Deminia Karisbayne
The room was dark and quiet as always, because that was the way she liked it. Moonlight softly slipped in through the wall cut-out that was supposed to be a window on the eastern wall. Of course, there were your everyday objects in her room. A tattered bed for a restless sleep, a desk for writing rare parchments, and a shattered mirror to look at what she thought was a hideous self. In the center of this dismal room was a woman; lost in a hateful trance by staring out onto Neriak's Third gate watching the dirt bloods skirmish the streets.
"You skipped training again today." a horrific voice boomed as another Dark-Elven figure thrusted the rotting door wide open. He invited himself into the little cubby-hole of a room and made himself at home as he sat himself down upon her chair and threw his muddy boots on her bed.
"I'm sending you to Faydwer, Deminia. Well, you and a few others that is. The Crushbone stronghold was demolished last week by the Felwithe army. We are sending you to make sure the.goods.are safely delivered. So prepare to leave for Freeport tomorrow..Deminia are you listening to a single thing I am saying to you?" the Dark-Elf shouted at the lifeless figure standing at the window.
"Ulraz..get your muddy boots of my bed." Deminia snapped without the slightest twitch of a muscle. With a chuckle, Ulraz removed his boots from her bed and proceeded over to his side.
There, he slapped her sending her head jolting to the side from his powerful force. But she didn't twitch or coward in pain. She just went back to staring into the eternal ibis of her tormented mind.
"You dirty little wrench..you listen to your master when he speaks to you!" Ulraz spat at Deminia, sending tiny droplets of spit cascading across her face.
Hauntingly, she turned her small indigo face to his. Her snowy white locks of hair twirled down upon her emotionless face with each and every move she made. Deminia was a gorgeous creature to behold, though, she never smiled..not even a wince.
"You forget Ulraz, that without me the Necromancer scholars will find out about you heritage. You wouldn't want that now would you? You wouldn't want them to know you're of dirt blood." Deminia scowled as she drove her fingernail across his rough cheek piercing his skin. Ulraz stood silently, almost in fear of what she had just said. "I'll be ready by tomorrow, Ulraz you have no need to question my will." Deminia snapped as she pointed her tiny arm to the large door that led to the dismal hallways of the lodge. Ulraz's eyes followed the movements of her arm strait to the door before he marched off to the other quarters.
Deminia lowered her arm moments after the door slammed behind him. She panned over the room with her frightening purple eyes making sure all was still in order. But her survey quickly ended when her eyes became entangled with their reflection in the mirror. For moments she didn't move and just stared at herself hating everything she saw. Was this reflection mocking her? She saw how the purple eyes glowed in the hauntingly dim lights and how they seeped deep down into her tormented soul. Soon, she grew tired of this other-worldly girl and her playful ways. Deminia knelt down and grabbed a jagged piece of broken granite and threw it at the mirror like she did times before. The pieces once again shattered into thousands of glimmering shards of glass and scattered across the dirty floor.
Angered, she picked up the sharpest of the glass pieces and carried it over to her worn wooden desk. She sat herself down harshly into the chair and held out her arm palm side up and began to carve away at her indigo wrists. Her crimson blood crept out of her wounds as the shard moved across her wrist making intricate designs. The pain that it was causing would have been excruciating for any other, but for her it was pleasure. The pain was soothing.
After the carving was done and her design was complete, she made her way over to the halls where she grabbed an ever-burning blue flamed torch and held her wrist over it. There, the flames danced across her skin and dried the blood that dripped from her wounds. Slowly, she removed her wrist from the painful fire and looked down upon her little wrist. Upon it was a symbol most important to the darkest of Teir'Dal..the symbol of Innoruuk. It was reassurance that hatred would run forever in her blood, whether she liked it or not. She would regret carving it and sealing it with her own blood.
The room was dark and quiet as always, because that was the way she liked it. Moonlight softly slipped in through the wall cut-out that was supposed to be a window on the eastern wall. Of course, there were your everyday objects in her room. A tattered bed for a restless sleep, a desk for writing rare parchments, and a shattered mirror to look at what she thought was a hideous self. In the center of this dismal room was a woman; lost in a hateful trance by staring out onto Neriak's Third gate watching the dirt bloods skirmish the streets.
"You skipped training again today." a horrific voice boomed as another Dark-Elven figure thrusted the rotting door wide open. He invited himself into the little cubby-hole of a room and made himself at home as he sat himself down upon her chair and threw his muddy boots on her bed.
"I'm sending you to Faydwer, Deminia. Well, you and a few others that is. The Crushbone stronghold was demolished last week by the Felwithe army. We are sending you to make sure the.goods.are safely delivered. So prepare to leave for Freeport tomorrow..Deminia are you listening to a single thing I am saying to you?" the Dark-Elf shouted at the lifeless figure standing at the window.
"Ulraz..get your muddy boots of my bed." Deminia snapped without the slightest twitch of a muscle. With a chuckle, Ulraz removed his boots from her bed and proceeded over to his side.
There, he slapped her sending her head jolting to the side from his powerful force. But she didn't twitch or coward in pain. She just went back to staring into the eternal ibis of her tormented mind.
"You dirty little wrench..you listen to your master when he speaks to you!" Ulraz spat at Deminia, sending tiny droplets of spit cascading across her face.
Hauntingly, she turned her small indigo face to his. Her snowy white locks of hair twirled down upon her emotionless face with each and every move she made. Deminia was a gorgeous creature to behold, though, she never smiled..not even a wince.
"You forget Ulraz, that without me the Necromancer scholars will find out about you heritage. You wouldn't want that now would you? You wouldn't want them to know you're of dirt blood." Deminia scowled as she drove her fingernail across his rough cheek piercing his skin. Ulraz stood silently, almost in fear of what she had just said. "I'll be ready by tomorrow, Ulraz you have no need to question my will." Deminia snapped as she pointed her tiny arm to the large door that led to the dismal hallways of the lodge. Ulraz's eyes followed the movements of her arm strait to the door before he marched off to the other quarters.
Deminia lowered her arm moments after the door slammed behind him. She panned over the room with her frightening purple eyes making sure all was still in order. But her survey quickly ended when her eyes became entangled with their reflection in the mirror. For moments she didn't move and just stared at herself hating everything she saw. Was this reflection mocking her? She saw how the purple eyes glowed in the hauntingly dim lights and how they seeped deep down into her tormented soul. Soon, she grew tired of this other-worldly girl and her playful ways. Deminia knelt down and grabbed a jagged piece of broken granite and threw it at the mirror like she did times before. The pieces once again shattered into thousands of glimmering shards of glass and scattered across the dirty floor.
Angered, she picked up the sharpest of the glass pieces and carried it over to her worn wooden desk. She sat herself down harshly into the chair and held out her arm palm side up and began to carve away at her indigo wrists. Her crimson blood crept out of her wounds as the shard moved across her wrist making intricate designs. The pain that it was causing would have been excruciating for any other, but for her it was pleasure. The pain was soothing.
After the carving was done and her design was complete, she made her way over to the halls where she grabbed an ever-burning blue flamed torch and held her wrist over it. There, the flames danced across her skin and dried the blood that dripped from her wounds. Slowly, she removed her wrist from the painful fire and looked down upon her little wrist. Upon it was a symbol most important to the darkest of Teir'Dal..the symbol of Innoruuk. It was reassurance that hatred would run forever in her blood, whether she liked it or not. She would regret carving it and sealing it with her own blood.