desolate place.

Loresong: As your voice touches upon the painting a childlike voice rises to your ears. "Time heals, time steals, time reveals… Feeding off of the souls of his lost, never releasing them to winter, silence, or the hiss, he slowly raised his paltry home from its depths and brought it back into the light. Greed was his friend and so too did it find a friend in Junderthal." Slowly, the song fades.