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[ 28] Nymaya: Falling (II)
Mon Aug 21 20:00:28 2017
To: All Ashtiel ( Necrucifer Imm Cayenna ) Eclipse
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Necrucifer lets men chose and create their own destiny, without limits.
The temperature dropped steadily as the shadows stretched across the ground - as she stood in reverent silence. Tension breathed through her limbs, adrenaline sped her pulse and she felt the darkness stir inside.
Like a beast prowling the shadows, stirring from an uneasy rest. Its eyes were blood-red with pupils as black as pitch and as it stretched, fangs glimmered pale white in the dark before it disappeared.
She could feel it inside, the awareness, and there was no fear. Her eyes closed as the world darkened, the shadows rushing over her as the red moon flashed bloody and the black moon ate both the white and then, the sun. She spread her arms, tilted her head back and let herself fall.
The hellish air rushed past her and she opened her eyes, her hair a silver aura around her, to behold the end and the beginning.
I submit. She breathed and the blue of her eyes disappeared beneath extinguishing black.
An eruption of acidic agony wracked her lithe frame and though she ground out a cry, she held nothing back from the shadows ripping through her. They took everything offered - no part of her was spared and in the sound of the wind, a singular pleased whisper caught at her frayed awareness:
Come to join us, mother.
The form was insubstantial but through the euphoric pain she reached for it - for him. A soft, sensual chuckle she recognized slithered over her and though she was met with eyes as black as the abyss, it was not her son that grasped her.
...borrowed time..
She felt the ground nearing, it was a visceral sense. She was prepared to accept the inevitable - if Necrucifer wanted her life, He would have it - but even as she perceived the moment...
...she woke.
Her inhale was sharp, her entire body jerking in the parlor chair as if she'd hit the ground and the sound of her book falling brought her senses fully into wakefulness. The Sunset Dawn was not light reading and she gazed down on it, feeling a wave of old, familiar discontent settle even as she - yet again - wondered at the inevitability of her path.
'Where does the road go from here.'
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Saturday, August 19, 2017
The Vengeful Dead
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[ 74] Nymaya: The Vengeful Dead
Sat Jul 8 15:18:08 2017
To: All Ashtiel ( RP Imm Cahlizna )
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She sat and stared down at the broken blade in her grasp.
It shimmered with a mithril gleam, it had been gifted to her by the Shalonost upon finally earning the Kyorl sash. It had been her first Kyorl blade and had meant so much. It still resonated with her Song, though it was soft, discordant. It was fitting but did it need to linger as such?
The blade could be mended, yes, but it would never sing with the full unbroken sound of the bladesong. Would it be worth the effort? A part of her disagreed, a tiny part of her hoped that the answer would be so simple.
She smiled with bitter wryness to consider it, but no, it had taken her years - nigh on two centuries - to earn the mere right to wear the sash. After that, the merciless training had consisted of meditation, elemental focus and finally the Song itself.
What had been broken in her, she wasn't sure could ever be fixed. Though no one had ever tried and she honestly wasn't sure where to begin. There was no road, no previous path to walk. There was no guide, no certainty in anything but the Haunt as it was.
'Despite Da'shal's wishes, as you know, the Song cannot be ripped out of an Elf, Songkeeper.'
Cruel, cruel irony in the sound of the voice that whispered back to her through the ages. It reaffirmed her sense of fate in the path she had long been treading though. She had condemned an elf to die for breaking his oath to the Kyorl but in all things now, she was paying the price his life demanded - by walking a similar, if darker, path.
She deserved her fate, a thousand times over, for taking the life of Lendach.
No. She likely did not deserve to have her Song healed or made whole, much as it might give her peace. So many years had passed now while it weighed on her and no answer had ever been forthcoming. Lendach would apparently have his vengeance one way or another.
She ran her fingers down the broken blade, taking in its discordant hum, and then slipped it back into its sheath. She could appreciate vengeance.
[ 74] Nymaya: The Vengeful Dead
Sat Jul 8 15:18:08 2017
To: All Ashtiel ( RP Imm Cahlizna )
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She sat and stared down at the broken blade in her grasp.
It shimmered with a mithril gleam, it had been gifted to her by the Shalonost upon finally earning the Kyorl sash. It had been her first Kyorl blade and had meant so much. It still resonated with her Song, though it was soft, discordant. It was fitting but did it need to linger as such?
The blade could be mended, yes, but it would never sing with the full unbroken sound of the bladesong. Would it be worth the effort? A part of her disagreed, a tiny part of her hoped that the answer would be so simple.
She smiled with bitter wryness to consider it, but no, it had taken her years - nigh on two centuries - to earn the mere right to wear the sash. After that, the merciless training had consisted of meditation, elemental focus and finally the Song itself.
What had been broken in her, she wasn't sure could ever be fixed. Though no one had ever tried and she honestly wasn't sure where to begin. There was no road, no previous path to walk. There was no guide, no certainty in anything but the Haunt as it was.
'Despite Da'shal's wishes, as you know, the Song cannot be ripped out of an Elf, Songkeeper.'
Cruel, cruel irony in the sound of the voice that whispered back to her through the ages. It reaffirmed her sense of fate in the path she had long been treading though. She had condemned an elf to die for breaking his oath to the Kyorl but in all things now, she was paying the price his life demanded - by walking a similar, if darker, path.
She deserved her fate, a thousand times over, for taking the life of Lendach.
No. She likely did not deserve to have her Song healed or made whole, much as it might give her peace. So many years had passed now while it weighed on her and no answer had ever been forthcoming. Lendach would apparently have his vengeance one way or another.
She ran her fingers down the broken blade, taking in its discordant hum, and then slipped it back into its sheath. She could appreciate vengeance.
Ruminations
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[ 92] Nymaya: Ruminations
Sun Jul 2 04:35:07 2017
To: Verminasia ( Blays Crelius Necrucifer Religion ) Imm Equinox Cayenna RP
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She stood in the doorway of the parlor, arms crossed, shoulder against the door-frame and contemplated the man even then standing in the doorway of the foyer looking back at her.
Audacious, young and wholly dedicated to his assignment.
It was entirely strange, to be on the other end of the scale. To need a personal guard, but there he was - unwilling to let the matter go. It was a testament perhaps to how serious the matter was; Aspects of Sin, Nagash, the threat of the Warp, demons, Advisor and mother to a Queen.
And he, the unlikeliest candidate to be...what she was witnessing him become.
There was a sense of loss there. Of watching youth and carefree enjoyment being ground by the demands of duty, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before. It had been her job to grind the shiny off recruits, new Kyorl and Wali. Create focused, dedicated weapons of men and women.
Looking at him, she saw the skill and the capacity to truly indulge the focus he was even then trying to put his mind to, but she was not yet certain if he truly understood the serious and disciplined path he was seeking to pursue. Did a pirate have it in him to become a knight of Necrucifer?
The rakish grin he aimed her way put the thought aside and unbidden, she found herself smiling wryly back at him.
For good or ill, she had confided in him. He knew the depths of her very personal despair and though she hated the word, it was true. She felt, at times, like she was walking an empty path to a forsaken conclusion. There would likely be so much of nothing at the end for her, or so her misgivings whispered.
She felt her smile wither as she contemplated the bleakness of trying to accept that so much of what she had dedicated her life to in the last century meant so little to the one person who had mattered most. There was nothing for it though. If the ages had taught her anything, it was that change happened and the sands of the hourglass covered everything equally - without concern for the importance that mortals placed on said things.
Her accomplishments and sacrifices were destined to become ash before the drift of time. Would she have felt this sort of desolation if she were among the Vallenwoods? It was a foolish query and one that experience reminded her was unnecessary. Everything ended eventually, even in that forbidden amaranthine realm. She had experienced the very crux of betrayal in that place.
Turning from the doorway, she made her way to the desk and the bourbon there. The scent of it was rich as she unstoppered the decanter and poured a glass. It burned pleasantly as she sipped it and moved off to the window, aware that her guard had moved to prop himself in the doorway.
She could be thankful for the moments between, she allowed. And for the few strands she had set to the tapestry of Algoron that would go on. It took an effort but she drew her mind out of the mire while she watched the pacing of the liveried guards outside.
She still had time left, and the path could yet offer something optimistic.
[ 92] Nymaya: Ruminations
Sun Jul 2 04:35:07 2017
To: Verminasia ( Blays Crelius Necrucifer Religion ) Imm Equinox Cayenna RP
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She stood in the doorway of the parlor, arms crossed, shoulder against the door-frame and contemplated the man even then standing in the doorway of the foyer looking back at her.
Audacious, young and wholly dedicated to his assignment.
It was entirely strange, to be on the other end of the scale. To need a personal guard, but there he was - unwilling to let the matter go. It was a testament perhaps to how serious the matter was; Aspects of Sin, Nagash, the threat of the Warp, demons, Advisor and mother to a Queen.
And he, the unlikeliest candidate to be...what she was witnessing him become.
There was a sense of loss there. Of watching youth and carefree enjoyment being ground by the demands of duty, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before. It had been her job to grind the shiny off recruits, new Kyorl and Wali. Create focused, dedicated weapons of men and women.
Looking at him, she saw the skill and the capacity to truly indulge the focus he was even then trying to put his mind to, but she was not yet certain if he truly understood the serious and disciplined path he was seeking to pursue. Did a pirate have it in him to become a knight of Necrucifer?
The rakish grin he aimed her way put the thought aside and unbidden, she found herself smiling wryly back at him.
For good or ill, she had confided in him. He knew the depths of her very personal despair and though she hated the word, it was true. She felt, at times, like she was walking an empty path to a forsaken conclusion. There would likely be so much of nothing at the end for her, or so her misgivings whispered.
She felt her smile wither as she contemplated the bleakness of trying to accept that so much of what she had dedicated her life to in the last century meant so little to the one person who had mattered most. There was nothing for it though. If the ages had taught her anything, it was that change happened and the sands of the hourglass covered everything equally - without concern for the importance that mortals placed on said things.
Her accomplishments and sacrifices were destined to become ash before the drift of time. Would she have felt this sort of desolation if she were among the Vallenwoods? It was a foolish query and one that experience reminded her was unnecessary. Everything ended eventually, even in that forbidden amaranthine realm. She had experienced the very crux of betrayal in that place.
