Jessica the Pyromancer

Jesssica the Pyromancer
RACE: Human CLASS: Mage
FACE: Heart-shaped with a button nose, full lips, pale skin, and deep brown eyes.
HAIR: Fairly straight, about shoulder length, dark brown.  Some of it falls over her eye, but most of it hangs voluminously just above her shoulders.
BODY:  About 5’8”,  rather thin, but with D-cup breasts.

STATS:
Str 5
Dex 5
Int 8

TRAITS:
Learned:  When required to fight, Jessica has the entire curriculum of the Pyomancer’s Academy behind her.  At the tender age of 18, she was only one year away from graduating when she left (most students finish at 21 or 22).  She approaches with the strategy they teach there, which mostly involves, as the name implies, using fire to defeat your opponents.
Emotionally unpredictable: Ever since puberty, her magic doesn’t always come out exactly as she’d hoped.  She’s trained in fire, and tries to use that almost exclusively, but sometimes, ice, air, wnd, water, mist, or mud come out.  She can’t figure out why.
Bullybuster: When facing someone who teases her or her allies verbally, she gets protective to the point of being vindictive.  Her magic will often especially humiliate those who verbally taunt—how this happens is subject to GM discretion.

SKILLS:
Nymphomaniac:  Maybe it came from living at the all-girl’s school, or maybe her unloving father didn’t inspire a love of men, but when she came of age, she found she couldn’t stop obsessing over the other girls around her.   When she sees a bit of female skin, her brain quickens, and starts coming up with schemes of how to see more female skin or touch it.  (Every time a new part of an opponent or ally’s body is revealed, she gains a +1 to INT for one turn)
Traumatized:
She’s been stripped and beaten so much by her schoolmates, that she’s incredibly afraid of being teased for her choice in undergarments  -1 defense when her panties are on display.

SPECIAL ABILITIES:
“Carrie” Mud Spray:  When unusually embarrassed (let’s say down to bra and panties, or equivalent), she has the ability to spray mud from her hands, that will blind her opponent, and make them slip (stun for the next round).  In fact, if it hasn’t happened yet when she is down to one article of clothing, it is the only attack she will be able to make that turn, having lost control.
Nymphomancer: Can magically inspire extreme lust in those around her.  They must make a saving (defense) throw vs Jessicas INT score -2 (e.g. beat a 6 when Jessica has no current bonuses boosting her INT, with bonuses to defense coming from their INT score), or spend the next round caressing their own genitals in rapturous desire.


