Vinilaa
08-16-2001, 12:35 PM
She lived her life alone. Truth be told, she had become so accustomed to solitude that it was soon more a comfort than a necessity. A restless and unruly child, she often ventured into the commonlands away from the protection of her forest. It was here that she’d learned her most valuable lessons about the cruelty of the lesser races. She was aware, of course, that the pales jealously hated and shunned her kind. She’d suffered the insults, the scorn and the brutal attacks. Sometimes she could outrun them, their vulgar curses echoing in her ears and her heart pounding in her chest as she fled for the safety of Nektulos. When she was lucky she could outrun them, too often she was caught, beaten and left for dead. Wits and luck kept her alive and she thanked Innoruuk that she’d avoided rape, many teir’dal weren’t so fortunate.
She’d learned early on that she was different. Marked from birth as a soldier of Hate, a chosen child of The Father. She bore his symbol over her heart and wielded the arcane power of his touch; the power to harm and even kill with a touch of her hand. She was hated and feared by many, even some of her own kind. Of course the other teir’dal respected her caste, the power of the Dead was as impressive as it was horrifying. Necromancy was perhaps a macabre art, but the members of the Dead were absolutely devoted to The Father.
“Of the Father, for the Father!” Vinilaa and her sister, Antiopa, would chant as they ran through Nektulos hunting out the intruders from Rivervale who sought to practice their druidic arts on teir’dal lands. Vinilaa cackled as she scalped their tiny heads, the Indigo Brotherhood paid a pretty penny for those scull caps.
~Vinilaa Soulbreaker~
She’d learned early on that she was different. Marked from birth as a soldier of Hate, a chosen child of The Father. She bore his symbol over her heart and wielded the arcane power of his touch; the power to harm and even kill with a touch of her hand. She was hated and feared by many, even some of her own kind. Of course the other teir’dal respected her caste, the power of the Dead was as impressive as it was horrifying. Necromancy was perhaps a macabre art, but the members of the Dead were absolutely devoted to The Father.
“Of the Father, for the Father!” Vinilaa and her sister, Antiopa, would chant as they ran through Nektulos hunting out the intruders from Rivervale who sought to practice their druidic arts on teir’dal lands. Vinilaa cackled as she scalped their tiny heads, the Indigo Brotherhood paid a pretty penny for those scull caps.
~Vinilaa Soulbreaker~