Turning from the doorway, she made her way to the desk and the bourbon there. The scent of it was rich as she unstoppered the decanter and poured a glass. It burned pleasantly as she sipped it and moved off to the window, aware that her guard had moved to prop himself in the doorway.
She could be thankful for the moments between, she allowed. And for the few strands she had set to the tapestry of Algoron that would go on. It took an effort but she drew her mind out of the mire while she watched the pacing of the liveried guards outside.
She still had time left, and the path could yet offer something optimistic.
Of Blood, Flesh and Scale
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[101] Nymaya: Of Blood, Flesh and Scale
Thu Jun 29 18:57:53 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian Crelius ( Equinox Cayenna Imm Storyline RP )
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The power to be had in flesh and blood was known to her.
She had scars that had gone deep, that had bled her nearly to death for the ritual of blood, sacrifice and oath dating back as far as she could recall.
She brushed her hand over the scar across her throat, her fingers lingering along the left side and tried to consider her options. Most of the people she had known were gone. In many cases, hundreds of years gone. Her own memories, the ones she needed to draw on, were often so long removed from the moments she was trying to recollect that she felt somewhat unreliable.
She lifted her left hand, wrist up and ran her fingers down the scars that Irisi had left in the wake of ripping the flesh for Queen Philyra, for Fatale. No one from that age yet lingered and she had barely retained her life. There was no one left to go to.
Frowning, she allowed a soft exhale of frustration and brushed her fingers down along the cut on her face. From temple to chin, it still burned as if recently placed. It was the only direction she had left to pursue, a constant reminder of what she had achieved and lost. Of what lingered yet.
"Uvall" She whispered and set her chin to her fist.
She could feel that link. In her dreams, in her nightmares, the demon was with her still and might always be. Her free hand touched to her chest, where the stone had sat - the tie that had bound her to him within the confines of her debt. It had shattered when she had completed her end of the bargain, but the weight remained.
Her eyes closed on the remembered sensation and in the darkness there, she fell.
There should have been blankets, a soft mattress, pillows but there was only the rush of air whistling past her ears, cushioning her body. Heavy, hellish heat licked along every inch of her and by her ear, the caress of demonic laughter and a familiar feverish pulse. She knew it as power - his power - and didn't fight it. She had learned that lesson the hard way.
Nymaya..
The voice was demonic, mockingly intimate, possessed of a grin. A touch followed, brushing across her cheek and down, to where the stone had sat against her chest. She felt the oddness of his fingertip, the threatening edge of his nail and the cut along her temple and cheek, down to her chin flared painfully. The touch lifted and slowly, his long fingers slipped around her throat, his thumb tilting her jaw up.
The next time, your soul will not be denied. The words were not spoken, they echoed back to her - a memory.
"It will be if Nagash wrests it first." She dared to breathe.
She swallowed thickly, aware that she was not just playing with fire. She had stepped into it. The beat of her heart sounded and she felt heat and rage rise around her. The pain was alive, as if true flame were searing her nerve endings and on its heels, the chaotic inundation of the Haunt.
A sharp cry heralded wakefulness. Blood had beaded along the cut again and heat rolled from her bare skin but it was the discordant ebb and flow that had all her attention. In the dark, illuminated only by a ray of moonlight, she was forced to wrestle it down alone.
It was silence she had to strive for.
[101] Nymaya: Of Blood, Flesh and Scale
Thu Jun 29 18:57:53 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian Crelius ( Equinox Cayenna Imm Storyline RP )
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The power to be had in flesh and blood was known to her.
She had scars that had gone deep, that had bled her nearly to death for the ritual of blood, sacrifice and oath dating back as far as she could recall.
She brushed her hand over the scar across her throat, her fingers lingering along the left side and tried to consider her options. Most of the people she had known were gone. In many cases, hundreds of years gone. Her own memories, the ones she needed to draw on, were often so long removed from the moments she was trying to recollect that she felt somewhat unreliable.
She lifted her left hand, wrist up and ran her fingers down the scars that Irisi had left in the wake of ripping the flesh for Queen Philyra, for Fatale. No one from that age yet lingered and she had barely retained her life. There was no one left to go to.
Frowning, she allowed a soft exhale of frustration and brushed her fingers down along the cut on her face. From temple to chin, it still burned as if recently placed. It was the only direction she had left to pursue, a constant reminder of what she had achieved and lost. Of what lingered yet.
"Uvall" She whispered and set her chin to her fist.
She could feel that link. In her dreams, in her nightmares, the demon was with her still and might always be. Her free hand touched to her chest, where the stone had sat - the tie that had bound her to him within the confines of her debt. It had shattered when she had completed her end of the bargain, but the weight remained.
Her eyes closed on the remembered sensation and in the darkness there, she fell.
There should have been blankets, a soft mattress, pillows but there was only the rush of air whistling past her ears, cushioning her body. Heavy, hellish heat licked along every inch of her and by her ear, the caress of demonic laughter and a familiar feverish pulse. She knew it as power - his power - and didn't fight it. She had learned that lesson the hard way.
Nymaya..
The voice was demonic, mockingly intimate, possessed of a grin. A touch followed, brushing across her cheek and down, to where the stone had sat against her chest. She felt the oddness of his fingertip, the threatening edge of his nail and the cut along her temple and cheek, down to her chin flared painfully. The touch lifted and slowly, his long fingers slipped around her throat, his thumb tilting her jaw up.
The next time, your soul will not be denied. The words were not spoken, they echoed back to her - a memory.
"It will be if Nagash wrests it first." She dared to breathe.
She swallowed thickly, aware that she was not just playing with fire. She had stepped into it. The beat of her heart sounded and she felt heat and rage rise around her. The pain was alive, as if true flame were searing her nerve endings and on its heels, the chaotic inundation of the Haunt.
A sharp cry heralded wakefulness. Blood had beaded along the cut again and heat rolled from her bare skin but it was the discordant ebb and flow that had all her attention. In the dark, illuminated only by a ray of moonlight, she was forced to wrestle it down alone.
It was silence she had to strive for.
Iagothal: An Old Menace (1/3)
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[146] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (1/3)
Fri Jun 9 00:57:57 2017
To: All Verminasia ( RP Imm )
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The letter she had received had come from a courier of no small import, direct from her Keep in Iagothal. He'd been a distant relation to the Kayen family as evidenced by his very features, which had expressed the urgency of the matter almost better than the hastily written words in the missive.
We have cause to believe another has been sighted.
That was all she had been required to read, she knew what they were alluding to but the rest of the parchment had gone on to detail the strange sightings along the border along with the response of nearby towns and farms.
Had it not attacked? The first experience the Kayen forces had had with a similar creature two years previous had lead to an entire patrol's gruesome death. Why would it linger on the border. The questions mounted as she packed sparse belongings and set out on horseback with a small contingent of Atennim and Kayen guard. Though she'd have preferred to travel alone, the threat hanging over her head was too great a risk. This though, this was something she had dealt with before at least - even if they still did not know what it was or its origin.
Iagothal province was a few days ride and though the letter had been urgent with its concern, she had determined to make the slower trek. She was confident in her ability to track it regardless of where it went and the first beast had prompted warnings that were even then being heeded.
Indulging the illusion of time, she set her sights on the horizon and allowed a modicum of reserved introspection. She had archives to concern herself with on top of Iagothal's problems. The immediate ache of her severed finger in that moment easily maintained her focus.
[146] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (1/3)
Fri Jun 9 00:57:57 2017
To: All Verminasia ( RP Imm )
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The letter she had received had come from a courier of no small import, direct from her Keep in Iagothal. He'd been a distant relation to the Kayen family as evidenced by his very features, which had expressed the urgency of the matter almost better than the hastily written words in the missive.
We have cause to believe another has been sighted.
That was all she had been required to read, she knew what they were alluding to but the rest of the parchment had gone on to detail the strange sightings along the border along with the response of nearby towns and farms.
Had it not attacked? The first experience the Kayen forces had had with a similar creature two years previous had lead to an entire patrol's gruesome death. Why would it linger on the border. The questions mounted as she packed sparse belongings and set out on horseback with a small contingent of Atennim and Kayen guard. Though she'd have preferred to travel alone, the threat hanging over her head was too great a risk. This though, this was something she had dealt with before at least - even if they still did not know what it was or its origin.
Iagothal province was a few days ride and though the letter had been urgent with its concern, she had determined to make the slower trek. She was confident in her ability to track it regardless of where it went and the first beast had prompted warnings that were even then being heeded.
Indulging the illusion of time, she set her sights on the horizon and allowed a modicum of reserved introspection. She had archives to concern herself with on top of Iagothal's problems. The immediate ache of her severed finger in that moment easily maintained her focus.
Iagothal: An Old Menace (2/3)
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[154] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (2/3)
Mon Jun 19 15:02:37 2017
To: Verminasia ( RP Imm Chaos )
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Lightning arced overhead and thunder cracked soon after.
A few younger, skittish horses pawed the ground or tossed their heads but most sat still and unfazed while their riders watched the surroundings, soaked through and through but hooded and stalwart. Many of the men wore crests denoting the House of Kayen, some of Atennim, a few were unmarked - like herself - but all of them were focused.
They all knew they were being hunted. Watched.
It was a feeling that tingled up the back, raising the fine hairs at the base of the neck and made one's shoulders itch between the blades. Not one of them would rest while that feeling lingered.
She heard it then, between the howl of the wind and the rush of the steady cold torrent pouring out of the clouds - the snap of wings. It was on the move, but to merely circle or lead them off on a tantalizing trail yet again?
She ground her teeth, feeling the deprivation of sleep biting at the frayed edges of her patience. She -knew- it was a beast of similar origin, it had to be. The outline, the sound of the wings, the sinister feeling it seemed to relay. Even its choice of prey, which appeared to be primarily humanoid though no remains had been found of those reported missing, seemed on the mark.
It would not approach though. In three days of presenting what should have been an irresistible target, it had either circled them widely or lead them off deeper into the province. This night though, they were back near the border. The storm had shifted twice; from deep humid mists to dark cold rain and with this last trail, into a growing threat of powerful winds and untamed lightning.
