Savanna Shamaness

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Savanna Shamaness
Player: @LilDruid
LDShamaness Spark.jpg
Conduit of the Elements
Class Focus: Hybrid
Power Level: 20
Research & Development: Arcana
Personal Data
Real Name: Unknown
Known Aliases: Shammy
Species: Human
Ethnicity: African
Age: Unknown (Rumors: Over 130, Over 300, Ageless.)
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eye Color: Gleaming Cyan
Hair Color: Ivory
Biographical Data
Nationality: African
Occupation: Tribal Shaman
Place of Birth: Africa
Base of Operations: Where the wind takes her
Marital Status: Single
Known Relatives: Unknown
Known Powers
Mastery of elemental sigil stones, Lightning control, Bestial empathy, One with the wind and earth, Healing waters.
Known Abilities
Archery skill, Knowledge of tribal medicines and poisons, Meditation, Spirit sight.
Leopard Eye Emerald choker, Wooden bow with wind imbued bowstring, Headdress and skirt of mystic feathers, Leopard Headdress and ceramonial trappings, Various herbs, Bag of sacred animal bones.

The Shamaness was created with the thought of one of my Villains I had created in CoH. I had wished her to be a Hero, though due to her required abilities, I sadly had to make her a villain due to limitations for certain Sets. Even with the ability to recreate her with her concept in mind, and even better with the open power system, she was created as more of a traditional caster oriented shaman in CO. Since then, she has unexpectadly become my Main after having more fun playing her than even my previous Beta Main.



The supposedely nameless shaman had not started out her life as a tribal leader. Far from it, actually. Nearly 20 years passed in her small village, ruled by an aging shaman and a small group of sub-chieftans, before her life would be changed.

The young girl tended to her duties daily, much like the rest of the women of her village; Fetching water, cooking, even fishing when it was needed. Her life could not be called anything but ordinary, deprived of even the thrill of the hunt, which was only performed by the men of the tribe. She knew of many things, though, taught to her by the village shaman who, unbeknownst to her, saw something promising in the girl.

Some months after the 19th year of her birth, the village began to worry. There had started to be talk of war amongst the Savanna, and her tribe had unfortunately been drawn in to it, refusing to take the side of either tribe, of which they were in the middle of both. The weekly hunts began to grow more and more dangerous, as she noticed many times, peeking through the window of her small thatched hut, that the parties would return missing a member or two. Of course, the sub-chieftans tried to deny that it was treachery of the other tribes, though the truth spread through rumors.

Months passed, and the girl turned 20. Still, the hostilities of the tribes escalated, untill one night, a scout reported that there was to be all out war by the week's end. Horrified, the tribe, still situated directly between the two warring villages, turned to their leader, only to discover the shaman had been murdered; stabbed in his sleep by what was discovered to be a traitor, one of the sub-chieftans who was bought out by one of the tribes.

Fortuitous Visitor

The village hadn't the slightest clue what to do. Their leadership was set in to chaos, down now to only two after the traitorous third was beheaded by the firepit. Still, the dwindled ranks of the warriors, no more than 30, prepared, arming themselves with shields, spears, and sacred facepaint.

Unknown to the village, a wanderer had been traveling the Savanna, a native of a far off land, and a shaman of his own people. The wolf-headdress' eyes glowed with feint yellow, his own jet-black. His gnarled staff, feathers and beads hanging from the end, carried him through the elephant grass, feeling an odd force pulling him to where the doomed village stood.

The sun began to rise at the week's end. The village was deadly silent. An hour passed and was greeted by the thunderous march of hide-covered feet. In the village, the warriors had confronted an oddly dressed stranger, who the girl, again peeking from her hut, noticed was certainly not from these lands. The warriors knew this, as well, and quickly understood he meant them no harm, despite the hostile circumstances closing in around them.

Feeling the force pulling him closer, he left the warriors to take their stations, and approached the girl's hut. He could tell, much as her earlier mentor, that she had the same gift as him. She could feel the land and the animals, she could feel the wind deeper than any normal creature could, and she could see the forces of the universe at work. She was not sure how, but she could understand him perfectly, though no other of her tribe could, and he her. With the promise of allowing him to teach her the ways of the shaman, he agreed to prevent her village from destruction.

Imbuement of the Storm

Hundreds from each side of the village charged in, their bone-spears and crude swords raised. The clear, sunny morning began to dark suddenly, large clouds rolling in, fast enough to cause the charging armies to even halt and stare. Thunderous cracks glowed in the sky, rain starting to pelt the earth. Without warning large cracks of lightning began striking down in dozens of places, scattering the armies as each side suffered hasty casualities, soldiers charred and thrown to their knees, hearts instantly stopped.

