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{{characterprofile
{{characterprofile
|name= Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani
|name= Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani
|caption= "He revels in pain and suffering<br>for they are evidence of life."
|caption=
|image= [[File:Naamit_portrait_by_Tisket_20180521_small.jpg|thumb|center]]
|race= [[Giantman]]
|race= [[Giantman]]
|culture=
|culture=
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|profession= [[Bard]]
|profession= [[Bard]]
|religion= Order of [[Mularos]], Cult of [[Harith_Caerines|Harith]]
|religion= Order of [[Mularos]], Cult of [[Harith_Caerines|Harith]]
|affiliations= Member of [[Silvergate Inn]], [[Order of the Shadow]], [[Hand of the Arkati]], [[Caeruil Atelier]]
|affiliations= Member of [[House Brigatta]], [[Order of the Shadow]], [[Hand of the Arkati]], [[Caeruil Atelier]]
|word= Naamit rhymes with Vomit
|word= Naamit rhymes with Vomit
|disposition= Peevish and impulsive
|disposition= Peevish
|demeanor= Reserved
|demeanor= Reserved
|ptrait=
|ptrait= Veiled neuroticism
|strait=
|strait=
|flaw= several
|flaw= Several
|strength=
|strength= Prone to violent outbursts
|weakness=
|weakness= Impulsiveness
|habits= shifting weight from one hip to another
|habits= Frowning and shifting her weight
|hobbies= loresinging, writing religious hymns, collecting whips, painting and drawing
|hobbies= Writing hymns, loresinging, and painting
|soft=
|soft= Whips and tea
|likes= whips, tea, blood
|likes= Blood
|dislikes= roses, Elven houses of [[Illistim]] and [[Vaalor]]
|dislikes= Roses, Houses of [[Illistim]] and [[Vaalor]]
|fears=
|fears=
|loyalties=
|loyalties= The [[Dark Alliance]]
|friend=
|friend=
|spouse=
|spouse=
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}}
}}


'''Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani ''' (formerly 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.
'''Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani ''' (formerly 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 confirmed 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 [[Eryael_Ladrinyth|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.
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 [[Eryael_Ladrinyth|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.
Line 40: Line 41:
Naamit previously led a cult known as the Harem Dzosch; the group faded into obscurity upon her disappearance sometime between 5104 and 5106.
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 jewelry|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.
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 jewelry|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. Naamit also took on a startlingly younger appearance upon completion of a [[A Healing Process|savage]] business deal.
On Lumnea 15, 5119, Naamit confronted and killed the Fallen Meek named [[Nazhor]], after solving a series of complex puzzles meant to shield his location. Whether he stays dead is yet to be seen as rumors swirl that his demons will resurrect him.

As 5119 came screaming in and with flesh renewed, she forged a sanguine bond with a Meek (protector of balance) named [[Aahlara]], or ''The Bloody'', who presides over the Blood World version of an [[Elanthia|Elanthian]] alternate reality. The [[blood eagle]] Meek gave her a special device that would cause the Fallen Meek named [[Nazhor]] great harm. On Lumnea 15, Naamit confronted and killed Nazhor, after solving a series of complex puzzles meant to shield his location but she did not use the device the Blood had created. On Koaratos 22, he indeed returned with demons at his side, just as he'd sworn he would as he lay dying some months prior. With aid of the Blood nullifying agent, adventurers were able to oust Nazhor and silence him once and for all, solidifying the seat of a new Meek, [[Elspie]], in this dimension. By helping the adventurers, Naamit lost access both to ''The Bloody'', as well as Harith, who yet lived on in that dimension.

As 5119 drew to a close however, Naamit's appearance began to wane once again.


== '''Appearance''' ==
== '''Appearance''' ==
Line 48: Line 53:
: You see Mistress Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani the Harbinger of the Harrows.
: You see Mistress Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani the Harbinger of the Harrows.
: She appears to be a Giantman.
: 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 is shorter than average. She appears to have come of age. She has piercing vibrant green eyes and pale, alabaster skin. She has thick locks of long, black hair tortuously braided beneath a black lace mantilla ensnared in the spines of a hawthorn coronal. 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 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 holding a barbed white ora whip with a cross-like handle in her right hand and a red chaos whip in her left 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.
: She is wearing a writhing black ora cross, a sable lambswool cloak trimmed with ebon-tipped ermine tails, an hourglass girdle of gilt-marbled alabaster silk over a daringly cut sable gown of lush burnt velvet, and some two-toned damask chopines set on black coral heels.


