The Pacifist Cleric: A backstory

I thought I'd write up a bit of backstory for my DnD character, right up to the point when her future colleagues come to whisk her away to the Nentir Vale for adventuring shenanigans  I just kind of pumped this out, so I'm not expecting many marks for originality ;)

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In far off lands there existed once a mortal son of Anesthia, god of life and death. In life he sought nothing more than to protect those around him from danger, practising in the art of all manner of weaponry available to him in his small village. His task was to fail however, when a band of marauders swarmed his village and many of his community were killed. In blind fury he tapped into his divine origin, and with immense power he slaughtered his foes to the man.

His bloodlust sated, he looked upon his work and was horrified. The death that surrounded him struck him to his core. He could no longer tell slaughtered foe from murdered friend. From that day he vowed never to harm a living being. He travelled across the planes for long years, protecting the weak as he went, but never harming another, instead attempting to dissuade potential foes through persuasion where he could. At the end of a long and peaceful life, his divine mother, impressed by her son's deeds took him to her side, and allowed him small dominion over life.

As a god he was followed by the many who sought protection from death, for themselves or loved ones. All he asked of his followers was to view life as sacred, and while not to fear death, do protect any and all threatened with it. A humble god was he, and would demand no more of his followers than was reasonable. However centuries past and he grew exhausted with his task. Life was taken daily. He grew jealous of the influence of other gods, and aggravated with careless mortals who would ask for his protection, and throw themselves into harm's way. So he began gathering the souls of his followers to him, imprisoning them that they may be saved for eternity from their carelessness.

His mother saw what her son had become and was filled with grief. She could not kill him, but instead cursed him, tearing from him a sliver of his divinity and flinging it to the natural world, judging that whomever should find the sliver would be destined to find her son and replace him. The captured souls were freed, and she bound her son far away from influence to be forgotten, leaving him to await his eventual doom.

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In the natural world, a girl was born in the less auspicious parts of town. She grew up fighting to survive, literally and figuratively. She was driven to get the most out of survival and was not above harming others to do so. She ended up on the wrong side of judge more than once until she was given a choice. Join the local military, or exile. It was wartime so either was meant as a death sentence. She chose military. Why not play to her strengths, after all? 

As a soldier she was ruthless, and it earned her both the fear and respect of her allies. She would lead into battle and they would follow, though whether through trust that she knew what she was doing, or fear of being on the retributive end of her blade was up for debate.

Following a skirmish against an attacking group of bandits, she hear a whisper. She looked around and found no source. Another whisper and she felt it in her head. It bade her walk beyond the battlegrounds. Compelled to follow, she walked. She walked across hill and field, river and road until she came to a clearing in a forest. During her journey here she had been told what she'd find, and sure enough there was a staff, half buried and orthogonal to the ground. Ever the bold one, she immediately strode forward and grabbed hold.

Every death that she had orchestrated poured through her in that instant. Though she held it for but a second, a lifetime of pain and demise and fear ripped her up from the inside. Her head was filled with the face of every sapient life she had ended. Amidst it all a voice spoke in words that shattered her psyche:

"I charge you to know the pain of every life you have taken, to feel it drain from yourself a thousandfold. Know this terror well, and learn."

She let go and, driven near insane with guilt, she ran.

She ran for days, a maddened creature in the wilderness. Her mind was in ribbons, the ghosts of a thousand lives lost etched into her. Exhausted by sorrow, she sought to end her life, and jumped from a cliff. As she fell, a voice spoke again to her, kinder than the one previous.

"This is not how your story ends."

Her body was found, broken, but alive, by a party of adventurers. They bickered about what to do, as adventurers will, but eventually the will of the party's Paladin of Pelor, far from home and weary from travel, outed. She healed the fallen soldier and took her to a temple of her order to rest. When she awoke, the Paladin and her party had long gone, and as the clerics told her of her story, she wept with immense gratitude.

She spent many years in that temple, learning the ways of the cleric. She felt the scars of her mind still, but less sharply than before. However she was mindful of them, and resolved to amend for the brutality of her past, revelling in the art of healing. Not so naive was she to believe that she could forsake violence completely, she took an oath to her new god, never to personally take another life, lest she risk the retribution of Pelor, and to protect those in need of her help.

Eventually she left the temple, intent on making good on her oath. She travelled far, and helped many on her way, never mentioning her past. So it was until one day, as she walked the wilderness between towns, delighting in the afternoon sun, the air around her crackled with arcane energy, and a portal split the air before her...

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Some sources:

http://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/4e_Deities

http://images.wikia.com/kingdomhearts/images/3/3a/Corridor_of_darkness.png

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Ana

So, I got to sleep at 8 o'clock this morning.

Well, have a little something I threw together.
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It's just as Ana was taught when she was young. People found wanting are often found in both definitions, and in that is a lucrative trade. As long as the classic sins manifest themselves in their numerous ways, there will be someone who doesn't want to do the dirty work in order to gain their treasures. The step from there to capitalising on such a flaw is not a difficult one. Interestingly, or not, the process to which Ana found herself with such knowledge at as young an age as eleven could be described with a similar ease.

When remembering the past, it is always best to take everything seen with a pinch of salt. The mind does have a tendency to adjust the contrast in the mental monitor, so that events are viewed through rose, or on occasion shit tinted glasses. Such a process would explain why Ana's father is recorded to have been a shining pillar of a community to which he never belonged. Perspective would account for his unnatural height, and pure invention would be the origin of the admittedly glorious imperial moustache that coloured Ana's memories of when Mr Lavoie recounted to his daughter tales of his questionable past. Whether he intended for his stories to have a lasting effect can be merely speculated, but the fact remains that from that time onwards, Ana knew what she wanted from her life. Such things could be taken for granted, but the possibility remains that had her father not inspired her as he did, perhaps she would not be running through a central business district in an attempt to lose the security team now pursuing her.

