(I wrote this about my incarnation on another server I have since left.. but like it enough to post it here since I rarely have the urge to write stories.
In the setting of the server, me and my mercenary guild had betrayed Benzor, the last bastion of power for the "Goodly" races in the land... and handed it over to the drow hordes. Rykka is a Fey'ri, the equivelent of a Sun elf teifling. She is a villian that thinks herself a hero, so sqewed are her perceptions.
I know it is not a ALFA setting, but the server I posted it is about to go down and I wanted to keep this, and even share it. If this goes against some ALFA rule.. then I will take it down.)
((Listen to slow, mellodic and eery music when you read this. ^_~ Sets the correct mood.))
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Deep within the mist hewn valley, a solitary figure walked... eerily silent despite the heavy black and crimson plate enshrouding its form. Fog and blades of grass alike parted before this creature, swaying softly to the rythems of an unheard and unfelt wind.
"Ever do I watch the ellusive ribbons of time stretch and bend as they pass me by."
-The silky, soft voice cooed from withen the metal bindings.
"Ever do the hourglass' sands slip through vainly clutching fingers."
A gauntleted hand, eased up to clasp at the hilt of an enchanted blade, drawing its magnificent edge from the depths of the ornate scabbard.
Rykka spread her arms as she quietly made her way up the riverside, the curved edge of the blade separating the blades of grass soundlessly as she passed among them, he eyes rising up and over the pervading fog to gaze serenely at the disapproving stars above her.
"How long have I, and my kin suffered a fate such as yours? Centuries.. millinea.. We have no place in these lands and yet we pervade..."
A flick of her wrist brought the handle of the sword spinning in her hand, grip tightening as the blade faced earthbound. Like a sentient force.. the mists parted from her path to reveal first a cliff side, and then the gaping maw of a natural cave yawning wide with invitation into its shadowy depths.
The Fey'ri tilted her head to the side, listening for the sounds the soupy fog sought to hide from her... the yips, growls, snarls and squeals from the goblinoid infested caves.
Already had she visited a small village, a bandit camp, and a scattering of other settlements on her path here. Likewise she would continue onward towards other locals as her feet guided her forward throughout the deceptively serene evening.
The Drow would have this land, she had practically handed it to them on a silver platter, and damned countless souls to slavery and worse. Since leaving the den of House Dlardrageth, her home for hundreds of years she had come to see the world in a light other than the mad chanting of the elders had painted it in.
Much like the Drow, her and her kin were forsaken by the other races of the surface world.. and hidden deep within the confines of the earth in what she supposed was a vain attempt to forget the shame they had brought into existance with the aid of the demon lords.
With a snap, she removed her helmet, casting it aside among the bones littering the entrance to the mountain dwelling. The sound was sudden and loud even within the muffling fog.. and she could hear the din inside the cave ease as its inhabitants attempted to judge wether danger was upon them.
Shaking loose locks of hair as dark a shade of crimson as the armor she wore, she listened as the first few scouts "quietly" made their way to the caves mouth, to assess the danger. With her free hand she slowly untied the whip from her side, inclining her head to the stars once more as if to ask for forgiveness. To her, a goblin, or orc, or ogre was just as foreign a being as a human, or dwarf... none of these creatures meant a thing to her... and yet within, she felt the cold stirrings of dread at the notion of condemning them to a life under the heels of the drow. A life locked away in some distant dark hole, just as her people had been.
The answer to this was all to clear. She had brought this upon them, and she would save as many as she possibly could from the fate they were destined to be thrust in to. Just as she did the village.. and the bandits.. and any other sign of sentient life the Drow could take interest in... she would save them all.
As the first grotesque goblin face peered around the corner, it gawked at the armored, winged figure standing wreathed in mist before his humble, of not shabby home... his shock at this sight caused him to pause a second too long, as with a rush of air the whip held in Rykka's offhand painfully wrapped itself around the creatures neck, a tug of her arm hauling it up and off its feet.
The second goblin to rush out of the cave mouth came sliding to a halt at the sight of his companion being hoisted through the air. With an almost dancer like twirl, Rykka's blade bit through the midsection of the wretched creature, sending two separate peices flying out and away to tumble amongst the tall grasses. Using the same momentum of the twirl, the whip was brought back down into play, viciously entangling the leg of the second goblin as it tried franticly to claw its way back into the imagined safety of the cave.
Her mind elsewhere as she casually strode up and impaled the screaming creature, she thought back to the farms she had passed on her way here. The men, women, and children she had likewise saved from the fate of the drow. Another flick of her wrist sent the offending corpse flying deeper into the cave, a warning of her arrival. Not making any attempt to mask her presence anymore, the metal of her boots rang clearly in the echoing curve of the tunnel... the sound of frantic preparations of the goblin and ogre warriors within coming as sweet music to her senses.
"Good" She spoke aloud. She wanted them to fight... she wanted them to hack, and stab and flail.. she wanted them to make their last moments count, and if she was fortunate, take her with them. She did not want a repeat of the incidents at the farms outlying Benzor... human children quizzically enough seemed to have no understanding of self defense. They screamed and cried, instead of taking up arms against her. It mattered not.... she had saved them all the same.
As she rounded the corner to face the scampering, scuttling goblin horde, she smiled broadly at them, a single tear glinting down her cheek in the light of the many scattered campfires in the cavern.
"I will save you all.... dear sweet children"
"And then I will save Benzor.."
Saving Benzor.
Saving Benzor.
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"......"
"......"