Ninorra
07-03-2007, 10:08 AM
Nathrezim chuckled slightly. At the Dreadlord's side, Vixyr was balancing a soul shard at the end of one claw. An eredar of no little skill, he found it rather easy to amuse Nathrezim, who had lately become far to engrossed in his quest.
"The elf gives me such amusement," Nathrezim said finally, growing tired of his associate's antics. "However I am not known for my patience."
Vixyr sighed. "Wait for him to die, then use her. I do not see why a few hundred years should make a difference."
The Dreadlord drummed his long claws on the table beside his chair. The obsidion talons made sharp tapping noises against the stone. "It makes no difference. However... I do not enjoy being made to wait. A warding spell by some mortal should not be something that stifles my plans."
"Nathrezim, you are too fargone in this plan. My advice is to enjoy the break you've been given. Take up a hobby. Spend some time with a few succubi--"
"Yes, the succubus," Nathrezim said with a growing smile. "She seems to be doing her part well, wouldn't you agree?"
Vixyr sighed. "She distracts them, yes.. but what of it? What can come from her involvement?"
"The Hangman is distressed by the visions she has given him. He fears that the Siren will be adulterous. He is an old mortal, but it seems that wisdom has passed him.." Nathrezim chuckled. "Meanwhile, the Boy lusts for her like a dog to a steak."
"And the Siren?"
Nathrezim wagged a finger. "Now you see, there is the problem. The Hangman tightens the noose around her neck, and being the slut that she is, the Siren enjoys it. However, she is still young.. and there is no denying that somewhere in her, she lusts for the Boy. All we have to do is use it to get him to remove that damned seal."
Vixyr cocked his head in thought. "..but the Hangman asked for her not to see him. How then will we have her make him remove it?"
"Perhaps the succubus still has some work to do.." Nathrezim muttered, scratching his chin. "All of these games are so bloody infantile. Having to stoop to the level of a Sin'dorei, simply to get what it is I need..."
Vixyr kept his mouth shut, but he desperately wanted to correct the Dreadlord. It isn't what you need, it's want you want.
--------
Ninorra lay beside Vicailde. Before she fell asleep that night, the day's events played out for her. Vicailde had been woken up from a terrible dream, one that infuriated him beyond comprehension. He quickly dressed and left their home, speaking cryptically, and finally telling her what he'd seen.
"I've had the same dream every night since it happened! I didn't think that Tirdisar FUCKING MY WIFE would be the thing to replace it!"
She was spellbound. There was anger and resentment in his heart for Tirdisar, for many reasons she knew. First, Tir's helping her when he, her own husband, couldn't. Then of course, his youth. She knew that Vicailde despised Tirdisar for what he had; many years without pain, when he had to suffer in order to prolong his own life.
"You can't love him if he's dead!"
Ninorra ran after him, but Vicailde was hard to shake when he was in this type of mood. She tried to soften him with her affection, but he stood firm.. that is, until he collapsed into the ground. The few brown streaks in his silver hair faded and matched the rest, his skin lost it's color, and for a few short moments Ninorra saw him as he truly was. When her senses returned, she ran inside to find motes of mana, and injected them into the device that Jobolg had created. Soon Vicailde was alive again, but it was then she learned of his sacrifice.
His veins burned. He lived, but it was through constant pain of mana that kept him from dying. All this, he did for her.
And so when he asked that she not see Tirdisar, she complied. It was a small request, why shouldn't she honor it? He was her husband and she loved him, despite how he jealously guarded her. She promised not to see her friend, and remained by his side, distracting him from the pain with words of love and talk of their future children.
When she awoke the next morning however, she had problems of her own. Ninorra felt weak, and despite the fact that Vicailde insisted she draw power from him to strengthen herself, she refused now more than ever. Never again would she harm him for her own survival. Kissing her sleeping husband, she silently dressed and left their home, heading for Tirisfal.
The trip was uneventful. Kupmat tried to keep her entertained with stories, but she silenced the imp with a glare and walked towards the forest where she knew treacherous creatures lie in hiding. These, she payed no mind. It was the mages she wanted. Mages of Daleran, soaked with mana, their bodies like conduits for power that she would take forcefully. Kupmat saw something change in his mistress. He saw her walk through her limp, teeth grit in defiance, and without question sent immolating fire coarsing through the body of a human man.
The screams were terrible, but so was her wrath. Ninorra sang a high pitched note, willing the flames to climb higher. They clung to the human's body, and even as he sent a bolt of ice towards Ninorra, her stone-like skin absorbed the shock and Kupmat supplied her rage with fireballs. His screams were beginning to soften, now was the time.
"Come to me, oh immortal soul,
regret not the life you had..
Oblivion will meet you soon,
shouldn't you be glad?"
She sang, and with the song a shard materialized in her hand. Inside, she felt the frightened soul of the mage. He feared for his immortality. He should.
Kupmat watched with interest as his mistress gripped the shard tighter and tighter, until finally, it began to melt. A tiny scream echoed in her mind, accompanied by the sweet feeling of energy that flowed into her body. She felt stronger, if not somewhat shaken by the voice that was slowly dying. Once the entire shard was absorbed into her skin, the voice was gone, and his soul had dissapeared.
It was as if he'd never been born.
"Just you wait and see, Kupmat," Ninorra said darkly. "I will not be weak ever again. I'll show Vicailde.. I'll show Tirdisar that I don't need their help. Then maybe all of this conflict will end."
