NAME. Amaratha Othonos AGE & BIRTH DATE. Currently 27, reincarnated on December 1st, 1993 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Kobalos OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Poppy Drayton
BIOGRAPHY
( tw: death, cannibalism, torture, suicide, slavery mention ) Amaratha was the older sibling of two, born in a small village outside of Thebes. But the village was different from the rest of the Greek world, where the taboo was celebrated, and none so revered as Dionysus. The cultists worshiped the god of madness above all others, spreading his religion to anyone who crossed their paths, despite the open scorn and derision they received. Amaratha was no exception to this, a mischievous young girl who was devout in her faith, using her innocent appearance to lure in unexpecting travelers. Those who were not converted were offered as sacrifice to their god, the flesh turned into a feast as the people partook in depravity. The opinions of the small minded mattered little to her, for they had the favor of Dionysus, and lived only to please him and themselves.
And so the god blessed their village, the cult they created in his worship. Though both Amaratha’s parents had passed on by that point, she and her brother received the blessing, becoming kobaloi along with the rest of their people. Grown into a young woman by that point, there was seldom she took more enjoyment out of than her newfound powers, spinning tales of horror and madness inside the minds of those that caught her ire. Men from Thebes who pursued her hand were quick to fall victim to her machinations, and her brother protected her from those inside the village that wished to claim her as well. Amaratha’s spirit was fierce and independent, and detested the thought of being tied down to anyone she felt undeserving — which was all of them. She remained unmarried her entire first lifetime, until the woman found her end in a wolf’s jaws. It was a messy, bloody thing, and in the end as she laid in the dirt struggling for her last breaths, it was done with the satisfaction of knowing the wolf had gone first.
She came back in their village once again, only a few years later. A different family, this time, but her brother was still there as well, and once her memories came back it was as if nothing had ever changed. But nothing can last forever, particularly something built on the bones of madness and depravity. The end for life as they knew it came with the arrival of Philip ll of Macedon. The king had overtaken the city of Thebes, chaffing the freedom the cultists had grown accustomed to. It was through Amaratha’s meddling that the thought was put into the head of his bodyguard, a manipulation that led to Pausanias of Orestis striking back against the wrongs he had endured from his once-lover king. If only she could have known what the fallout of such actions would lead to.
With Philip II dead, Thebes began to rebel against the rule of outside forces, denying Alexander the Great’s authority. The new king responded violently, and the city found itself no match to the strength of his army. Their entire village was razed, and those who had not died in the assault were to be sold into slavery. But Amaratha had no intentions of being taken quietly. She was always clever, and quick, and all it took was just one moment of distraction for her to jump to her feet and rush the closest soldier — but instead of attacking, the kobalos threw herself at him and impaled herself on his spear. Even if she had still been a human woman, without the knowledge of her reincarnation, there was no thought worse than to be at the mercy of the Macedonian soldiers, and so she took fate into her own hands. With such a mortal wound inflicted upon herself, she held no value as a slave anymore, and was left to choke on her own blood as the village that was her home burned to ashes around her.
Her next cycle, she came back as the daughter of a powerful Athenian politician, who used Amaratha as little more than a bargaining chip to strike an alliance against his rival. But she was quick to leave such a life and her husband behind, the moment her memories returned to her. The kobalos went back to what was once her home, hoping to find some trace of where her people had been taken. Instead, all she found was ruins, and the truth of the matter was that she would not meet any of her kin again for nearly a hundred years. Perhaps it was fate, or simply coincidence that she and her brother would eventually end up in the same city, but the overwhelming relief of finding him again forged their bond even strong than it had been before; they remained together for the rest of that incarnation, and began devising methods to seek each other out in the ones that followed.
But Amaratha never had any choice in where she would end up next, frustratingly. Nor the fact that the majority of her memories remained locked away until she reached adulthood. The more that time passed by, the more her reincarnations began to spread further across the world. And all the while, the woman still served Dionysus faithfully, even though he never offered anything in return again, not even a word. She spread chaos and discord wherever she went, creating problems where none existed simply for her own entertainment. From commoners to kings, no one was safe from Amaratha’s influence if she had the means to influence them.
One of her favorite lifetimes happened to be in Russia. Her name had been Tomila Fedotovna at the time, and her typically dark tresses had turned nearly as white as the snow that covered the ground. The year was 1,560, and Ivan IV Vasilyevich had already settled into his reign. Though he had not yet earned the moniker that would follow him through history, Amaratha could see the tsar’s instability simmering beneath the surface, just needing the right push to come out. What a terrible thing it was, when his tsaritsa came down with a sickness in the summer, taken from the world before the turn of the next season. Poison, they whispered, and most importantly, the tsar believed so as well. His second and third wives followed in similar fashion, only stroking the paranoia inside Ivan the Terrible, which Amaratha all too happily provoked. While the tsar looked for enemies all around him, he never suspected the doe-eyed daughter of one of his boyars.
