#sovaliah

Sovaliah for @azriah. A queen.

First ever full color art using Procreate. Wow there is some differences between the programs for sure, but this was some fun experimenting. I’m impressed with the real-media toolkit.

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ strength

★★★★★★★★★☆ offense

★★★★★★★★☆☆ defense

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ speed

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ durability

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ accuracy

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ agility

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ stamina

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ stealth

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ close combat

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ bladed weapons

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ blunt weapons

★★★★★★★☆☆☆ polearms/staves

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ ranged weapons

★★★★★★★★★☆ magic

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ magicka reserves

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ traps/setups

★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ medical

Overview

Sovaliah is predominantly a sorceror, but she comes from a warrior/hunter heritage amongst the Ashlanders. This balance plays into her combat style-- her magic is a cannon that can cause widespread and devastating havoc at great cost, or supplement her physical skill in a tight situation with short and quick spells. She’s pragmatic and typically remains calm under pressure, observing the field/opponent and deciding how best to react situationally. Her resolve is not immune to cracking, however. She’s fearless on a level that could potentially endanger her toward recklessness and in some deeply personal situations she could probably lose herself to bloodlust and ruthlessness.

One thing about her is that she was not born under any of the magicka star-signs. She does not innately have any more talent toward magic than what she has achieved through the brute force of her will. In this respect, I added the magicka reserves category to highlight that -- she has the potential to burn out quickly if she uses too much magic. That’s another reason she relies on a secondary skillset of melee combat. 

I also added in polearms/staves to reflect that. Her staff is an enchanted weapon that functions almost as a battery of extra magicka. She will typically drain the magical charge in her staff in combat before she uses her own magicka reserves. Her MO is basically to do as little as possible to get the job done. If one zap is all it takes to mitigate the threat, then all she’ll do is one zap. But sometimes the situation requires something big, and she certainly does relish in raining hell down on her enemies’ heads. 

Physically, Sovaliah is very fit and has a sinewy/lean-muscle type build. She’s not a very large woman though, being of an average height for a Dunmer. In that respect she is not capable of overpowering someone physically larger and stronger than her. In this way she opts for weapons that benefit from additional reach - she would always choose a spear over a sword or mace, and especially because that’s the weapon she grew up using living in the Ash Wastes. She has some stars into ranged weapons because she does know how to use a bow. She’s an OK marksman, would be capable of hunting to feed herself, but could probably be easily outmatched by an actually combat-trained archer.  

Overall, to describe her, I would say she is pretty good at what she does, but she’s far from a master. There’s a path toward improvement for her both in combat readiness and in terms of growth as a person.

Fighting Style

Bold - Commonplace | Italics - Occasionally

commander /  duelist  / honorable / dishonorable / would have others do their fighting /  stealthy  / long-ranged / melee / technological / sorcery / superhuman abilities /  has fought in an illegal tourney / a lover of fighting / a hater of fighting  / cowardly /  reckless / strategic / uses underhanded tricks / renowned for their skill / trained / untrained  / keeps skills secret / won a battle / lost a battle / ruthless / merciful

Flaws

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky

Strengths

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | loyal

Bold - Commonplace | Italics - Occasionally 

Tagged by: No one, I just liked this and wanted to do it. 

“What has your mind, Sovali-Ahnu? I can hear you brooding from here.” Zaibal-Sul glanced up from sharpening the kris to peer at his sister across the small camp.

The young ashlander cursed and brought her thumb to her mouth, lowering the bone needle in the other hand. “Nothing,” She grumbled and picked the jerkin back up, continuing her work sewing bands of guar-leather with kresh thread.

Sul grunted his disbelief at her, shaking his head minutely as he went back to his own chore.

A puff of a sigh escaped Sovali’s nostrils. “It would be long to detail,” She offered by way of explanation.

He looked at her for a moment and then gestured around the quiet encampment. What had once been a bustling site was now mostly comprised of vacant yurts standing firm against the soft Grazelands breeze. “It is not as if we are pressed for time.”

“I doubt you will derive any sense from it.” She gave her last warning.

“Enough hedging. Be out with it.”

Sovali summoned a deep breath and wiped her brow with a forearm. “Fine.” She yielded, then took a moment to consider how to frame her thoughts. “Have you ever felt that you were witness to a great decline?”

The question caught him off-guard, but he took a moment to consider it. “Sometimes,” He admitted.