The armies quickly relized the gods were not pleased with their war, or so they thought, at least, and began to retreat. Still, the lightning did not stop, no longer striking down the men, though around the village as a few bloodthirsty warriors tries to continue their assault. The few survivors of the continued attack still tell tales of seeing those that avoided the lightning being taken down by large, gleaming white wolves.

The girl watched the entire time, awe-struck as the stranger stood in the middle of the village, both the headdress' eyes, and his own dark ones glowed with an unnatural light. His hands were risen, his body endowed in an orange glow, sweat pouring down his form.

As the storm subsided, both armies now gone, and the ones that remained either struck down by lightning or beast, the village settled itself and began to count it's casualites. There were none. The village was relieved untill one villager pointed out that the girl was missing, as well as the stranger....


In her ritualistic trappings.

Standing at roughly () feet, the woman is much more muscular than she had been in her homeland, though certainly not to the point of being unusual. Her skin is dark, pulled taut over her muscles, a striking contrast to her ivory-white hair that she wears short, and somewhat ragged.

Upon her face is the image of the mighty leopard, imprinted with various paints of her homeland. Through unknown means, her light blue eyes glow softly, as if she was the beast itself. Two pure golden loops hang from her ears. Running along her arms, lower back, and chest are dark red tribal tattoos, of significance is, and may forever be, a mystery. Hiding the chest tatoo, however, is a long necklace. At the end of it, in a golden setting, is a brightly glowing emerald known as the Leopard Eye Emerald. How she attained it, however, is unknown.

Her attire is that of her native land, save for three peices. A shawl of what appears to be lion's fur hangs around her shoulders, large, woven strands hanging across her shoulders. The same heavy fur is set beneath the sturdy wood protecting her wrists, as well as a heavy loincloth, drapped across her crotch and hips.

Strapped snuggly across her ample breasts rests a bra of animal skin, the same orangish-yellow as the lion's fur, though what it is exactly is unknown. The same skin wraps thickly around her shins, decorative frills at the bottoms, making way for her bare feet, each dark sole resting on more hide that makes up the sandles, held on by one last long strap over her feet.

Gifted to her by her Native American teacher, the woman wears a headdress of sacred feathers, a pristine green. More of the feathers are strapped decoratively around her upper arms. Finally, resting around her waist, is a strap holding on a long skirt of feathers, drapped across her rear.



Many years passed, the exact number unknown to everyone but the woman herself, and her teacher, before she had become an adept in the arts of Shamanism. Even now she is continually learning, training her magics and being taught in new ones. As of her 20th power level, in accordance to the city's ranking of power, anyways, she has learned quite a few abilities.

Summoning her Sun Shield

At her command, with the aid of the Leopard Eye Emerald, she is able to will ancient sigil-stones in to being. Through them she can set loose the fury of the thunderstorm, and the explosive rage of the volcano. Anyone nearing the stones quickly regret the decision as the stones send out bolts of lightning, or explode in flame and magma.

Even without the Emerald, she harnesses the elements through her own will. By invoking the lightning, she can channel it through herself, her body becoming a living storm. When used in conjunction with her sigil-stones, she is a fearsome sight. Lightning is not the only element she commands, though, using the very earth and wind as transportation, soaring through the sky upon clouds or stone.

By the training of her teacher, she has learned to summon a feirce spirit wolf. She rarely uses this ability, as her concentration is required to be in the circle of summoning, and she is left a more vulnerable target.

Lastly, the woman is always at one with her homeland. The spirits of her ancestors and her home beckon her call, allowing her to concentrate their energies in to a beam, or raise a spiritual shield, the very image of the bulwark the raising African sun.

Currently, she is training in the better use of her storm powers, learning how to project a single shot of lightning and summon an awesome thunderstorm around herself. She is learning how to call the animals themselves without requiring a circle, as well as summon the waters of holy springs of her land to heal those that are wounded. It is said that the most learned shaman can even withstand death itself.


Without her shamanistic powers, the woman is a trained marksman, having snuck training sessions with various warriors in her youth. If that was not enough, she's used her powers to imbue her bowstring with the wind itself, making every shot hit it's mark as fast as a typhoon.

She is quite knowledgable in herbalism and various tribal rituals, and can quickly create a cure for more minor ailments.

Fun Facts / Trivia / OOC

Spoiler Warning
The following details are about a player-created storyline, or is information currently unrevealed about a character.
Please do not use this information ICly unless given permission to do so.

  • Refered to as Shammy by her creator.
  • Is a virgin.
  • Real name is Mawa-Lisa.
  • Despises nearly all technology.
  • Her 'spiritual' predecessor was a villain in the City games.
  • Hates her hair being dirty despite being 'one with the earth'.