Character Backstory for one of the characters I’m playing for the Tabletop game my boyfriend is running. It is incomplete to avoid spoilers. *chuckles*
The heat rising off the tops of the arid mountains that surround the city had not yet reached the cool comfort of the valley below. The kiss of frost on the windows of each building caught the glimmer of morning light and made the entire valley sparkle.
She watched the smoke from freshly stirred home fires play across the rooftops as the city awoke. A lumberous beast, reluctant to break from it’s dreams for the harsh light of reality. The breather’s below waking with the deep groans of the chronically overworked.
Some would say it was the perfect kind of morning.
Aleia blinked for the first time since she had come to her private hideaway. She didn’t really need to, but the frost had collected on the crystal surface of her eyes and she wanted to see the sunrise in all it’s glory. Though it did make the blue glow of her eyes a fraction brighter. She instantly regretted it as the soft glimmer caught the attention of a passing messenger boy. Brown eyes wide and liquid in the pre-dawn light the pale face of the child slowly approached.
“M.my Hand?” he called out, voice still tinged with the high tones of youth. “My Hand Aleia?” he froze in his tracks as she moved, fear prickling the hair at the back of his neck as her head swiveled on it’s axis. It caused a soft whirring sound and a burst of air from the vents on her neck that shifted the light speckle of dew that had coated her adamantium shoulder plates through the nightlong vigil.
Not wanting to frighten the child even more she began to move as the fleshlings did, her chest lifting imperceptibility as if she were breathing air into lungs that did not exist, her eyes blinking with a heartbeat she could not feel. She could tell the child was not used to her and her Warforged brethren, a new recruit no doubt. The Justice’s mechanical oddities nearly as startling as the strange rippling power that kept them so lifelike. She could not hide it’s glow from the shifts at her joints, nor from the crystal spheres that were her eyes. Unrobed she could not hide in darkness, but then she was never to far from her cloak.
She liked to move unnoticed in a crowd when she needed too.
She shifted from her perch on the tower parapet but did not approach the child. Instead settling down to sit, facing the child crossed legged. Letting him get used to the fullness of her attention, the oddity of being looked at by something that should not be able to see. She waited while the hem of her long dark blue robes slid down the side of the wall to settle on the ground below. The soft scrape of metal on stone and she stood effortlessly. “I am Aleia.” she murmurs in a voice too hollow to be human.
She smiled as she saw the child’s eyes drop to the small crystal in the base of her throat that shimmered lightly with her innate life force, her voicebox. Yet another reminder to the poor child she was no living thing.
“How may I help you little one?” her voice echoes up in formal tones from her chest, to dance as amusement in her eyes.
The boy seems to shake himself out of his fear.
“Oh…uh…” he straightens and recites from memory. “The Divine Hand of Justice requests the presence of the Justice Aleia in her office, as soon as she is able.” The construct watches the boy swallow nervously before inclining her head, releasing him to hurry back along the catwalk and down the circling metal staircase that connected this secluded tower with the rest of the Cleric’s Wing.
The Temple within Vela’nar was nearly a city unto itself and housed the governmental buildings and her own private room. It echoed the mighty mountains that cradled the city on three sides, it’s tall towers only dwarfed by it’s sprawl. She had rarely left it’s walls, even to walk in the streets of the outlying city. She hadn’t needed too. She had been created to serve a purpose, and she served it well.
She had suspected the Hand of Justice knew of her tower retreat, but this only sealed it. She looked back over the sun speckled city, already bustling with the cries of the breadbakers and spice merchants as the city finally begins it’s daily routine. She wondered if the High Hand Roland would allow her to continue to hold her weekly vigil on the wall of the high tower. The other Warforged preferred to spend their off time in their rooms, studying the incident reports of the Peacekeepers and the formal decisions of other Justices.
She shook her head as she made her way down the stairs. She had no desire to shut herself in the close confines of her personal quarters. She had no need of sleep, so the bed they placed within it seemed rather silly. The table was full of reports she scanned every morning before the first of her cases were to be heard and once a week, every week since she had been shown the location 30 years ago, she came to the tower and watched the sun rise.
She saw no harm in it.
She moved with a grace that spoke of her mechanical nature. Soft whirring lost to the sound of the bustle of the temple. She watched some of the acolytes as they lit the torches that lined the marble walls as she made her way through the winding corridors. Passing the door to the Justice’s personal rooms she nods to the Warforged that were slowly filing out to head off to their respective duties.
All the Justices were warforged. We were created to be just, to not be swayed by mortal failings and it worked for the most part. Though we can still feel emotions and those can be used against us if we allow it. Most of us have learned to suppress that side of our beings. Some more successful than others.
Each warforged was made in pairs. Their body type shared between two creations before the High Cleric moved on to a different model. Her Sistermodel was already heading off to her assignments. The Justices always were one of the first on their daily tasks. It was something they were quite proud of.
“Katia.” she called out to the other woman and smiled as she paused and turned. Her sister disdained the use of robes, unwilling to hide the perfection of her body. Aleia adjusts her own robes. Her perfect twin. “I hope the morning finds you well.”
Katia was her perfect copy in physical componants, true. But they had their differences.
“I found your treatment of the Valen Case a bit..human.. Sister, your compassion is fully noted.” her gaze when turned to her full view was the picture of perfection, umarred by the variances of emotion. She didn’t bother with breathing, why should she? She did not need such soft comforts.
Aleia smiled, breaking her own porcelain features with the touches of humanity her sister so distained. “Katia, I have been called to the Hand of Justice’s chambers. Can you let my acolyte know my cases will need to be rescheduled to this afternoon?” she knew better than to try to engage in polite talk with the woman, there was no point.
Katia inclines her head, pressing the palm of her hand, carved with her god’s signet, over the center of her chest. “As you wish Sister.” she says in her soft empty voice.
If Aleia had not been her sister, she might have missed the curiosity that flickered behind those crystalline eyes. When her smile grows wider Katia simply turns and continues on to her appointments.
With a soft sigh Aleia shifts the fall of her robes on her body, brushing the black and gold fabric as clean as she can get it before making her way to the Hand of Justice’s’s office.
The High Cleric was one of three people who ruled this city, the High Paladin and the Mayor were the other two. The hand of Justice reported directly to the High Cleric so the doors to the main office were made of thick, carved wood and guarded by two heavies.
They knew who she was but she announced herself anyway, “Justice Aleia to see the Hand of Justice.” They both nodded their helmeted heads and the one on the right pulled open the door, allowing her to step in.
The woman that greeted her was not the hand of Justice as she had expected. Indeed, the woman who greeted her was decked out in full armor.
The useful kind, she noted, not the decorative ritual armor of some of the wealthier Pilgrims wore.
The woman turned and Aleia dropped to her knee, “High Cleric.” she murmurs reverently. Even Katia held reverence for this human, the creator of their kind. It was a rare day indeed that she got to address the High Cleric herself.
The High Cleric turned to look down at her, her face unreadable.
“I was told the Hand of Justice wished to speak with me.”
“The Hand bid you come at my insistence.” the woman’s voice was deep, hard used. “She will not be joining us.”
Aleia looked up, confusion tilting her head to the side, “How may I serve thee, My Creator?” Her eyes glowing softly blue.
“I have a mission for you.”
The sudden silence is broken only by the soft whirr of her joints as she straightens, “As you command.” she murmurs, “What needs to be done?” The High Cleric would not ask this of her lightly. She listened intently.