Mithiope Valmine
Mithiope Valmine
Mithiope is the world's luckiest tiefling. Having been stolen from her birth parents as an infant, she was cloaked in the deceptive magic of Elnemora to appear (and truly believe herself to be) as a regular elven girl. She grew up with luxury and privilege at her fingertips. never an empty belly, never a corner unlit, never a garment torn and not replaced. Her adoptive family took great pains to raise her completely disconnected from her culture, discouraging the use of 'fiendish' magic. When she was sixteen, she accompanied her father on a diplomatic mission to non elven territory, where she was horrified by the treatment of other tieflings and encountered a tiefling woman who broke the Skin of her magic, revealing to all her true infernal heritage. She begged her parents to tell her the truth of her lineage, but they refused, insisting that connecting with it would bring a foul and demonic presence to their lands. Outraged, Mithiope began studying tiefling religion in secret, attempting to gain insight by connecting with her roots. As her loyalty to her family's teachings faded, she discovered within herself a strong source of power, one she could feel had been bound to her ancestry for generations. She could make flames dance on her fingertips, she could cast illusions, and she began to hear strange voices speak to her every time she tapped into this power. The research she conducted revealed her status as a warlock, drawing power from a fiendish patron who hasn't yet made themselves known. Though she fears what corrupting influence could come of it, she is forced to rely on it when she is sent away from her home on low scale, low profile when it became to difficult to hide her from the public eye. One day, she aspires to return, seize control of her homeland, and create a safe haven for creatures of all races and backgrounds.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Mithiope has a tall, lean build. She is quick and nimble, but not very strong.
Facial Features
Her cheeks are dusted with freckles. Her eyes are pure, milky white with no discernable sclera, pupil or iris.
Identifying Characteristics
She has a pair of distinctive horns poking out of her hair. They fade from burgandy to black.
Special abilities
The Legacy of Phlegathos flows through her veins. Her blood is a fiery substance with healing properties, though it hurts to drink.
Apparel & Accessories
She is often seen donning the grey and emerald colours of House Valmine. She wears a woven necklace of her family crest.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Mithiope feels a strong sense of survivors guilt, burdening her with a need to protect and defend the downtrodden and mistreated. To her, it is so obvious that some races and creatures are treated unfairly that she often fails to use tact when discussing it.
Being raised into nobility, with grace and elegance as values instilled from a young age, she is sometimes frightened by her own abilities, crude and violent as they may be. Though it brings her joy and pride to learn a new spell or ability, it's tinted with fear that she may pay the price eventually.
Gender Identity
She identifies as female.
Sexuality
Mithiope is asexual and aromantic.
Education
Mithiope was tutoured by a variety of elven masters. She learned the history of Kaliij (with a very Elnemora centric lens), the laws and customs of the realm, diplomacy, dragonchess, simple astronomy and alchemy, among other things. She knows very little of practical, day to day matters.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
To seize control of her homeland and create a safe haven for all peoples of Kaliij.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Various elven nobility across the realm. Many have known her from childhood, when she would tour with her adoptive parents on diplomatic trips.
Religious Views
She was raised mostly areligiously, but since discovering her infernal heritage, is a follower of the rulers of Phlegethos (though her details on it are fuzzy).
Mithiope is a young tiefling warlock, raised by elven nobles. Though she fears the new powers she's accessed, and what corruption they may bring, she hopes to use them to better the lives of all creatures of the realm. Lively, curious, idealistic.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Good
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Lady Mithiope of the House Valmine, Marchioness of County Valmine
Age
18
Birthplace
County Valmine, Elnemora
Children
Current Residence
Castle Valmine
Gender
Female
Eyes
White
Hair
White
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Burgandy
Height
5'9
Weight
165 lbs
Related Reports
Day 2
Dear diary...
Just my luck, I'm writing you today from the comforts of the woods. Our party has tentatively befriended a creature named 'Null', and presently, his hut is our only shelter. We've been ousted from the Limping Braggart after an... unfortunate incident involving that horrid librarian. Well, not a librarian. He turned out to be a rather powerful wizard. I may have provoked him a touch over the course of the day, but gods, could you blame me? The book he gave me has sent me into a tailspin. Anyhow, when we were sent away from the inn and he greeted us outside, he viciously attacked us with a chain lightning spell. Luckily, I expertly counterspelled it and none of my compatriates were hurt.
