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Seven children are destined to save Pruul and shake the traditions of the territory to their very core. In response, factions have broken the peace of a previously unified territory and violence has erupted across the dessert. It is a battle between the past and the future, the young and the old, and blood won’t stop seeping into the sand.
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Author Topic: Rania al-Abd  (Read 1671 times)

Description: Hearth Witch. Rose to Purple Dusk. Played by Lene.

Offline Rania al-Abd

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Rania al-Abd
« on: Feb 20, 16, 07:52:57 PM »
The Basics
Character Name: Rania al-Abd formerly Rania al-Sabbah
Nicknames:
Age & Birthyear: 27 (AP 167)
Race: short-lived
Caste: Hearthwitch
Birth Territory: Pruul
Home Territory: Pruul

Birthright Jewel: cut Rose
Offering Jewel:  cut Purple Dusk

Role: Hearthwitch, personal servant to the Mineborn
Faction: daughter of the al-Sabbah clan

Appearance

Play By: Tala Ashe
Distinguishing Features:

Personality

Personality:

Rania is a gentle soul.   She always had been.  Even though she was not born a natural Hearthwitch, she has taken to the caste as if she were.  She was never one to be a warrior, or a fighter.  Her family knew that, respected that and allowed her to be the light, free spirit that she was.   She had been coddled and protected by her parents and even her younger brother, who carried all the protective nature of his caste.

Simply by her nature, it would have been easy to assume that after the hell she endured, she would not have the inner strength to survive, but Rania is made of stronger steel than might be assumed.  She is after all, a daughter of the clan Sabbah, a child of the desert winds.   It is a sure testament of her will that she survived with her jewels and chalice whole, despite the brutality.

Rania greets each day with the heartfelt thankfulness that she is still alive and lives everyday thusly.  She is cheerful, polite, happy and goes out of her way to spread some of her happiness to others.   To look at her you would never know the depth of pain that still ached in her heart.  She especially loves spending time with the children of palace, both aristo and common,  and always finds a way to take time out of her busy duties to spare a few minutes to listen to their excited chatter, or gently kiss their “tragic” injuries.   Even though she knows she will never have children of her own blood, she is never saddened by them

Likes:
  • Reading - Rania always loved the stories of her clan and with the access allowed to her of the public reading places in Little Citadel, she finds time to spend quietly enjoying stories from all of Pruul. 
  • Dancing - her secret love.  She always wanted to be a dancer, and it seemed to be a path that she was going to follow before the raid.  Now, she dances only in the darkest of the night, away from any seeing eyes.  She is ashamed of the scars on her wrists and ankles from where she was bound.  When she dances, she frees her soul from the memories that fill her days, to a silent song only her heart can hear.
  • Cleaning - Of course as a benefit of her caste, she is also very good at organization and cleaning but for Rania, it's more than than.  It's a balm on her chaotic soul, to see the world around her tidy and neat.  It lets her live the illusion that organization will keep away the messy and dirty world of reality.

    Dislikes:
  • Adramelech - Rania never trusted him, even from when she was a small child, the first time she saw the great leader.   Something about him made her stomach churn so she hid behind her mother’s robes and only peeked out at him when she felt he couldn’t see her.  She was grateful when he left Little Citadel had remained gone during the last year, chasing his little Rose Queen.
  • Being out in direct sunlight - She used to enjoy the blazing heat of the noonday sun, the way her skin darkened in response but after being left out in the unforgiving sands to die, she cannot bear the feel of it on her unprotected skin anymore.
  • Her brother’s insistence of rejoining the tribe. - As much as she is ecstatic that her brother is alive and well, she is digging in her heels about returning to the tribe and the desert.  For her, her new life is in the city.  The thoughts of those dunes, where the sand had been colored red with the blood of her parents, where she had walked through Hell is a place she can never return and despite her brother’s promises of protection, she can’t bear it.

    Fears:
  • Sex -  So much more than a fear, it is a physical impossibility for Rania.   Her abusers made certain of this in their torture.  The mere thought of sex causes excruciating pains that leave her doubled in pain.
  • Sand Spiders - Her brother used to tease her that they would crawl into her tent in the night and she would lay awake all night afraid they would crawl in and bite her.
  • Her duty as clan daughter - She knows that she has a responsibility to her birth clan, but she finds herself at odds with so many of the dictates of her people, beginning with her responsibilities as a woman of the clan and most recently their opinions of the Mineborn and their place in Pruul.