“Truly?” She looked up at her brother with a flicker of hope in her eyes.

“If I have your meaning correct, I believe so. What has made you think of this now?”

“It is... difficult to explain. It’s a feeling that comes into my thoughts on an errant wind ... Those times I feel like an outlier, looking in. It is as if I have arrived in the waning years of some gilded age. Just present long enough to get a taste, and be left wanting.”

Sul furrowed his brows as he listened to her talk, wrapping his head around the vague concepts she posed there. After a few moments, he came to a conclusion.“That is why we maintain the tradition of this life, Sovali.” 

“But why? To what end?” She questioned.

“What do you mean ‘to what end’?”

The young mer shrugged. “I do not know,” She sighed. “If all will wither to dust anyway, why bother clinging to the remnants? Why not forge something new?”

He glanced quickly around the camp. “Mind yourself. Do not let the others overhear.”

But Sovali plowed on, yammering away. “I feel as an afterthought to this tribe. I do the work set out for me. I am good at many things. I avoid complaining. Yet I feel every goal I have is destined to ash behind Sunahi-Ahmat’s bright-flaming potential. Why? I might as well be a guar. I am tired of this. I want to know more. I want to see more--”

“Enough.” Sul held up his hand. “You are not an afterthought, Sovali. Not to me, not to our sister. You must not begrudge her the favor that is shown. You are part of this family; you belong with us and that is what matters. Do not let external tribal judgments cloud this truth.” Although his words were caring, his tone rang with the sort of tough admonishment that only older brothers could employ.

Sovali threw her work down and put her head in her hands, grumbling to herself.

Sul rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh, consciously softening his voice. He set the kris and sharpening stone aside, then stood up from the stump-seat and crossed over the tiny camp to her, kneeling to put himself in her frame of vision. “Look. You are fifteen. You are not the first mer to have an existential crisis. Even I had similar feelings at your age.” 

Sovali pushed her hands through her hair and raised her head, dragging her gaze to his. “How did you change from it?” She asked tentatively.

“I made a choice.” He said, “I decided to accept this life for what it is. I am Zainab. I am a son of Veloth. These truths cannot be scoured away. You will have to make this decision yourself when you are grown.”

She rested her chin in hand, staring out toward the eastern horizon. “What if the choice I make is not the same as yours?”

He clapped a hand to her shoulder. “Then we will cross that foyada when we get to it.”

“You would not disown me?”

If there was ever a moment at the focal point of a shatter in world view, it was the very second Sovaliah had set foot upon the palatial canton in Vivec and felt the Divine Presence.

She supposed it was a feeling not unlike dying.

Every moment, every flicker of thought she had ever had toward the perceived heresy of the ALMSIVI flooded her mind’s eye in flashes of remembered condemnations amongst the yurts of her people. A thread came loose in the fabric of her being, pulling first at the seams of what it had meant to be Ashlander and shredding it apart in the consuming warmth of VEHK’s tangible power.

This was no pretender.

Now, here she was, Velothi in this Holy City.

She did not belong.

Sovaliah willed her hands to stop trembling as she held the box of curiosities. 

“You may enter now,” A nearby Retainer of Tel Ryn announced, gesturing at the shimmering azure platform before her. The makings of a massive fungal organism ensconced the platform, winding upward until it disappeared into the darkness of the vaulted ceiling above.

Even to her, indigenous of Vvardenfell, this place - this Telvanni tower - made her skin crawl. It was alien of its own accord, a special blend of the esoteric and profane that was the trademark of the Great House. 

Sildris had tipped her off about these levitation platforms - that access to the Wizard atop the tower required the passing of a test in and of itself.

Sovaliah had not yet learned to perform levitation spells, but she had been resourceful enough to obtain an enchanted scroll from a mystic. It had cost her more than she wanted to think about.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that the eyes of the retainer were upon her, she swallowed her dread and gave a curt nod, stepping up onto the unnatural platform with her cargo in hand. She noticed denizens of the tower giving her fleeting glances in passing, and her fingers fumbled as she reached for the levitation scroll. She wasn’t ready. But then again, she didn’t know if she ever would be.

The words of activation burned through the scroll, devouring it in a cerulean flame.

