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Description

Fira. Cleric.

Age: 24

Born in a small, miserable hamlet of Bissel, called Writingham, Fira is the daughter of Aldo and Mira, two uneducated peasants. His father had struggled for years to make a meagre living from the thankless parcel of land that his lord had granted him to exploit. Her mother made baskets out of rushes that she and her seven brothers and sisters would sell on the side of the road, waiting for hours for a passer-by who would most often continue on his way, indifferent to the hopeful looks of the children. From time to time, her uncle Rilo would visit them. Uncle Rilo was an entertainer and made capers at the surrounding fairs. In fact, he often told stories of knights and beautiful ladies that he spiced up with jokes and anecdotes in bad taste that attracted more contempt than coins. She was fascinated by chivalry. If she had been noble or rich... but she had not and her destiny was to marry Gino, Marid's eldest son, their closest neighbour. Gino came from the same background as Fira, the poor people who spend their lives trying to earn a living. He was a little older than Fira and she found him rather handsome with his brown hair falling into his eyes all the time. Whenever they had the opportunity, the two young people would meet in secret to kiss and make love. It wasn't a big deal because they were destined to get married. Then came the pestilence. It was said that a necromancer had spread it in the area. Fira, then seventeen years old, had seen her whole family die, except her father, who, out of grief, sank into madness before sinking into the village pond on a cold November evening. Gino and his family also succumbed and Fira saw herself screaming her sorrow in the face of the sky. Why had she been spared? None of the priests could do anything and the disease spread like a brush fire. How she would have liked to help, to be useful. A futile dream of an ignorant peasant woman. Left to herself and with the few pieces that her father jealously guarded under one of the hearth stones for all his fortune, Fira had left Writingham for Pellak, the capital of the country. A long and painful journey but one that had strengthened her in her convictions. A lonely and penniless girl often had no choice but to sell her body to survive or to devote her time and soul to the gods. There was no way she was going to spread her legs so that a sweaty drunk could enjoy it. So she naturally knocked on the door of the great temple of Heironeous. She stayed there for two years, the time needed to acquire the basics of religious education and to make a profession of faith. From now on, she would devote her life to healing people's misfortunes and fighting injustice. Who could serve as more noble than Heironeous, the god so revered in Bissel? An obvious choice. If the gods had spared her, they probably did it on purpose. She would therefore make her life a victory over suffering, both for the memory of her parents and for the glory of her god. And also a little for her own personal pride. But here she was, not very pretty, not very smart and with a sense of humour and laughter that scared most of the people she was around.

Description

Fira. Cleric.

Age: 24

Born in a small, miserable hamlet of Bissel, called Writingham, Fira is the daughter of Aldo and Mira, two uneducated peasants. His father had struggled for years to make a meagre living from the thankless parcel of land that his lord had granted him to exploit. Her mother made baskets out of rushes that she and her seven brothers and sisters would sell on the side of the road, waiting for hours for a passer-by who would most often continue on his way, indifferent to the hopeful looks of the children. From time to time, her uncle Rilo would visit them. Uncle Rilo was an entertainer and made capers at the surrounding fairs. In fact, he often told stories of knights and beautiful ladies that he spiced up with jokes and anecdotes in bad taste that attracted more contempt than coins. She was fascinated by chivalry. If she had been noble or rich... but she had not and her destiny was to marry Gino, Marid's eldest son, their closest neighbour. Gino came from the same background as Fira, the poor people who spend their lives trying to earn a living. He was a little older than Fira and she found him rather handsome with his brown hair falling into his eyes all the time. Whenever they had the opportunity, the two young people would meet in secret to kiss and make love. It wasn't a big deal because they were destined to get married. Then came the pestilence. It was said that a necromancer had spread it in the area. Fira, then seventeen years old, had seen her whole family die, except her father, who, out of grief, sank into madness before sinking into the village pond on a cold November evening. Gino and his family also succumbed and Fira saw herself screaming her sorrow in the face of the sky. Why had she been spared? None of the priests could do anything and the disease spread like a brush fire. How she would have liked to help, to be useful. A futile dream of an ignorant peasant woman. Left to herself and with the few pieces that her father jealously guarded under one of the hearth stones for all his fortune, Fira had left Writingham for Pellak, the capital of the country. A long and painful journey but one that had strengthened her in her convictions. A lonely and penniless girl often had no choice but to sell her body to survive or to devote her time and soul to the gods. There was no way she was going to spread her legs so that a sweaty drunk could enjoy it. So she naturally knocked on the door of the great temple of Heironeous. She stayed there for two years, the time needed to acquire the basics of religious education and to make a profession of faith. From now on, she would devote her life to healing people's misfortunes and fighting injustice. Who could serve as more noble than Heironeous, the god so revered in Bissel? An obvious choice. If the gods had spared her, they probably did it on purpose. She would therefore make her life a victory over suffering, both for the memory of her parents and for the glory of her god. And also a little for her own personal pride. But here she was, not very pretty, not very smart and with a sense of humour and laughter that scared most of the people she was around.