Amitiza - Eladrin Cleric of Corellon
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Amitiza - Eladrin Cleric of Corellon
"Come here, I want to touch you."

STR 11 (+0) CON 13 (+1) DEX 14 (+2)
INT 14 (+2) WIS 14 (+2) CHA 14 (+2)

Initiative • +2 • Move • 6 • AC • 16 •
Fortitude • 11 • Reflex • 12 • Will • 14 •
Hit Points • 30 • Bloodied • 15 • Healing Surge • 7 • Surges Per Day • 8 •

Skills
Acrobatics: +1
Arcana: +7
Athletics: -1
Bluff: +2
Diplomacy: +2
Dungeoneering: 0
Endurance: +7
Heal: +2
History: +2
Insight: +7
Intimidate: +2
Nature: +2
Perception: +2
Religion: +7
Stealth: +1
Streetwise: +2
Thievery: +1

Race Skills:

Class:

Feats:
Toughness

At-will Powers:
Sacred Flame
Lance of Faith

Encounter Powers:
Divine Glow

Daily Powers:
Cascade of Light
Healing Word

Equipment:
Mace, Chainmail, Holy Symbol

Character Background:
Twenty years ago

The two handmaidens carried Amitizamah. The pain was overwhelming. Amitizamah was humiliated. It didn’t matter what she was going through, what had been done to her. To have her sisters see her succumb to it like this shamed Amitizamah.

They brought her into the stone chamber beneath the manor, maneuvering her onto the slab of dark metal resting in the middle of the room. They clamped Amitizamah’s ankles. It was an extra measure to make sure she did not endanger herself or anyone else should the last of her self-control fail.

No sooner had they finished than it started again. Amitizamah gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to release it in a scream. She brought this on herself. She would endure the pain. No, she would conquer it. That was what was expected of her by her goddess.

The Headmistress swept into the chamber.

“How are things progressing?” the headmistress inquired.
“Swiftly, Headmistress,” one of the handmaidens replied. “We should be finished here in a few minutes.”
“Excellent. You are doing so well, Daughter,” Headmistress said

Pain gripped Amitizamah, and she stiffened. She found no comfort in the headmistress’s words. They weren’t meant to comfort. The headmistress’s tone conveyed that much. Giving comfort would have defeated the purpose and gone against all that the Godess taught them.

No, Headmistress was not trying to comfort her. She was merely expressing her pride in Amitizamah, and her pleasure at seeing Amitizamah suffer.

“You realize, of course, that the ritual serves a dual purpose in your case,” the headmistress continued. “Not only does it exemplify the pain that is inflicted upon us from the moment we enter this life, but it is also a fitting punishment for the lack of discipline you displayed, wouldn’t you say, Sister?”

“Yes … uhn … Headmistress.” Amitizamah grunted through another wave of pain. The contractions of her uterus, like a giant’s hand crushing her lower abdomen, relegated everything else to the status of mere annoyance.

“I’m glad you agree. Your indiscretion has jeopardized our influence with the powers of this city.”

The headmistress was right. Amitizamah deserved this suffering, but it was all she could do not to cry out in agony. It was humbling to realize she was so weak. She prayed her Godess would forgive her, then laughed at her own insanity. Her Godess did not forgive. Amitizamah’s laugh was cut off by a moan as another contraction hit her.

“The head is crowning,” a handmaiden said. “Keep pushing, Sister.”

Amitizamah felt something rip and nearly lost consciousness. From somewhere distant, she thought she could hear the screaming of tiny lungs.

“It’s a girl.”

“Congratulations, Sister Amitizamah.” Headmistress took the newborn in her hands. A hint of pleasure flashed in her eyes, but her smile was ice cold. “It appears that the Godess still favors you. Have you chosen a name?”

Amitizamah tried to lift her head to see the infant, but the movement only filled her sight with swirls of blackness. “Elizabeth” She sighed.

“Welcome, Elizabeth. May you suffer and deal suffering in kind.” Headmistress passed the baby back to a handmaiden then nodded toward Amitizamah. “Clean her up, and see that she gets some rest. She has served well today.”

Two Years ago

Elizabeth loved parties. She adored being the center of attention, receiving compliments on how beautiful she is. Some said she was too vain; Elizabeth preferred to think it was her way of honoring a mother who died giving birth to her. It was no different with this party. In fact, because it was her eighteenth birthday, Elizabeth seemed to have an unending line of well-wishers.

A chime sounded twice, and the hall quieted. Elizabeth recognized the signal and watched the door at the far side of the hall. Two regal figures strolled in. The first was Elizabeth’s father, Gregeth. The figure on Gregeth’s arm made Elizabeth’s normally dainty features twist involuntarily into a snarling pout of annoyance. Her twin sister, Amitiza, usually did not attend the parties the family threw in the palace.

Unlike Elizabeth, Amitiza cared little for her good looks, and the endless attention garnered by them from the boys. She never made an effort to do anything with the long, thin strands of her mousy brown hair, simply letting them fall straight to the middle of her back. To Amitiza it didn’t matter what others thought about her beauty; they were sycophants to her.

Tonight, however, Amitiza’s hair was pinned up, her cheeks had a healthy glow like sunlight through rose petals, and she wore a white silk gown with a flowing train that practically floated behind her. The pair climbed the dais at the back of the hall where the family sat whenever they presided over official occasions. Earlier that day, two new chairs had been added to the three that were there before. Gregeth stopped in the center of the dais and turned to face the gathered attendants.

“Welcome, everyone. I am so glad you could join our family in this celebration,” Gregeth began. Elizabeth made her way forward in anticipation of her father’s introduction, but halted, confused, as her father continued without even glancing in her direction.

“There is always some sadness when a father’s little girls grow up. But there is pride, too. And nothing makes me prouder than to announce my dear Amitiza’s decision to join the Church of Corellon in Stoughton.”

Applause and murmurs of approval rose to meet Gregeth’s broad smile. Elizabeth could barely keep her jaw from dropping. What was going on? This was supposed to be her party, her night, but everyone was flocking to Amitiza now, even the hot boys. Shock quickly turned to anger, yet Elizabeth could see no way of rescuing the evening. Frustrated, she stormed from the hall, stomped up the stairs, and slammed the door to her room.

She did this on purpose, Elizabeth fumed as she paced angrily. I knew she was always jealous. And this proves it. I can’t believe she ruined my evening like this. I’ll find some way to get her back…..

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