Ninorra
07-13-2007, 02:08 PM
Through the beautiful Eversong woods, Ninorra walked. Her eyes were narrowed as she sought out Outrunners, those night elves who were relaying information back to their masters. She had been given an average task, to take them out. Ninorra didn't mind the slaughter, considering that they were the enemy and their souls were rich in precious mana. By her side, Klathgrave's aquamarine eyes glowed with affection for his mistress. She sang a warning song into the night air. It was in Thelassian, but she wondered if perhaps they would understand her words..
"Run, little children,
who's skin is dark with sin.
You realize not,
what trouble you are in.."
Klathgrave's head shot to the left as they both heard something like a stick breaking. Ninorra's lips curled into a dark smile, and with one low pitched note, she sent her minion to attack the frail night elf who had foolishly considered attempting to fire her arrows at Ninorra Gitana-Bloodstone.
"A curse of weakness,
a curse of pain..
You will die over and over again.."
As she sang, curses left her lips and attacked the elf. The Kaldorei couldn't comprehend the intense pain she was feeling, as if her bones were attempting to escape through the pores of her skin. The immolating fire that coarsed through her veins caused her to scream in terror, watching helplessly as flesh curled and blackened, falling to the ground in tiny pieces before blowing away into the wind like worthless dust. Her flesh was red and slowly baking before her eyes, which weren't moist for very long. Soon they were shivvled like raisins and melted within a slowly blackened skull.
"How very crude.." Ninorra said quietly, as Klathgrave moved away from the corpse.
She knelt down and began searching the body, finding a few meager coins and worthless jewelry. Well, worthless to some, but not to Ninorra. She found these bits of people she consumed to be somewhat important, because even if their body fell apart and their soul died, she would honor their lives by taking their posessions and treating them as if they had value.
Some called her a pack rat.
In either case, she was finished here in the forest and soon returned home to Silvermoon by way of her hearthstone. Her arrival in the popular Silvermoon Inn was noticed by several Sin'dorei, one of which made the mistake of commenting on her wrists, which bore slight lacerations.
"..and a slave," the Sin'dorei commented to her companion, a rather attractive young man of perhaps a hundred years.
Although only nineteen years old and very naive of the world, Ninorra was not the type of woman to take an insult at face value. She was growing tired of the circulating rumors, combined with many other frustrations that were proving to have ill effects on her self esteem. "What did you call me?"
"A slave," the girl replied, smirking coyly. "Isn't that what you are? I saw the marks on your wrists, and I remember my mother telling me about a girl in a cage with red eyes who--"
Ninorra reached out and grabbed the girl's throat. She was not a strong woman, but when angered, Ninorra's strength seemed to multiply. Later, she would consider the possibility that her troll heritage shone when angered, but for now it mattered little. All she wanted to was to strangle this girl, and perhaps her friend, who's jaw stood agape like a trout.
"Listen to me, little girl.." Ninorra seemed to growl. "You may have heard of me, but I am no man's slave. I have swallowed the souls of many, and I would not hesitate to do the same to you. I have no love of your kind."
She released her hand, allowing the girl to stumble back. Her stray locks of golden sunshine were strewn accross her face as she coughed violently, pointing at Ninorra and looking at her companion, as if telling him to do something. He gave her a bemused look and shook his head, walking away.
Sliding her sleeves down past her wrists, Ninorra walked through Silvermoon.
"No man's slave.." she repeated.
"Run, little children,
who's skin is dark with sin.
You realize not,
what trouble you are in.."
Klathgrave's head shot to the left as they both heard something like a stick breaking. Ninorra's lips curled into a dark smile, and with one low pitched note, she sent her minion to attack the frail night elf who had foolishly considered attempting to fire her arrows at Ninorra Gitana-Bloodstone.
"A curse of weakness,
a curse of pain..
You will die over and over again.."
As she sang, curses left her lips and attacked the elf. The Kaldorei couldn't comprehend the intense pain she was feeling, as if her bones were attempting to escape through the pores of her skin. The immolating fire that coarsed through her veins caused her to scream in terror, watching helplessly as flesh curled and blackened, falling to the ground in tiny pieces before blowing away into the wind like worthless dust. Her flesh was red and slowly baking before her eyes, which weren't moist for very long. Soon they were shivvled like raisins and melted within a slowly blackened skull.
"How very crude.." Ninorra said quietly, as Klathgrave moved away from the corpse.
She knelt down and began searching the body, finding a few meager coins and worthless jewelry. Well, worthless to some, but not to Ninorra. She found these bits of people she consumed to be somewhat important, because even if their body fell apart and their soul died, she would honor their lives by taking their posessions and treating them as if they had value.
Some called her a pack rat.
In either case, she was finished here in the forest and soon returned home to Silvermoon by way of her hearthstone. Her arrival in the popular Silvermoon Inn was noticed by several Sin'dorei, one of which made the mistake of commenting on her wrists, which bore slight lacerations.
"..and a slave," the Sin'dorei commented to her companion, a rather attractive young man of perhaps a hundred years.
Although only nineteen years old and very naive of the world, Ninorra was not the type of woman to take an insult at face value. She was growing tired of the circulating rumors, combined with many other frustrations that were proving to have ill effects on her self esteem. "What did you call me?"
"A slave," the girl replied, smirking coyly. "Isn't that what you are? I saw the marks on your wrists, and I remember my mother telling me about a girl in a cage with red eyes who--"
Ninorra reached out and grabbed the girl's throat. She was not a strong woman, but when angered, Ninorra's strength seemed to multiply. Later, she would consider the possibility that her troll heritage shone when angered, but for now it mattered little. All she wanted to was to strangle this girl, and perhaps her friend, who's jaw stood agape like a trout.
"Listen to me, little girl.." Ninorra seemed to growl. "You may have heard of me, but I am no man's slave. I have swallowed the souls of many, and I would not hesitate to do the same to you. I have no love of your kind."
She released her hand, allowing the girl to stumble back. Her stray locks of golden sunshine were strewn accross her face as she coughed violently, pointing at Ninorra and looking at her companion, as if telling him to do something. He gave her a bemused look and shook his head, walking away.
Sliding her sleeves down past her wrists, Ninorra walked through Silvermoon.
"No man's slave.." she repeated.