Cassidy Celso

Character created by Elizabeth Schrier

(a.k.a. Mikog)

Cassidy is a priestess of Manari and tends to be a bit more on the quiet side unless she has something to say. Typically, her something refers to a slight or distasteful prodding. She can be brash, which most people take as simple melancholy or down right mean. Many believe her to be a bit pompous, though she simply does her best to keep her distance from all around her.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Two Worlds Divided

Part 1: Orphaned

There are times, in a world such as this, that people are born with nothing. It is a terrible and lonely truth; but a truth none the less. Cassidy Celso was not one of these poor souls. No, she was born to a loving family, a warm bed, and plenty of nourishment. The problem was, she couldn’t remember any of it. Then again, most humans can’t remember that far back in the early years.
Cassidy’s parents weren’t poor, though they certainly didn’t live like royalty. All in all, they were blessed; their lives were filled with prosperity and more love than most could ever dream. They travel between Barkgull and Acorn, one of the few human families residing in the Magocracy, assisting in trade between the two city states.
Cassidy was just over a year old when she lost everything. Some say that perhaps it was better this way; that she was able to have an entire year with the ones she loved, which was more than some. She never sees it that way; she was and that was that. Then again, she was ignorant of her own story.
It was a routine trip to Acorn and the first Cassidy was allowed to accompany her parents. It was only supposed to take a few weeks at most; they’d enter the city, negotiate a few trade deals, have materials sent out or brought in and be on their way, returning home just in time for their annual Candlenights celebration. Things like this, in stories like hers, never go according to plan however.
The first half of the carriage ride across Lanternman’s Pass was uneventful. Cassidy spent most of her time on the floor of their wagon, playing with the toys her mother had bought in one of the villages they had passed, as her parents continued to go over the lists and contracts that were needed for the trade agreements. They’d never reach the city state, however; by the time they reached a third of the way they were cut off by a large band of Orc and goblin raiders.
The war against Xagolae was in its infant stages, barely a concern for the government that ruled Barkgull, though it seemed to have stirred quite a sense of rebellion in the few ‘lower’ races around the large city. There had been rumors of renegades along the pass, but most took what they need and left the victims no worse for wear. Sadly, unbeknownst to either party, that would not be how this turned out.
Cassidy’s father was the first one to exit the carriage, leaving Cassidy’s mother to tend to her daughter as he did. His orcish far worse than his other known language, but their common decent enough. Things seemed to be going well, they carried far more supplies than needed, to barter in case something such as this were to happen; and within minutes a deal was struck. He moved back to the carriage, to collect the material the bandits would be taking when he gave a cry, a short sword piercing his chest.
It seemed that the group was no longer content to take what was needed, feeling that the city state owed them a far greater debt, at least most of the group. More often than not, greed can grow to be far more powerful than morals can dictate, and such was the fate of Cassidy’s family.
Her mother rushed to the aid of her beloved, despite the danger, tearful as she blasted anyone that came near as she did her best to recite the incantation that would heal her husband. But the world is filled with chaos and with a few carefully placed arrows, she joined him instead.
The group of bandits were now free to take as much as they pleased, unaware of the child playing wordless on the wooden floor, lulled to sleep by the swaying of the carriage as the Orcs and Goblins hurried it off to be ransacked.
It was a few hours later, just inside the Acorn borders that she stirred, waling loudly as children tended to do when they woke alone. The sound started the goblins pushing the carriage along and they quickly scrambled inside, producing the child to their Orc leader. There was quite a bit of arguing amongst them on how to handle the child who would not cease the ear-piercing noise. The goblins were inclined to beat, strangle, or drown the creature, though the couldn’t decide which, and while a few of the orcs were in agreement, the majority had offsprings of their own. Blood shed for profit or honor was one thing, the slaughter of a helpless being was another; there was not honor nor gain from it.
So, after quite a bit of argument, and an Orc barbarian, assigned as nanny, it was decided; the child would accompany them to Acorn where she would be deposited onto the steps of the first sanctuary they could find. It would be another week before this was managed, during which the human child and her Orc nanny grew close, making the separation difficult.
Eventually, however, Cassidy was placed on the steps of the church of Manari, in the middle of the night, just inside the city walls. The knock against the heavy wooden doors, loud and booming, stirring half the clergy to appear at the door to behold the sight of a small, filth covered, naked, human child drooling happily as she chewed on the sheath of a dagger with the name ‘KagCidee’ carved into it. 

