Special Equipment:
Frost Thorn
Glacier Mail


Tall and slender, Celsia is exceedingly pale, so much so that there have been those who have called her albino. Her skin is the pale white of fresh fallen snow, while her hair is the silver of an iced lake in the moonlight, while her eyes shift through a series of blues and greens, not unlike the seas, yet they are often difficult to read for emotion.

Indeed, it is rare for her to even smile or frown, her face almost always a studied, neutral expression. Celsia rarely acts from emotion, her actions coldly logical. She is unafraid to sacrifice many things, including people, to reach a goal, so long as she deems the result worth the cost.

When she is unarmored, Celsia chooses to dress simply, favoring a sleevless blue tunic and a white shirt. Her armor, the Glacier Mail, however, is more than enough to make up for her simple taste in clothing. A delicate suit of half plate, this strange armor consists entirely of a pale blue crystal, etched with a profusion of various flowers. Celsia carries no visible weapon, instead manifesting the Frost Thorn as needed.


Celsia was born in the mountains of the Northlands, a harsh and rugged terrain, famed for its fearsome winters. An only child born to a family isolated from most of the rest of the human race, it's no particular surprise that her social skills are lacking. For entertainment, she often found herself gazing into the ice of the glaciers further up the valley, entranced by the rainbow of light that reflected and refracted from within. When she asked her parents what made the lights within the glacier, they told her that it was the glow of the ice fairies.

As Celsia grew older, she determined that she would go to meet these fairies. She waited, then, until her parents had left for the nearest village for supplies, leaving their daughter to tend the household. Gathering up a lunch or so's worth of food, and a bouquet of flowers to give them as a gift, she set off for the glaciers in the early morning. Thanks to an easily navigated pass, she actually made it to the edge of the ice by early evening, and began to traverse it, looking for the fairies. To her luck, and mostly by the accident of falling into it, she learned that a covered burrow of snow can be surprisngly warm despite the chilly touch of the ice, and so it was that she survived her first night on the glacier. The second day, however, faired poorly. Hungry, she quickly came to understand that she was underdressed for the windy slopes of ice, and the chill set so deeply into her bones that she begane to believe she was warm again. As she sat herself down, and closed her eyes, convincing herself that she would get up and start walking again in just a couple minutes, she was found by one of the same fairies that she sought. Noting the flowers, it realized what the girl had meant to do, and it began to work what small magics it could, praying all the time.

When Celsia awoke, she found herself at the foot of the glacier, a glowing, bobbling light before her. It twinkled in a kind of friendly laughter for a moment, then disappeared, leaving her to rise from the surface of the ice on her own. As she rose, she found that the ice, while still cold, was no longer a thing to be avoided, but rather, that the chill was to be embraced. A reflection from deep within the crystallized water served to show the girl further how she had changed, her dark hair become silver, her brown eyes become blue, and her skin as pale as the snow atop the ice. It was suffecient that when she returned to her home, her parents rejected her, believing her a ghost or a trick of creatures best left unmentioned.

She began to wander then, seeking a new place to belong, but everywhere there were humans, they rejected her, marked as she was by the ice. For a time, she found refuge amoung elves, learning from them their famed swordplay, though she proved to have no arcane talents. As she lived amoung them, and the seasons passed, she began to learn that the touch of the glacier had settled into the way she aged as well, her life passing with the slow, steady pace of the elf, rather than the fast, chaotic pace of the human. Even as comfortable as she was in this sylvan paradise, however, she knew that she did not belong her. And so, she began again to travel.

Now, however, she had a purpose, a place to go. She was going home. As she crested the final pass, she discovered in the century she had been gone, the glaciers had swallowed her childhood home, the simple stone cottage entombed in ice. Still, she made her way over the frozen valley, finding a fissure through the ice that lead down to a window. Though it was difficult, she managed to enter the half-collapsed structure. Once inside, however, her sense of purpose failed her, and she sat down to think, to wait in the elven way. All the while, the ice slowly came into the house, melted by the noontime sun, refreezing at night.

As the first month of her meditation passed her, the ice built around her feet to her ankles, yet she did not notice. As the first year passed, the ice rose slowly to her hips, and this she noticed, yet somewhere within, she knew she should welcome it as a friend. In all, it was three years before the glacier swallowed her whole. A year more passed before she drew the attention of the same fae which had placed the ice within her blood, who in turn, brought the attention of another.

The voice that she heard then was at once the hiss of escaping steam, the roar of the ocean, the babbling of the brook, and the drip of the melting icicle, but most of all, it was the terrible, awful majesty of the advancing glacier. "We require a mortal to act for us, in the mortal realm. We choose you, for we feel the echo of ourselves in your spirit. Will you aid us, Celsia?" Though this voice promised nothing, the woman knew that this should be her fate, and so she assented. She made no sound, no motion, for she could not, yet her agreement was known. "Take then, the tools of your new office, and serve us."

As she found herself sitting atop the ice, rather than in it, she found upon her body a suit of mail, crafted from a clear, crystalline ice, etched with the flowers she brough to the fairy so long ago. Despite its material of construction, it was sturdy, and did not melt even in the hottest sun. She found also a bracelet upon her left wrist, and she knew without asking that should she need it, it would arm her in the fashion she found most comfortable, the long sword. And finally, she found herself with a new sense of purpose...

Roleplaying Notes:

Disrupted from the normal ways of life and companionship, Celsia has disassociated herself from human friendships. As such, she has learned to deny the emotions that boil up inside her, looking at the world in a cold, logical fashion, much like an automaton would.

She is young in her service to the three-aspected Goddess of water, and as such, her grasp of the divine magics of ice, water, and steam is thin, and as yet, quite weak. With time and practice, however, will come skill and power. Once per day, she may make a bone chilling frost touch attack of significant damage. Further, she cannot be harmed by water in any of its forms, granting her an immunity to burns boiling water and steam, drowning, and freezing in general. Contact with the ice or imbibing clean water is sufficient to sustain her as if she was eating properly. Finally, she ages with all the speed of a glacier - her lifespan will be measured in millenia, rather than decades, should she not be slain by other means.

The Triumvarte of Water intends to use her oppose Zevarith's growing number of flame knights, as well as to keep their fingers and eyes in the mortal world. It would not do for the Elder Elemental Gods to be 'surprised' by the Gods of Influence, after all. Still, their designs are more primal in nature than many other gods, concerned mainly with the unsullied existance of their element upon the mortal plane.

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