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[[Category: Giantman player characters]]
Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani (formerly Naamit DMonica) is a giantman bard and devout follower of Mularos. She resides at an estate outside the elven city of Ta'Illistim. She is an avid collector of whips and among her extensive collection, Holy Scourge is the most famous. She took the last name Braggiani in deference to apparent human ancestry in her bloodline, which she discovered after obtaining the legendary weapon.
Described by some as an iron fist in a silken glove, Naamit is both charismatic and ruthless. She has a particular dislike for the smell of roses and if left long enough, the scent will drive her into a maddened rage. She is keenly interested in learning secrets so Loresinging is a natural fit for her. Naamit does not, however, sing for pleasure or audience.
Naamit is a Master Painter.
History
Rumored to have been born on Eorgaen 12, 5061, Naamit took up residence in Wehnimer's Landing in 5096. She was married to Lord Tabalt Valkiryan, a dwarven warrior, until his unexpected death following a lucrative business deal in the following year. In the summer of 5098, she married Lord Reveko Mwani, a giantman ranger, to solidify a business venture, however he vanished under questionable circumstances sometime thereafter. She moved to Ta'Illistim in 5101, but still owns property in Wehnimer's Landing. Naamit was given the mark of Mularos in the form of a scar upon her neck on 23 Charlatos, 5102, presumably by the Painlord Eryael just prior to his arrival to Ta'Illistim. She fought on the side of the Dark Alliance during the Griffin Sword War and grew close to Harith Caerines, the self-ascribed Whip of Mularos. Harith appointed Naamit as proxy Whip, in the event unfortunate circumstances befell her, which they eventually did. Naamit rescued Harith's soul (albeit temporarily) from the Pale in 5103, but was unable to maintain control of Ta'Illistim in Harith's stead. She also formed a close friendship with Ysharra, and their affinity persists beyond the pain of time.
Naamit previously led a cult known as the Harem Dzosch; the group faded into obscurity upon her disappearance sometime between 5104 and 5106.
Naamit returned to the Elven Nations in 5116 after a decade-long journey of searching for any possible remnant of her former mentor, Harith. She took up residence at an estate outside the elven city of Ta'Illistim and restarted a small, but rewarding private business there. She was officially recognized as a Master Painter in Ivastaen, 5117, and granted Grand Lady status in Lumnea of the same year. Naamit was briefly bonded to Heartfire Durden, a giantman guardian, following a bloodbath in the Duskruin Arena trials of Phoenatos, 5117.
In the year 5118, Naamit acquired a piece of black ora shaped curiously like the hilt of her whip; the antithetical artifact turned her neck to ruin, rendering her singing voice to sound like the piercing wail of a banshee. Storms are said to precede her arrival ever since.
Appearance
- It is difficult to get a good look at Naamit due to the number of mirror images of her nearby.
- You see Mistress Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani the Harbinger of the Harrows.
- She appears to be a Giantman.
- She is shorter than average. She appears to be youthful. She has piercing vibrant green eyes and pale, alabaster skin. She has thick locks of long, glossy black hair flowing down her back beneath the drape of a sparkling black lace mantilla. She has an angular face, a prominent nose and a fleshy, muscular build with generously proportioned hips. She has a myriad of thin chain-shaped scars running across her exposed flesh.
- She has a deep black cuff of finely polished glaes in the middle of her nose, a deep black ring of finely polished glaes in her lip, a faint scar on her neck, some cross-like blackwork extending from the neck downward past her collarbone, and a tattoo of a crimson heart pierced with a silver dagger on her chest.
- She is holding a barbed white ora whip with a cross-like handle in her right hand.
- She is wearing a writhing black ora cross, a sable lambswool cloak trimmed with ebon-tipped ermine tails, a black iron symbol wrapped in white leather and embossed with a blood-red heart, a firm hourglass girdle of black onyx samite over a lustrous cloth-of-eahnor gown awash in shadowy patination, and some sanguine velvet chopines lofted on scarred ebonwood heels.