Part 2: The Clergy

Adjusting to clergy life is not easy for most, though for Cassidy it was as easy as breathing, then again it might have something to do with the fact that she was introduced to it at such a young age. Many of the Clergy men and monks that cared for her had argued over her origins and background, but they took her in none the less. They had also considered changing the girl’s name; they couldn’t exactly call her ‘KagCidee’ her entire life, but even at such a young age Cassidy new enough common to understand, and was stubborn enough to refuse every name they offered yelling ‘No! Cassidy!” and throwing the nearest object she could manage.
Her strong will and brashness at such a young age (along with the crude scrawl on the dagger sheath) had the high cleric convinced she had been raised by orcs from birth. The belief was only cemented by her almost uncontrollable tantrums that could only be sated by their language tutor who would have speak, or even sing to her, in orcish to calm her. If it were the case, and she had been raised by orcs, it was possible that her barbaric demeanor would be far too ingrained to mold her out of, and she’d be viewed as ‘damaged’ for the rest of her life. It was almost too impossible to try, but if anyone had enough faith in the impossible it was the high cleric; and rather than view the situation as a tragedy he saw it as an opportunity.
Cassidy would begin her studies immediately, despite her age. She would be taught both common and orc, along with any other language she would show an interest in after she’s mastered the two. Then she would be taught religion, history, geography along with the duties of priesthood and cleric work and healing. She showed instant promise exceling in her languages, and magics; despite the trouble she caused elsewhere.
Despite her intelligence and how she exceled in her studies, Cassidy tended to cause trouble wherever she went; sneaking out to gamble, causing arguments and fights among other students. She seemed to become more and more restless with every year that passed. It seemed she was spending far more time on penance than actually studying by the end of it all. Eventually, she would be old enough that the High Cleric would no longer be able to keep her within the confines of the church and, so he gave her an alternative.
Cassidy was obsessed with Orc culture, though her knowledge of it all was mostly limited to the literature found in the church libraries, though a few of the missionaries would come across something new among their travels and bring it back for her. She had been told stories of how she was found and the theories behind it all and though she had accepted that her past would always remain a mystery, she could not help the curiosity it ignited in her.
With her extensive knowledge on the national culture and language of Xagolae; she made the ideal candidate for missionary work in that region. The High Cleric had been searching for a cleric to take up the mission there, though most were too fearful of death, and the brutality that rumors spread of the people there. Cassidy however, had always shown interest and though it pained him, he knew she would eventually find her way there with or without the church. So, when she grew off age, he made her the offer: She would travel to Crablack and spread the word of Manari, helping those that she could. If she were careful, she could avoid the war for the most part, staying back to assist in healing and learn what more she could of the people there, chronicling everything to add to the libraries of Acorn.
Cassidy, naturally, could not find it in herself to refuse! After a few more months of ritual training she was equipped with everything she would need, including the dagger sheath gifted to her when she was delivered to the church, and placed on a ship headed for Crablack. 