Speculation ate at her and she glared into the storm even as her head turned slowly, tracing the sound of it - beyond the border? If so, it was leaving the province, which was just as well but to be sure they'd have to wait until the storm passed.
More questions arose, adding to those already brought forward previously, but most heavily on her mind was the query that may have mattered most: Is it of Chaos?
Her inability to soothe the concerns, especially of those who resided on Iagothal lands, bothered her to no end but with the trail lost in the storm now all she could do was rally the hunting party and head to safety.
[154] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (2/3)
Mon Jun 19 15:02:37 2017
To: Verminasia ( RP Imm Chaos )
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Lightning arced overhead and thunder cracked soon after.
A few younger, skittish horses pawed the ground or tossed their heads but most sat still and unfazed while their riders watched the surroundings, soaked through and through but hooded and stalwart. Many of the men wore crests denoting the House of Kayen, some of Atennim, a few were unmarked - like herself - but all of them were focused.
They all knew they were being hunted. Watched.
It was a feeling that tingled up the back, raising the fine hairs at the base of the neck and made one's shoulders itch between the blades. Not one of them would rest while that feeling lingered.
She heard it then, between the howl of the wind and the rush of the steady cold torrent pouring out of the clouds - the snap of wings. It was on the move, but to merely circle or lead them off on a tantalizing trail yet again?
She ground her teeth, feeling the deprivation of sleep biting at the frayed edges of her patience. She -knew- it was a beast of similar origin, it had to be. The outline, the sound of the wings, the sinister feeling it seemed to relay. Even its choice of prey, which appeared to be primarily humanoid though no remains had been found of those reported missing, seemed on the mark.
It would not approach though. In three days of presenting what should have been an irresistible target, it had either circled them widely or lead them off deeper into the province. This night though, they were back near the border. The storm had shifted twice; from deep humid mists to dark cold rain and with this last trail, into a growing threat of powerful winds and untamed lightning.
Speculation ate at her and she glared into the storm even as her head turned slowly, tracing the sound of it - beyond the border? If so, it was leaving the province, which was just as well but to be sure they'd have to wait until the storm passed.
More questions arose, adding to those already brought forward previously, but most heavily on her mind was the query that may have mattered most: Is it of Chaos?
Her inability to soothe the concerns, especially of those who resided on Iagothal lands, bothered her to no end but with the trail lost in the storm now all she could do was rally the hunting party and head to safety.
Iagothal: An Old Menace (3/3)
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[158] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (3/3)
Wed Jun 21 04:10:28 2017
To: Verminasia ( RP Imm Equinox Storyline | Chaos )
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Sweat beaded and fell down her lean form as she slid slowly through her sword forms, forcing patience when she felt she had none. Her mind was cluttered, still in a fog from her fevered state and it was only with a will that she managed to find her center and hold it.
It was a calm place. White, empty and through it whispered the Haunt. It was not as she knew it, the sound, but it was there and like a cool breeze, it lifted through her.
She heard it again, felt it again and distantly knew it was resonating in her blade. Each movement was calm, precise now, without force. It was with latent recognition but she knew it wouldn't last. She held it now though and let it draw her ever deeper.
From one elven sword form to the next; each emulating a movement, a gesture, an attack, a defense of the bladesinger in a motion both elegant and slow, graceful and lithe.
She had been at this...for centuries.
The blade clattered to the ground suddenly, the sound not at all right and like the shattering of a crystal, everything about the moment fell apart.
She was looking out from within, but her control was gone. There was only the Song and it rose to deafening, chaotic decibels. It was only, again, with latent awareness that she realized she was in physical pain. There was a fever in her body, a powerful throb and ache in her severed finger and even as her gaze turned on it she watched the flesh begin to blacken. The corruption began to move then, almost immediately, veining up through her hand to her wrist.
Her gasp echoed only pain, there was no surprise and whatever spell held her in thrall broke as she grabbed at her wrist, trying in vain to stop the spread.
...the blackened veining was in her forearm, working up to her elbow when she jerked awake in bed.
Two pained breaths later and she threw back the blankets, aware that she could still feel the remnants of fever in her body, that she had been dreaming. She'd have been gone from Iagothal long before had it not been for that. Frustrated and aching everywhere, especially in her severed limb, she dressed and began packing for the return trip.
With the beast confirmed gone and the archives having failed to offer any further information on Nagash, she had no reason to linger.
[158] Nymaya: Iagothal: An Old Menace (3/3)
Wed Jun 21 04:10:28 2017
To: Verminasia ( RP Imm Equinox Storyline | Chaos )
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Sweat beaded and fell down her lean form as she slid slowly through her sword forms, forcing patience when she felt she had none. Her mind was cluttered, still in a fog from her fevered state and it was only with a will that she managed to find her center and hold it.
It was a calm place. White, empty and through it whispered the Haunt. It was not as she knew it, the sound, but it was there and like a cool breeze, it lifted through her.
She heard it again, felt it again and distantly knew it was resonating in her blade. Each movement was calm, precise now, without force. It was with latent recognition but she knew it wouldn't last. She held it now though and let it draw her ever deeper.
From one elven sword form to the next; each emulating a movement, a gesture, an attack, a defense of the bladesinger in a motion both elegant and slow, graceful and lithe.
She had been at this...for centuries.
The blade clattered to the ground suddenly, the sound not at all right and like the shattering of a crystal, everything about the moment fell apart.
She was looking out from within, but her control was gone. There was only the Song and it rose to deafening, chaotic decibels. It was only, again, with latent awareness that she realized she was in physical pain. There was a fever in her body, a powerful throb and ache in her severed finger and even as her gaze turned on it she watched the flesh begin to blacken. The corruption began to move then, almost immediately, veining up through her hand to her wrist.
Her gasp echoed only pain, there was no surprise and whatever spell held her in thrall broke as she grabbed at her wrist, trying in vain to stop the spread.
...the blackened veining was in her forearm, working up to her elbow when she jerked awake in bed.
Two pained breaths later and she threw back the blankets, aware that she could still feel the remnants of fever in her body, that she had been dreaming. She'd have been gone from Iagothal long before had it not been for that. Frustrated and aching everywhere, especially in her severed limb, she dressed and began packing for the return trip.
With the beast confirmed gone and the archives having failed to offer any further information on Nagash, she had no reason to linger.
Remnant of the Kyorl (I)
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[157] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (I)
Tue May 23 15:06:40 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm RP )
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The dusk was radiant as the sun gasped its last, beginning to withdraw its rays rapidly in a myriad of colors, but she was not watching it from the lit practice circle. Her awareness was focused, set entirely on her opponent as she adjusted her paired grip on a quarterstaff and met long sword and dagger without reservation.
The man - human by blood - was dressed entirely in unmarked armor and she had singled him out. A line of similarly garbed guards, varying only by race, gender and weapon's choice, stood nearby watching. Each of them were royal protectors who had grown in the noble provinces, most of them were human and she had been assured that though they had shown themselves very capable fighters - there was room for improvement.
The crack of her staff meeting the man's knee and face in quick succession as he aimed a slash low caused winces around the room but true to the discipline he'd boasted, it didn't pause him for long. In the space of time it took him to thrust at her in repetition again though, she struck him three more times in succession and watched as his numbed forearm caused the dagger to drop.
She was silently pleased at her own progress. Several times she felt herself nearly fumble her grip, missing the balance of her pinky, but the daily practice was even then paying off and she made the man pay for his bluster when he stood up by catching him with another rapid succession of strikes to his head, arm and once on the inner thigh that slapped loudly and dropped him to a knee.
She held herself still and composed before the guards that were now very silent, her opponent still shaking off the blows as she set the end of her weapon to the ground.
"I have been in the business of keeping royalty alive for nearly four-hundred years. My track record is perfect." She began, her voice hard but clear in the low lit confines of the open-aired circle. "It has
been nearly my sole occupation and it will be yours now."
She gazed over them slowly then and thought back on the words of her mentor: Very pretty, but the steel has not been tempered properly. It has gone through the fire, but has come out again not knowing its true self.
Her opponent stood and she gestured him back to the line with a nod. Da'shal had been indicating her in his comment and he hadn't been wrong then. Did she know her true self now?
"Each of you will test yourself against me until I am satisfied in your skill." She proclaimed. "And I will teach you what it meant to be a Kyorl and a Songkeeper in Shalonesti."
A half elf stepped forward then wielding a single long sword and the look in his eyes suggested that he knew something of what she spoke. Anticipating a challenge now, she let her staff drop and reached back to draw her sword, missing the bladesong all over again.
[157] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (I)
Tue May 23 15:06:40 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The dusk was radiant as the sun gasped its last, beginning to withdraw its rays rapidly in a myriad of colors, but she was not watching it from the lit practice circle. Her awareness was focused, set entirely on her opponent as she adjusted her paired grip on a quarterstaff and met long sword and dagger without reservation.
The man - human by blood - was dressed entirely in unmarked armor and she had singled him out. A line of similarly garbed guards, varying only by race, gender and weapon's choice, stood nearby watching. Each of them were royal protectors who had grown in the noble provinces, most of them were human and she had been assured that though they had shown themselves very capable fighters - there was room for improvement.
The crack of her staff meeting the man's knee and face in quick succession as he aimed a slash low caused winces around the room but true to the discipline he'd boasted, it didn't pause him for long. In the space of time it took him to thrust at her in repetition again though, she struck him three more times in succession and watched as his numbed forearm caused the dagger to drop.
She was silently pleased at her own progress. Several times she felt herself nearly fumble her grip, missing the balance of her pinky, but the daily practice was even then paying off and she made the man pay for his bluster when he stood up by catching him with another rapid succession of strikes to his head, arm and once on the inner thigh that slapped loudly and dropped him to a knee.
She held herself still and composed before the guards that were now very silent, her opponent still shaking off the blows as she set the end of her weapon to the ground.
"I have been in the business of keeping royalty alive for nearly four-hundred years. My track record is perfect." She began, her voice hard but clear in the low lit confines of the open-aired circle. "It has
been nearly my sole occupation and it will be yours now."
She gazed over them slowly then and thought back on the words of her mentor: Very pretty, but the steel has not been tempered properly. It has gone through the fire, but has come out again not knowing its true self.