    Craft Strengths:
  • Psychic cleansing - One of her proudest strengths, Rania is called in above any other member of the servant staff to deal with cleansing of rooms and items.   She found her talent for it after recovering from her injuries when she found the stench of the men that still lingered on her skin to be unbearable.   It was the craft that allowed her the peace to heal and return to the land of the willing.
  • Craft enhanced foods - Studying under her adoptive father, she has found a fond quirk in her cooking skills that allows her to bespell some of her dishes.  Nothing drastic but a meal prepared by Rania is guaranteed to improve the day and not just because of the flavor.

    Craft Weaknesses:
  • Calling in items - It's very difficult for Rania to move items she can’t directly see and only manages to vanish the most personal of her own items into the private holding space that all the Blood have.  Usually that list only includes her jewels or personal moontime items.
  • Healing skills - Rania was always very squeamish around the smell of blood, illness or the rot of festering wounds and was unable to stomach the necessities of being in a sick room long enough to learn more than the basics of healing craft.

    Life Story

    Family:
    Mother: Aisha al-Sabbah, White -Yellow witch (deceased)
    Father: Karim al-Sabbah,  Purple Dusk - Green Warlord (deceased)
    Siblings: Samir al-Sabbah,  Opal - Sapphire Warlord Prince  (AP 170)
    Adopted Father : Issan al-Abd, Yellow-Summer Sky Warlord (AP130)

    History:

    Rania al-Sabbah had been the eldest and treasured daughter of a prince of her tribe.  Her father, Karim had been well known as a valued fighter and her mother, a beauty of the clan.   Unlike some, they had been fortunate enough that their marriage was more than simply an arrangement of families but there had been an honest goodness between the two younglings and a strong affection blossomed between the two of them.
    Raina from the start was a shining star of her clan, a sweet child with a talent for dancing and bringing joy and light to all those who knew her.  She had a soft demeanor that could quell even the most aggressive man in her tribe simply by smiling at him.   She played openly with the other children and as a helpful assistant to her mother when her brother was born.

    Her tenth year was when it all changed, when fire and blood and death came to her tribe.   In the dead of night, a raiding party attacked in the midst of a feast, when the men had been intoxicated with the joy of a successful hunt and ripe alcohol.   It was an attack that was unforeseeable.   She had been asleep in her tent, her brother’s light snoring a soft sound on the other side from her when she first heard the sounds of battle.  The air sizzled with the smell of power and she rolled out of her bedding and crawled low to the floor as she had been taught.  Her brother stared at her, silent but completely aware of what was happening and she tapped the rose jewel around her neck and shielded the both of them.  Life in the desert was not peaceful, attacks and raiding parties were usual and she had been well versed about what to do.  Shield herself and Samir and stay as unnoticeable as they could until her father arrived with his darker jewel strength. 

    The night seemed to stretch on endlessly as she held her brother and her shields and waited for that familiar shape to enter the tent.  She almost didn’t notice when the sounds began to fade and then slowly stop.   Cautiously she lifted her head, trying to pick up something, anything when the tent was ripped open and a stranger walked in, his eyes casting about the room.   He almost didn’t see them, huddled and hidden behind her mother’s linen chest but when he stepped forward and tossed it to look for gold and other valuables, he spied them.

    Rania tried feebily to hold her shields against the attack but the man was large and wore a Summer Sky and her protective barrier shattered against the strength of his arm.  He grabbed her by her neck, squeezing until stars sparkled in her eyes before throwing her to his partner, who had entered behind him.   He too held her roughly, looking her over in a way that made her skin want to pull away from his touch.   She cried out for Samir and watched the first man lift his blade and bury it in her brother.  He didn’t make a sound, just jerked and then fell still.

    It was all a bad dream, she thought as she was dragged by her hair out of the tent.  The scene that met her eyes was not her home.  The bodies and pieces of bodies that lay in the sand were not her family, not her clans.   She struggled meekly, trying to see her parents for surely the couldn’t be dead, wouldn’t be dead.  She thought she saw her mother’s face, her eyes staring out into nothing, blood covering her cheek and hair.   She didn’t see her father but she knew he must be dead as well.  He would not let them touch her mother if he still held breath.

    She didn’t cry, wouldn’t cry for them, wouldn’t give the captors the satisfaction of seeing her pain.  Instead she sang inside her mind, sang the songs that told of her people, of the Mother and the rains to come.   She held that song in her head as they tied her hands and feet roughly and threw her in the back of a cart with the rest of their treasures, sang it over and over as they moved through the rough hilly desert.

    ((Warning, the following may be too much for some readers.  You’ve been warned.))
    Spoiler (click to show/hide)

    They left her staked in the desert, as they packed their belongings and moved on in the starting dawn.   She waited, as the sun creeped along the sands towards her and as the first of the light warmed her toes she closed her eyes and began whispering a prayer to the Darkness.   Her voice was raw, her throat sore but she reciting the prayer she had heard the Priestess give when one of the tribesmen had died.  She wasn’t a Priestess, but it seemed fitting.

