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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Depressing?
Yeah... I guess it could be interpreted like that... the wife calls it my "devil music"... 
Anyhoo, yes... Mith'ganni and Twilight Elf are one in the same (the latter being the common-tongue translation of the former). This particular breed of elf was originally introduced to me by another Innmate, Tek, who, I think, might've actually created them for his own 'world' and, as i might have mentioned before, the 'original incarnation' of Nyx Shyndyn was created for a game that he had started running (the current version, I think, is a tad more on the nasty side, however)... At any rate, per Tek's original description upon which I based our "Assassin Prince":
The Mith’ganni (Twilight Elves)
The Mith’ganni are something of a mystery, even among the Dur’amani of the woodlands. Rather than embrace the skyshrouds and forest floors, they make their homes beneath the open stars of the great flatlands of Elrithia. However, they are much more nomadic than their cousins are, constantly moving about the prairies, seemingly upon a whim.
It is very rare to find a Mith’ganni settlement that is more than a month old, and even more so to find a large pack of them. They organize themselves by clans, and generally stay among their own when wandering. Very occasionally, two or more small clans will rank up with each other, and form a larger traveling band, but this often happens only if a number of deaths have taken their toll on both that make the joining.
It is not only due to their reclusive and wandering nature that they are so uncommon and unknown among other peoples. They are a dying race, and their numbers are few. The Mith’ganni do not bear children as frequently as humans, or even the other races of Elves do. A female only becomes able to bear children at the time that the world is within the constellation of Lun, an event that takes place once every three hundred and sixty years. Some people find this a rather romantic reality, but the Mith’ganni see it as nothing more than a curse upon their being. It is believed it is the magic of the Moon that allows them to breed, and thus is why they are called Twilight Elves, though this is also believed to be related to their small number; they are at their twilight of existence.
Appearance
An average Mith’Ganni male usually stands between five and a half, and six feet tall, weighing anywhere from one hundred and forty to one hundred and ninety pounds, though there are always exceptions. A female is somewhat smaller, usually a few inches shorter, though weight is often more deceiving regarding their builds. Their skin is a pale white, and their hair ranges from grey to light brown. Their eyes are among their most unique features, being slightly less almond-shaped than their kin, though bearing a bit more of a gentle slant to them, and they often bear the unique color of an off-yellow, reflective of the moon.
Tribal clothing is generally more durable than elegant, though their dancing and festival clothes are quite detailed, favoring intricate embroidery over using expensive materials in their crafting.
((Now, I'm considering some modifications to the mith'ganni in general to fit more appropriately into this setting, but, that, in a nutshell, is the basis for the whole thing))
Now, as to Prien... This is another 'carryover' from the original incarnation and was selected from the Tek-created pantheon for that aforementioned game... The original description I received was as follows:
Prien
The Executioner
(Lawful-Evil: Death, passing, demise)
Prien was among the first to join the New Pantheon, being the brother of Yeil, who came at the same time as he. While his brother governs the weather patterns of the world, Prien is in charge of making sure that the souls of the dying are removed from their bodies and sent to Faxareth. For centuries, he has roamed the world, cutting away the threads that still tie the deceased to their bodies. Recently, however, Prien has found himself at ends with Bachdani, who believes that even the deceased should receive protection in their passing to the otherworld. On several occasions, the Great Guardian has tried to interfere with Prien’s axe. This has built great tension between the two. The clerics of Prien wear black and grey, and often carry the favored weapon of their lord: the two-handed war axe.
Symbol: A pair of axes crossed behind a grinning skull
In the Elisbraud arena, I imagined that Prien was an obscure, perhaps, long forgotten god of death that Nyx happened to discover as he was in transition from his life as a 'ranger' on the plains of his people to that of blood-hungry assassin in the urban jungle of Drasnia. *shrugs*
I'll be sure to update as I discuss with Lou and work to more closely integrate the "rehashed versions" of the Mith'ganni and Prien into the setting (It's the Cap'n's World, after all, and I'll defer to his 'ruling' on what may and may not fly here... can always edit things to shift the race or the god if necessary.)
Anyway, I hope that helps a little.
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 17:50:30.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Eep...
... the posts are coming gang, I promise.
Still scrambling time and inspiration about (and am admittedly finding it easier to write for other games, ATM, than I am this one) but, as I'm taking an extended weekend as of this evening, (no work until next Tuesday!!! WOOOOOOOOOT-aaahhh!), I should be able to focus on the 'creativity' and get us off to a nice Warp Factor 6 with a quickness. 
