Abigail

Information

Player: Kiffles

Character Full Name: Abigail Weller

Character In-Game Name: Abigail

Nickname(s): Abby, Abbs, Weller

Association(s): N/A

Race: Undead

Class: Priest

Age: Sixteen, perpetually.

Sex: Female

Hair: Blonde, straight and brittle.

Eyes: Yellow ghostlight.

Weight: 73 lbs.

Height: 4'6"

Alignment: Neutral -- she doesn't seem to get caught in the rip-tide of politics and sides as much. She simply wanders here and there, keeping to herself.

Appearance

Pretty things like robes and dresses. Plaguespots and scars from plaguespots are still visible on her face and shoulders. She is also extremely thin.

Personality

Abigail is a very quiet, soft-spoken individual. She does her best to be very polite and tolerant towards others. However, she has been known to be capable of murder and is doubly polite when torturing or killing someone, which can prove to be a bit eerie, almost as if she doesn't think she's doing anything wrong. (A bit scary when someone requests politely if they can dissect your lower jaw, mm?)

History

Abigail Weller was born and raised within the walls of Stratholme. "The Gem of the North," so they called it. When she was born, her life had been traded for her mother's, and so the girl was raised by her elder sister and her father. The man, a traveling doctor, did not have all the time in the world for his daughters, but loved them dearly just the same. Her sister married early to a tailer and cobbler, and so the girl had she and her brother in-law to take care of her in his absence.

When Abigail was old enough, she set to pursuing a career as an orphan matron. Every weekday she would wake bright and early and head to the orphanage, charged with menial tasks as well as entertaining the children. She dearly loved the job, and loved the children deeply as if they were her own.

When the girl had barely turned sixteen, she received urgent word from her father. He had seen things, hideous things, in his travels. People had begun falling mysteriously ill, and the illness was beginning to spread at a vicious rate. "Their flesh drips clean from their bones," he would write, "and their eyes grow dull, as if the very life and mind is being drained from their bodies." Surely, no such thing could befall Stratholme, Abigail and her sister were sure of that -- and it didn't take long for them to realize how wrong they had been.

The last word Weller received from her father was for she and her sister to flee. She took heed, but her sister still refused to believe that any harm would come to them. Heartbroken, the girl decidedly left her sister and brother in-law. She had to see her orphans, one last time. That evening, before she left the city, Abigail routinely warmed them their cups of milk. She couldn't let her children suffer, she refused to allow them the horror and pain of dripping flesh and fleeting life. They happily drank their before-bed milk -- laced with poison -- and went to bed, never to wake up again.

Abigail managed to flee, but she didn't get far before the plague finally gripped her. The last thing she could recall was a welcoming bed of peacebloom, and how wonderful it felt to lay down...

Now risen again, Abigail seems to have lost her mind. She does not remember much, at least much that she lets on. She spends her time examining things, little things; bugs, the leaves of plants, cracks in floors and walls. She does not remember the sorrow, the joys of the days when she was alive. Perhaps Abigail Weller has forced herself to forget them.