Next thing Sovaliah knew, she had been delivered to one of the upper echelons of the tower. She felt ill, her stomach tight with the distinct sensation of having fallen from a great height despite having ascended in actuality. Her vision came into focus and she checked the integrity of the crate she held before slowly raising her gaze up to the unfamiliar space around her.

The room was cast in eerie blue light emanating from the receiving platform and organic lamps. Sovaliah noted the red flicker of a hearth and a tower of books before the details of the environment eddied away in the wake of the overwhelming presence of what could only be the Wizard-Lady Vevrana Lleran.

Even if She hadn’t worn the deceptively simple robes of a Wizard Lord, Sovaliah would have known her for the sense of regal authority that she projected. The Wizard-Lady stood behind the desk with her hands behind her back, shoulders thrown back and chin inclined. Her vivid red eyes stood out from the pale glow of the room, fixed with predatory precision on Sovaliah now.

Sovaliah felt small, suddenly anemic under the pressure of The Wizard-Lady’s focus. The effort it took to step off the platform was not unlike trying to wade through a coursing river. But she pushed through the weakness, stubborn determination fueling her advance into a room that every survival instinct within her screamed to escape from. She had come this far; she would not, could not turn back now. 

“What is this?” Vevrana’s voice boomed as her gaze fell upon the curiosities that Sovaliah carried.

Sovaliah wasn’t certain if Telvanni custom dictated any measure of kow-towing, but she decided to play it safe with a deep bow. “I have come with an offering.” She explained, daring a look at the Wizard-Lady’s aging face, only to find the expression there utterly unreadable. 

“You will be seeking something in return for this,” Vevrana observed. It was a statement plainly born of experience.

Sovaliah fidgeted, reflexively tightening her fingers around the handles of the crate. She had to speak, otherwise risk being taken for a s’wit - or worse. One could never know with Telvanni, and she wasn’t certain if an error would mean that her next breaths would be through the melting remains of her face. Her mind was running with possibilities. But before primeval fear could take control, she quickly spoke. “With respect, Mistress Lleran, I seek your sponsorship for my advance to the Hireling rank within House Telvanni.”

The Wizard-Lady tilted her head just the barest fraction to the side.

Fueled by adrenaline, Sovaliah continued on speaking. The words spilled out of her mouth and she braced the crate in an arm as she gestured to its contents.  “I have brought you an assortment of items from the ruins of Esutanamus. I collected for you rubbings of the inscriptions on the ruin walls, a dedication banner, the bones of a ritual sacrifice, and one such relic that a looter paid with his life for. I included my observations of the findings and their value in written form, as well.” 

There was a long, pregnant pause as Sovaliah felt the weight of the Wizard-Lady’s attention upon her offering. Upon hearing no response from the other, she tentatively continued. “I am Velothi, Mistress, and familiar with this site among others to a degree perhaps not traditionally espoused by most Telvanni. It is my wish to serve the House in this knowledge.” 

Vevrana’s gaze flickered back up to assess the young mer. “I have not yet decided if you are very brave or very foolish, indeed ...” 

It was a statement that Sovaliah had heard more than once in her life, but in this circumstance it hit hard. She was frozen in place, unsure of what to say or do in response.

“... To have retrieved these from the ruins beneath the nose of Tel Mora. Risking Dratha’s fury is no small measure and yet by standing here before me now, you have likely passed undetected. I could make use of such unremarkability.” Vevrana continued and changed her posture, steepling her fingers in contemplation. “Why is it that you wish to become Telvanni, young Velothi?”

Sovaliah could have wept for joy at the turn in the Wizard-Lady’s evaluation, but she was smart enough to hear the warning latent in the question now posed to her. It was a question that she barely knew the answer to herself. How could she sum up such an abstract, lifelong concept and hope for any degree of eloquence? It took an achingly long time, but she settled on the answer that she felt best suited the circumstance. Reveal some, but not too much. A balance, as Sildris had once warned her. “Telvanni have true power. I seek that for myself.” 

“And what do you believe power is?” Vevrana pressed.

“Well, there is literal power borne of magicka.” Sovaliah volunteered.

“Hm,” The Wizard-Lady made an indiscernible sound in her throat.

“There is power in knowledge and access to it.”

The Wizard-Lady nodded.

“There is power in owning land.”

“Mm.”

“There is power in financial wealth.”

Vevrana paused for a long moment, studying Sovaliah with a critical eye. “I see,” She murmured.