== '''Publications and Assorted Stories''' ==
== '''Biographic excerpts''' ==


{| role="presentation" class="wikitable mw-collapsible mw-collapsed"
| <strong>'''Descent, a window into the [[The Nazhor Chronicles|Nazhor Chronicles]]'''</strong>
|-
|
<pre{{log2|font-size=100%|border=none|margin-right=10%}}>
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2007
'''Descent I -- Early Lumnea, 5119'''
Naamit struggled to make it back that evening. Her body was broken and mind laid to waste. But made it, she did. She had to. Sacrifice was an exigent rite.

She was bound to...
''Where?''

Night sank around her as she lowered herself into the hot spring that feeds Wraithenmist, yet her worries were not washed away so easily. Nazhor. She could have bound and nullified him. Or whipped him harder and pressed for information. Why did he thank her as his body hit the floor? Why did she ki.. Damn, the way those lifeless ale brown eyes stared back at her. Should she be proud of herself now? She hadn't even used the trick the Adversary had given her. She didn't feel very proud. Instead, she was filled with foreboding doom and the keen sense her brain was deeply addled. But knowing everything was wrong meant she wasn't mad, right? Wrong. She should have done many things.

She was bound to...
''What?''

But some things did make sense, and that was what she learned: Nazhor would be back. A ''Reckoning'' was at hand and demons waited in the wings. Elspie also required help to ascend and it needed to come in the form of others. ''Foci for her power.'' Nearly two months had passed since Darcena learned her past and the door to Nazhor's laboratory had been revealed. Nearly fifty days had passed since Elspie took up the challenge. Naamit hadn't even the capacity to count properly when she told Elspie about the renewed sense of urgency. But she knew, if Elspie failed, Nazhor would regain his position. Naamit knew she couldn't let this happen.

She was bound to...
''When?''

Naamit ducked beneath the warm water, wondering who Nazhor's acolytes had been. She watched the amber lanterns waver as her air supply dwindled, their scant light distorted by the ripples above her. His shadows were everywhere, dancing even there, just beyond the hawthorn boughs. She considered naming them as her breath expired. Bubbles escaped her lips as she whispered underwater, ''"needful little things."''

She was bound to...
''Who?''

She rose from the spring and descended deep within the mountain, clad in nothing but darkness. Down, down, down. But the demons followed. Naamit prepared herself for the rite and pierced her shoulders with the razern hooks. She swore she saw them, ''Little, Things, and Needful'', there in the shadows as they skirted the brazier's light. It couldn't be. Not here in the shrine of her Master. But still, she felt something watching her as she hung like a bird, suspended by the meat hooks driven neatly into her flesh. Crimson luminescence flitted upward from the cracked glaes orb upon the shrine's altar in response to the blood dribbling down her back, readily receiving her sacrifice.

''"Blood? Are you there?"''

The silence grew deafening as the shadows crept ever closer.



'''Descent II -- Early Koratos, 5119'''
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2045

Naamit struggled to sleep that evening. Sacrifice was an exigent rite and her mind just hadn't been with it. Hadn't been with it for days. Something was missing.

She was missing...
Where?

Night sank around her as she lowered herself into the hot spring that fed an unfamiliar place and her worries were not washed away even with the passing of the midnight hour. Knowing everything was wrong meant she wasn't bad, right? Wrong. She should have done many things. She should have done many things differently.

She was missing...
What?

Feeling nothing but regret after the moment when triumph had struck left her deeply disturbed. Was that the same feeling the Crimson Hawk felt when he slayed her sister? Did the man go mad, or believe himself a hero? And yet it was for naught: the hole in her heart was too great. The portion of her soul, once sacrificed and now lost forever. She should have known better. ''Oh Harith. How I love thee even still.''

She was missing...
When?

The needful little things upon the Isle. So helpless and incapable of doing what was needed. But what they needed wasn't necessarily in her best interest, either. Not then, and clearly not now. Such a curious conundrum. If only they could be put to a better purpose with a more focused cause.