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 17:19:28.
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Topic: Help Lou Design a Campaign Setting!
Subject: Some help?
Well, yeah! Especially since I got lucky enough to actually play in this little world of yours, Lou, and seem to be getting so wrapped up in it, I'd looooove to help out where I can.
I've got a smidge of artistic ability that I'd glady loan out and help get your 'custom maps' done, if you like (e-mail me a rough sketch or whatever and I'll photoshop the dickens out of it or something )... Got some ideas brewing about some elven 'sub-races' that might be fun... other ideas about other regions of the continents than what has been touched on in game (and in the Q&A) thus far... blahblahblahyaddahyaddahyaddah...
Lemme know what you want me to squish in and I'll get to it. 
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 16:43:16.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: A song for the gutterkind?
Okay, so, I picked up the latest CD by Disturbed this week and, as I was penning this last post, a song titled "Haunted" cued up and caught me completely off guard... Firstly, the song starts of with what sounds like a rain storm and distant bells and I thought; "Wow... how appropriate..."... Then, as I'm writing I'm catching bits and pieces of the lyrics and start thinking even more; "Whoa... way appropriate, it seems, for our little group. Especially given the recent back and forth between Nyx and Cay..."
Sooo, I listened again and, after having done so, simply couldn't let the opportunity to share this one pass...
Haunted
Disturbed: Indestructable
You're broken, So am I
I'm better off alone
No one to turn to
And nothing to call my own
Outspoken, So am I
Explosive words,
That your world wouldn't understand
Turn away again
You're beaten, So am I
I've got a heart of stone
No medication can cure what has taken hold
You're hurting, So will I
When I awake and remember why I've been
Running from your
World, Dishonored by your world
Your world, I'm haunted by your world
My blood is cold as ice
Or so I have been told
Show no emotion, and it can destroy your soul
Another sacrifice, To a tormentor
Your world wouldn't understand
Turn away again
You're angered, So am I
A thousand fires burn
A land of darkness, From which I cannot return
You're aching, So will I
When I awake and
Discover that I've been damaged by your
World, Dishonored by your world
Your world, I'm haunted by your world
(spoken/whispered)
Never will I be welcome amongst the heartless
Monsters you surround yourself with
Feeding off the pain and misfortune of others
A maniacal breed of sub-human parasites
Thrown into a feeding frenzy with the smell
Of fresh blood
Open your eyes and see the creatures
For what they are
A swirling mass of hatred and envy
Don't be naive enough to think you're unaffected
The conversion has already begun
You're frightened, So am I
A world of demons wait
Watching our movements
And filling my heart with hate
You're burning, So will I
When I awake to discover that I've been
Ravaged by your
World, Dishonored by your world
Your world, I'm haunted by your world
*wicked smile* Appropriate, no? 
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 15:42:46.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Table for four?
"Elven blood, human heart, this we're made of," Spite’s voice carried to his ears as he padded through the doorway, "there is none in The Empire we're afraid of. And I shall die with both of my hands untied."
A bemused expression snaked across Nyx’s features as his gaze found Cay amongst the throng, then, Sylla’s nubile form danced a tight circle about him before she pirouetted past, and his expression transformed into something more than amusement. Tempting, my lovely, he leered, stopping briefly to watch her as she writhed along with the tavern’s din, but I’ve seen your game before and I’m not fool enough to touch you with your sister at my back, invited or not.
"Tell me," Spite’s black-honeyed voice called as she gyrated deeper into the common room’s shadows, "wouldn't our discussion taste much better to the tongue with a bit of ale?"
“Ale,” Nyx repeated past a wolfish smile, “yes.” He tore his gaze away from Sylla and he cast a shrewd glance over his shoulder at the silent sister behind him before following in the more vocal one’s wake. “Or wine,” he mused, almost absently, as his nimble fingers plucked a half-full glass of spirits from where someone had abandoned it on the corner of a table, “or this…” He shot the liquor down his throat as he moved towards the dimly lit booth selected by the black bardess – noting that she had selected one quite near to where the skulking Cay already sat - and carelessly discarded the now empty glass on some random table as he passed.