When he was eventually bested, his body seemed to spark and fizzle and nothing but his robes were left. Though this did save us the hassle of cleaning up a corpse, I fear that he may not be truly gone, and now that we have angered him, this does not spell good news for our endevours.
Speaking of which, what ARE my endevours, diary? I'm dreadfully confused. I came here to win over the Partri higher ups to a more favourable position, and so far, besides befriending a military officer who seems to hold little decision making power, I haven't much accomplished it. Now I'm practically homeless, sitting in the woods with other vagabonds and a creature made of porcelain. And his cat. (note: I DO NOT TRUST the cat.) In summation, I appear to be a piss poor diplomat. Maybe it would be easier if I knew what I needed to defend. My parents and their advisors gave me so little to work with, I scarcely know why we are engaged in conflict with Partri in the first place. At least for now it seems to be kept in the arena of economics and trade, rather than actual bloodshed. I hope.
I don't know how I'm going to explain myself to my mother. What a catostrophic failure this has been, diary. I've made no progress, few allies, and a lot of trouble for myself. Oh, and to top it off, I can only look like a presentable Valmine noble for an hour at a time before my magic resets and I sprout horns.
The worst part of all of this, though, is the magic. The fighting. When we defeated Safiko, I'm afraid... I'm afraid I enjoyed it. It felt good, to fight. To set things ablaze with the flick of a finger, to toss bolts of fire at an enemy. I felt powerful, confident, competent, as if I were in my natural element. It sickens me to write that, but it's true. Everytime I use the magic, my chest warms and my shoulders broaden and relax, almost like being wrapped in a blanket that had been hanging by the mantle for an hour or so. My fingertips glow and come alive, my vision is clear, my feet planted steady on the earth. The roar of the pyre in the pam of my hand sounds like the rush of blood through my veins. By the gods, diary, it's euphoric. But it's wrong. This power has it's roots in pain and sifferring and damnation, I am sure of it. What other kind of power could be bestowed upon an abomination like myself? I must learn restraint, to control this consuming elation that ignites when I cast.
I must be going, now. This hut requires much tending, and we should eat and rest before whatever awaits us at dawn.
Goodnight, diary.
-Mithiope
Day 1
Dear diary...
I have reached the township of Whitebrooke. It's quite a quaint little place, but I sense the true culture and energy may be overshadowed by the current militarization spread throughout it's borders. I've found a tavern to stay in, it's not much, but then, I don't think I'll be here long. I know my parents sent me here to spread goodwill and learn the ways of the people, but their instructions weren't crystal clear. I've decided to take my mission into my own hands.
I met three other journeyers, a barbarian, a soldier, and a bard. Together, we agreed to help a Terrhevkan couple find their lost son. I believe this will qualify as doing good unto the realm. We are likely to depart tomorrow, but to be honest, I have a far greater personal concern.
It appears my infernal lineage has made itself visible. A strange bookkeeper provided me with a tome on Phlegathos, in exchange for the chance to interrogate me on my family's business. Dreadful man. He knew about her, my birth mother. Millandreael. I do not know how, and frankly, I'm terrified to find out. But he knew, somehow, someway, and it appears his knowing broke my Tailoring. My Skin has shattered, revealing the infernal wretch beneath. My hair and eyes have turned white, my skin red, my horns are now physical and permanent. I am disparaged, diary. How can I face the world like this? How can I face my mother, my people? I can only disguise myself for brief spurts, and it takes a good deal of concentration to keep the ruse up.
Hopefully my adventures will keep me out of the public eye until I can find a more permanent fix.
Additionally unpleasant, I discovered my lineage traces back to a Fiend. A hellish Fiend, one that sacrificed people by burning them alive. Goody for me. Since that awful man spoke to me, I can practically feel fire running through my veins. My fingertips are almost glowing. I sense I am capable of great destruction, and I do not wish to find out it's extent if it can be avoided.
I'm going to try and finish this tome tonight. Sleep be damned, I need answers.
Goodnight, diary, and wish me luck.
-Mithiope
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