She was missing...
Who?

She rose from the spring and knelt upon a flat rock in the adjacent weeds and selected several bulrush. Plucking the tender stalks, she soaked their lengths in the water and braided them into a makeshift flog and began a second nightly ritual. The little lash barely left a red mark, despite her best intentions. So, she located a small, jagged rock and began to flay her flesh upon the soles of her feet. And yet she felt nothing. Dipping hand into pool, she cupped a fist of sand and rubbed it into her wounds. Still, nothing. On hands and knees, she bashed her own face upon her perch in desperation. Once. twice, three times, and then: **CRUNCH.** Ocular socket and nose fractured, blood began to flow from her face and mar the wet boulder beneath her and then she collapsed.

In a faint but harsh voice Naamit croaked, ''"Blood? Are you there?"''

The silence grew deafening, pierced only by the quiet cries of her own lonesome sobbing as her pleas went unmet and unanswered.



'''Tune for your thoughts? -- Late Koaratos, 5119'''
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2085

Naamit enters the tavern and orders a drink. Tea. So typical. She selects a barrel chair across the way and watches the bartender squeamishly help another customer with a bowl of viscous broth. "Heard any new news, friend?" No response.

Naamit watches the bartender hum idly to himself without rhyme or reason as he moves on to sweep the floor of his tavern needlessly. She mutters bitterly, "Needful. Little. Things." The shadows knew she knew, she saw them looming overhead as she inspected the damage to Socius's office. She sips her tea, ruminating over the destruction she found in Hale Hall. "TOO FAR," those words seemed to read, though clearly the implements used to scrawl those plank walls were not suitable for further explanation. Pity.

Catching the man between his chores, she offers, "Say, let me teach you a tune. It ought to be easy enough to pick up."

Naamit skillfully croons, "Hmmm hmhm Hmmm... Hm mmhm mmhm Hmm Hmmmm."

Greth pays her little mind as she repeats the simple troll once, twice, and a third time. He goes on to assist other customers, nodding to a trio of half-elven women as he is always wont to do.

Tea finished, Naamit rises from the barrel chair and strolls out the doors, a perfect little angry death march sustained upon her pursed lips.


'''Descent III -- Late Koaratos, 5119'''
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2045

Naamit slumps down at her rosewood desk and began to pen a letter. Brow furrowed deeply, lips turned down, leaving it clear she was a jumble of anger, resentment, disappointment and loss.

"Dear Socius, I want to let you know.."

Does he even care? She struck through the few words, crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the wastebasket, only to begin anew. Pleasant fragrance from the cup of tea beside her filtered past her nostrils invitingly, but she ignored its wanton offering.

"Socius, come back. You cannot aban..."

Would he even get the letter? She struck through the few words, crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the wastebasket, only to begin anew. Her quill pressed far too hard to the parchment, she scratched a few short words:

"Socius. You F...!"

No. no he wouldn't. And there was nothing more to be said.

Naamit rose from her desk, folding the paper in half, then tore it in two. She tossed each end into the fireplace, but the right half missed its mark, fluttering to the front of the hearth, safe from imminent immolation. The sequestered word scrawled upon the scrap burned against her eyes with the smoldering backdrop, worse than the red rage that gnawed at her heart and her gut.

It stared right back at her mockingly, as if the inanimate object was capable of such bizarre indignation. That word...

"FOOL"

And with that, there was nothing more to be rote.



'''Descent IV -- Early Imaerasta, 5119'''
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2085

[Darkened Hall, Oculus]
This space is perfectly round, with a gently sloping ceiling that rises to a small opening at its peak. Through this opening, the light outside comes through and strikes a deeply-flawed crystal mounted in the floor. The floor underneath is firmly packed dirt, and the walls are sheer stone, but the room is curiously bereft of the echoes one would expect from such a space. her also see a narrow doorway.
Obvious exits: none.

Naamit turned her albumen dagger toward her heart and bowed her head, eyes cast downward.

Naamit growled, "Blood, hear my call! A sacrifice, I give you!"