Sovaliah could feel sweat prickling on her skin under the scrutiny. She tensed, and made herself ask, “Have I become slip-shod in my speaking, Mistress?”

“You have forgotten a crucial component of the assessment.”

Sovaliah frowned as she wracked her mind over her answers, looking for the hole in her presentation.

As if the Wizard-Lady could read the young mer’s mind, she held up a withered hand in silent command for cessation. “These ideas you have described are fleeting.” She clarified at last. “Every one of these attributes can be compromised in some way. If you are to become Telvanni, you will first understand this most important lesson: the root of power lies in perception. House Telvanni occupies its place in our society because it dares to, and thus the whole of Morrowind accepts this truth. As long as the belief holds that our place is undisputed, so it shall be.”

Sovaliah was quiet as she considered the weight of the Wizard-Lady’s words. She had a sense of near prophetic foreboding, that she was on the cusp of an edge from which she would not be able to return. If she was to commit, she would have to do it now. So, she drew in a deep breath, steeled her core, and threw herself off the edge:

“You will sponsor me as your Hireling, then.”

“How can you claim that you have never felt nostalgic for anything? You must think me far more gullible than I am to believe such kwamapile.” Orillion gave Sovaliah a dubious look over the meal between them.

She fidgeted and took a sip of the mazte, wrangling her thoughts over a bite of the stuffed hackle-lo wrap. “It’s not that I haven’t experienced the feeling,” She replied defensively. “I just choose to block it out.”

Orillion furrowed his brows and cocked his head as he studied her. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Sovaliah scowled, sinking into her chair. “This is why I said I wanted to talk about something else.” She huffed, picking at an errant piece of ash yam on her plate. 

“Why would you deprive yourself in that way?” He questioned. “Nostalgia is sweet; it’s one of the few gifts in life.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I’m going to remember this next time you don’t want to get into something.”

“Sovaliah.”

“What?”

“You can trust me.” Orillion reminded her. Far from tender, his was the rebuke of one who had grown all too familiar with her particular blend of paranoia and reservation.

“Ugh, fine.” She groaned. “B’Vehk, how can I explain this?”

Orillion waited.

Sovaliah summoned a deep breath, rubbing her temples as she considered the issue. After a few moments, she started slowly, choosing her words with deliberation. Slowly, slowly, as if each truth was a painful excision. “If I allowed myself to start thinking about the past, I’m not sure I would stop thinking about it.” She paused. “It would inevitably lead to some internal catastrophe the likes of which I have neither the time, patience, nor the interest to address.”

INDEPENDENCE was a concept that slipped further away from Sovaliah for every step she drew nearer to it. 

She stood in the courtyard of the property that had been allocated to her, surveying the front of the house with a critical eye. The structure had been built into the massive shell of a long-dead variety of giant crab. The place was ideal for the ferrofungus that the Telvanni employed. An organic structure provided suitable nutrition for the sadrith that her Great House used to exert their influence over territories.  

Although much, much smaller, the house reminded her vaguely of Ald’ruhn. Built in the shell of Skar the Emperor Crab, it was a place sacred to Ashlanders first and Housemer second. 

Sovaliah wondered if her Mistress had ever spoken of her Ashlander heritage to the House at large, that they stationed her in this particular domicile, or if the turn of events was an ironic gesture of fate. 

Perhaps it was a dramatization born of her poet’s soul, but she could not ignore the symbolic nature of what she looked at. Although the remains of the shell stood strong now on support beams and stonebrick walls, in time the organic matter of it would be consumed wholly by the ferrofungus. If the idea of the shell hearkened to her past, then surely the inevitability of its fungal domination spoke of what her life was shaping into. 

She had once thought that she would find true autonomy at the top of a Tel.  The concept that the powerful define the standards of virtue had once been a siren song to lure her away from the familiar to forge ahead into the great unknown. But she soon realized that it was an ethereal concept, a dream forever constricted by the key component that there would always be someone more powerful. 

Now, she found herself restricted in ways she could not have foreseen. Contained by the stonebrick fences of a courtyard she had not chosen. Cornered into the whims of a Wizard-Lady whose machinations toed sanity on the best of days. Bound into service by the threat of not what could happen to her, but if she dared to have someone to care about. 

Would she live on to harvest more power, shaped into an alien structure by the necessities of her environment? Or would she find her end in another’s step on the ladder of ambition?