The assassin soon found himself somewhat pleasantly pinned between the Sisters DeMoria and, as Spite cooed an invitation to Cay, his hunter’s gaze swept a slow, discerning circuit around the tavern…
"But you, dearest, darkest, Cay, my sweet pretender,” Spite purred to the witch, “tell me what you believe to be your strengths, and we sisters shall tell you ours. Nyx's own, we know by rote and reason, don't we, dearest Mallys?"
((assuming "positive" response))
…His gaze was drawn back to the sisters at the mention of his name and the profession of knowing his strengths and the ghost of a smile flickered on his thin lips but he said nothing. Instead, he fixed Sylla’s eyes with his own for a long moment, his smile sharpening, then allowed the moonlight gaze to drift from her, to Cay, and then to Mallys at his other side whilst the sorceress made her reply…
"Good and well, and such a nice fit within our little puzzle,” Spite proclaimed, “don't you think, so, dearest Mallys?"
The silent sister merely scowled, displeasure evident upon pursed red lips and in darkened emerald eyes.
"Oh don't pout so, sister. If we are to function as a single sword, a singular entity, the one strike of an expert hand, would it not be of our mutual benefits to understand one another?"
“Quite,” Nyx agreed as he summoned a serving wench with a demanding wave of a hand, “as it would be to understand our mark before we move to sever the thread attaching him to his life, yes?” His mind was already working on the job, skittering through the lists of contacts that might be employed to serve the cause, noting those items that might be required for an operation of this sort to be run on the Sea Snakes’ turf, and recalling the more secretive paths in and out of the affluent district in which nobles and their ilk felt at their safest.
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 15:03:49.
Edited on 2008-06-11 at 15:06:26 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Yo! I'm here
Subject: Bienvenidos!
Or somesuch welcomey business...
Always nice to see new Innmates getting shipped in. Enjoy your stay. We hope you'll come to love this place like the rest of us do.
BTW... Feed Grugg... the poor boy hasn't had anything to eat in months.
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 14:04:13.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: The game is afoot
When she had spit at his feet, Nyx smiled all the more and, with the toe of one soft, leather boot, ground the glob of spittle into the floorboards. He couldn’t help but wonder, at that moment, what her screams might sound like… and when the last time might have been that such music spilled past her lips.
“I didn’t ask for this blood…” Cayrimsa exuded hatred in more than just the tone of her whispered words or her burning glares. It seeped from every part of her and spread out in palpable waves much like the scent of dead and rotting fish that the witch seemed to wear as perfume.
The assassin basked in it… absorbed it… His razor-edged smile widening with each dark, pulsing shock.
No, little cousin, Nyx thought as he watched her storm from the backroom and towards the tavern proper, but you were blessed with it, yes? From the depths of the cowl, his unblinking, pale yellow eyes shadowed the sorceress’ steps and, from the depths of his chest, a low, iniquitous chuckle followed.
The laughter faded to nothing as the door clapped shut but the insidious grin remained as his gaze slid over those who remained in Dmitrova’s sanctum. “She loves me already,” Nyx smirked, directing the comment to no one in particular.
The mith’ganni’s eyes, at last, came to rest… no… consumed the Sisters DeMoria. The fingertips of one hand went to the symbol of Prien that was embroidered on the breast of his odd, padded coat before he sketched an eerily accommodating bow and said; “Should you ladies see fit to pleasure me with but a snippet of your time, I think we can find a more… how is it said?... appropriate environment for a chat, yes?”
Something predatory crept into the elf’s smile as his gaze flicked from Spite and Malice to Dmitrova. “By your leave,” Nyx hissed, offering an almost mockingly servile bow to the man as he backed, whisper quiet, towards the door, “Captain.” When he reached the door, the would be assassin spun about with the flourish of his cloak, threw the portal wide and, laughing aloud, slithered into the tavern in search of a table.
((OOC: Continued next to address Glory's latest... ))
Posted on 2008-06-11 at 03:03:12.
Edited on 2008-06-11 at 15:03:02 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Completed Sheet
Has been PMd, Lou. Should have most everything included as far as equipment, etc... Let me know if you need anything else.
Posted on 2008-06-10 at 23:01:58.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: There...
...all caught up with the exception of getting finalized equipment and character sheet to you, Lou. I'll wing that your way once I get home this evening.
Absolutely loving the characters and posts, ladies and gent! Finding it rather easy to immerse myself in this one... Point of note that in other settings may not be that important but seems very worth a mention here: Nyx doesn't share the "women as property" or "women as second-class citizens" viewpoint that may seem to predominate the empire. Given the 'exceedingly long wait' that the mith'ganni have for their females to be able to mate, he's got a bit higher opinion of their worth than might the run-of-the-mill Imperial Citizen. (Not that it is necessarily obvious at this point... but there it is )...