With careful precision, Naamit used her albumen dagger to slice a long, deep line across her left palm. Blood immediately pooled along the surface of the cut. She retrieved a piece of parchment from her bag and clenched her fist upon it, adding to the sanguine stain already present upon its wax-sealed grain.

Albumen dagger held high, Naamit threw her head back, arching her body severely as she released a heathen scream -- She then plunged the dagger into her her heart!

Gurgling gasps replace her heretical howl, as she collapsed upon the crystal. Naamit harshly croaks, "So that we may finish what we started..."

As her light faded, the blood from her mortal wound seeped into the deeply flawed crystal positioned centrally in the chamber, filling its once-empty heart with a freshly sanguine, viscous core.

The bloodstained parchment fell from her fleeting grasp and disintegrated before hitting the floor, winking out of existence with the same wrenching anguish from which it had been borne. Nothingness ensued for quite some time as the woman laid dead, the susurrus of a constant rain reverberating through the Oculus.

And then at last, midnight struck and the distant screech of an avian presence broke through the din.



'''Descent V -- Late Imaerasta, 5119'''
http://forums.play.net/forums/GemStone%20IV/Cities,%20Towns,%20and%20Outposts/Mist%20Harbor/view/2100

Naamit returned to her estate in the far northeast region of the DragonSpine in the early hours of Volnes. Nothing about Restday had gone as hoped, save for her absence on the Isle of Four Winds. She couldn't bear to watch the culmination of her actions. Providing them with the key to nullify Nazhor, was the right decision in the eyes of some. In the hole where her own heart and soul languish, it was dead wrong.

The blood eagle meek known as Aahlara was Naamit's kindred spirit. Blood they each called themselves, in an existence where this-world Naamit was likely meant to reign. They gave to each other, and cared for each other -- insofar as any Blood truly could. Eye to eye, the two souls met and found a common bond. But they had to FEED. They had to FEED the bond, despite the connection. It was a delicate dance rife with pain, carefully sowed through nights of anguish toward a common goal. A loyalty of the heart.

Naamit recalled an argument she had when Ceyrin confronted her over a business matter. His words bit at her, as she'd laid bare her soul: "''I'm sorry that you've never truly experienced love"''

How wrong he was, for the price of progress was steep.

Naamit disrobed and approached the hot spring, her former mentor Harith keenly on her mind. She traced the steps of her descent with each inch of the water rising as the heat baked into her fresh scars. The blood rite was seen as blasphemous to tender minds. For better or worse, they only knew the half of it and had seen a mild demonstration of the months of sacrifice she endured.

They didn't understand what she had sacrificed so balance could be restored.

Harith lived on in the Blood world as Aahlara confirmed, when first they met in the parallel world. By calling on Blood and forging that bond, by resetting the balance, Naamit could no longer cling to a hope--no longer grasp onto a dream that she and her mentor, Harith Caerines, would be reunited in the world of her kindred spirit, Blood. And in the process, she lost another bond. Now that the rift was repaired, Aahlara the Bloody and Harith the Whip of Mularos were gone from her forever.

Hope and Love: the ultimate sacrifices she could give.
</pre>
|}

== '''Publications and assorted stories''' ==

{| role="presentation" class="wikitable mw-collapsible mw-collapsed"
| <strong>'''Hymns for the Pierced of Heart.''' ''self-published, 5119''</strong>
|-
|
<pre{{log2|font-size=100%|border=none|margin-right=10%}}>
You see a small white suede volume. Bound into the volume are some pages of pale vellum.
>read vol
The page, written in Common, reads as follows:

Praised be Mularos!

Hear ye, those who shall stand with us: the pain we endure provides him succor. Flay your flesh in the name of the Master and you shall find joy and ambition in life, for suffering is your pleasure and duty. We shall use all available means to secure and embolden His prowess and dominion, for His will is our purpose in life.

Sing daily for His praise with these hymns and words of devotion.
Let not the silence become deafening.

