Seshat Adebun
Wizard, School of Necromancy
Seshat Adebun
Species
Human
Appearance
Seshat is a small, weathered human woman with the compact posture of someone who has spent decades leaning over graves, ledgers, and sickbeds. She waits with most of her weight on the balls of her feet, never quite settling her heels, as if the earth might open beneath her. Her hands are broad-knuckled and permanently darkened around the nails by ink and burial soil. She smells faintly of bitter orange peel, lamp smoke, and wet stone, a scent she does not notice anymore. Her face is deeply lined around the mouth but strangely smooth at the brow, giving her an expression of constant patient attention. An unexpected softness runs through her severe appearance: she keeps one tiny knitted sock tucked into her belt and becomes visibly embarrassed if anyone asks why.
“Soft, deliberate, and precise. She speaks in low phrases with long pauses, as if allowing the dead to finish their thoughts before she continues.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
She balances on the balls of her feet whenever she waits, giving her stillness a poised, almost birdlike readiness.
Her fingers are permanently stained with blue-black ink around the nails and knuckles.
She smells of bitter orange peel, lamp smoke, and wet stone, even after bathing.
A tiny knitted infant's sock is always tucked into her belt, though she becomes flustered if anyone notices.
Her voice is gentle, but she pronounces names with the care of someone placing stones on a grave.
Voice
“A low, papery contralto with a calm river cadence. Even when threatened, she sounds as if she is explaining how to mend a torn sleeve.”
Clothing
A layered charcoal dress under a faded indigo wool coat, both repaired many times with mismatched thread. She wears a leather belt hung with glass vials, chalk, keys, folded papers, and the tiny knitted sock. Her boots are practical, soft-soled, and always dusted with cemetery grit.
Body Language
She stands slightly sideways rather than squarely facing people, keeping one shoulder toward the nearest exit. While listening, she touches the silver thimble hanging at her throat. When forced to lie, she becomes perfectly still except for the slow tapping of one thumb against her cane.
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