Kupmat remained quiet. Through his eyes however, Nathrezim gazed at his Siren and smiled. Soon, Siren. Soon we will use that throat of yours.. and soon the world will know the true might of the Legion.
"The elf gives me such amusement," Nathrezim said finally, growing tired of his associate's antics. "However I am not known for my patience."
Vixyr sighed. "Wait for him to die, then use her. I do not see why a few hundred years should make a difference."
The Dreadlord drummed his long claws on the table beside his chair. The obsidion talons made sharp tapping noises against the stone. "It makes no difference. However... I do not enjoy being made to wait. A warding spell by some mortal should not be something that stifles my plans."
"Nathrezim, you are too fargone in this plan. My advice is to enjoy the break you've been given. Take up a hobby. Spend some time with a few succubi--"
"Yes, the succubus," Nathrezim said with a growing smile. "She seems to be doing her part well, wouldn't you agree?"
Vixyr sighed. "She distracts them, yes.. but what of it? What can come from her involvement?"
"The Hangman is distressed by the visions she has given him. He fears that the Siren will be adulterous. He is an old mortal, but it seems that wisdom has passed him.." Nathrezim chuckled. "Meanwhile, the Boy lusts for her like a dog to a steak."
"And the Siren?"
Nathrezim wagged a finger. "Now you see, there is the problem. The Hangman tightens the noose around her neck, and being the slut that she is, the Siren enjoys it. However, she is still young.. and there is no denying that somewhere in her, she lusts for the Boy. All we have to do is use it to get him to remove that damned seal."
Vixyr cocked his head in thought. "..but the Hangman asked for her not to see him. How then will we have her make him remove it?"
"Perhaps the succubus still has some work to do.." Nathrezim muttered, scratching his chin. "All of these games are so bloody infantile. Having to stoop to the level of a Sin'dorei, simply to get what it is I need..."
Vixyr kept his mouth shut, but he desperately wanted to correct the Dreadlord. It isn't what you need, it's want you want.
--------
Ninorra lay beside Vicailde. Before she fell asleep that night, the day's events played out for her. Vicailde had been woken up from a terrible dream, one that infuriated him beyond comprehension. He quickly dressed and left their home, speaking cryptically, and finally telling her what he'd seen.
"I've had the same dream every night since it happened! I didn't think that Tirdisar FUCKING MY WIFE would be the thing to replace it!"
She was spellbound. There was anger and resentment in his heart for Tirdisar, for many reasons she knew. First, Tir's helping her when he, her own husband, couldn't. Then of course, his youth. She knew that Vicailde despised Tirdisar for what he had; many years without pain, when he had to suffer in order to prolong his own life.
"You can't love him if he's dead!"
Ninorra ran after him, but Vicailde was hard to shake when he was in this type of mood. She tried to soften him with her affection, but he stood firm.. that is, until he collapsed into the ground. The few brown streaks in his silver hair faded and matched the rest, his skin lost it's color, and for a few short moments Ninorra saw him as he truly was. When her senses returned, she ran inside to find motes of mana, and injected them into the device that Jobolg had created. Soon Vicailde was alive again, but it was then she learned of his sacrifice.
His veins burned. He lived, but it was through constant pain of mana that kept him from dying. All this, he did for her.
And so when he asked that she not see Tirdisar, she complied. It was a small request, why shouldn't she honor it? He was her husband and she loved him, despite how he jealously guarded her. She promised not to see her friend, and remained by his side, distracting him from the pain with words of love and talk of their future children.
When she awoke the next morning however, she had problems of her own. Ninorra felt weak, and despite the fact that Vicailde insisted she draw power from him to strengthen herself, she refused now more than ever. Never again would she harm him for her own survival. Kissing her sleeping husband, she silently dressed and left their home, heading for Tirisfal.
The trip was uneventful. Kupmat tried to keep her entertained with stories, but she silenced the imp with a glare and walked towards the forest where she knew treacherous creatures lie in hiding. These, she payed no mind. It was the mages she wanted. Mages of Daleran, soaked with mana, their bodies like conduits for power that she would take forcefully. Kupmat saw something change in his mistress. He saw her walk through her limp, teeth grit in defiance, and without question sent immolating fire coarsing through the body of a human man.
The screams were terrible, but so was her wrath. Ninorra sang a high pitched note, willing the flames to climb higher. They clung to the human's body, and even as he sent a bolt of ice towards Ninorra, her stone-like skin absorbed the shock and Kupmat supplied her rage with fireballs. His screams were beginning to soften, now was the time.
"Come to me, oh immortal soul,
regret not the life you had..
Oblivion will meet you soon,
shouldn't you be glad?"
She sang, and with the song a shard materialized in her hand. Inside, she felt the frightened soul of the mage. He feared for his immortality. He should.
Kupmat watched with interest as his mistress gripped the shard tighter and tighter, until finally, it began to melt. A tiny scream echoed in her mind, accompanied by the sweet feeling of energy that flowed into her body. She felt stronger, if not somewhat shaken by the voice that was slowly dying. Once the entire shard was absorbed into her skin, the voice was gone, and his soul had dissapeared.
It was as if he'd never been born.
"Just you wait and see, Kupmat," Ninorra said darkly. "I will not be weak ever again. I'll show Vicailde.. I'll show Tirdisar that I don't need their help. Then maybe all of this conflict will end."
Kupmat remained quiet. Through his eyes however, Nathrezim gazed at his Siren and smiled. Soon, Siren. Soon we will use that throat of yours.. and soon the world will know the true might of the Legion.