Her opponent stood and she gestured him back to the line with a nod. Da'shal had been indicating her in his comment and he hadn't been wrong then. Did she know her true self now?
"Each of you will test yourself against me until I am satisfied in your skill." She proclaimed. "And I will teach you what it meant to be a Kyorl and a Songkeeper in Shalonesti."
A half elf stepped forward then wielding a single long sword and the look in his eyes suggested that he knew something of what she spoke. Anticipating a challenge now, she let her staff drop and reached back to draw her sword, missing the bladesong all over again.
Remnant of the Kyorl (II)
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[165] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (II)
Thu Jun 1 13:37:14 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ring of swords was fast; a dangerous musical staccato that grated and threaded tension through the very air the longer it went on. His intent was to drive her back, but for every step he managed, she inevitably maneuvered him elsewhere.
When they disengaged it was because she landed a resounding slap of her sword's flat to his wielding arm and pivoting thigh. He would be bruised tomorrow and starkly aware of every attempt made to spar or fight, let alone regular activity. Her braid hadn't even begun to fray.
He puffed his frustration quietly, frowned and waded back in to a taunting gesture. She was in a sword form he did not recognize. Their blades slapped together once and then she was behind him, the edge of her weapon to the back of his neck and he dropped to a knee, his bruised leg buckling.
"You are skilled." She remarked to him quietly. "You are familiar with Shalonesti?"
The blade left his neck, the faint sharpness of a thin cut lingering in its wake. He remained where he was but nodded as she walked around him, her sword held at ease.
"Spent years there in my youth, Advisor." He expressed curtly. "Mother was wilder, felt I could learn something from the Vallenwood."
"And did you." The question was asked with an edge that made him hesitate and he tipped his gaze sidelong to look at the elf. His arm felt like dead weight at his side and he forced himself to stand before answering: "I learned enough, my lady."
The flickering torch light gleamed off his sword as he brought it to bear without warning. The clang of her blade meeting his didn't stifle his momentum as he fought the Advisor back. Strength won out as their feet moved through vigorous steps and with a well timed trip, she hit the ground. His success was short lived as he tried to capitalize on the moment only to have his strike deflected and then she disarmed him, the sword humming through the air with an odd harmony that dispersed just as quickly.
He stood stone still then and for several heart-pounding moments, thought the Advisor was going to kill him. The hard, deadened look in her blue eyes as she held the tip of her blade to his throat was unmistakable with intent. It passed though and, offering a brief salute with her weapon, she dismissed him and singled out the next spar.
[165] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (II)
Thu Jun 1 13:37:14 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ring of swords was fast; a dangerous musical staccato that grated and threaded tension through the very air the longer it went on. His intent was to drive her back, but for every step he managed, she inevitably maneuvered him elsewhere.
When they disengaged it was because she landed a resounding slap of her sword's flat to his wielding arm and pivoting thigh. He would be bruised tomorrow and starkly aware of every attempt made to spar or fight, let alone regular activity. Her braid hadn't even begun to fray.
He puffed his frustration quietly, frowned and waded back in to a taunting gesture. She was in a sword form he did not recognize. Their blades slapped together once and then she was behind him, the edge of her weapon to the back of his neck and he dropped to a knee, his bruised leg buckling.
"You are skilled." She remarked to him quietly. "You are familiar with Shalonesti?"
The blade left his neck, the faint sharpness of a thin cut lingering in its wake. He remained where he was but nodded as she walked around him, her sword held at ease.
"Spent years there in my youth, Advisor." He expressed curtly. "Mother was wilder, felt I could learn something from the Vallenwood."
"And did you." The question was asked with an edge that made him hesitate and he tipped his gaze sidelong to look at the elf. His arm felt like dead weight at his side and he forced himself to stand before answering: "I learned enough, my lady."
The flickering torch light gleamed off his sword as he brought it to bear without warning. The clang of her blade meeting his didn't stifle his momentum as he fought the Advisor back. Strength won out as their feet moved through vigorous steps and with a well timed trip, she hit the ground. His success was short lived as he tried to capitalize on the moment only to have his strike deflected and then she disarmed him, the sword humming through the air with an odd harmony that dispersed just as quickly.
He stood stone still then and for several heart-pounding moments, thought the Advisor was going to kill him. The hard, deadened look in her blue eyes as she held the tip of her blade to his throat was unmistakable with intent. It passed though and, offering a brief salute with her weapon, she dismissed him and singled out the next spar.
Remnant of the Kyorl (III)
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[153] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (III)
Tue Jun 6 03:56:45 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm Necrucifer RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She had bruises on her bruises.
The men and women of the royal guard were well trained but, unlike the troops of New Thalos, many of them had met her in the ring with a cockiness she had been pleased to knock a shade off of. Control though...
She lowered her silver hair beneath the fall of the water and sucked in a sharp, pained breath when it washed over the long bruises on her sides. It had been years since she had trained others so vigorously, or in certain aspects of Kyorl drills. Her anger was why she had the bruises, the pain was entirely her fault and she embraced it before she left the shower.
The manor was quiet, the servants scarce as she made her way through the empty upper floor and - towel drying her hair along the way - slipped into a private study. The room was masculine, with dark leather furniture, dark wood shelving and bookcases - but it smelled of old parchment and tomes, a hint of bourbon and vallenwood. She made her way to the desk and, setting the damp towel down on a vacant end table, spread a series of parchment out before her.
The Kyorl are a breed apart, ruthless and dedicated to their duties.
She stopped on the old manual. She had had to have it copied and encased in magic to maintain it through the years, but it had become relevant again. Setting it down, she passed her fingertips gently over its surface and drew her robe closer, her features falling a little as she re-read the passages.
A member of the Kyorl is aware that he or she shall become an immediate target to all members of the Kyorl if he or she chooses to leave the City without the above mentioned permission.
Did they know that she had not chosen her fate? If she had been given common courtesy, Da'shal's blade would have impaled her heart over a century ago and she would have knelt for it willingly - regardless of her innocence. Not even a trial though.
That particular anger was as an old friend. It rose, shifted beneath the still surface and settled again. She was not there in that moment to rehash the past with herself though and pressing on, she moved around the desk with her parchments. Ink and quill followed and the definition of the Kyorl, as she had brought it with her, began to shift appropriately.
Her daughter, son-in-law and Necrucifer's kingdom at least would have the best of her; The last of what she was, of what she had been and perhaps had to offer. If they were lucky, what she would pass on here and to the royal guards might linger and be further honored by grandchildren.
It was not going to be luck that would keep them safe or alive though, and so she wrote.
[153] Nymaya: Remnant of the Kyorl (III)
Tue Jun 6 03:56:45 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian ( Imm Necrucifer RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She had bruises on her bruises.
The men and women of the royal guard were well trained but, unlike the troops of New Thalos, many of them had met her in the ring with a cockiness she had been pleased to knock a shade off of. Control though...
She lowered her silver hair beneath the fall of the water and sucked in a sharp, pained breath when it washed over the long bruises on her sides. It had been years since she had trained others so vigorously, or in certain aspects of Kyorl drills. Her anger was why she had the bruises, the pain was entirely her fault and she embraced it before she left the shower.
The manor was quiet, the servants scarce as she made her way through the empty upper floor and - towel drying her hair along the way - slipped into a private study. The room was masculine, with dark leather furniture, dark wood shelving and bookcases - but it smelled of old parchment and tomes, a hint of bourbon and vallenwood. She made her way to the desk and, setting the damp towel down on a vacant end table, spread a series of parchment out before her.
The Kyorl are a breed apart, ruthless and dedicated to their duties.
She stopped on the old manual. She had had to have it copied and encased in magic to maintain it through the years, but it had become relevant again. Setting it down, she passed her fingertips gently over its surface and drew her robe closer, her features falling a little as she re-read the passages.
A member of the Kyorl is aware that he or she shall become an immediate target to all members of the Kyorl if he or she chooses to leave the City without the above mentioned permission.
Did they know that she had not chosen her fate? If she had been given common courtesy, Da'shal's blade would have impaled her heart over a century ago and she would have knelt for it willingly - regardless of her innocence. Not even a trial though.
That particular anger was as an old friend. It rose, shifted beneath the still surface and settled again. She was not there in that moment to rehash the past with herself though and pressing on, she moved around the desk with her parchments. Ink and quill followed and the definition of the Kyorl, as she had brought it with her, began to shift appropriately.
Her daughter, son-in-law and Necrucifer's kingdom at least would have the best of her; The last of what she was, of what she had been and perhaps had to offer. If they were lucky, what she would pass on here and to the royal guards might linger and be further honored by grandchildren.
It was not going to be luck that would keep them safe or alive though, and so she wrote.
Friday, August 18, 2017
Morning Musings
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[165] Nymaya: Morning Musings
Tue May 16 14:27:25 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian Crelius Equinox Storyline
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The child ran through her dreams, a pale shimmer in the encompassing darkness; Her need poignant, her giggle promising, her smile infectious, her sorrow and rage deep.
It struck every cord in Nymaya's body and the desire to feel the child in her arms, the little fingers twirling her hair or touching her face, was powerful. She was alarmed at how much she needed the child, at how complete it had made her feel to help the girl and that, in and of itself, brought her suspicions fully forward.
You always find me!
The whisper echoed as if it had instead been shouted into a canyon and she woke to the heavy murk of a gray day and an ache in her head that would not let up.
She conceded that she missed the child as she went through her morning ablutions, finding some relief in the heat of the water. The trust, the innocence, the concern.
How come you look so sad?
She lowered her head beneath the water and closed her eyes, aware of the sting along her cheek as the water passed over it, and tried to consider how best to approach her pain, her frustration.
I'll come visit again. I can't wait to see you smile. I know you will again.
'You can't go back. You might as well go forward.' She uttered to the memory playing out, her words lost in the rush of the water and the steam that arose around her bowed shoulders. She had even less to smile about now, which made her wonder what the child must have been alluding to during their first encounter.
It had been wise, she decided, that she'd been kept away from the third visitation and she brushed her hands back over her hair. If there was something more sinister lurking behind it all, she knew it was only a matter of time until it revealed itself. That ominous musing brought her attention around to the stub of her pinky and she stared at it for several long moments before finally setting the matter aside. If nothing else, she had been made aware of the potential and could better predict what she may need to be prepared for. The best she could do right now was find a moment's peace in routine.