Posted on 2008-06-10 at 19:56:16.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Summoned
“Not even the gods know why he’d want to see you, Shyndyn, but, for whatever reason, he does.”
“Of course he does,” Nyx had sneered in reply, “Why toss a round-ear to the wolves when there is a filthy little elf handy, yes? What is it this time, breeder? Bloodletting at Granwythe’s manse, perhaps? Fouling Naxir’s temple with the spilled guts of his priest before stripping it of its wealth?”
The messenger had recoiled as Nyx continued with his imaginings, the things the elf suggested disgusted even one of Dmitrova’s dogs, it seemed. And so it should be… how else would one of Nyx’s bloodlines even be considered to freelance for the Hellkites were he not reputed for being capable of even the foulest, most reprehensible of tasks. “It means full membership,” the man had gulped, “If that says anything…”
It had. And, now, Nyx stood in the backroom at the Hydra’s Breath, his yellow eyes slithering curiously from face to face as he listened to Vadim’s pompous prattle. Other than the fact that Dmitrova had never been loathe to offer work to ‘a point-eared piece of gutter trash’ like himself, Nyx had very little use and even less respect for the swaggering bastard. The Hellkite Captain, as far as the mith’ganni was concerned, was little more than a cobble in the path and it would not be much longer before Prien called for this one’s thread to be severed as well. The others whom had been invited, though, were quite a different story. The job, of course, was presented as a simple assassination and retrieval but, the presence of these three belied the implied simplicity of it all…and the fact that none of them were human spoke volumes more.
The DeMoria Demons – wickedly lovely, half-blooded daughters of Prien whether they knew it or not – were in attendance…
An interesting addition, he mused as his moonlight gaze slid over the dark-haired beauties, recalling a time when he had stalked them through Drasnia’s streets simply to watch them work.
…The twins had a penchant for spilling blood and taking life, he was well aware, but he wondered if their inclination towards cruel and twisted cat-and-mouse games as a prelude to their killings wouldn’t be counter-productive to the ‘quick and silent as death’ requirements that Vadim had indicated. Not that he would personally mind if the Corycian noble (or any other breeder that might chance into their path) should fall prey to the sisters’ malicious machinations – in fact, he rather looked forward to watching them play their games up close for a change – but Nyx was concerned that the pair might snatch the severing of Thanald’s thread from its rightful place at the edge of Prien’s axe.
And then there was Cayrimsa…
Spell twisting little witch, was Nyx’s first thought, as his eyes darted to the other half-breed, torturer, mutilator…
His gaze fixed, for a long moment, on the brim of that floppy-brimmed, leather hat that covered the fact that the woman had trimmed away the points of her own ears. Like the DeMoria sisters, Nyx had also found the opportunity to watch this one from time to time, as well, and, from the very first, he had been curious as to why she might be inclined to embrace the taint of her human blood as opposed that of her elven kin… hadn’t the humans taken enough from their kind without her taking from herself?
…but not the killing sort. he offered the sorceress a bit of a leering smile when her own eyes met his. Indeed, evidence that there is much more to this task of Vadim’s than the man might be sharing.
“Now then, I’m furnishing you all with 50 gold pieces,” Vadim, as he absently tossed pouches of gold to each of them, was finally nearing the end of his rambling “for expenses. Use it however you see fit. Should you succeed, you will be given a significant cut of the profits, and be made full-time Hellkites.”
One of Nyx’s alabaster-skinned hands – the one that hadn’t held a punching dagger at the ready beneath his cloak since he’d entered the Hydra’s Breath – lashed out and plucked the purse intended for him from the air and tested it’s weight before disappearing back under the shadowy garment. His eyes hadn’t wandered from Cay in that time but his head had cocked curiously to one side and the leering smile had screwed itself into an almost knowing grin.
“I disgust you, my curious little cousin,” he whispered past a smirk, “is that it?...”
He cast a quick, sidelong glance at the Hellkite Captain as he trudged towards the wine bottle, then to the sisters DeMoria, before returning to the witch; “…You seek to fit into the breeder’s world when even your blood would have you stay in ours? Tsk,” there was something decidedly devilish but, at the same time, not at all unfriendly in his smile as he reached to draw the cowl of his cloak over his head and winked one moon-colored eye at her from the deeper shadows that now enveloped his features, “Perhaps we will change your mind about that before it’s all over, yes?”
