Uruhua, The Heartbleeder

Halfling Harrier Battlemind, The Heartbleeder, Sister of Nox, Shadar-Kai Pirate, Gladiator King of the Frozen Coast


I don’t have much in the way of memory from the earliest of days. Some of my brothers and sisters say there was a light from heaven, a divine warmth in their hearts or souls as they rose into the clouds to meet the face of our Father, Athos of the Light. I remember…pain. I remember floating, lifted with no sense of balance or up from down. And then cold, oh so cold and dark. And then there was fire! Fire and light and the feeling that all of my self, all of my mind was flayed open and looked at with the unfeeling, unjudging eyes of my Father. I was examined; evaluated. I was sorted and classified all in flashes of pure thought. I felt stripped of who I was, and all alone in a sterile world surrounded by the flesh of my blood I never even seen before, I broke down and cried. I swore I would never let my mind, or body, be assaulted like that again, and though it took 25 long years in the sunny fire of my Fathers ever present, and always inner-focused gaze I have willed it to be. My mind and body are one, as are my thoughts and deeds. I am ready to achieve greatness.
First Diary of Lenore Uruhua, morning of the God-Making.

Excerpt from “Heartbleeder”, biography of Lenore Uruhua
Many demigods, upon their return to the firmament their Father entrusted to them for safekeeping were heralded by the Devas and Seraphs as Lords and Mistresses of the people from who they were spawned. Some rose to great heights of selfless chivalry and sacrifice, shedding their own blood and scaring their own skin to protect and nurture the races their Father created and loved so dearly. Others, however, sank into baser desires and deeds, and stole life and material gain from their charges, treating the denizens of their land as sheep; to be used, slaughtered, and discarded as needed. But others still chose the path Lenore did: she simply wanted to slip away. Not from cowardice or disobedience of Athos’ will, but stemming from what she believed to be her only option to facilitate her growth. How could she protect and nurture the races she was ordered to care for if she didn’t understand them? How could she truly understand them if they saw her as a savior, or a tyrant, but never as an equal? So Lenore descended to Earth, not in a flash of lightning nor on a heavenly choir, but with a hushed whisper. Her name and her face, no one knew; yet. But she would learn her people, and as she grew to love them, so would they learn to respect her. She started her journey the the island nations of the Corvasian Sea.

Lenore Uruhua walked through the thin tattered rag serving as the door to The Ichor Pool, known den of Shadar-Kai sympathizers, and the only starting point she had. Squeezebox chords and a tweeting flute melody danced amid the din of laughter and roaring boasts among smoke and splashed booze. Her heels clacked across an aged and and warped wooden floor when she approached the counter. The coins flashed in the light of the oil lamp, greasy smoke assaulting her senses. With a casual wipe by the bartender, the coins are gone, and his near imperceptible shrug cast her gaze to a dark table in a dark corner of the inn. Lenore’s jaw tightened, her body tense as she made the slow march toward her target. She could see little more than bright eyes beneath dark hoods and hats, the steely flash of metal; a dagger or a clasp, it was impossible to tell. But she walked, tempo never quickening, until she stood at the tables head, arms akimbo and she swept the group with a gaze. Silence caught like a brushfire, and it’s deafening roar filled the chamber as she felt the cold grey eyes from Shadar-Kai crew of Mephistos, scourge of the Alaran Ocean burrow into her, body and soul. But not, and never, her mind. Pungent sea musk burned her nostrils, and a low, guttural growl wafted to her ears. She had one chance, she knew. It was going to count. A dark gloved hand whipped from beneath the table, the flash of steel flying like a devil bird to meet her flesh. A twitch; a flick; the knife buries itself in soft flesh, and the Shadar-Kai seated on Lenores right howls in pain; it wrenches the blade from its shoulder, as its owner collapses on the table top, sobbing meekly, his brain seared by an invisible spike in his psyche. Lenore smiled. Powerful beings, yes, but slow, slow minds. She found her new home.

There is a revolution coming. From public floggings and executions, to the abhorrent conditions in which we live. The men are humiliated, the women raped, the children torn from mothers and fathers to man slave mines and farms. My flesh father knew only love for his family, and his Mistress; the word is poison in my mouth. But he loved her, as she loved him. His sister told me she cried when my fathers head, her enslaved stud, rolled from the block, but I did not believe her. And I still don’t believe her, but she said a tear rolled off his face after the ax fell for her. Murdered for love, and a mutant pariah bastard daughter stolen from her grave cradle is all there is to show for it. My aunt saved his braid, and her earring. I wear them without fear or shame. There is a revolution coming, and I herald its call.
Diary of Lenore Uruhua, Heartbleeder of Corvasia

She was born without a name, and her death certificate was written for “The Spawn”. The daughter of a gnome slave and his mistress/owner, it went on undiscovered until the morning of her birth. The child was placed in a cradle, isolated from her mothers touch, as the two were dragged to the executioners perch. It took 4 hours before the proper officials signed the certificates of summary executions; 4 hours she cried and screamed in hunger and cold loneliness before the ax fell. The staccato snare roll haled the axeman as it percolated through sleepy city streets and houses. Her fathers sister heard what she lived in fear of for the past 9 months. She slipped, silent and unseen as her position demanded into the Manor, and swept the baby from her black cradle. She nursed the infant as the tears filled her eyes, and she watched her brothers and his lovers heads roll from the block in a brutal display of tyranny. And she was gone.

Uruhua, The Heartbleeder

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