[165] Nymaya: Morning Musings
Tue May 16 14:27:25 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian Crelius Equinox Storyline
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The child ran through her dreams, a pale shimmer in the encompassing darkness; Her need poignant, her giggle promising, her smile infectious, her sorrow and rage deep.
It struck every cord in Nymaya's body and the desire to feel the child in her arms, the little fingers twirling her hair or touching her face, was powerful. She was alarmed at how much she needed the child, at how complete it had made her feel to help the girl and that, in and of itself, brought her suspicions fully forward.
You always find me!
The whisper echoed as if it had instead been shouted into a canyon and she woke to the heavy murk of a gray day and an ache in her head that would not let up.
She conceded that she missed the child as she went through her morning ablutions, finding some relief in the heat of the water. The trust, the innocence, the concern.
How come you look so sad?
She lowered her head beneath the water and closed her eyes, aware of the sting along her cheek as the water passed over it, and tried to consider how best to approach her pain, her frustration.
I'll come visit again. I can't wait to see you smile. I know you will again.
'You can't go back. You might as well go forward.' She uttered to the memory playing out, her words lost in the rush of the water and the steam that arose around her bowed shoulders. She had even less to smile about now, which made her wonder what the child must have been alluding to during their first encounter.
It had been wise, she decided, that she'd been kept away from the third visitation and she brushed her hands back over her hair. If there was something more sinister lurking behind it all, she knew it was only a matter of time until it revealed itself. That ominous musing brought her attention around to the stub of her pinky and she stared at it for several long moments before finally setting the matter aside. If nothing else, she had been made aware of the potential and could better predict what she may need to be prepared for. The best she could do right now was find a moment's peace in routine.
Falling (I)
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[161] Nymaya: Falling
Mon May 15 21:59:57 2017
To: All Verminasia Crelius ( Imm RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She sat in the darkness of her empty bedroom, her head held in her hands, and listened to the haunting strains of the music box. It resonated like a tremor inside her, shaking her down to the very core before joining the Haunt, to become something else.
For as shaken and severed as she was in that moment though, there was also a sense of ease.
She had been given a not-so-subtle reminder of the thread she had set on the tapestry of Algoron - or below it, more accurately - and had no desire to lessen that sacrifice with undue regret or fear.
She couldn't quite slow her heartbeat though so she did what she had not done in years for the second time in as many days. She sat up, centered herself on the edge of the bed and let her control loose. Revisiting the Haunt, or the breath of what lingered within her, was not easy. It had been thoroughly blackened and left what could only be described as an oily sensation behind as she focused on its singular harmony. She never came back from it the same.
The screams were there, beneath it, a whisper at the edge. The family she had set ablaze to kill an assassin that had taken a Kyorl life. The gray eyes, from which she had stolen life. The green eyes that had shaped her. The brown eyes that had loved and left her. The fiends numbering beyond count in Necrucifer's realm.
She fell again below the still surface and into pandemonium.
Nymaya..
The sound of her name slipped through her, threading a path to the soul, and gripped tight - unrelenting and possessive. It would not relinquish her to the oblivion of the current she sought and she was drawn back, out of the depths.
She regained her senses with an enraged cry of frustration that rang through the room and would have stood but for the breath that whispered past her ear and the soft, throaty chuckle of amusement that followed.
The darkness shifted, flexing in the room and cold tendrils drifted over her flesh before the emptiness returned. Alone again, she lifted her fingers to brush over the cut stretching along the side of her face, and let the solitude sink in as she dropped her head back into her hands.
[161] Nymaya: Falling
Mon May 15 21:59:57 2017
To: All Verminasia Crelius ( Imm RP )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She sat in the darkness of her empty bedroom, her head held in her hands, and listened to the haunting strains of the music box. It resonated like a tremor inside her, shaking her down to the very core before joining the Haunt, to become something else.
For as shaken and severed as she was in that moment though, there was also a sense of ease.
She had been given a not-so-subtle reminder of the thread she had set on the tapestry of Algoron - or below it, more accurately - and had no desire to lessen that sacrifice with undue regret or fear.
She couldn't quite slow her heartbeat though so she did what she had not done in years for the second time in as many days. She sat up, centered herself on the edge of the bed and let her control loose. Revisiting the Haunt, or the breath of what lingered within her, was not easy. It had been thoroughly blackened and left what could only be described as an oily sensation behind as she focused on its singular harmony. She never came back from it the same.
The screams were there, beneath it, a whisper at the edge. The family she had set ablaze to kill an assassin that had taken a Kyorl life. The gray eyes, from which she had stolen life. The green eyes that had shaped her. The brown eyes that had loved and left her. The fiends numbering beyond count in Necrucifer's realm.
She fell again below the still surface and into pandemonium.
Nymaya..
The sound of her name slipped through her, threading a path to the soul, and gripped tight - unrelenting and possessive. It would not relinquish her to the oblivion of the current she sought and she was drawn back, out of the depths.
She regained her senses with an enraged cry of frustration that rang through the room and would have stood but for the breath that whispered past her ear and the soft, throaty chuckle of amusement that followed.
The darkness shifted, flexing in the room and cold tendrils drifted over her flesh before the emptiness returned. Alone again, she lifted her fingers to brush over the cut stretching along the side of her face, and let the solitude sink in as she dropped her head back into her hands.
Discreet Inquiries
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[157] Nymaya: Discreet Inquiries
Sat May 6 13:45:22 2017
To: All Uruvion Kyrlynn Tashio Imm ( RP ) Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What do you seek, my lady?" The voice of the librarian was strange, inflected.
His robe was a plain earthen brown and hid much of whoever he was but his aura left her with a rather distinct sense of age.
"Folklore." She stated and felt a rise of trepidation. She did not need to poke at this particular beast but, her curiosity was piqued. "Tales of the dread-wolf. As well, any lore you may have on Sha'katas."
The man made a curious sound and lifted his head a little, presumably to look at her better.
"Those are unusual titles in this part of the world. I will need some time." His remark was threaded with appreciation for the challenge she had unwittingly presented him and she tipped her head to his polite bow.
The library was archaic, possessed of impressively tall book cases, a second floor balcony with alcoves for privacy and high shadowy arches. Heavy iron chandeliers cast light over long tables but there was no natural flame whatsoever, even from the standing candelabra. She stood in place for nearly a half hour before the robed man returned, carrying only three books.
"You are the Lady Kayen?" He asked before offering the aged tomes.
"Is it obvious?" She replied, trying for levity. His smile was faint but she saw it through the shadows of his cowl, heard it in his voice.
"I can think of few others who might find interest in such topics. The quest for knowledge's of old has long dwindled." He stepped back then, with a bow befitting her station. "I will continue my search."
She watched him depart and then took her sparse books to a table nearby, her thoughts inevitably drawn to words uttered by Nagash; Your world weakens daily through the thoughtless loss of knowledge.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus past it but could not resist the urge to flex her left hand slowly against the table. The first book was well aged, its pages dry but remarkably well kept. The dread-wolf was obscure but not unheard of, even out at the far reaches of Arkania. The book itself was written in ancient elven dialect, leading her to conclude that the creature was everything from trickster to demon to vengeful spirit. In some cases, a tale to scare errant children, in others, a warning against indulging the fires of hate and despair, lest one be consumed.
She was much less lucky in her search for Sha'katas, but she had anticipated that. Nothing she read gave her further insight than what she already knew. The link was there though, she was perfectly suited to understand the sort of despair that might have drawn an exiled elf of Shalonesti to seek retribution, by any means necessary.
She closed her books and left them on the table, not at all certain she had learned anything particularly helpful but possessed now of deeper curiosity on the subject of the wolf.
"If you should return later, Lady Kayen, I may have more on your subjects of interest." The librarian's words caused her to pause and she turned to nod her quiet appreciation before departing.
[157] Nymaya: Discreet Inquiries
Sat May 6 13:45:22 2017
To: All Uruvion Kyrlynn Tashio Imm ( RP ) Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What do you seek, my lady?" The voice of the librarian was strange, inflected.
His robe was a plain earthen brown and hid much of whoever he was but his aura left her with a rather distinct sense of age.
"Folklore." She stated and felt a rise of trepidation. She did not need to poke at this particular beast but, her curiosity was piqued. "Tales of the dread-wolf. As well, any lore you may have on Sha'katas."
The man made a curious sound and lifted his head a little, presumably to look at her better.
"Those are unusual titles in this part of the world. I will need some time." His remark was threaded with appreciation for the challenge she had unwittingly presented him and she tipped her head to his polite bow.
The library was archaic, possessed of impressively tall book cases, a second floor balcony with alcoves for privacy and high shadowy arches. Heavy iron chandeliers cast light over long tables but there was no natural flame whatsoever, even from the standing candelabra. She stood in place for nearly a half hour before the robed man returned, carrying only three books.
"You are the Lady Kayen?" He asked before offering the aged tomes.
"Is it obvious?" She replied, trying for levity. His smile was faint but she saw it through the shadows of his cowl, heard it in his voice.
"I can think of few others who might find interest in such topics. The quest for knowledge's of old has long dwindled." He stepped back then, with a bow befitting her station. "I will continue my search."
She watched him depart and then took her sparse books to a table nearby, her thoughts inevitably drawn to words uttered by Nagash; Your world weakens daily through the thoughtless loss of knowledge.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus past it but could not resist the urge to flex her left hand slowly against the table. The first book was well aged, its pages dry but remarkably well kept. The dread-wolf was obscure but not unheard of, even out at the far reaches of Arkania. The book itself was written in ancient elven dialect, leading her to conclude that the creature was everything from trickster to demon to vengeful spirit. In some cases, a tale to scare errant children, in others, a warning against indulging the fires of hate and despair, lest one be consumed.
She was much less lucky in her search for Sha'katas, but she had anticipated that. Nothing she read gave her further insight than what she already knew. The link was there though, she was perfectly suited to understand the sort of despair that might have drawn an exiled elf of Shalonesti to seek retribution, by any means necessary.
