Cynis Tamira

Cynis Tamira
Aspect: Fire
Essence: 2
Personal Motes: 13
Peripheral Motes: 26

Strength •••
Dexterity •••••
Stamina •••

Charisma ••• (4)
Manipulation ••
Appearance •••

Perception •••
Intelligence ••
Wits ••••

Pick one more favored
Linguistics 3 (2)
Lore 1

Awareness 3 (2)
Integrity 2
Resistance 2

Athletics 3
Dodge 5 (2)
Melee 5 (2)
Presence 4 (Fight me!) (1)
Socialize 4 (Smoothing Things Over) (2)

Bureaucracy 2 (Accounting) (1)
Larceny 2
Martial Arts

Medicine 2
Performance 3
Ride 3 (2)

Artifact (4) (Broken Heart — Jade Reaper Daiklave: Acc +3, Dmg +12, Def +1, Ovr 4)
Language: Flametongue (Native)
Language: High Realm
Language: Low Realm
Language: Riverspeak
Resources 3 (2)
Fast Reflexes (3) +1 Join Battle
Quick Draw (Melee) (4) -1 to flurry Ready Weapon/Attack

Wind-Carried Words Technique
Language Learning Ritual
Prececision Observation Method
Cloud-Piercing Focus?

Granite Curtain of Serenity?

Ox-Body Technique

Threshold Warding Stance
Flickering Candle Meditation
Hopping Firecracker Evasion

Blinding Spark Distraction
Stoking Bonfire Style
Flame-Borne Interception
Flame Warden Stance
Blazing Interception

Glowing Coal Radiance
Unbearable Taunt Technique
Warm-Faced Seduction Style?
Hot-Blooded Ardor?

Moth to the Candle

Loquacious Courtier Technique
Wary Yellow Dog Attitude
Friend-to-all-Nations Attitude?
Seizing the Tongue Technique

Finding the Waters’ Depths
Testing the Waters?

Terribly Tragic Backstory

Cynis Tamira, formerly Tahniera, was never supposed to amount to much. The bastard daughter of a Cynis procurer and a Delzhan servant, she was only swept up by the House after her Exaltation — and after a childhood of dueling for money in the back-alleys of Chiaroscuro. Claimed as a daughter of a distant relation and adopted under the table, her Delzhan name kludged into Dynastic form, she went from penury to luxury in a heartbeat, but even after her new family, tutors, and years in the Spiral Academy ground “civilization” into her, she never lost the taste for the thrill of dancing around with only a pair of blades between her and her partner.

That was fine — dueling was not only a way to resolve differences but an art, and if the Cynis know anything, it’s art. Tamira made dueling hers, and she was beautiful to watch, weaving unnecessary flourishes into her swordplay and still regularly outclassing the competition. Even when she lost, like the time she got the long, thin scar down one side of her face, she did it with class and style. Her fame was on the rise, and her name was bandied about in salons across the Blessed Isle, and at one of these she sealed her own ruination.

The boast wasn’t necessary, but it perfectly encapsulated what a slightly tipsy Tamira genuinely believed — that she could best Ragara Mokala not only sober, but five drinks ahead of her. There was a great deal of laughter until Mokala said, “to first blood, then?” And it wasn’t that Tamira meant what happened next, only that between the hard liquor, the keen edge of her blade, and Mokala tripping over a loose tile, instead of leaving a thin cut across Mokala’s cheek, Tamira slashed her across the neck so deeply that she nearly took her head off.

It was all very tragic. There was a lavish and very un-Cynisly solemn funeral, which Tamira, truly regretful, footed the bill for entirely from her personal finances. She shed tears for Mokala, who she had genuinely liked. Everyone was very impressed with her contrition.

Then two cutthroats accosted her sedan on the way home, killed her servants, and almost did the same to her. The next day, her cook collapsed in the kitchen, bringing up blood and bile moments after tasting a sauce for Tamira’s plate — poisoned by an unknown hand. Within a week, half a dozen servants and guards were dead after encounters with hired killers, many of whom only retreated when Tamira herself charged them with blade in hand. There was no question that someone wanted Tamira dead, and badly enough to fund attempt after attempt — sooner or later, one would succeed.

Rather than see one of their best and brightest scions slain for a vendetta’s sake (not to mention to stem the loss of very expensive slaves and servants), the House decided on Tamira’s behalf that she would be taking a sabbatical, somewhere very far away, to seek “business opportunities” for the House in the far Threshold, until such a time that things cooled off. For her part, Tamira was happy to go, as being around her peers only reminded her of just how badly she’d fucked everything up.

What Tamira and House Cynis doesn’t know is that it’s not one person who wants Tamira dead — it’s two. Ragara Mokala’s mother, Matara, has all the resources of the House to call upon and has leveraged a great deal of House Sesus’ debt in order to buy the services of every assassin at their disposal. If she has been deprived of a daughter, she reasons, it is only right to do the same to House Cynis. Mokala’s father, on the other hand, is an Outcaste by the name of Doralin Betal — except that his birth name was not Doralin, but Iselsi, and though his duty is to murder Matara in her sleep when he receives the signal to do so, he could not help but love his only daughter, now dead at a drunken Cynis’ hand. Through secret channels, he has brought Tamira to the attention of House Iselsi, who are only too pleased to act on the greater Vendetta. Tamira is on the run from two Houses of spies and killers who will pursue her even unto the ends of Creation, which is exactly where she’s gone.

Overwrought Description

Tamira is a tall, regal-looking woman with her mother’s dark skin and thick eyebrows, but her father’s cold blue eyes. A thin scar runs from her left temple to her cheek, a souvenir of a duel she lost. She has strong, steady hands and a duelist’s build, lithe and flexible. She keeps her pale grey hair short, coiffed with oils and creams that could buy a village. Her traveling clothes are, to her, interminably drab, but they’re of such fine make they still make her stand out in a crowd.

Typically, Tamira has a rather happy-go-lucky personality, but even after a year she hasn’t quite gotten over Mokala’s death. She vacillates between her usual almost-manic extroversion and quiet, almost depressive introspection. She’s lost her taste for strong drinks as well, and no longer makes a habit of trying every intoxicant she comes across at least once.

Tamira carries a thin, tapered daiklave that has served her as a weapon ever since she was adopted by House Cynis, but she still keeps the old dinged-up blade she dueled with as a child with her. It’s nothing special, and despite immaculate care and a new hilt, it’s still tarnished and dull, but it’s one of the few things Tamira has to remember her childhood by.


Loyalty to House Cynis — Defining
“I’ll never duel drunk again.” — Defining
“I never turn down a worthy challenge.” — Defining
Ragara Mokala (Regret) — Major
“I always make this look good.” — Major
“Mother (the woman who adopted me)” (Filial Loyalty and Admiration) — Major
“Mother (the woman whose face I don’t remember)” (Loss) — Minor
“You can never have enough romance.” — Minor
Debauchery in general — Minor
The Immaculate Faith — Minor
Delzhani (Trust) — Minor
"Never ignore a Heaven-sent message." — Minor
Lukas — "A damn fine tailor." — Minor


Current: 12/20
Arete: 15/18

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