Theodosia the Disgraced

Narses and Ankora, who ruled over the Dragonkin Empire satrapy of Valdemar in ancient times, were wise and beloved leaders, and so the expectations on their heirs was high. Their firstborn was a daughter they named Theodosia, whom they raised with endless love and care. However, from her youngest age, there was a dark and dangerous aspect to Theodosia’s personality that proved impossible to suppress or ignore. She hit and bit other children and her nursemaids, and as she grew older she took to impaling and torturing small animals for pleasure. She was startlingly intelligent, ahead of all her peers, but her speech was colored by grim sardonic humor and strange antiquated phrases. Several times she was caught trying to take restricted occult books from the royal library, and on other occasions she succeeded, only for the tomes to be discovered under her bed or in her closet. Rumors swirled that she was Demon-touched, or a Fae Changeling who had snatched the real Theodosia from her crib. Nothing Narses and Ankora did tamed Theodosia’s wanton cruelty and appetite for things secret and forbidden. They realized that she was not a suitable heir, and potentially even a danger to the stability of the realm — by the time Theodosia was a teen, the noble class was already murmuring in discontent about the possibility of her ascending to the throne. After consulting with sages and seers, with heavy hearts the royal parents tricked Theodosia into leaving the court for a ‘diplomatic mission’ which in actuality was a one-way trip to an isolated Lumayan monastery perched on the coastal cliffs of eastern Valdemar. Theodosia was to spend her life cloistered and isolated in constant prayer and meditation to extinguish the evil within her, with armed guards to prevent her disobedience — or escape. Theodosia pretended to repent and did as the monks of the monastery commanded, while taking advantage of the monastery’s vast library to learn all she could about magic and the occult. With seductive teases and empty promises, she charmed the guards overseeing the forbidden tomes that had been locked away in the monastery to isolate their evil from the rest of Teleria — just as Theodosia herself had been. From these she secretly learned spells of flesh-twisting transmutation and unnatural regeneration, and charms to bend the wills and poison the thoughts of others. Gradually, she corrupted many of the monks and nuns, convincing, coercing, or enchanting them into helping her acquire more power. She took possession of two potent and dangerous relics from the monastery’s vault: an antique dagger with a blade ebon-black, known as the Hatethorn, and a macabre snake-girdled and skull-crowned staff, the Serpentia. Theodosia infused the two weapons with power that would enhance her own magic as long as she carried them. To do this, she not only sacrificed many of her followers, but gave up half of her own body’s vital essence – forever after, the left half of her body was necrotic and discolored. Those members of the monastery not under Theodosia’s thumb realized, almost too late, that Theodosia was rotting the organization from within. They banded together and, in a single terrible night, fell upon Theodosia and her followers and put them all to the sword and the torch. Theodosia’s wrath was terrible: monks and nuns saw their flesh turn to ash or slime and slough from their bones, or swell and burst with mutagenic growth. Nevertheless, Theodosia was overwhelmed and crushed to death by a dozen zealous bodies pinning her down, the breath squeezed from her chest. She was buried in the monastery’s crypt, sealed in a chamber that was walled off and forgotten, though at the request of Narses and Ankora she was still given the traditional rites of mummification accorded to Valdemar nobility. The monks purged all records of her cult and spoke no more of that dark chapter in their history. Centuries later, the Scourge of Darkness swept across Teleria, creating the plague of Undeath. The rage and ambition still lingering in Theodosia’s mummified body, as well as the residual dark magic she carried, were like a beacon to the Scourge, and she arose from death. She felt no confusion or hesitation about her new condition; rather, it felt natural and right, a proper immortal body to suit her endless hunger to dominate others and inflict pain. With an evocation of withering she turned the walls of her tomb to dust, and found that in the intervening years the monastery had been abandoned and fallen to ruin. But her totems of power, Hatethorn and Serpentia, were not present. Theodosia felt them calling to her, like the squalling of lost infants. She tracked them down to a Sacred Order reliquary vault. With ease and confidence she walked into the Order’s fortress and killed all who stood in her way, ripping souls from bodies and warping limbs and torsos into crippled and twisted mockeries of their natural form with only a gesture. Her ancient arcana had only been enhanced by the dark power of Undeath. After retrieving her weapons, Theodosia pondered what to do with her newfound power and freedom. Before she could decide, however, she felt a magical pulse from afar, and in her mind’s eye witnessed her mother and father’s withered bodies arising from their own tomb. She deduced that Narses and Ankora had, like her, been raised. Recalling their trickery and betrayal that had consigned her to the monastery, a thirst for revenge awoke in her and she left at once to confront her Undead parents. She found no trace of the great satrapy of Valdemar that once stood there, and no sign of her parents — unbeknownst to her, they had been recruited by Mother Cybele and Losan K’Leth. Refusing to forgive them or give up her search, Theodosia set off to scour Teleria for clues as to their whereabouts. With an eternity of unlife before her, she vowed to spend as long as it took to bring about a bitter, vengeful reunion.