“Well,” Vadim smirked after swallowing half a glass of wine in a single, greedy gulp, “That’s it then. Thanald is staying at the Grinning Goblin Inn on the north side of the bay, which is in Sea Snake territory. Obviously, the Sea Snakes are no threat to us, but it’d be best if you didn’t let ‘em know you were there, savvy? Be quick and silent as death and you’ll have no trouble. I expect nothing less from Hellkites.”
“Understood, sir,” Sylla – or ‘Spite,’ as he knew the woman – replied, smiling that lusciously wicked smile.
Nyx, for his part, simply cast a look in the Captain’s direction and snorted derisively as if the suggestion that he would be anything other that quick and silent was a great offense. “You’ll have your head,” he hissed, offering a fractional nod, before his gaze slinked across the DeMoria’s and Cay once more, “paltry advances aside.”
((OOC: room throughout for any ‘conversations’ or backposts… Nyx will likely suggest a get together to plan the mission, of course… Shall we, ladies? ))
Posted on 2008-06-10 at 19:02:30.
Edited on 2008-06-10 at 23:03:33 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: C'mon good karma!
The ‘I’m so humped’ look on Rope and Grope’s face when Sam had sat up was almost worth the price of admission to this shindig, bleeding nose, cracked ribs, and all. If the rutter hadn’t spent so long crapping his pants he might’ve come out of the whole deal with a gimped arm and an ugly scar but them’s the breaks… the derringer barked and tore a tiny hole in the guy’s chest… “Grope that,” Sam grinned – or, more correctly, winced – as he reached for the killed man’s Colt, “ya sonuvabi…”
“What the…”
~ PAF~
“…iiITCH!” It felt as if a bomb had just gone off in his shoulder and, just before his vision spun and he’d gotten blasted backwards, Sam had a vague recollection of Ludlow pointing that equalizer in his direction. Gorramit but that ruttin’ hurts! His reeling mind protested as Sam fought for at least enough wherewithall to hold onto the colt he’d just snatched from Mr Dead.
Merciful Buddha, I’m kilt,Sam realized even before he managed to force his vision to clear, Wong bah duhn’s got me dead to rights! Stupid, Sam! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
He was already raising both the stolen colt and the derringer to fire off a final, defiant salvo when, out of the clear blue, Brigit sprang up and kicked the customized cannon out of Ethan’s hand. Mercifully, from the sound it made when it hit the floor, the thing was broken and wouldn’t be used again any time soon – if it hadn’t been for his ballistic mesh and trying to twist out of the projectile’s way, Dash was sure, just one shot from that gorram thing would’ve punched a suckin’ mudhole in his chest. If’n I only lusted ya before, Miss Brigit, he thought, I sure’s hell love ya now!
~SLAP!~
The schoolmarm had earned a viscious backhand for her efforts. The slap had sent the woman reeling, off balance enough to trip over the table and land a faceplant in one of the overstuffed chairs. The fact that she was apparently unconscious again suited Sam just fine – them as is playin ‘possum usually don’t get shot much – but the fact that this Ching Soh, Ludlow, had slapped the mi tian gohn out of her to get her that way flat pissed the pilot off.
Ethan was already going for the twin Pythons and Dash knew that he had less than a heartbeat to get his next (and maybe last) shot off. A communicator on Ethan’s side activated and frantic voice squalled “We’ve got company!” just as Sam leveled both the colt and the derringer at Ethan…
“ ‘bout mother-humpin’ time,” Dash growled, pulling the triggers on both weapons even as he convinced himself that, to survive even the next few minutes, he’d need some sort of cover. Right now, the dead guy looked about as solid as it was going to get.
((assuming he doesn’t get killed after busting a couple of caps in Ethan’s direction))
C’mon, Cap, Sam prayed as he hauled Jones’ body into position between himself and Ludlow, Haul me outta here breathin’ an’ I swear ta th’ Big Fuzzy as I’ll never put m’feet onna supper table agin!
((OOC: Alright… if possible, two shots (one from the derringer and one from the colt) at Ludlow – if Sam can only take one, let’s go with a shot from the colt – then, we’re using the dead guy as cover/a shield until we’ve got other options… also might help if Sam can get the other colt worked loose… two guns is better’n one, puhn yoh! ))
Posted on 2008-06-09 at 18:46:18.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yessir, I am...
