Petra carries with her the implements of her birth. The chisel and hammer. Wrapped in silk and lambskin.
Born of a large block of alabaster marble, veins of soft dove grey and palest rose through out the surface of her skin. Sculpted by the hands of a master. She represents the love he never had. Petra’s creation to many long hours…and many many months of endless labor. She was a work of love. Every waking moment spent perfecting her delicate features. Her creator had wanted her to be flawless. Standing at 5’7, Petra is slender, possessing such grace and poise. Like a Queen, but without a crown.
Eliam Varsh was a humble artist. Spending countless hours on anyone piece of work. But Eliam was a poor man. Doing menial tasks to afford food and a roof over his head. While many patrons adorned their homes with his work, they still shunned the thin man. And rightly, he shunned them in return.
Then one day he found the perfect specimen. Many months of only the barest of food and drink. Saving his entire fortune to purchase the block of marble. It called to him. Until the day came that the block of marble stood in his studio.
Each day Eliam would spend hours staring at the stone. Silent, as though he were waiting for the stone to speak to him. It became his obsession. Every waking moment consumed by time spent with the block of marble.
Eventually it came to him. What was hidden in the stone. Waiting to be released. He began to work. Locking himself away in his studio. The sound of the chisel and hammer could be heard until the early hours of the morning.
By morning, the sun rose. Eliam lay sleeping at the base of the budding sculpture. The warm rays of the sun illuminated the face of the scupture. Giving the impression of warmth and life in the cold stone face.
Months went by. Eliam continued to work until every detail was perfect. The marble block and it’s hard edges gave way to soft curves and delicate features. Even after she was completed, Eliam would spend hours there in the studio. Watching her, talking to her as if she were real. Even at one point Eliam had gone as far to kiss the lips of his masterpiece. Finding them to be cold and hard.
A neighbor took pity upon the lonely artist. A gentle woman, she had often brought Eliam food while he worked on his sculpture. Her visits became more frequent. Drawing Eliam back into the world. His obsession began to fade. The studio grew cold and silent. Many nights passed, and still no Eliam.
The love and devotion that had had spent on the sculpture had changed it. Bringing it to life. The awakening had been slow. Becoming aware that Eliam was not there. Vision being granted to sightless eyes. Cold hard flesh grew softer and radiated the gentle warmth of life. Though her appearance remained that of stone.
Petra breathed in new life. Stepping down off of the pedastool. A glance given about the darkened studio. Sadness appearing on those delicate features as a slender hand touched Eliam’s work bench. A fine layer of dust clinging to her finger tips. How long had it been since he was here? Where was he? Where was Eliam? Her creator….her love. She had to find him.
- Petra is still marble. Though her skin feels warm and real to the touch. Bladed weapons will not pierce her skin, though it may chip it in places, depending on the force behind the blow.
- Petra is very heavy for her size, avoiding marsh like areas is in her best interest. Remember…marble is not light.
- Unrequited love. Eliam and his neighbor fell in love and abandoned their homes there. Petra loves Eliam. And will search for him until the end. Possible threatening to harm Eliam’s new love. Eliam pleads with the PC group to help stop his creation.
- The Ghost Town. The village where Eliam lived was beset by some mystic plague. Eliam and the rest of the village died. The PC group is hired by a neighboring village to investigate the cause of the plague and to prevent it’s spread. Petra may become an ally, being immune to disease. Zombie could also be worked into this..but that is up to you. A mystic plague that some of the villagers arise as zombie.