Mistress Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani
Harbinger of the Harrows
Cantor of Mularos
</pre>
|}
{| role="presentation" class="wikitable mw-collapsible mw-collapsed"
{| role="presentation" class="wikitable mw-collapsible mw-collapsed"
| <strong>'''Mularosian Cadance.''' ''[[Gloumerrick]] Publishing House, 5103''</strong>
| <strong>'''Mularosian Cadance.''' ''[[Gloumerrick]] Publishing House, 5103''</strong>
Line 332: Line 515:
:The etched print on rag paper is mounted bare within a vertical frame, hand-torn edges visible. Rendered in fine intaglio, the monochromatic red image depicts a half-elven woman with curled tresses gazing down from the second story balcony of a veranda. She holds one hand to her breast in a gesture of modesty, and the other aloft, fingers curled with invitation. Heavy hatching yields shadows on the skirts of her gown between the balusters, each rung a slender twist of alternating pigment and white space.
:The etched print on rag paper is mounted bare within a vertical frame, hand-torn edges visible. Rendered in fine intaglio, the monochromatic red image depicts a half-elven woman with curled tresses gazing down from the second story balcony of a veranda. She holds one hand to her breast in a gesture of modesty, and the other aloft, fingers curled with invitation. Heavy hatching yields shadows on the skirts of her gown between the balusters, each rung a slender twist of alternating pigment and white space.
:In the Common language, it reads:
:In the Common language, it reads:
:"Professional Courtesy, 5118
:"Professional Courtesy, 5118"

'''an elaborate gold-framed painting
:The tiniest little demon with a hair-thin tail you could ever hope to pick out of such a chaotic painting, perches within a field littered with titan-sized corpses. Rich and decadent, the carcasses are decorated with distinct flare, but each has flesh flayed to ruin and not a one possesses a hand to spare. Grey wings grace the backdrop of the bloodied scene behind a large black gate far in the distance.
:In the Common language, it reads:
:"Professional Courtesy II, 5119"
|}
|}



Revision as of 10:02, 25 November 2019

Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani
Naamit portrait by Tisket 20180521 small.jpg
"He revels in pain and suffering
for they are evidence of life."
Race [[Giantman]]
Class Harbinger
Profession Bard
Religion Order of Mularos, Cult of Harith
Affiliation(s) Member of House Brigatta, Order of the Shadow, Hand of the Arkati, Caeruil Atelier
In-a-Word Naamit rhymes with Vomit
Disposition Peevish
Demeanor Reserved
Primary Trait Veiled neuroticism
Flaw Several
Greatest Strength Prone to violent outbursts
Greatest Weakness Impulsiveness
Habits Frowning and shifting her weight
Hobbies Writing hymns, loresinging, and painting
Soft Spots Whips and tea
Likes Blood
Dislikes Roses, Houses of Illistim and Vaalor
Loyalties The Dark Alliance

[[Category: Giantman player characters]]

Naamit DMVMD-Braggiani (formerly 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 confirmed 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. Naamit also took on a startlingly younger appearance upon completion of a savage business deal.

As 5119 came screaming in and with flesh renewed, she forged a sanguine bond with a Meek (protector of balance) named Aahlara, or The Bloody, who presides over the Blood World version of an Elanthian alternate reality. The blood eagle Meek gave her a special device that would cause the Fallen Meek named Nazhor great harm. On Lumnea 15, Naamit confronted and killed Nazhor, after solving a series of complex puzzles meant to shield his location but she did not use the device the Blood had created. On Koaratos 22, he indeed returned with demons at his side, just as he'd sworn he would as he lay dying some months prior. With aid of the Blood nullifying agent, adventurers were able to oust Nazhor and silence him once and for all, solidifying the seat of a new Meek, Elspie, in this dimension. By helping the adventurers, Naamit lost access both to The Bloody, as well as Harith, who yet lived on in that dimension.

As 5119 drew to a close however, Naamit's appearance began to wane once again.

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 have come of age. She has piercing vibrant green eyes and pale, alabaster skin. She has thick locks of long, black hair tortuously braided beneath a black lace mantilla ensnared in the spines of a hawthorn coronal. 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 and a red chaos whip in her left hand.
She is wearing a writhing black ora cross, a sable lambswool cloak trimmed with ebon-tipped ermine tails, an hourglass girdle of gilt-marbled alabaster silk over a daringly cut sable gown of lush burnt velvet, and some two-toned damask chopines set on black coral heels.

Biographic excerpts

Publications and assorted stories

Painting

By way of a painting easel.