[Medium Sized Model - 25mm Base]
[Presupported with LYS files in 32mm & 75mm Scale]
The High Inquisitor of Grimhelm. Though she grew up in the countryside of Baldur’s Reach, she has long grown accustomed to life in the city, and all stains of magic that come along with it. Lady Cirilia is known for her utter callous approach to all aspects of life, even beyond magic. She shows little empathy when she orders the execution of a father in front of his family, and even less when she is forced to execute a traitor for hesitating in their own empathy. She has earned a reputation as a woman to be feared, even among the most hardened veterans of the Inquisitors.
Born in the quaint border village of Last Reach, Lady Cirilia was orphaned at a young age, her arborist father killed by Nan Thalian druids when she was only five and her mother succumbing to illness the following year. Her sole remaining relatives in the village was her mother’s youngest brother, only twenty at the time and not yet bound to his own land or family and inherited his sister’s plot. Seeing the young girl as a hindrance, and someone he did not have the time nor funds to support, he took her to the woods when she was eight, hoping to leave her there and let the spirits of the forest take her and raise her. This was a rather cliched belief told across all villages of the Reach: that an orphan left in the woods would be taken and raised by forest spirits in a life better than what they would find in their home.
Young Cirilia found no such tale was true. When night descended on the woods, she knew she would die there, and her Uncle would not return to her. She wept into the sleeve of her dress, stifling her wailing before some creature would find her. Indeed, a creature did. The fabled and terrible Blackbark, Melwyn, the dark guardian of the Reach Forest. Yet it took pity on this girl, it saw the fear in her heart, but also, the anger. He lulled her into a quiet sleep, walking her to the forest’s edge near her village. She awoke near the break of dawn, with no memory of how she got there. Next to her was the mutilated corpse of a hunter, a rifle strapped to his corpse. In her ears she heard the whispers “do what you think to be right,” ushering her to pick up the rifle and march to her home, pointing the gun at him and demanding he confess his crimes to the town, lest she pull the trigger and kill him herself.
He did as he was told, and was sentenced to rot in a cell for five years, and receive ten lashings for his crime. Cirilia, meanwhile, was orphaned once more. The village people did what they could to raise and aid her in that time, but she felt herself becoming a burden to all of them as the years drew on, as though she were constantly coddled, smothered and pestered. They looked at her with putrid pity, as though she were an invalid and talked down to her like one as well. By the age of twelve, she had grown tired of it all, and one year before her uncle was set to be released, she left her home village in the dead of night, walking across the kingdom to the city of Nortros. There she was drawn to its military academy as she entered, seeing posters splayed across walls all throughout the city. The military would give her food and bedding, and though she had no love or passion for warfare, she had always felt herself to be a natural leader, owing to her independence.
Though it was challenging, and Cirilia struggled, she graduated as a naval officer, though at her graduation found herself being enticed by a recruiter for the Inquisitors, who assured her that life at sea was not for a fair lady like herself, but she would do better to enjoy the comforts and prestige one is given as an officer within the Inquisitors. So she took up the offer, moving to the Inquisitors and receiving a generous salary just for training, owing to her status as an officer of the navy already. Finally she was done with training, and began her journey into real world scenarios. She was quick to prove herself as an adept leader, ruthless, efficient, cunning. Though she valued the lives of her squad, she was pragmatic above all else, and would often follow the path that benefitted her organisation the most.
This pragmatism and coldness elevated her to the rank of High Inquisitor of Grimhelm, having been assigned the title after the retirement of her predecessor. Now she enjoyed the promised luxuries of her life while taking a seat back into a comfy office, only occasionally forced to face the riff-raff of society. She was given a small manor outside Grimhelm, and proclaimed Lady Cirilia thereafter. Now, however, she has her back against the wall. Grimhelm is about to go up in flame, and she is charged with its defense, and the eradication of whatever rebel cells are operating within it. Now she uses fear to sow dissent and panic amongst the populace, in hopes they might give up whatever enemies they harbour in secret if they think it would save their lives. As such, she has personally made sure to make an example of these enemies and their allies herself, as well as execute any who might hesitate or fail to comply with her orders. The only way order can be restored now is with an iron fist, and Lady Cirilia has no fear to use it, whatever the cost.