    She felt so at peace, and her eyes grew heavy as she finished her words when a shadow cast over her, protecting her from the heat of the sun.  Something large and rough covered her, hands grabbed her and pulled her from her bonds and someone strong held her aching body close.   She wanted to struggle, but gentle hands touched her forehead and she slipped into blessed darkness.

    Live little one, she heard whispered to her, live and be victorious.   She heard that rough voice, deep and cavernous in her ear over and over.   She listened and listened to the same words over and over until she could finally open her eyes and look up at the owner.   The man that stared back at her was not from Pruul.  His face was covered with a thick beard that marked him as having the blood of one the other territories though she wasn’t familiar enough to know which one.   He was large, larger than her father and she didn’t think anyone was larger than him.   He was dressed in the traditional robes of a city dweller and she could see more dark hair peeking out from above the collar.

    His name, she learned, was Issan al-Abd.  He was a cook in the kitchens of the residence at Little Citadel and had been searching for special desert blooms that dried for a fragrant spice he liked to use in some of his baked goods.   It was a fortunate thing he came when he did, he didn’t know if she would survive the night.    Despite her brutal treatment, there was something about his gentle behavior and the very careful way he made sure never to touch her that slowly brought her around to trusting him.   

    Months passed before she was strong enough to move beyond her rooms, and more months until she was able to stomach being around anyone beside Issan.   She had been at the Citadel for a whole year before she finally had the strength and fortitude to take a position in the kitchens with Issan as his assistant.   She began to heal on the inside as well, and very slowly and surely the quiet, wounded bird that Rania had been began to regain some of her former self.   She was promoted out of the kitchens when she began to show a talent and interest in cleansing craft and was formally trained by another hearthwitch on staff, an older woman who was ready to retire in her advanced years.

    She knew that her treatment in the desert had done more than rob her of her childhood and her innocence.   When she began to change from child into woman, she went to a healer who took the time to examine her.   She told her what Rania had always suspected.   The damage done by prick and blade to her body had destroyed any chance of having children.   Not that Rania was surprised, she knew that even if her body was able, she would never be pregnant.   She would never allow another man to touch her there.  That part of her life was over that night in the desert.

    After she came away from her offering with the Purple Dusk, a jewel with enough strength to promise her that no man would ever force themselves on her again, she began to step back into her own skin, allowing her true spirit to burn away the despair and pain of that small girl.   Her Offering to the Darkness had been more than just a show of her strength, she offered her pain and her fears, for Mother Night to take away and give her new life.

    In the same year, Mother Night delivered to her another miracle.   A young man came to the palace, no more than seventeen, and spoke her name.   He was tall, handsome, with dark piercing eyes that looked at her with an expression of haunted awe.   It made her very uncomfortable to be given so much scrutiny until he smiled.   Her father’s smile with her mother’s eyes.   Her knees gave away as he caught her arms and she cried.  For the first time in so many years, she cried and held her little brother who she believed dead for all that time.    He had barely been six but he remembered.  He remembered the burning pain as the stranger had slid his blade into his chest but he had moved and the man hadn’t noticed and the blade had missed his heart.   He feigned death, holding his breath until the man had left.   Then he took cloths and pressed them to the wounds.   The next day help had arrived from another tribe and by then he had been weak from blood loss but still alive.   They had gone after her, but the winds had erased the traces of their path.   It was assumed she had died.   He was taken to another tribe to be raised in fostering and came to the city for the market day when he saw her.   At first he hadn’t been sure, but she had looked so much like their mother and so he asked around.

     
    He tried to convince her to leave the city, to return with him to the desert but she refused.  She had built a new life, a new happiness.  She had created a new family, and she wouldn’t leave her father.  He may not have helped in her creation, but he was still as much the reason for her life.   He was upset, but he understood.   That didn’t stop him from trying to change her mind every year, offering her more enticing reasons.  She understood his reasons, but that was not her life anymore.

    When the Mineborn had been rescued and brought to the Citadel, she had sneaked a few peeks at them as she went about her work.  The Warlord Prince, so angry and volitle that most of the staff tried to avoid him; the little Priestess who gave the guards a humorous adventure as she continuously tried to run away, the little Rose Queen who Adramalach treated as the second coming of the Mother, especially after Saiph departed and no one knew what became of her.

