Xeraphine Yldore, The Iron Whisper

Biographical information

Birthplace Alliria Born Died Age 30 Home Alliria Sexuality Pronouns

Physical description

Race Human Sub-Race Gender Female Height 1.89 metres Mass Tall and slim Hair color Coal black Eye color Blue-grey Skin color Ivory

Political information

Affiliation(s) Occupation Guildmaster Clan(s) Caste Domain Masters Apprentices Alias(es)

Out-of-character information

Writer Darkweaver Created on Avatar AI

Xeraphine's Theme

"Ruling is like forging a blade, child. First, it must be carefully moulded into a crafty shape, then heated and tempered, hammered and folded. And once forged, it requires constant maintenance: sharpened, oiled, wiped. You must never allow it to catch rust or drink up too much blood or even kiss dirt for too long. And even if you do all that, all it can take is one, misplaced blow - one blow! And CRACK! Your sword lies broken. Your inheritance in pieces.."
- Kezrim Yldore

Once, House Yldore held a seat in the Merchant Council, but now its remnants linger in the shadows of Allirian nobility. It was a house that had built its renown on the forging, sales and distribution of arms and fine metallurgy. And during the Siege of Alliria, it tasted its absolute high point, swelling in influence and power hitherto unseen for its manufacture and sales of arms and armaments.

But power can lead to overconfidence.

And so, during the Siege of Alliria, long having fought bitter tariff laws with its rival houses, seeking to nudge the council to favour its sale of arms, it saw an opportunity to oust control from the other houses. Its head, Kezrim Yldore, sought to buy the full loyalty of the city watch and stir the fears of the people, to have the submit to its law.

Unfortunately, the other council houses saw through this ploy and foiled House Yldore. Its assets were liquidated. Its forces claimed, forced to join the City Watch or face exile. And the House itself wa nearly dismantled, reduced to selling horse-shoes and common iron mongery, never again to forge the blades that might turn its destiny.

Now, ten years later, an empty seat still remains in the Merchant Council. And House Yldore is a shadow of its former self, operating a single Guild of Iron Mongers, trading in common pig iron and other raw materials shipped to blacksmiths that once served them.

The first-born daughter of Kezrim Yldore, Xeraphine was twenty years of age when she witnessed the events that would lead to the fall of her House.

A tall, stately woman, part of her black hair covering her face. Her expression often favours a small, lazy smile or lips pursed with superiority, grey-blue eyes hooded with easy anticipation. The locks of her hair tumble around her like a shroud, less combed and tamed than it used to be. The regal bearing that marks her stance and manner bespeaks of having been raised in the highest echelons of society. Yet, her tendency to lean on her right side, placing her weight on her right leg, almost makes her stand sideways, like she is secretly one motion away from entering a battle stance, hinting at the guarded apprehension to her environment.

+ Refined swordsmanship, intended for duelling

+ Influence with former contacts of the House and seedier elements of Alliria

+ Calculative and strategic

+ Loyal and determined

+ Graceful and fully aware of courtly etiquette and style

+ Knowledge of the ironmongery industry and the art of smithing

+ Esoteric knowledge gained in the pursuit of crafting magical weapons

+ She carries an enchanted stiletto called Whisper, forged from a strange meteorite. It can pierce nearly any armour or hide. Its blade grows warm from the proximity of other items rendered from the same material. Conversely, its pommel cools with the presence of demons, whereas its crossguard chills in the proximity of magic.

- Cold and cynical

- Held in low esteem by most of high society from her father's legacy

- Covetous, spiteful and entitled

- Desperate for her House's standing and survival

Speaking to Xeraphine is like being wrapped in a blanket of winter's design: chilling bone, deceiving with promises of warmth and generosity.