Part 3: Crablack

Things had not gone as Cassidy had expected when she first arrived in Crablack. She knew better than to head straight for Xagolae, and so did the captain. Regardless, it was not a warm welcome, then again, with such a exclusive tribal community it was to be expected. She struggled her first year, her stubbornness and will power keeping her from turning back, and what little money she managed, barely enough to keep her fed; all the while, the war was shifting, leaving death in it’s wake.
She quickly discovered that, despite the high cleric’s warning, she was most useful near the front, even if it were just to provide last right to the dead or dying that was left after the battle. It was there that her obsession with death had come to be. She had seen more ways a man could die than clouds in the sky, each new and unique even on the battlefield. No matter how she tried it seemed she was giving thanks for the life given and taken than pleading for the aid to heal. It didn’t matter if it were orc, human, gnome, elf… they all died the same: bloody and terrible and with each death she began to grow more and more callus.
It wasn’t until her third year that she found herself at a loss for words. The war had shifted, as it so often did, but it usually avoided tribes and villages, whether intentionally or otherwise. Today, however… that was not the case. She could see the smoke long before the huts came into view. The small village had been burned to the ground, the charred remains of children and adults, littering the ground, only discernable by size difference due to their burned features.
The sight churned her stomach, but she managed to keep her rations down as she covered her nose, trying to protect it from the stench as she searched for survivors. She knew that it was hopeless, had grown far too accustom to the act to hold out any hope. But, much to her surprise, as she began to down stack a pile of corpses she heard a faint groan from the bottom, startling her. She stood there for a moment, in shock, uncapable of comprehending the fact that someone could have survived. With a second sounding of the pained rasp, she snapped out of it, digging through the dead bodies to discover a middle-aged orc, face half burned, deadened eyes pleading for her help.
She mustered as much strength as she could and pulled him from the still smoking pile, his body weigh far surpassing her own; and by the time she sank to her knees next to him she was panting from the effort, his cry of pain still ringing in her ears. She paid no mind however, cutting away his charred clothing to take stock of his injuries. It was grotesque the way he was marred and shredded; but nothing she hadn’t seen before; only… they were usually dead by the time she got to them.
She took stock of his condition, trying to determine where to begin. First thing was first, he was far stronger than she, and she knew how most orcs felt about humans and couldn’t risk him fighting her. She gave him a salve she had used to help some of the victims sleep soundly into the arms of death, and once he was out she began to work. She exhausted her mana within a few hours, taking care of the most serious wounds, before moving on to the rest. She worked through the night, praying for strength, and exhausted herself once again, as soon as her arcane energy was replenished. She ate when she could stomach it, and was confident he wouldn’t die on her and within a week he was well enough that she would no longer need the salve, though moving would still take quite a bit of effort. She settled down where they were, building a crude shelter around them and caring for him as time passed.
When he was well enough to speak, he introduced himself as Valthurg, son of the chieftain of the small tribe. He explained that his father had gone off to assist in the war, searching for honor and left him in charge, awaiting his return or news of his death. A nearby army had heard rumors of a tribe aiding a war criminal, however, an orc who had sold information to the other side and had tracked him to their village. Valthurg knew nothing of it and instead of believing him they destroyed the village and the people in it. He had a chance to escape by stayed, fighting for his family.
At first, he seemed shocked that a human could speak such fluent orc, or that one would be so insistent, and bullish to help him but soon their conversations grew more relaxed and friendly. Cassidy was beyond thrilled to have someone to speak with after the better part of two years. She was an outcast there and it was lonely life to live.
They remained in the charred village, Cassidy working tirelessly to finish burning the bodies of the fallen, as was customary for most orc clans, until Valthurg was well enough to travel. Valthurg corrected a few minor details of course but seemed to appreciate her efforts. By the time they left the dreaded place, heading for an allied tribe to the east, they had grown closer than Cassidy had ever expected.
The neighboring tribe accepting Valthurg with open arms and though he had to argue and plead for Cassidy, she was eventually allowed to enter as well. With Valthurg’s help she eventually proved her worth, healing the sick and showing her knowledge of their culture. She was soon trusted and accepted in the tribe, earning the title ‘Mikog’, meaning healer. She spent the next six months among them, delivering children, healing the sick and old and living out the happiest time of her life.
As the six months began to close she began noticing that Valthurg began disappearing more and more often, being pulling into meetings and discussions, she was not allowed to be apart of, despite her new role as tribal healer. After a few weeks she confronted her dearest friend on his secrecy, reminding him in not so vague terms that she had saved his life and that she demanded his honesty.
