Stygian Descent (II)

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[ 89] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (II)
Sat Apr 3 00:52:32 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
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"Nymaya"

The voice was deceptively friendly and it struck a nerve. Icy hatred and a ripple of pure dread washed over her. Confusion followed on its heels, cooling the previous rush of emotion and her eyes opened upon a surreal scene. A ghostly, azure-wrapped image of Verminasia spread out before her beneath an obsidian sky. She stood in a garden of translucent flowers, vibrant for all it lacked the purity of life.

...and across from her, face shrouded in shadows, stood the slight form of a dark elven Priestess.

Nymaya's hands fisted slowly as recognition took hold, the sound of her leather gloves stretching over knuckles gone white with a wash of ancient bitter rage, loud in the unnatural stillness. The figure smiled gently, calm and somber in the face of black vehemence.

"There is nothing to stop me from killing you this time." Nymaya whispered, her tone filled with all the animosity that she had once been incapable of channeling. She reveled in the rage as the distinct ring of her long, slender blade left its sheath followed shortly by the harsh, resonant grind of the darkened sword she carried across her back.

"That won't return your son to you. " She proclaimed and though a dismal aura permeated the Devionite, a slow, devious curve of her lips shone through the shadows.

Nymaya converged then upon the woman and, wrapped in icy, terrible conviction she drove her blades forward - only to have them clang off the solid presence of two opposing daggers.

"You will have to go through him to get to me." The Priestess intoned, as if they had been discussing pleasantries. "Will you kill your own son to sate your misplaced hatred?"

Nymaya stepped back at the goad, a swell of trepidation stilling the need to kill momentarily, and looked upon the face of a grown half elf. Her mind would have refused to believe it - if the unmistakable flames above his left brow had been anything but what they were.

"You...said he was still-born" She breathed in disbelief - needing to disbelieve.

"I lied."

A crystal peal of delighted laughter rang throughout the ghostly realm, stirring the azure mists. The half elven man continued to stand protectively before the Devionite. As solid as a highlander, as graceful as an elf of the Vallenwood.

And the sudden sound of a blade slamming home through flesh, muscle and bone shook the very fabric of the realm moments later. The half elf slumped, eyes wide as he stared at the woman who had birthed him but had never had a chance to know him.

Nymaya stared at the Priestess over the body, blood dripping off the tip of the blade that had impaled her son's heart, and felt an absolute nothing. Emptiness consumed the raw emotion, consumed her.

The dark elf grinned benignly as Nymaya tipped her blade down further to allow the body to slip off and watched without fear as the bloodied sword approached.

"You have earned the reward of your convictions." And her smile was beatific as the darkened blade arced up in an underhanded swing, cutting through the air with an audible sound. "But you will never escape what has been created in you, exile."

The blade struck the elf's neck then and tore through...mist. The world began to dissolve around her almost in the same instant and with the sound of many black wings beating the air, darkness took her.