She overlayed her vision with a local map as she bounded through some neocon's preaching about the evils of uplifts, prolonged life, and other gifts that the unholy union of the gods of science and technology had bestowed upon humanity. Planning her route took less than seconds as she fired up her implants, nanobots scurrying to connect parts of her brain where before neurons held sway, processing information far more efficiently and quickly than her organic brain ever could. Her's was an older setup, so a few seconds at a time was all she could afford, lest she burn out her brain within her skull, but in those seconds, time past in her head like a river turned glacial.

Her father wouldn't have approved. They connected on many levels, but the augmentation of what he termed the "Natural human form" repelled him. Not quite a neo-conservative, he didn't so much oppose the idea of transhumanity as much as he rejected the concept as needlessly decadent. "No family member of mine will fill their body with such frivolity. It's against the very nature of humanity". Ironically he had stumbled upon the very reason Ana had admired transhumans. They were evidence of an inevitable future that it became increasingly clear her father wouldn't be a part of. The technology was developing at a startling rate, to the point that breakthroughs were being announced every other week. Ana had loved her father, but she loved the future more. She loved it's colour, it's promise. And as she resolved to follow that path, she resolved also to take her father's more applicable teachings with her.

Teachings that had lead her to this situation. There is always work for a shadow, for someone who can keep their presence unknown in an increasingly transparent society. Corporations want the secrets of others, scientists desire research they have no claim to, and your average civilian will covet their neighbours possessions. And all will pay good money to get what they want. She had the skills and the willingness to adapt them to her ever encroaching future, so why shouldn't she get paid for it? Nonetheless, she had often struggled with one of her father's cardinal rules. Don't get caught.

A quick glance back told her she was still being chased. Her pursuers had the benefit of tireless, albeit highly temporary automata that most ground level civil protection types occupy. She had standard birth issue human legs, powered by burning carbohydrates and bolstered by a controlled but limited adrenal boost. She had to lose them fast. Nearby businesses would have already been informed of the situation, and would have initiated security procedures already, more advanced entrances arming portal deniers. No one would outright help to capture her, but they would do everything in their power to keep the trouble from effecting them. If she was unlucky enough to pick an entrance with a denier installed, she would quickly find herself neutralised by a non lethal laser grid pumping a powerful current through her body. No, she would require escape into known territory. In the seconds afforded to her to plan, she marked her route to an old friend.
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Lawrence Valente was not your average information broker. Or at least, that's how he tried to market himself. "There's nothing, be it past or future I do not know or cannot find out!" an avatar would exclaim from his business cards. Those who knew him returned that this was because he was so rarely in the present. "It's true, Lore has a knack for working information out of people, but try to hold a conversation with him and you'll find yourself talking to a wall." This was unfair, as while he was not known for his social graces (having to replace a torn out wetware throat with what the early days of biotech had to offer does not do wonders for one's social life), there were some precious few for whom he would afford the time of day. One of these few was the late David Lavoie. The relationship had started as so many do, through business. Information on persons and things was often required in David's line of work, though what that work was he had always been quite vague about. Nevertheless, he helped where he could and found that David would do the same. Favours were exchanged and trust grew, and when David brought in a baby girl, he swore that should anything happen to David, he would look out for her until she could look out for herself. Roughly a decade and a half later David found himself on the wrong side of a gun. The circumstances were unclear but Lawrence made sure to come through on his promise, giving an adolescent Ana Lavoie a place to live for a further few years. He had never really bonded with her in the same way he had her father, but he taught her what he could of life, shared his food and made sure she got at least a baseline education. She knew he would shelter her should she require it.

He was broken out of a trance by a persistent ringing in his head. Someone was at his door, alerting him to their presence with increasing insistence. He brought up the door's camera feed, and found himself faced with a familiar, if somewhat frantic face. He addressed with as much amicability as his synthetic hiss would allow.
"Ana! I am surprised to see you. Not ininin an unwelcome way you understand why I wasss just consideriiiing how long it-t-t had been since I had seen you lasssssst."
"LorepleaseopenthedoorquicklyIneedhelphurryhurryhurry."
"Of course, dear girl, one ssssecond-d-d"
"NowLorehurryplease."

Ana heard the apartment security disengage and was on the other side of the door in seconds. She only dared breathe when she heard the lock click back into place behind her.
"Welcome back, Ana."
"Hey Lore. Sorry for the rushed entry. I was just, ah, out. Running."
"From something n-n-no doubt."
Ana had heard the faulty electrolarynx many times, but it still unsettled her. She could have used some augmented reality overlay but that seemed disrespectful to the man who had looked after her for however short a time.
"Would you li-like a drink? Come into the kitchennn."
"You're a lifesaver."
"What do you want?"
She paused before answering. Something was wrong here. He held her gaze a second too long and in his eyes she caught a little something like...guilt. An unspoken warning. "What's the matter, Lore?"
He produced a mechanical crackle that she knew to be a laugh "What-t-tever do you mean? Come into the kitchen." That look again. A ring at the door. She froze.
"You never could lie to me, Lore."
"I'm so sorry Ana. They got here before you."
A suited man stepped out from the kitchen. "Ana Lavoie, I am arresting you on behalf of Sjintech. Please come quietly and no harm will come to you or your friend."
She ran.
Current surged through her body.
She fell.
Darkness.
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TBC. Probably.

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