Valthurg complied after a great deal of arguing and hesitation. It seemed that a few months prior he had proposed taking Cassidy as his wife to the council who balked at the suggestion. Not only was Cassidy a human and outsider, they did not know her blood inheritance or background. She was not suited for a future chieftain, even one without a tribe of his own. So, for the past weeks he had been working with the council to create a ceremony that would cause Cassidy to become blooded, or be considered ‘full orc’. An orc healer as talented as she would be more than suited to become wife of a chieftain; in fact it would be a great honor for said chieftain to take a wife such as that.
Cassidy was too shocked by it to be angry at first. That would come later of course. The least the man could do was ask if she would consent to such a marriage in the first place! She wasn’t even a hundred percent sure if she were allowed to marry as a priestess of Manari; she had heard rumors that some would marry but she had never put the time nor the effort into discovering the truth.
Valthurg grew worried when she did not speak to him after he explained it all. Instead she turned to her work as she tried to process it all. Within a few days, however, one of the elders approached her, explaining the ceremony and Valthurg’s intentions. She would be allowed a few more days to contemplate the offer but once a decision was made it would be final. The elder woman also reminded her of the great honor that was being bestowed on the human. Cassidy would make history as the one of the first human’s ever to be blooded, and the first to marry a chieftain.
After much deliberation, Cassidy was not inclined to say no. She was happier, more at home, here with these people than she had been anywhere else, at any time in her life. Within the next two days she had made her decision and announced it to the council, accepting Valthurg’s proposal and the great honor of becoming an orc along with a chieftain’s wife.
The tribe was overjoyed, and a celebration commenced, lasting a week and a half, the neighboring villages invited to join in the joyous occasion. When the celebration was over however, she would be blooded and reborn as orcish.
The ceremony was brutal, lasting three days of isolation brutality and barbarism. It was three of the hardest days she had ever endured and by the end of it all she was bloodied and bruised, her magic taken from her before the ceremony had begun. By the third day she was bathed in blood, reborn into a full orc, only the third human in history to be blooded. She was forever changed and the warmth she felt for these people was greater than any she had every experienced.
Next would be the marriage. It would take a few months to plan and with most of Valthurg’s family dead and gone, they would have to track down his father. If he were alive then he would need to provide a blessing, if dead they would need to travel to the place of his death and wed there.
It was the night before they were set to leave to find the chieftain, when things began to fall apart. The rumors of a blooded human had spread like wild fire among the tribes and many had traveled to lay eyes on the woman, now considered an orc, in awe of her presence; others however detested the idea and traveled to express this to the council. It was nothing that couldn’t be handled in what orcs considered ‘civil’ which was far from what humans did; but none the less it was with minimal to no bloodshed. Until it wasn’t.
Apparently, a number of tribes were opposed to it all and banded together against the notion of a human tainting their blood line. They struck just before dawn, when only a few of the kin were up, working on their morning meals and chores, a few children scurrying around their feet. Within an hour, the village was in an uproar, scrambling for weapons, huts burning, screams echoing in the thin air, blood staining the dirt and grass below.
Cassidy was one of the first to stir, rushing from her small hut at the center of the village, recognition obvious on her features as she began to bark orders for the women and children who couldn’t fight to follow her. She gathered as many as she could, trying to make a run for the small bit of trees on the outskirts of the village.
Before she made it even half way she was cut off, a large orc man blocking her way. She ran straight into his massive form as he stepped from the alley, knocking her to the ground with a laugh followed by a slur of curses. She scrambled back, the children that surrounded her beginning to cry. She returned the curses in both orc and common, spitting at the beast of an orc as she got to her feet, squaring off with him; knowing she’d never be a match.
He struck her, causing her to wobble a bit on her feet from the force of the hit. A moment later he was slamming her against the wall of a nearby hut. The words he was shouting running together in her dazed state, but she could make out a few. Something along the lines of a fetish… and blood lines… but she couldn’t be sure. Regardless, she felt him rip away her skirt, one of his massive hand pressing against her now bare thighs, the other wrapping around her neck.
She wasn’t quite sure how long this went on before she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, the hulk of an orc gone. Valthurg was there in an instant, his harsh voice barking at her in concern. She glanced up at his features, scars marring the right side of his face, his dead eye peering blankly at her while the other seemed to be filled with worry.
Slowly the ringing in her ears subsided, catching the last of his words; pleading with her to run, informing her of a neighboring village that would take her and the ones she managed to take with her under their roofs. He didn’t get out much more before the beast appeared again, having recovered from the blowing of Valthurg’s hammer.
