Ninorra
07-17-2007, 01:17 PM
The words rang between Ninorra's ears. They were ugly words, words she wouldn't have chosen to give such horrible news to the kindest man she knew.
You are almost completely sterile.
Ugly words. It made him sound less than Sin'dorei. Like some sort of failed experiment. Something that didn't work. The doctor gave them these words without a smile, his eyes heavily magnified behind thick glasses. She could feel Vicailde's heart struggle to continue beating through his shock and anger. Ninorra bit back tears of dissapointment; not in her husband, but in the cruelty of the world and how it cast down such wretched judgement on a couple that wanted something so very simple.
She walked through Silverpine, mercilessly blasting away Daleran mages as they crossed her path. Ninorra had waited until she was gone frm Vicailde's sight before she cried, knowing that her tears would bring him nothing but anger and shame. He was such a proud man, such a traditional and loving man, who only wanted to give his young wife a child..
"..so you wouldn't be lonely, when I am gone."
She heard his voice clearly in her mind, telling her how close he'd come to ripping out the mana injecting device installed in his arm. It was that very device that was causing this problem, and yet it was the one thing that allowed him to live. At Vicailde's age, he might have been weaker to the point of uselessness in battle, without that device. He might have died from his weak heart, if it didn't pump mana through his body like a second heart. What then, was the answer?
"To hell with it," Ninorra spat, sending a pillar of fire to wrap around the body of a human woman. Her eyes singed and turned black before shrivveling inside of a melting skull, but the red-eyed warlock did not look away. Helnia, her succubus, giggled lightly before sending her whip towards the woman's neck, holding her in place before her mistress' wrath. Ninorra didn't bother to wipe the tears from her eyes. "To hell with it all. What does it matter, now?"
The woman screamed her last scream before her soul was ripped from her body, and collected in Ninorra's open palm. A small purple shard that Ninorra took little time in consuming through her skin. The immortal soul strengthened her, flowed through her veins and made her feel as if her body were on fire for just an instant. Then came the strength, the luscious feeling of being full to the brim of mana. Her eyes glowed a bright ethereal red, but there was no need to stop.
"Kill them all, Helnia," Ninorra said to her pet. "Let them know the wrath of the Siren."
Helnia giggled. She had already delivered the news of her mistress' unrest and dissapointment to the Nathrezim who so desired her throat. How proud he would be of her slaughter.
Ninorra continued to cry bitterly as charred corpses hit the floor, her body pulsing with stolen mana and souls that would never feel again.
You are almost completely sterile.
Ugly words. It made him sound less than Sin'dorei. Like some sort of failed experiment. Something that didn't work. The doctor gave them these words without a smile, his eyes heavily magnified behind thick glasses. She could feel Vicailde's heart struggle to continue beating through his shock and anger. Ninorra bit back tears of dissapointment; not in her husband, but in the cruelty of the world and how it cast down such wretched judgement on a couple that wanted something so very simple.
She walked through Silverpine, mercilessly blasting away Daleran mages as they crossed her path. Ninorra had waited until she was gone frm Vicailde's sight before she cried, knowing that her tears would bring him nothing but anger and shame. He was such a proud man, such a traditional and loving man, who only wanted to give his young wife a child..
"..so you wouldn't be lonely, when I am gone."
She heard his voice clearly in her mind, telling her how close he'd come to ripping out the mana injecting device installed in his arm. It was that very device that was causing this problem, and yet it was the one thing that allowed him to live. At Vicailde's age, he might have been weaker to the point of uselessness in battle, without that device. He might have died from his weak heart, if it didn't pump mana through his body like a second heart. What then, was the answer?
"To hell with it," Ninorra spat, sending a pillar of fire to wrap around the body of a human woman. Her eyes singed and turned black before shrivveling inside of a melting skull, but the red-eyed warlock did not look away. Helnia, her succubus, giggled lightly before sending her whip towards the woman's neck, holding her in place before her mistress' wrath. Ninorra didn't bother to wipe the tears from her eyes. "To hell with it all. What does it matter, now?"
The woman screamed her last scream before her soul was ripped from her body, and collected in Ninorra's open palm. A small purple shard that Ninorra took little time in consuming through her skin. The immortal soul strengthened her, flowed through her veins and made her feel as if her body were on fire for just an instant. Then came the strength, the luscious feeling of being full to the brim of mana. Her eyes glowed a bright ethereal red, but there was no need to stop.
"Kill them all, Helnia," Ninorra said to her pet. "Let them know the wrath of the Siren."
Helnia giggled. She had already delivered the news of her mistress' unrest and dissapointment to the Nathrezim who so desired her throat. How proud he would be of her slaughter.
Ninorra continued to cry bitterly as charred corpses hit the floor, her body pulsing with stolen mana and souls that would never feel again.