...had hoped to get it done this weekend but time got away from me. Almost done and hope to have it ready for you soon.
Sorry for the delay.
Posted on 2008-06-09 at 15:01:23.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Comin' up!
Weekend got away from me and I didn't get a chance to finish. Have something to get Nyx up to the "here and now" for you soon (along with equipment, etc).
Posted on 2008-06-09 at 13:26:20.
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Topic: Tann's Mom
Subject: Mom!
Tann's picking on me!!!! 
Welcome to the Inn, ma'am. So very glad to have you....
Now, if you could send Tann to his room without any supper...
Posted on 2008-06-09 at 13:22:03.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: *thwaps Tann*
That's it! I'm tellin' your mom!
Posted on 2008-06-09 at 13:19:53.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: LOL
If you click on the character to be edited, there should be a link at the bottom that will allow you to edit.
Posted on 2008-06-07 at 19:46:20.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Don't know about "major"...
...but the rosters are helpful for helping others reference things about your character, etc, and does help to keep things on an even keel... thanks for reminding me.
I've gone ahead and cleared out Tier *sniff* ...Alas poor Steward! We knew him well, Horatio!... *sniff* and stubbed in Cameron. Feel free to edit in your service record, personal bio, etc, as you see fit.
Posted on 2008-06-07 at 13:40:24.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Wonderful...wonderful...
I figured as much but, as it's your world, so to speak, figured it was best to verify.
Soooo, my intial post appears to be getting quite lengthy... as such, I'v gone ahead and posted the first part (more really of a backpost I suppose) and am hoping to have the rest finished today.
Posted on 2008-06-07 at 13:30:57.
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Topic: Today is a good day...
Subject: I vaguely remember 21...
...or was that a hallucination?
A very happy birthday to you, Vorrioch. 
Enjoy the celebration. I'll be sure to have a drink for you, myself, this evening.
Posted on 2008-06-07 at 13:10:45.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Two nights ago
Night found the Mith’ganni crouched on the roof of a weather-beaten inn near Drasnia’s docks, his pale face turned towards the sky and yellow eyes reflecting the waning moon’s sickly light as he watched the tempest brew and boil on the horizon. The churning of the seas, driven by a chilling, prophetic wind that smelled of brine and ozone and rot, preceded the roiling bank of the storm front as it stretched forth hateful, black tendrils that sought to soon blot out the moon and stars over the port city.
Death was coming.
Good.
Nyx smiled a mirthless but expectant smile and drank deeply of the rot-saturated air as his narrowed eyes sought out Prien’s sigil amongst the stars. And so from the maelstrom the Executioner doth call, an inner voice hissed as the Twilight Elf’s eyes found the constellation that he had come to know as Threadcutters Axe, Dark nights herald dark days in which the chosen must fall. Death for each one hath Prien ordained, thus, with their blood shall my own blade be stained. The unspoken prayer to Prien the Executioner whispered into silence and Nyx basked in crypt-cold sensation that the macabre oath evoked. He remained crouched and unmoving on the rooftop, his yellow-eyed gaze fixed on the skies until, at last, even the dull, red winking stars of the Threadcutters Axe were veiled by the tumultuous death shroud of thunderheads. There would soon be work to do, he was sure, and there were preparations to be made before the business could begin.
As the clouds opened and spit the first icy drops of rain down upon Port Drasnia, Nyx slithered from the roof of the weather-beaten Inn and melted into the shadows of the city’s streets. He moved through the metropolis like a wraith, slipping unobserved through the stench and squalor of the slums and the tight shuttered, well maintained neighborhoods of the well-to-do breeders alike before finally arriving at the decrepit little cemetery that had, of late, been one of his favored places to wile away the hours. Originally, he had chosen the place because of the small mausoleum at its western edge. A tree - planted as a memorial many years ago by some insipid round-ear, most likely - had stretched its roots beneath thing and, in its growth, had begun to buckle the foundation, facilitating the easy removal of some stones in the tiny crypt’s back wall, and providing him with access to a hidey-hole where most death-fearing round-ears wouldn’t even think to search.