She closed her books and left them on the table, not at all certain she had learned anything particularly helpful but possessed now of deeper curiosity on the subject of the wolf.
"If you should return later, Lady Kayen, I may have more on your subjects of interest." The librarian's words caused her to pause and she turned to nod her quiet appreciation before departing.
Rehabilitation
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[157] Nymaya: Rehabilitation
Tue May 2 10:46:57 2017
To: All Verminasia ( Equinox Cayenna Storyline RP ) Nagash|Uvall
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The sound of the staff clattering to the ground once again made her grit her teeth but she did not hesitate to grab it back up. Her whole hand was stiff, aching and the loss of the finger was impacting her grip in ways she could not have foreseen.
The cleric who had been sent to aid the rehabilitation had advised her to wait a week more before she began weapon's training but restlessness had set in. The Verminasian manor was empty again, silent, and she felt it keenly.
Annoyance bled into her routine and the next time the staff fell, she placed it back on its rack and hesitantly took her sword to hand. It hadn't been happens chance that she had chosen the left pinky for Nagash. It was pleasing to have the familiar hilt in her good hand, even if it did force her to feel the scars.
The process of moving through sword forms followed, making her acutely aware of how sore her entire body was and with a thoughtful, mental nod at the apparently very learned cleric's advice, she finished and tidied up the training room.
Night was heavy on the land when she absconded to the bedroom. A tray with ice, towels and wine awaited, along with a stack of pillows to elevate her hand.
'You must keep it elevated to reduce swelling and speed healing to the injured nerves, Lady Kayen.' He had said, all business as he eyed the cauterized stub with obvious trepidation and appreciation. According to the man, he'd never seen a better sealing on such a wound before. It stood to reason, she thought with a wry edge and took a sip of the unique elvish wine. It was dated some few hundred years now and not conspicuously concurrent with the time frame surrounding her exile.
Bitter. She thought with further raw amusement and settled herself on the bed, a small wrapped towel of ice on her hand, her nearly empty glass in the other and low flames dancing in the fireplace across the way.
The soft click of the door interrupted her reverie as she dozed and upon trying to open her eyes, she found herself sluggish, unable to focus her senses. Was that...the cleric? He had been invited to stay for the duration of her healing but the hour was beyond late.
She tried to speak but no sound rose and abruptly, her throat felt aflame, as if she'd breathed-- her thought cut off at the faintest hint of a familiar acrid scent. Alarm rattled through her and every ounce of her attention set on the cleric, who even then reached out to lift her hand, to study the sealed injury.
Nymaya. It chided with mock concern. You are supposed to take care of yourself. And it grinned, the expression gruesome. What do you think he'll do with it.
She couldn't move but her gaze lifted to meet red pupils surrounded by soulless black.
...and she snapped awake, still tasting the acrid scent.
[157] Nymaya: Rehabilitation
Tue May 2 10:46:57 2017
To: All Verminasia ( Equinox Cayenna Storyline RP ) Nagash|Uvall
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The sound of the staff clattering to the ground once again made her grit her teeth but she did not hesitate to grab it back up. Her whole hand was stiff, aching and the loss of the finger was impacting her grip in ways she could not have foreseen.
The cleric who had been sent to aid the rehabilitation had advised her to wait a week more before she began weapon's training but restlessness had set in. The Verminasian manor was empty again, silent, and she felt it keenly.
Annoyance bled into her routine and the next time the staff fell, she placed it back on its rack and hesitantly took her sword to hand. It hadn't been happens chance that she had chosen the left pinky for Nagash. It was pleasing to have the familiar hilt in her good hand, even if it did force her to feel the scars.
The process of moving through sword forms followed, making her acutely aware of how sore her entire body was and with a thoughtful, mental nod at the apparently very learned cleric's advice, she finished and tidied up the training room.
Night was heavy on the land when she absconded to the bedroom. A tray with ice, towels and wine awaited, along with a stack of pillows to elevate her hand.
'You must keep it elevated to reduce swelling and speed healing to the injured nerves, Lady Kayen.' He had said, all business as he eyed the cauterized stub with obvious trepidation and appreciation. According to the man, he'd never seen a better sealing on such a wound before. It stood to reason, she thought with a wry edge and took a sip of the unique elvish wine. It was dated some few hundred years now and not conspicuously concurrent with the time frame surrounding her exile.
Bitter. She thought with further raw amusement and settled herself on the bed, a small wrapped towel of ice on her hand, her nearly empty glass in the other and low flames dancing in the fireplace across the way.
The soft click of the door interrupted her reverie as she dozed and upon trying to open her eyes, she found herself sluggish, unable to focus her senses. Was that...the cleric? He had been invited to stay for the duration of her healing but the hour was beyond late.
She tried to speak but no sound rose and abruptly, her throat felt aflame, as if she'd breathed-- her thought cut off at the faintest hint of a familiar acrid scent. Alarm rattled through her and every ounce of her attention set on the cleric, who even then reached out to lift her hand, to study the sealed injury.
Nymaya. It chided with mock concern. You are supposed to take care of yourself. And it grinned, the expression gruesome. What do you think he'll do with it.
She couldn't move but her gaze lifted to meet red pupils surrounded by soulless black.
...and she snapped awake, still tasting the acrid scent.
Seven Sins - Whatever It Takes
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[157] Nymaya: Seven Sins - Whatever It Takes
Sat Apr 29 01:43:58 2017
To: All Verminasia ( Equinox Storyline Religion Necrucifer ) Shadow
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Her pack, her belt, her weapons and sheaths hit the ground with a thud.
The clouds loomed dark, roiling. The patter of rain threatened and a low crescendo of distant thunder breathed ominous promise.
The practice dummy stood alone in the field, waiting, and with a deliberate motion she reached down to slowly pull her sword free. The metal hissed softly, the grip familiar in her scarred palm.
Her footsteps were silent on the grass as she prowled, feeling less and less in control. But that was the point of this little exercise. The blade whistled sharply as she spun it once.
Let go
And she did. There was finesse, grace and restraint at first, but as the moments slipped by it all degraded. Soon enough, she was hitting the straw just to hit it. When that wasn't enough, she gripped her sword in two hands and began to hack it to pieces, and again when that was not enough, she voiced her wrath. Her cry echoed and a crack of lightning followed, splitting the sky and letting loose the deluge. She was soaked in a matter of seconds. The rain was cold, her breath misting and though she shook, it was with suppressed rage.
She had made a lifetime or three out of learning to restrain her impulses. Kyorl had to be clear and certain of their actions when protecting a Shalonost. There had been no room for failure there and her mentor had been unrelentingly harsh in her training.
But she wasn't a Kyorl anymore. She was a mother watching her child die, hollowed by primal force, and all the training in the world didn't seem to matter to the rage boiling over then and there.
She closed her eyes, breathing hard, and embraced the painful rush before leaning her head back under the cold torrent. When she looked up again, her silver hair hanging heavy around her shoulders, the rage was once again contained and her attention was all for the upper floors of the Iagothal manor. He was up there, somewhere.
"I submit, Master" she breathed, her sound lost to the thunder and the deafening downpour, "Shape me to Your infinite Will."
"Whatever it takes." She whispered, determined and confident as she turned away to gather her things, once again in control.
[157] Nymaya: Seven Sins - Whatever It Takes
Sat Apr 29 01:43:58 2017
To: All Verminasia ( Equinox Storyline Religion Necrucifer ) Shadow
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her pack, her belt, her weapons and sheaths hit the ground with a thud.
The clouds loomed dark, roiling. The patter of rain threatened and a low crescendo of distant thunder breathed ominous promise.
The practice dummy stood alone in the field, waiting, and with a deliberate motion she reached down to slowly pull her sword free. The metal hissed softly, the grip familiar in her scarred palm.
Her footsteps were silent on the grass as she prowled, feeling less and less in control. But that was the point of this little exercise. The blade whistled sharply as she spun it once.
Let go
And she did. There was finesse, grace and restraint at first, but as the moments slipped by it all degraded. Soon enough, she was hitting the straw just to hit it. When that wasn't enough, she gripped her sword in two hands and began to hack it to pieces, and again when that was not enough, she voiced her wrath. Her cry echoed and a crack of lightning followed, splitting the sky and letting loose the deluge. She was soaked in a matter of seconds. The rain was cold, her breath misting and though she shook, it was with suppressed rage.
She had made a lifetime or three out of learning to restrain her impulses. Kyorl had to be clear and certain of their actions when protecting a Shalonost. There had been no room for failure there and her mentor had been unrelentingly harsh in her training.
But she wasn't a Kyorl anymore. She was a mother watching her child die, hollowed by primal force, and all the training in the world didn't seem to matter to the rage boiling over then and there.
She closed her eyes, breathing hard, and embraced the painful rush before leaning her head back under the cold torrent. When she looked up again, her silver hair hanging heavy around her shoulders, the rage was once again contained and her attention was all for the upper floors of the Iagothal manor. He was up there, somewhere.
"I submit, Master" she breathed, her sound lost to the thunder and the deafening downpour, "Shape me to Your infinite Will."
"Whatever it takes." She whispered, determined and confident as she turned away to gather her things, once again in control.
Seven Sins - Tempting Wrath
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[131] Nymaya: Seven Sins - Tempting Wrath
Mon Apr 24 18:32:07 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Crelius Telthian ( Equinox Imm RP )
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Her daughter twitched and moaned, thrashed and struggled in the throes of sleep and she could only watch, only lament.
She herself was familiar with the nightmares though she had come to an understanding with them. Time and reclusion had offered her the ability to sort through the memories, to embrace those that had shaped her and banish the ones that served only to weaken or sully what she was becoming.
None of that mattered now though. There was not the luxury of time as she slowly paced the parlor, tracing a familiar route. Ash would have to suffer this affliction until it ended - and nothing set the cold flame of her rage alight quite like observing her child in pain while contemplating the unknown.
She was not alone in her concern, but that was of little consequence at the moment. The darkness was thick outside beneath a heavy stretch of storm clouds, rain pattered the window in hard torrents and stray breezes kept catching the flames that danced alluringly in the fireplace.