    She wasn't sure what had happened but one day they were all gone, disbursed (some had said) because it was feared what power they had as a collective.   For a whole year there had been only rumors and whispers, especially after the spectacular example that had been made of the poor winged Warlord Prince in front of the whole court.   Then, as inexplicably as they had vanished, they started reappearing.  First the Eyrian boy, battered and beaten and even more angry; and then the Priestess, older and wholey focused on him.  A black widow, who kept to herself and Rania only saw sparingly and who was protective of a small strange girl child, who behaved more like a warrior than a woman, and the musician.   Where their time in the mines had given all of them a tough exterior, he was different.  He was gentle with the warrior girl and the black widow, and seemed to have a close connection with the priestess girl.   He had an air of peace around him, a calm in the middle of the storm of the mineborn. 

    Because of her own light touch and gentle nature, the head of household had determined that Rania would be best suited to being responsible for their wellbeing and the management of their suites.   Her presence was soothing and would not cause undue friction with the angry Eyrian, who would probably be unhappy to have any strangers in his rooms at any point.   Rania suspected this was an excuse for the fact that of all the staff, only Rania seemed unafraid or unaffected by the residence's newest inhabitants.

    Show Us What You've Got
    Character in Play:

    Rania stepped out onto the cool stone of the flat roof that lay above the servants quarters.  It was a quiet night, a moonless night though she was used to the dark enough that she could still make out some of the shadows of shapes that were in her way.   She paused, sensing the darkness around her before she slipped her arms out of her long sleeved jacket and slipped down the long skirts she wore to hide her legs.   Dressed in shortened pants and a light and loose shirt that cut off above her navel, she slipped out of the last constraint of her daily wear, the soft slippers that adorned her feet.

    Taking slow dainty steps, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.   It usually took a minute, sometimes two as she let her mind drift until she could hear it.  Faint at first, as if the light breeze carried it from a far away distance that was beyond her view, it slowly came clearer into her ears.  Feeling the cold stone under her toes, she began the first steps, letting her body remember the movements that her mind had long ago forgotten. 

    The cool air made her muscles resist the pulls and twists that she began but as she moved, the music in her head picking up tempo she also began to warm up.   Her arms lifted above her head, twirling her hands above her head as her feet skipped to a light drum beat.  Cymbals chimed and she snapped her fingers in time.  She smiled as she spun on the balls of her feet, one leg lifting and extending out before curling forward to give her spin more force.  Her arms flowed outward, loose and willowy as she bent and bowed to an invisible partner before rising up, her neck extending as she twisted her torso, lifting one leg up and above her in a graceful arch while rising up on the tips of one foot.   

    The music sped up suddenly and she began a quick footed shuffle, her movements becoming less fluid and more rhythmic, her knees bent and lifted, her feet fluttered as she took long strides around the roof.  She could feel her hair lifting and flowing behind her as she began to spin in large circles.  The air circled her like the long flowing skirts that some dancers wore and she ended as the music faded by sliding out her legs on either side of her with the grace of a kneeling swan.

    She took long slow breaths as she returned to herself, enjoying the cool feeling of the sweat on her skin.   It felt good to dance, to touch that part of herself that had always been a part of her heart.  She ran her hands down her arms and frowned as she touched the rough scarred skin of her wrists, knowing that the angry red they had once been was already so faded to a slightly paler tone of her usual skin.   She knew all her scars, the ones more easily seen and the ones no one would ever see, those scars that crossed the most intimate parts of her body, the scars that marked her as damaged, unwhole, and unworthy.

    She pulled on her outer layer of clothing again, suddenly feeling more cold than chill.   She had been out in the night too long, the shift of guards would be moving soon and she didn’t want to be seen.   

    Player Name: Lene


Offline Lene

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Re: Rania al-Abd
« Reply #1 on: Feb 20, 16, 07:53:16 PM »
General Random Roll please

And three family rolls







Offline phinneas

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Re: Rania al-Abd
« Reply #2 on: Feb 20, 16, 07:57:10 PM »
Per your request for a General Random roll...
Weighed by Mother Night...

You've risen from the Darkness twice blessed with a cut Rose birthright Jewel, and were gifted with a cut Purple Dusk Jewel at your offering.

&

Congratulations

And your three family rolls....

1. Opal - Sapphire
2. Purple Dusk - Green
3. White - Yellow
phinneas@bloodrites.net  •  Discord: phinn#0798  •  Writer Tracker


Offline Lene

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Re: Rania al-Abd
« Reply #3 on: Feb 21, 16, 01:30:29 AM »
This lady is ready for her review







Offline phinneas

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Re: Rania al-Abd
« Reply #4 on: Feb 24, 16, 12:03:57 PM »
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