Even if they did, Nyx sneered, their vision is as dull as their ears and, seeing the lock rusted to the door, would think the place sealed… as intelligent as short-lived those breeders…
Yes, the mausoleum had served as a very effective safe house when needed. He had looted the corpse, of course, and set the bones to light in a fire one evening in order to cook his dinner and, now, the place was little more than that… a place to hide or recover when necessary. What kept him coming back, though, was the music that came from the small cottage nearby. The symphony had begun just a week ago, when the cemetery’s caretaker had fallen ill. A poorly handled corpse – felled by some horrid, breeder disease no doubt – had infected the man with it’s not as dead malady and, oblivious to the putrescence that now ate away at the thread of his life, returned to the small cottage and shared it with his wife and their newborn child. The song was beautifully composed, from its rumbling beginnings in the deep, hacking coughs of the caretaker all the way through the swelling, worried notes of the wife’s concerned weeping. It had reached its crescendo just days ago, though, when the wheezing had begun in the babe’s chest followed by the coughing and anguished cries of the infant had driven the woman’s wailing to heights he hadn’t believed possible. For so many nights, now, Nyx had sat in the mausoleum (or sometimes just outside the cottage itself) and listened to the music play, reveling in its complex melding of anguish and misery, astounded by its virtual testament to the end that awaited all things. Tonight, though, as foretold by the storm, it was time for the song to end… There would soon be work to do, he was sure, and there were preparations to be made before the business could begin.
The sounds of the storm, accompanied by the crouping of the child and the weeping of the woman, muffled his entry into the dwelling. The caretaker, very near his final moments in this life, stared blankly at the Mith’ganni padded past where he lay on the sick-stained bedclothes - Already claimed, that one Nyx mused, certain that the man’s gawking eyes did not see him – and the woman… the woman was too lost in her own grief, too caught up in the keening music of her own death, that she wasn’t aware of its arrival until a bit of rain water dripped from the cowl of his cloak to land on her shoulder.
“The child is sick,” a strangely accented voice whispered as she began to turn.
“Y… Yes,” the woman croaked, her voice tainted by the rawness of despair… She stopped turning when a pale, slim fingered hand reached around her to slither up the infant’s fevered form and came to rest on a crimson tinged cheek.
“And,” the voice continued, closer now to her ear, “you are so very tired…”
“Yes,” she sobbed, hanging her head.
“Shhhh,” that pale hand slid softly from the baby’s cheek and moved to cover the squalling mouth and tiny nose, “I can help…”
It hadn’t taken more than a moment for the infant to become quiet and still… and, though the woman may have wished to when her fevered mind was struck with the realization of what was happening, she didn’t have time to scream.
The song had ended, the orchestra silenced as the threads that tied it’s musicians to their instruments were severed, and the conductor – not the same one that had begun the sonata – stood for a moment, regarding the now muted ensemble. There would be work to done soon, he was sure, and now, the preparations had been made.
((OOC: This got a little more lengthy than I had intended, actually, but it did help me 'find the character', I think... Anyway, rather than have Lou think I've forgotten, I decided to go ahead and post this part.. I should have a bit for the actual meeting at the Inn for you soon... ))
Posted on 2008-06-07 at 13:07:48.
Edited on 2008-06-07 at 13:12:59 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Death in Drasnia?
Almost done with my post but wanted to check befoer I just assumed such a thing would be there... Does Drasnia have cemetaries of any sort or is disposal of the dead handled by means other than burial?
Posted on 2008-06-06 at 19:52:09.
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Topic: School's Clever Ploy; Or How A Learning Institution Managed to Dominate My Creative Life and Sent M
Subject: Woot! You made it!
Congrats and welcome back! 
Posted on 2008-06-06 at 15:03:24.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: No offense taken...
...I'm all for 'serious combat,' myself. It's all part and parcel of the experience, you know? Hard to 'get into it' properly if you go in thinking; "Oh, I'll never die without coming back, being saved at the last minute, etc..." I don't wanna be immortal, I wanna have fun!
I'm just giving Roger a hard time.
Posted on 2008-06-06 at 13:26:55.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Already writing...
...Nyx's first post. If work doesn't get too crazy I'll have it tacked to the thread this afternoon - if it does, it'll be tonight.
Posted on 2008-06-06 at 13:22:17.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: LMAO
Great bout of posts all... Despite my earlier frustration, it really is good to be back in action with this one. I'll get some backposting in and get Cerberus moving...
Brom... response to your PM forthcoming as well.
Thanks, everybody... you're a helluva group.
Posted on 2008-06-06 at 11:21:37.
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