Servants whispered past the parlor door and at appropriate intervals, the armored clank of guards. She looked away from Ashtiel and took another sip of the rich liquor that shimmered amber in her glass, vividly aware that it was all for show. The guards could not withstand demons, the unarmed servants would run and unless there was advanced warning, an attack would likely catch them alone. At worst...Sin, at best, subordinates. If there was an attack at all.
A crack of lightning disrupted her unpleasant thoughts and brought her attention back to her daughter, who even then jerked awake with a panicked expression. Her own turmoil arose in response but she kept it subdued as she did her best to calm her.
The panic passed, they spoke some and then Ash lapsed into silence, her attention drawn to the shadows beyond the window. What she saw there, Nymaya could only guess at, but a sinister and oppressive feeling settled firmly. Not of being watched, but of waiting. The days to come were going to be long and restless.
[131] Nymaya: Seven Sins - Tempting Wrath
Mon Apr 24 18:32:07 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Crelius Telthian ( Equinox Imm RP )
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Her daughter twitched and moaned, thrashed and struggled in the throes of sleep and she could only watch, only lament.
She herself was familiar with the nightmares though she had come to an understanding with them. Time and reclusion had offered her the ability to sort through the memories, to embrace those that had shaped her and banish the ones that served only to weaken or sully what she was becoming.
None of that mattered now though. There was not the luxury of time as she slowly paced the parlor, tracing a familiar route. Ash would have to suffer this affliction until it ended - and nothing set the cold flame of her rage alight quite like observing her child in pain while contemplating the unknown.
She was not alone in her concern, but that was of little consequence at the moment. The darkness was thick outside beneath a heavy stretch of storm clouds, rain pattered the window in hard torrents and stray breezes kept catching the flames that danced alluringly in the fireplace.
Servants whispered past the parlor door and at appropriate intervals, the armored clank of guards. She looked away from Ashtiel and took another sip of the rich liquor that shimmered amber in her glass, vividly aware that it was all for show. The guards could not withstand demons, the unarmed servants would run and unless there was advanced warning, an attack would likely catch them alone. At worst...Sin, at best, subordinates. If there was an attack at all.
A crack of lightning disrupted her unpleasant thoughts and brought her attention back to her daughter, who even then jerked awake with a panicked expression. Her own turmoil arose in response but she kept it subdued as she did her best to calm her.
The panic passed, they spoke some and then Ash lapsed into silence, her attention drawn to the shadows beyond the window. What she saw there, Nymaya could only guess at, but a sinister and oppressive feeling settled firmly. Not of being watched, but of waiting. The days to come were going to be long and restless.
Desert Nostalgia
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[111] Nymaya: Desert Nostalgia
Sat Apr 15 12:04:41 2017
To: New_Thalos Reklah Ashtiel Dar'shin ( Uvall ) All
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She wandered the white marble halls of the arena, gazing with a certain sense of nostalgia and emptiness over Dar'shin's beautiful, cold, creation.
She had missed the desert. The scent of spice and sand, the bright colors, the sense of solitude and dry warmth. Nothing could compare to the memories she had made in New Thalos and only one experience in her long life could overcome the nightmares.
She moved at a slow, methodical pace through the hallways and the rooms of Hydra's Lair, observing the hollowness as she sipped thoughtfully at her Thalosian coffee, savoring the hint of cardamom. The off season gave the construction crews time to fix whatever needed fixing and though it saw little enough business now, the shops were still manned briefly throughout the day and janitors still swept through the halls at night.
She had had many years to observe this place, aware of its significance, but she never would have guessed its current impact in her own life.
Her expression lost its wistfulness and she made her way purposely to the owner's room. If there was anyone inside, it was not readily apparent and the door remained firmly locked - not that her intent was to go in. Rather, she stared at the wooden door for a time and then slowly, purposefully, set her empty coffee cup before it.
Devoid of purpose now, she meandered out of the Hydra arena and back into the streets, the sun glinting on her silvered hair. It was the height of day and the passages she tread were abandoned by much of the populace, who had sought the shelter of homes or indoor businesses to escape the heat. She was watched from the shadows as she passed alleyways, perhaps remembered by some, but no one accosted her and on a whim she angled south and let the path take her to the baths.
Her cares slid to the side as the humid warmth enveloped her and a cocoon of static emptiness took it's place. This allowed her to sense without feeling, to enjoy without worry or concern and she embraced it as she made her way to the back, shed her armor and slid into the waiting waters.
You should have taken the deal
A cold breath whispered across the back of her neck and the impression of soft, malicious laughter, settled around her.
All of this -it breathed, fading- could have been yours
Her inhale was sharp at the caress along her neck, whisper-soft perhaps but her eyes snapped open - only to find an empty pool and wisps of steam. The murmur of patrons returned, distant as it was and though the moment passed, a chill had taken root in her that the warm water could not banish.
[111] Nymaya: Desert Nostalgia
Sat Apr 15 12:04:41 2017
To: New_Thalos Reklah Ashtiel Dar'shin ( Uvall ) All
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She wandered the white marble halls of the arena, gazing with a certain sense of nostalgia and emptiness over Dar'shin's beautiful, cold, creation.
She had missed the desert. The scent of spice and sand, the bright colors, the sense of solitude and dry warmth. Nothing could compare to the memories she had made in New Thalos and only one experience in her long life could overcome the nightmares.
She moved at a slow, methodical pace through the hallways and the rooms of Hydra's Lair, observing the hollowness as she sipped thoughtfully at her Thalosian coffee, savoring the hint of cardamom. The off season gave the construction crews time to fix whatever needed fixing and though it saw little enough business now, the shops were still manned briefly throughout the day and janitors still swept through the halls at night.
She had had many years to observe this place, aware of its significance, but she never would have guessed its current impact in her own life.
Her expression lost its wistfulness and she made her way purposely to the owner's room. If there was anyone inside, it was not readily apparent and the door remained firmly locked - not that her intent was to go in. Rather, she stared at the wooden door for a time and then slowly, purposefully, set her empty coffee cup before it.
Devoid of purpose now, she meandered out of the Hydra arena and back into the streets, the sun glinting on her silvered hair. It was the height of day and the passages she tread were abandoned by much of the populace, who had sought the shelter of homes or indoor businesses to escape the heat. She was watched from the shadows as she passed alleyways, perhaps remembered by some, but no one accosted her and on a whim she angled south and let the path take her to the baths.
Her cares slid to the side as the humid warmth enveloped her and a cocoon of static emptiness took it's place. This allowed her to sense without feeling, to enjoy without worry or concern and she embraced it as she made her way to the back, shed her armor and slid into the waiting waters.
You should have taken the deal
A cold breath whispered across the back of her neck and the impression of soft, malicious laughter, settled around her.
All of this -it breathed, fading- could have been yours
Her inhale was sharp at the caress along her neck, whisper-soft perhaps but her eyes snapped open - only to find an empty pool and wisps of steam. The murmur of patrons returned, distant as it was and though the moment passed, a chill had taken root in her that the warm water could not banish.
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)
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[ 94] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)
Tue Feb 24 00:53:24 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
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The pungent scent of blood and animal stink filled the air, metallic and sharp. It was strong enough to unsettle even her battle trained steed. She could feel the horse shift beneath her, its muscles twitching as it waited for her next command. She'd have thought the behavior odd but the animal stench was strange - nothing she had ever smelled before.
Her breath misted in the still air. The evening was bitingly cold and had it not been for the grizzly business displayed before her, she would have been indoors, coiled before a warm fire. Impatient to be home now, her thoughts turning ever toward her husband's impending return, she angled her cold blue gaze down on the sickening display spread out over the ground and set her distractions aside.
The patrol, indicated only by a few fragments of armor and the Kayen crest on bits of blood-soaked tunics and cloaks, had been ripped apart until nothing remained of the people they had once been. The light of the stars cast the scene before her in a pale silvered hue and pushing back her deep fur-lined cowl she took note that none of the gore had been eaten. No, something angry had torn these men apart. Something enraged, very powerful and perhaps not natural.
The silence seemed heavier, more threatening, for the thought and her horse shifted again while its ears swiveled at the thick darkness in the looming trees. The sense that the beast lurked nearby was certain but she hesitated, her gaze roaming southward. The boarder of Iagothal was near enough and the creature's trail clear enough that it was obvious it had come from outside the province.
Starlight glimmered pale on silver hair as she shifted the horse around to the north-west with a flexing of her legs. The crunch of brittle sticks and leaves sounded, the soft snort of the gelding followed and slowly, she reached back to draw the sword at her left shoulder. The folded steel of the elven blade hissed as it left the sheath and as the tip cleared, the whisper of a forbidden melody lifted into the frosted night. She spun the blade easily in her grasp once, sending a hollow threatening metallic whistle forth and willed herself to ignore the Haunt.
If she had calculated right, the beast's angle would take it deeper into populated farmland and one of the province's bustling market towns. She couldn't let that happen.
(cont.)
[ 94] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)
Tue Feb 24 00:53:24 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The pungent scent of blood and animal stink filled the air, metallic and sharp. It was strong enough to unsettle even her battle trained steed. She could feel the horse shift beneath her, its muscles twitching as it waited for her next command. She'd have thought the behavior odd but the animal stench was strange - nothing she had ever smelled before.
Her breath misted in the still air. The evening was bitingly cold and had it not been for the grizzly business displayed before her, she would have been indoors, coiled before a warm fire. Impatient to be home now, her thoughts turning ever toward her husband's impending return, she angled her cold blue gaze down on the sickening display spread out over the ground and set her distractions aside.
The patrol, indicated only by a few fragments of armor and the Kayen crest on bits of blood-soaked tunics and cloaks, had been ripped apart until nothing remained of the people they had once been. The light of the stars cast the scene before her in a pale silvered hue and pushing back her deep fur-lined cowl she took note that none of the gore had been eaten. No, something angry had torn these men apart. Something enraged, very powerful and perhaps not natural.
The silence seemed heavier, more threatening, for the thought and her horse shifted again while its ears swiveled at the thick darkness in the looming trees. The sense that the beast lurked nearby was certain but she hesitated, her gaze roaming southward. The boarder of Iagothal was near enough and the creature's trail clear enough that it was obvious it had come from outside the province.
