A heart filled with regret and conviction
age: time matters not to the Necrolorian
race: Necromant (the ghost kind)
Idora’s past is, to both herself and I, a thing of the inscrutable past. If but for the illogical memory of a small child once cared for as though for a brother, Idora remembers but one thing: serving her master.
In life, and as a young girl, Idora was sold to master Narcos as though were she but a piece of cattle. For reasons incomprehensible to her, it seemed as though Narcos took a shine to her, treating her differently – better, even, than the rest of the cattle.
So it comes as no surprise that, in time, Idora unwittingly settled into her role of priviledged servant by assisting her master in experiments not meant for the faint of heart. Whatever he needed, she performed; no task, no duty, was too much to bear.
And when her master’s experiments rose up as a furious mob and assaulted his mansion, Idora protected him, to when her skull was smashed between a wall and a warhammer.
When she later woke up, she no longer felt. Yet, a lingering sentiment she could not define kept her waiting until her master, Narcos, rose within his charred, mutilated corpse as a full-fledged Necromancer.
And now, the Age of Silence is at hand. With a vessel born of Life, Death, and Necrolore, the time is almost come for her master’s master to rise among the Living and bring about an age of eternal peace.
However, for having spent time with the vessel and experienced its – his – power firsthand, a change began to take root within Idora’s stolen heart and body. A change undefinable, that may well carry heavy consequences… but for whom?