Cassidy moved before she even realized what she was doing; shoving Valthurg out of the way and taking the brunt of the of the blow the orc had thrown, tossing her back once more. A moment later he was a top her, axe held high for a killing blow. She felt nothing in the moment. No fear, no dread, just the numbness that came with the rush of adrenaline and the feeling strange feeling of her heart pounding against her ribs. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate, thanking Manari for the gift that had been her life.
He brought the axe down and pain washed through her. Pain that didn’t seem to stop. Pain that made it clear that she was still alive. Her eyes shot open and she cried out, hand lifting to the wound on her face, Valthurg struggling with the behemoth a top her. She took the opportunity to scramble away, herding the children, who flinched and wailed at the sight of her, away.
They took shelter in a nearby structure, the younger children gathered around her as she attempted to heal herself. The first casting failed, though she blamed it on her shaky state. The second was no better and she continued to bleed from the gapping wound that exposed her canines. Horror struck her as the thought of Manari abandoning her sank in. She panicked, calling forth one of the children who had been burned slightly during their escape. She cast it again, relaxing as the child’s wound healed over. It was not Manari… but she could not heal herself.
She vaguely remembered one of the tales the elders had recited for her as she had begun to put their legends into writing. There was a tribe near them that made their bravest warrior chieftain and passed the Limbsplitter down from successor to successor. She had thought the axe a myth, and nothing more. A weapon that could inflict would that no magic could heal was too farfetched and yet… here she was bleeding profusely, unable to heal her wounds. She had no time to contemplate it. She tore he tunic, creating poorly made bandages and wrapped her face tightly. It was crude, but it would due.
Minutes passed, perhaps hours, she couldn’t tell, but the fight was still raging around them as the hid. Until, she could hear Valthurg calling for her, searching for her. She never hesitated, glancing out the small window to see his bleeding form stumbling forward, sword dragging behind him. What else was she to do but rush to his aid. An act she would forever regret.
She made it to her betrothed, trying to support him as he collapsed against her. She began lowered him to the ground slowly when the sickening thud sounded, and another, and another: thud, thud, thud. Valthurg made a sickening gurgled cry, his weight doubling as she folded beneath it. By the time she lowered him the rest of the way, he was dead; four arrows protruding from his back.
She thought she heard him cry out but looking back, she knew it was her own scream, the wound filled with so much pain and anguish as everything she loved was being slaughtered and burned before her eyes. Another thud sounded, this time followed by a blooming pain in her abdomen, waking her from her own distraught. She shouted instructions for the children she had been protecting to run when she had drawn the attackers away, before doing just that.
She ran; as quickly as she was able in her injured state, not expecting to escape the village alive… hoping she wouldn’t. Eventually the pain and blood loss caught up to her and though she didn’t stop moving, she had slowed to a staggered walk but evening, somehow managing to survive. By evening she was approaching a village she wasn’t even aware she was heading towards. She collapsed just outside the line of structures, body finally giving out.
The next few weeks were filled with pain, physical and mental as she was nursed back to health. At first, the elders of the village had considered allowing her to die in the field she was found in; what was another human life to them? But she was recognized by on of the survivors of her own tribe, naming her Mikog and earning her life, for the few she had managed to save herself.
She slept little, mourning all that she had lost, and earned the wrath of quite a few of the healers, with her bossy nature. But she healed… slowly… naturally. The time she was restricted to her cot gave her plenty to think about; the elders informing her what had transpired and how it affected them causing a great bit of distress. Despite her pleas for council she was ultimately ignored, the preparations for what was to come, far too important.
Eventually, however, she was well enough to walk and had never been one to take no for an answer. She waited, until one of the council meetings before making herself known, bursting into the tent and demanding an audience; much to the elder’s outrage and many of her supporter’s dismay.
She informed them of her departure. She argued with those who protested and accepted to support of those that did not. She may have been born a human, but she had earned her place as an orc and she would not see her brethren slaughtered because she could not defend herself.
She was granted her request for a few weeks preparation for the long journey back to Acorn and the supplies she would need before the council adjourned; leaving her to it. Many of her people celebrated, rejoicing the time she had spent with them, other celebrated her departure; either way, she had no joy to attribute, herself. Despite her somber demeanor she was showered with gifts and tokens of thanks including a ornamental mask that the elder woman who had escaped her village had managed to find among Valthurg’s possessions. The thing was heavy, made of metal and a bit charred from flames but Cassidy would never be able to express her gratitude for the gift and did not bother to attempt it; how could you thank someone for giving you a memory?
Over the next few weeks she steeled herself, preparing for the long journey and the hardship of leaving the only place she had ever truly felt was her home. 

