Vitria – Prismatic Angel

Raised as a Given Child in the confines of a Tharanaian Temple in Draksborne, Vitria’s earliest memories are of the stained glass windows that surrounded her. The sacred ground of Tharanais was her home, and he, her father. For years the clergy of the temple thought Vitria inert, for she showed no arcane inclination through her youth. Rather than taught as a sorcerer or member of the clergy, she was given the mundane role of a scribe, a role she bore with gritted teeth. It felt cruel that she would be raised within such a place, yet be born inert, cut off from Minera’s Breath. From dusk until dawn, the night of her twentieth birthday, she prayed to Tharanais, pleading that he might bestow his grace upon her, and link her body to Minera’s Breath. In her heart, the matter felt futile, yet she held to a single strand of hope, a strand which carried her until the sun rose through the stained glass windows of her temple, and she collapsed from exhaustion. When she awoke, she held no arcane powers, and her body still could not wield Minera’s Breath. Dejected, she felt as if Tharanais had abandoned her, and she abandoned him in turn. She left the next day, with a small bag packed and no hope or knowledge of where she might go. She walked east. Yet the roads in those days of Draksborne’s fall were fraught with danger. Brigands and deserters roaming wild in the lands, uncaring for what loot they might plunder, as long as there was something to plunder. One night, weeks after her departure, she camped in the ruins of a small monastery, burnt out in war. The alfresco paintings were stained black with ash, and the stained glass had baked and shattered across the floor. Yet it was refuge during a cold and rainy autumn, though the fire she lit brought more than warmth. A group of marauders were drawn to light on the horizon, and not long after she set it, they were upon her. It was here that her prayers to Tharanais were finally answered, in a moment of desperation as they attempted to force themselves upon her, she reached for a shard of glass, yet it sat too far. The distance suddenly closed, and rather than find its way into her palm, it slid straight into her assailant's throat. The glass around her became her weapon, though unwieldy and awkward, for she still did not understand how to bend it to her will. She was able to fend off the rest of her assailants in a hurricane of shattered glass and blood, forcing the rest to flee. With her prayers answered, and her faith restored, Vitria reflected on the moment. Why now? She had heard of many groups like this ravaging the borderlands of Draksborne and the newly established Belfrie Sovereignty. She took it as a sign from Tharanais that this was a task. One he solely appointed to her. Thus for weeks she honed her weave of glass, and found other spells with Minera’s Breath that would benefit her in her quest. She then moved south to north across the borderlands, baiting out these marauders and evil doers to attack her, then ruthlessly ending their lives. Nearly a dozen groups she ended this way, until she met her match when one contingent held a battlemage, a veteran of the war. He slew her nearly instantly, but in her death, she found herself in Syelden, face to face with Tharanais. The sight brought tears to her eyes. The Divine of Wisdom had been so moved by her, that he granted her a place among his Selvaneri, bestowing upon her a set of glass wings.