Publications and Assorted Stories
Mularosian Cadance. Gloumerrick Publishing House, 5103 |
a scarlet glaes tome >look tome Dark and pale silver inlay combine with the translucent scarlet glaes to produce the crest of Mularos upon the surface of the tome. The lines of text on the first page can dimly be glimpsed through the cover, shadowed in sanguine light and faintly touched by the glaes's natural iridescence, though they are not visible enough to be read. A teardrop-cut black diamond has been set into the spine, and engraved letters running down the spine read, "Mularosian Cadence, by Naamit D. Monica". > Naamit D. Monica Mistress of the Harem Dzosch Years ago, I sought answers and information on my master, Lord Mularos. In these endeavors, I encountered Lord Stumo, who spent many of his own years seeking the answers and clarity I so desired. It is then, that I began to learn all that I could from the man. Years prior, a hooded man came to Wehnimer's Landing and spoke of Lord Mularos. During that visit, Lord Stumo learned of the fate of Mularos - The explanation for His silence.The lore Lord Stumo came across those years ago is the basis for what has since become known as the beginning of Mularosian Cadence. I have said innumerable times that the Mularos we think of today was not the Mularos of times passed. For long ago Phoen, Kai, and Mularos were allies. Their relationship however, was not of equal portions; Phoen and Kai held a much closer bond. Their natures were vastly more competitive and brutish than that of Mularos. Yet within this, Mularos possessed the charm and physical beauty the other two lacked - Perhaps as a result of his less barbaric nature. For some reason, (one which I care not to speculate on too heavily lest it be grossly incorrect) Kai specifically took a disliking for Mularos and thus Kai sought to destroy him. Mularos was set to the rack and given lashings by Kai's favored minions. It was enough to destroy most anyone; yet oddly, Mularos did not perish. He was wounded, doubt you not! After a time, with each lashing, he grew from the suffering. When it was announced to Kai that his methods were appearing unsuccessful, he sought the assistance of his brother Phoen. In turn, Phoen suggested a visit to Eonak, metalsmith of the Arkati, for further assistance. In the meantime, Mularos continued growing from the repeated torture and broke free of his bonds and moved to strike out at Kai! M'Lord struck him such a blow, such an infliction, that Kai was fairly undone for a time. As a result of his own actions, Mularos was further empowered. But not done is the tale, for Phoen saw the happenings and sought out Eonak himself. Phoen rushed to Eonak with a plan for some enclosure to keep Mularos from destroying them all (mind you, Phoen failed to relay the whole story to Eonak). Disgusted with what had transpired, the metalsmith set to create the cell of Phoen's request- One that would keep Mularos at bay for all time. A trap was set; Mularos was captured and then forced into the cell forged by Eonak. Shortly thereafter, Mularos nearly escaped as his strengthening power had been underestimated by the metalsmith. Eonak couldn't let his creation be undermined that easily, no! He reinforced the tomb with glaes, a magical volcanic glass, and placed upon this tomb, a lock of the strongest magical material he could possibly create. The chamber was placed in the Sea of Fire, a desert region rather well-visited by the likes of the Sun. This place was chosen so that a close eye could be kept on the chamber to ensure Mularos would not again escape. The tomb was so strong that indeed, Mularos could not escape. Due to the translucent nature of the material Eonak used to reinforce the tomb, Phoen's fury literally baked Mularos's flesh for half of each day! But again as before, Mularos's ways and powers were underestimated and misunderstood by those who meant to destroy him. The Sea of Fire, by its very nature, harms. The situation Mularos was placed in, while seemingly irrevocable, is nearly ideal. Lord Mularos continues to grow and strengthen within the impenetrable tomb; not only through his own suffering, but through the pain of others, just as he had in times passed. As Stumo set out to answer years ago, I too wish an end to my master's imprisonment. Yet, I know that this is impossible - For His continual suffering is the truth in the binding rhythms of His sacrifice. He bleeds for us, as we bleed for him. The inevitability of this dual servitude cannot be undone. |
Menya. Ebon Gate Storytelling contest, 5117 |