BIO:
Sorry for the super-long bio, I started, and it went where it went:
Jessica showed an aptitude for all things arcane from early childhood.    Born to the family of a poor miller, her mother died in childbirth.  Her father was a hard-drinking, gruff man, who never expressed any love for her.  Indeed, it seemed he blamed her for the loss of his wife, and even the downturn in business he suffered when buyers, forced by her death to deal with his gruff, unfriendly personality chose to travel an extra few miles to do business with a different mill.  When her talent became evident, her father tried various schemes to use it for profit.  When her powers set fire to the mill without having brought any specific profit to the miller, he wrote a letter to the prestigious Academy of Pyromancers.  Normally, attendance at the school would have cost a great deal of tuition, but when a faculty member witnessed her magical aptitude at the young age of eight, they created a “scholarship” to allow her to attend.  Considering recent events, the miller was relieved to see her go.
At first, Jessica thrived at school.  There were all the books she could read, eminent magical faculty, and incredible lab and training facilities.  Sure, it was hot there, located next to a volcano, and sure the living quarters were austere, but, since the structure and its furnishings were magically warded against catching fire, she couldn’t complain.
But then, she reached puberty.  She began to “blossom” much earlier and  carrier a more impressive bosom than the other girls.  This led to a great deal of teasing, which was not helped by her love for cute things like bunnies, and the sometimes childish undergarments she continued to wear under her robes.  The other students would strip her to poke at her impressive breasts, and to mock her choice in undergarments.
Her troubles weren’t entirely social, either.  As she advanced through puberty, she found herself confused by her feelings toward the other girls at the school.  She found it difficult, sometimes, to keep her concentration when studying or casting.  This made her work inconsistent and unreliable, according to her teachers.   Often, we she intended to conjure fire in her hands, other elements would materialize instead.   “This, is the prestigious Pyromancer’s Academy,” Headmistress Fumblefire would tell her, “we don’t conjure the baser elements here.  Leave that to lesser mages.”
Whether it was a reflection of her feelings toward her schoolmates or merely an inability to properly control her magic, things came to a head at the commencement ceremony for the class one year ahead of hers.  She had just received a particularly humiliating stripping and spanking at the hands of some of the most popular students at the academy, and se was seething inside.  As faculty, graduates, students, and proud parents assembled in the large room at the base of the pyromancer’s tower to celebrate, Jessica had mixed feelings.  Her palms felt, unusually sweaty.   Thinking little of it, she wiped her forehead.   It was then that the students next to her started to stare, point and laugh.  “You’ve got a little something on your face,” one chortled, causing an outbreak of laughter enough that all eyes were on the area she was sitting in.  A member of the faculty got up from her seat, and started to walk toward them to berate them for interrupting the ceremony. , but, on seeing Jessica, she broke into a grin herself.   Jessica looked down.  She was standing in a puddle of mud, and that wasn’t sweat on her hands.  She was conjuring mud, apparently.
As more nearby students broke into laughter at the girl they liked to ridicule with her own muddy handprints on her face, her lower robes covered in mud, the feeling of nervousness became stronger.  The sense that her palms were pouring forth sweat, also increased, and in moments, mud was shooting from both her hands.  She tried to stop, but she couldn’t, so finally she turned her hands toward her mocking classmates.  The first two or three of them stopped laughing as a steady stream of mud hit them in the face.   But then, the mud started to flow with a force that resembled a firehose, if anyone there had known what a firehose is.  The students around her, the graduates on the stage, the faculty, and the proud parents were deluged with such a force of mud that it was knocking over any who tried to stand up.  Those outside the stream of it were slipping and sliding and falling.  The famous fireproof furnishings of the Pyromancer’s Academy had met their match.  
“Well, you little scoundrel!” shouted the voice of Headmistress Fumblefire, loud enough over all the others that everyone in the hall recognized it.  Jessica didn’t know what to do, so, hands still spewing mud, she made for the exit.   She had almost made it to the doors of the academy when she saw the Heamistress, along with Abigail, the most kiss-ass teacher’s pet in the school, and the one that had bullied her the most, blocking her escape.  With no choice, she aimed her palms  at them, and hoped for the greatest force yet.  Fortunately for her, her extreme emotion seemed to add force to the muck gushing from her palms, and hit Abigail and the headmistress with such force that it knocked them over, tore off their robes and undergarments, and left their nude bodies piled together compromisingly in the corner of the hall.  Jessica ran for the doors and never looked back to see the faculty and parents witnessing  the headmistress and Abigail lying on the floor in a puddle of mud, the student’s head having gotten caught  between the administrator’s legs, her face literally kissing her principal’s protruding posterior.   Before they were able to climb to their feel from this compromising position, many at the graduation got a good look.  Some of the students even commented how poetically appropriate their inappropriate landing had been, and perhaps some of the faculty silently agreed.
Jessica ran and kept running.  She didn’t want to be found.  She could never go back there, and the home she had grown up in had never been a home.  She still wore her school’s ceremonial robes, which somehow managed to stay clean through all of that, in pite of the fact that once away from the school, as she calmed down and the magic died out, her face, arms and hands were filthy.  She carefully chose  her paths in a less than rational manner, so as to avoid being found, and did her best to cover her tracks.  After a few weeks of roaming with the only aim of not being found, only coming into villages to beg for food, or to sleep under the shelter of a barn when it rained, she saw a city in the distance.  
Two days later, she was standing at the gate.  Getting the attention of a worker  who  was leaving the city with an empty crate, she asked, “Where am I?”  The worker looked startled at such a daft question, “Why Enferia, of course!  Where did you think you were?”

(Sorry for using the "poorly controlled magic powers" ruse again, but I think it has great potential.-- really want my characters to have an almost slapstick possibility about them. at least this character knows she has magic and tries to use it--her control problem mainly affects how it manifests. Judging by everyone else's character designs, full-figured girls are not the most in demand around here, so for variety on my part I rolled up a thin girl I could really get into playing.)

Asking around in town, the homeless girl sought a place to drop her gear and make some money. She learned quickly that the streets here weren't friendly. She received more than one proposition of money for sex, but she wasn't interested. Only she would choose who she showed her charms to. While she was sleeping buried under her robes in an alley, an unusually pungent beggar had come up to her and tried to pull her robes off. The burst of flame that shot forth from her hands sent him away screaming. "That was stupid, she thought to herself, word will get around, they will find me."

One day, she noticed a large crowd of people walking hurriedly to the center of town. Following them, she saw the incredible building in front of her. She tried to sneak in, then realized no one was keeping her out. It was then, she witness her first arena battle. Watching with baited breath until the end of the fight, she felt her hand touching something damp. Looking down, she found that she was oblivious to her hand having worked its way inside her robes. "Wow, I guess I like this," she thought, "I wish I had found more underwear my size when I stole those other school robes from the washer woman's shack. If I keep watching these battles, I'm going to need to do some laundry." Looking again at the victor, a mage who had dominated her opponent mercilessly, she thought, "I bet I could do that. It doesn't look that hard. It might pay...or they might even let me stay here. The school would find me...with all this public attention. Then again, I'll belong to something, maybe they won't be able to remove me, and I'll have a place to live. If they find me living on the street, it's back to school, and a good flogging from the headmistress, all the girls laughing at me."

She had made up her mind. If there was money or a place to live to be had, she'd try her hand at the arena. Almost anything was better than going back to that school. Or living on the street.

Rolls: 9,7,9,10,5,6,1,5,8,6

Physical stats:
Strength-6
Constitution-7
Dexterity- 5
Speed- 8

Mental stats:
Wisdom-7
Intelligence-10
Perception-9
Charisma-9