Starlight glimmered pale on silver hair as she shifted the horse around to the north-west with a flexing of her legs. The crunch of brittle sticks and leaves sounded, the soft snort of the gelding followed and slowly, she reached back to draw the sword at her left shoulder. The folded steel of the elven blade hissed as it left the sheath and as the tip cleared, the whisper of a forbidden melody lifted into the frosted night. She spun the blade easily in her grasp once, sending a hollow threatening metallic whistle forth and willed herself to ignore the Haunt.
If she had calculated right, the beast's angle would take it deeper into populated farmland and one of the province's bustling market towns. She couldn't let that happen.
(cont.)
Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)
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[ 95] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)
Tue Feb 24 01:48:30 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
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With the barest pressure of her heels against the gelding's flanks, the horse nudged forward and they began to follow a barren game trail that ran parallel to the creature's path.
Over the sound of the horse picking its way through the brush she listened, casting her senses out. The darkness was more complete beneath the trees but she could still sense it moving, its bulk and strangeness impossible for her not to notice. Occasional splashes and droplets of blood dotted the ground, drawing her gaze unerringly. She was certain anyone could have followed its sloppy and destructive trail.
She heeded every warning the horse lent along the way but in the long hour that passed, nothing attacked and the trail changed disturbingly. The broken trees and limbs disappeared upward, drawing her gaze to the sky. It could...fly? A wry quirk of her lips belied annoyance with this newest occurrence. She didn't slow in its wake though, still drawn on by the blood trail and the stench - she didn't carry a bow and quiver full of arrows for the cosmetic appeal.
Rapidly going over new tactics, the edge of the forest rose up ahead. The gelding didn't need to be stopped, it paused of its own accord just past the break and stomped at the ground with a snort of warning. They'd caught up with it.
The urge to dismount settled on her but even as muscles tightened toward that motion, she stopped cold - heeding a gut instinct. A sound buzzed by her ear. Insect? The season was entirely wrong for insects. Alarms began to sound within as a veritable swarm of flies engulfed them, biting flesh wherever it was bared. The horse swiveled its ears and flicked its tail, snorting and shaking its head as it grew more annoyed by the second. Ignoring the flies, she slipped down from the saddle deftly and made a cautious trek further into the clearing. An icy lake lay lower along the countryside and in the far distance the shadow of mountains arose into the starry night sky. It was while she gazed toward those majestic peaks that a dark blot caught her attention. It weaved through the sky, blackening the stars. Its shape reminded her eerily of the lesser demons she had seen from afar, even down to the flexing of its massive wingspan.
Disturbed by its appearance and somewhat concerned that it might, in fact, be a legitimate demon she hesitated in her reach for the strung bow at her shoulder, drawn instead to watch the creature. She was, thus, not taken by surprise when she realized that its shape was falling fast - directly toward her. It had drawn its wings in and was diving through the frigid air, outstretched claws reaching forward.
(cont.)
[ 95] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)
Tue Feb 24 01:48:30 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the barest pressure of her heels against the gelding's flanks, the horse nudged forward and they began to follow a barren game trail that ran parallel to the creature's path.
Over the sound of the horse picking its way through the brush she listened, casting her senses out. The darkness was more complete beneath the trees but she could still sense it moving, its bulk and strangeness impossible for her not to notice. Occasional splashes and droplets of blood dotted the ground, drawing her gaze unerringly. She was certain anyone could have followed its sloppy and destructive trail.
She heeded every warning the horse lent along the way but in the long hour that passed, nothing attacked and the trail changed disturbingly. The broken trees and limbs disappeared upward, drawing her gaze to the sky. It could...fly? A wry quirk of her lips belied annoyance with this newest occurrence. She didn't slow in its wake though, still drawn on by the blood trail and the stench - she didn't carry a bow and quiver full of arrows for the cosmetic appeal.
Rapidly going over new tactics, the edge of the forest rose up ahead. The gelding didn't need to be stopped, it paused of its own accord just past the break and stomped at the ground with a snort of warning. They'd caught up with it.
The urge to dismount settled on her but even as muscles tightened toward that motion, she stopped cold - heeding a gut instinct. A sound buzzed by her ear. Insect? The season was entirely wrong for insects. Alarms began to sound within as a veritable swarm of flies engulfed them, biting flesh wherever it was bared. The horse swiveled its ears and flicked its tail, snorting and shaking its head as it grew more annoyed by the second. Ignoring the flies, she slipped down from the saddle deftly and made a cautious trek further into the clearing. An icy lake lay lower along the countryside and in the far distance the shadow of mountains arose into the starry night sky. It was while she gazed toward those majestic peaks that a dark blot caught her attention. It weaved through the sky, blackening the stars. Its shape reminded her eerily of the lesser demons she had seen from afar, even down to the flexing of its massive wingspan.
Disturbed by its appearance and somewhat concerned that it might, in fact, be a legitimate demon she hesitated in her reach for the strung bow at her shoulder, drawn instead to watch the creature. She was, thus, not taken by surprise when she realized that its shape was falling fast - directly toward her. It had drawn its wings in and was diving through the frigid air, outstretched claws reaching forward.
(cont.)
Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)
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[ 96] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)
Tue Feb 24 02:16:29 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
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She had time to react, though not to shoot it. The snap of its wings splintered the air above her as she hit the ground and rolled away but into the charged atmosphere followed an enraged roar. She was up and crouched defensively by the time it touched the ground with its taloned feet and turned its bulk toward her. Its evil, slanted gaze was a malevolent amber and glowed with the depth of its animosity. It easily towered over her and its body was broad, bulky. A mix of scaled black flesh and blood, with tufts of indistinguishable fur along its arms, legs and middle. It flexed impressive claws at the ends of thickly coiled arms that could clearly rip men in half. Likewise, its legs crouched over wicked black talons and a pair of bat-like wings stretched out over its back. Vapor slipped between the fangs of its gruesome grin and then it came at her with a howl that set the fine hairs at the back of her neck on end.
The face that snapped at her was bestial, more demonic than animal in the darkness but she rolled away once again. Her sword sang in the same instance, leaving a wound along the creature's outstretched arm and sending the unique aroma of its blood to join the stink. It barely seemed to notice the wound and its claws caught her cloak, leaving long ripped rents in the durable fabric.
Without breaking stride she unclasped the garment while circling around the clearing with the beast who followed in stride though she was given the impression that it quivered with anticipation. It wouldn't be long before it attacked again. Base instinct would work against it but until she witnessed it further, she was at a disadvantage.
The next attack was surprisingly fast. Faster than she had anticipated as its bulk shot toward her in an unnatural glide but in the seconds between, she took stock of its openings and determined that she could cripple it, perhaps kill it outright, but only if she took the hit.
The split-second decision made, she committed to the act but even in the doing so the ground began to shake to the thunder of hooves. She had to twist wildly, gracelessly, to get out of the way but the beast, trapped in its initial rush, was caught by the tip of a lance and sent tumbling by a shattering impact. She watched with a certain satisfaction, sprawled as she was in the snow, as its crumpled body came to a rolling stop and ceased to move some distance away before finally turning her attention to the horse and rider.
He was heavily cloaked and even then tugging on the reigns of his nightmarish steed to turn it around. Silhouetted by the stars and the night sky the unholy creature tossed its head haughtily and turned toward her, guided by a steady hand. She rose up from the ground sword still to hand and, taking no heed of the snow caked along her side, met the advance.
"Are you alright?" Mildly spoken. Had her husband been concerned? The thought was a little flattering but she responded to the query.
"I am uninjured. I had its trail. If I'd waited, we would have lost it in the night sky and it might have reached the farmsteads or the town." She made a gesture toward its crumpled body, which he turned to observe now.
(cont.)
[ 96] Nymaya: Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)
Tue Feb 24 02:16:29 2015
To: All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She had time to react, though not to shoot it. The snap of its wings splintered the air above her as she hit the ground and rolled away but into the charged atmosphere followed an enraged roar. She was up and crouched defensively by the time it touched the ground with its taloned feet and turned its bulk toward her. Its evil, slanted gaze was a malevolent amber and glowed with the depth of its animosity. It easily towered over her and its body was broad, bulky. A mix of scaled black flesh and blood, with tufts of indistinguishable fur along its arms, legs and middle. It flexed impressive claws at the ends of thickly coiled arms that could clearly rip men in half. Likewise, its legs crouched over wicked black talons and a pair of bat-like wings stretched out over its back. Vapor slipped between the fangs of its gruesome grin and then it came at her with a howl that set the fine hairs at the back of her neck on end.
The face that snapped at her was bestial, more demonic than animal in the darkness but she rolled away once again. Her sword sang in the same instance, leaving a wound along the creature's outstretched arm and sending the unique aroma of its blood to join the stink. It barely seemed to notice the wound and its claws caught her cloak, leaving long ripped rents in the durable fabric.
Without breaking stride she unclasped the garment while circling around the clearing with the beast who followed in stride though she was given the impression that it quivered with anticipation. It wouldn't be long before it attacked again. Base instinct would work against it but until she witnessed it further, she was at a disadvantage.
The next attack was surprisingly fast. Faster than she had anticipated as its bulk shot toward her in an unnatural glide but in the seconds between, she took stock of its openings and determined that she could cripple it, perhaps kill it outright, but only if she took the hit.
The split-second decision made, she committed to the act but even in the doing so the ground began to shake to the thunder of hooves. She had to twist wildly, gracelessly, to get out of the way but the beast, trapped in its initial rush, was caught by the tip of a lance and sent tumbling by a shattering impact. She watched with a certain satisfaction, sprawled as she was in the snow, as its crumpled body came to a rolling stop and ceased to move some distance away before finally turning her attention to the horse and rider.
He was heavily cloaked and even then tugging on the reigns of his nightmarish steed to turn it around. Silhouetted by the stars and the night sky the unholy creature tossed its head haughtily and turned toward her, guided by a steady hand. She rose up from the ground sword still to hand and, taking no heed of the snow caked along her side, met the advance.
"Are you alright?" Mildly spoken. Had her husband been concerned? The thought was a little flattering but she responded to the query.
"I am uninjured. I had its trail. If I'd waited, we would have lost it in the night sky and it might have reached the farmsteads or the town." She made a gesture toward its crumpled body, which he turned to observe now.
(cont.)
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