Naamit takes a few steps in a small circle. (Naamit screws up her face a moment and shakes her head.) (Naamit stares a moment at her warm rooibos and assumes a somber, emotionless countenance.) Naamit tilt your head up. Naamit slowly begins, "Last night I had a dream.." Roblar smiles at Naamit. Naamit says, "Seven years ago, I was found injured. I do not remember how it happened or where I was exactly. A woman picked me up, nursed me back to health she was like the sister I never had. I think. My childhood is a blur, but faint memories of a pine forest and a small brood of girls happily watched by a tall, broad-shouldered man, this is what plagues my memories despite being dreams." Naamit closes her eyes for a moment. Naamit glances away. Naamit simply states, "The woman who saved me in the dream, Menya, she was an average-statured woman with brunette hair, so wavy and long. She wore it in a tousled bun and long tendrils perpetually waved around her freckled face." Naamit distantly says, "Menya's eyes, those pale grey eyes, framed with a spattering of freckles. I will never forget them. She may have been a stranger, but never will I forget her love for me. I don't know how or why she saved me. How I miss her." Naamit takes a few steps back. Naamit wistfully says, "Menya used to say, "I love you like my own, love me for who I am. I have saved you and will call you my Leskelle, my happy love." Menya used to say I smiled as she was nursing me back to health. She said I knew her caring was from the heart." Naamit nods slowly. Naamit tilts her head down. Naamit sincerely says, "I believe it was true." Naamit sighs. Naamit solemnly reveals, "Menya indeed nursed me to a fit state, having mended what remained of my left arm which was severed at the forearm. Menya said she would take care of me. She said I could still love, even with one arm. She said I could become a productive warrior. I never wanted to fight anyone, but she didn't ask that." Naamit ponders. Naamit adds, "At night she would tie me to a tree as I slept to keep me safe. From the bears, she said." Naamit sadly muses, "Menya taught me how to speak without my voice. We moved together, silently. Menya brought me to her people. Other women, who, like me, were afflicted with terrible wounds. These women were all beautiful beyond compare. Not even the maimed were unskilled." Naamit traces the lines of her faint scar. Naamit curiously says, "I noticed after a time, those injured women seemed to follow the unflawed. Menya told me the women were merely obedient in the face of authority. She told me who I should watch out for." Naamit takes a few steps back. Naamit continues, "Months and years went by with Menya. I loved her as a sister, I loved her as she was." Naamit's lower lip trembles slightly. Naamit regretfully says, "Menya left me most tragically. We had left the brood to hunt the red stag. How I enjoyed hunting red stag. We were taken down by a pack of bears. She was mauled terribly." Naamit's eyes suddenly flash with a pale grey glow. Naamit tightens her grip on her warm rooibos. Naamit remorsefully cries, "My Menya was dead when I awoke, her parts torn asunder. What I thought were bears had been very hairy men." Naamit inhale sharply, hissing through her teeth. (Naamit glares around the audience, eyeing each man carefully.) Naamit points at Roblar. Naamit spits, speaking vehemently to Roblar, "You. I did not know who you were then, but you professed to have been saving me from the twine and bondage. From certain imprisonment and the filth of womanhood." Roblar pulls the ivory-fanged bear head hood of his bear hide greatcloak over his head, gaining coverage from the gelidity. Roblar narrows his eyes. Naamit scrubs her hand through her lustrous charcoal black hair in frustration. Roblar cracks his knuckles! Roblar's stomach growls. Naamit angrily curses, "Had Menya not died, I would have run away with her. She was what I loved and not You! Are YOU that bear, of this I am stil not certain!" Naamit takes a deep breath. Naamit turns away from Roblar, ignoring him. Naamit mumbles, speaking cryptically to herself, "But it is Visne, he calls me now. I am not Leskelle for my Menya and my women, she and they are no more." Naamit sighs. (Naamit takes a moment to compose herself.) Naamit confusedly speculates, "I still think he was lying when he claims I was once his wife. It is irrelevant at this point. That was years ago and he treated me well. He states he nursed me back to health and will love me always. He has, and in this I must put my faith." Naamit suddenly reveals, "I remember brief glimpses of something. A brood of girls and a tall man wearing bear skin. And then, there are only women. They serenade a disboweled and broken man just before they are flung to the wind, each upon the back of a golden eagle. They look down upon the earth in triumph, but their names and faces are gone and the seance is ruined." Naamit raises her hand. Naamit hurriedly gushes, "I can only hope to someday remember who they -- Who I -- Truly am in any of this." Naamit vaguely concludes, "And tonight, perhaps I will dream of another broken man." Naamit glances at Roblar. Naamit takes a few steps back. Naamit bows. Roblar gazes at Naamit with a deadpan expression and applauds in slow motion. Roblar pushes the ivory-fanged bear head hood of his bear hide greatcloak onto his shoulders, exposing himself to the frigidity. |
Painting
By way of a painting easel.
Portraiture |
A Heroic Giantkin Male Portrait
A Sultry Aelotoi Male Portrait
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a pewter fillet-framed painting
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a scalloped ivory-framed painting
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Landscapes and Still Lifes |
A Bench Painting
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Experimental |
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