Part 4: The Journey ‘Home’

The trip back to civilization was difficult, many of the tribes knew who she was and refused her outright; others did not and refused her because she was human. Either way, she was alone on her travels.
The first sign of civilization was a small house on the outskirts of a large village, inhabited by an old human man who claimed to be an alchemist, studying something about Orc tributes. She didn’t really understand it but he was kind and his orcish was terrible. She had come across him while trying to barter with an orc tradesman for rations and he was immediately swept up by her perfect accent; offering her room and board for lessons.
She was in no way to refuse, though she was a bit weary of the whole situation. It had been a few years since she had laid eyes on another human being and her new-found lisp and gruff accent didn’t make her easily understood. Regardless, the man seemed eager to learn and she saw no harm in it.
He gave her an upstairs room, with an actual bed, though she preferred the floor, and by the time the sun began to grow low in the sky the small cottage was filled with the smell of salted beef. She was eager for the meal, having lived on rations for weeks now and did her best to help him clean the cooking and dining area which seemed to be in a state of disrepair, as he went about prepping.
By the time they set down for their meal he was chattering away about how wonderful it was to have another person in his home; talking about his late wife and ‘feminine touches’. He set a plate before her and suddenly she grew nervous, eyeing her food and the man with growing concern. How would he react when she removed her mask? Would he throw her out? Would he pity her? She wasn’t quite sure which would be worse.
After a few moments, he made a comment about it all, chuckling softly and she hesitated, warning him of her grotesque features. He didn’t seem to balk or pity her; instead, he showed nothing but interest, becoming even more animated about it all.
Apparently, his study of orcs had grown extensive; he had heard rumors of a human that had been blooded and couldn’t believe it, and when the rumors of her tribe’s destruction circulated he was sure she had died if she had ever existed at all. It seemed, the only way they knew who she was now was the wound that had carved away the majority of her left cheek, leaving her teeth exposed. He was practically awestruck, dinner forgotten as she removed her mask and he examined her briefly before chittering away with question after question.
She stayed, just for a few days, offering him what ever answers she could afford without betraying the trust of her people, and teaching him a few more things about the orc language. Not for nothing of course, by the time she left the alchemist had adjusted her mask, though it took quite a bit of arguing to allow it out of her sight even for a brief moment, so that she would be able to eat and drink among other things, with it still firmly in place and no one the wiser. Though she couldn’t thank him enough, he refused any type of payment she offered and even provided her with passage on a small caravan heading for the ports, and a handful of gold. In return, she of course, gave him the information to the Church of Manari where she was heading, planning to return with her knowledge and stories to share with them everything she could before moving on and taking on a new mission elsewhere.
She managed to buy a decent set of robes and armor in a town just outside the port before boarding a ship and heading towards what she had once considered home, but had never belonged.

Social

Religious Views

Cassidy is a devout Missionary and preistess of Manari.

Alignment

Chaotic Good

Current Location

Acron

Species

Human

Year of Birth

413 ME

Birthplace

Acron

Gender

Female

Eyes

Green

Hair

Auburn

Height

2m

Aligned Organization

Liberators of Hornhack

Other Affiliations

• Church of the Kingdom of Acron