She never did give him a moment’s peace, watching him descent further into madness with each atrocity, even the accidental murder of his own son. And when he finally died, all that was left of the Rurik dynasty was his feeble and ineffectual son Feodor. Though Amaratha had already died and reincarnated by the time of the last Rurik’s death, it was satisfactory enough to know that she had been the cause when her memories returned years later, as well as directly led to the Time of Troubles that wracked the country.
And yet, perhaps one of the most important of her lives took place in the early 1800s England. She was Elizabeth, the daughter of a simple servant, and it was a life far less glamorous than those of times past, but the young girl was oblivious to such knowledge. All she knew was that she loved her father, and that they were going to live in a grand house with a kind man. It was nice, and happy for a time, until one evening she was awoken from her bed and taken away from the estate by the kind man. She was too young to know the details at the time, but her father had died, he had said, and so he was going to take care of her now. She never thought to question the fact that throughout the entirety of her youth, he never changed, or ask for the truth of what happened that night. It was only when she turned eighteen that he sat her down and told her the truth; that he was a vampire, and indirectly led to the death of her father — of that life, as Amaratha was starting to get her memories back of who she used to be.
The two things coupled together were difficult to handle, and so the kobalos packed up what little things she could call her own and left. Off to think, to readjust, to slip into the skin of Amaratha again rather than Elizabeth. But it had been a long time since she had felt such familial affection, having not crossed paths with her brother in her two recent lifetimes, and she found herself missing the company of the vampire she had come to think of like a father. It took a few years of stubbornness, an attempt to return to her old life of detachment, before she gave in and sought him out again. There was comfort to be found in the fact that, despite her continued reincarnations, his immortality meant he could never truly be lost to her, once her memory returned each time. In each of her lifetimes that followed, she would always end up seeking him out again, even if they did not stay together the entire time.
Because, as much as she loved her surrogate father, Amaratha still craved the belonging of her own people. Whenever rumors gained traction of someone with mythical abilities, she was quick to follow, in an attempt to locate her brother or the rest of their kin. It’s what sent her back to Russia, to track down a man known as Rasputin, where she found a witch that had captivated the people of Russia, including the empress. While not a kobaloi like she hoped, she still found great amusement in the mystic man, and the two formed a friendship that lasted until his premature death.
It also led her to the door of a genasi in the 1980s, though that matter ended much worse for Mara. She forgot her own cardinal rule, the thing that kept her species protected — anonymity. For anyone who knew their tricks could no longer be deceived by them, and once she revealed the truth of herself to the person she thought a friend, a different side of them emerged. There had been a string of murders across the country, but she had not put two and two together until she found herself strapped down in his basement. What followed was excruciating, hours spent in torment, drawing out her pain for their enjoyment. It was in her last moments when, with a final bit of strength from her anger, Mara swore that she would come back for them and repay tenfold — the genasi smiled, and bid her good luck, before finally slicing her throat.
Her most recent reincarnation happened in Spain, a child abandoned outside of a police station by parents that either couldn’t or didn’t want to keep her. Though she was quickly taken in by a local family, in the end it was not to be, and the girl ended up going into the foster system, where she would never be adopted out of. The name they gave her had been Daniela Marin, but it never felt quite right rolling off the tongue, even if she couldn’t figure out why. She was quick to return to her original name when the memories returned, and the first thing she did upon her reawakening was pay the genasi a visit, fulfilling the promise she made before her death; without the element of surprise, Mara proved a much greater adversary, capable of reversing any curse they attempted to throw at her, inflicting a much greater suffering than what she had endured.
From that day on, she spent the next decade traveling around Europe, rebuilding her wealth and causing torment to those around her. She had plans to seek out both her brother and adoptive father, eventually, but they were fast-tracked with the sudden loss of her magic one day. Though her brother’s location had yet to be discovered, the vampire was much easier to track down, and it was concern for him that ultimately led Mara to Corinth Bay, unaware that what she’s sought after throughout all her lives also awaits inside.
PERSONALITY
+ fearless, resourceful, playful - impulsive, self-indulgent, devious
PLAYED BY Abby. CST. She/Her.











