Decadence thrived in the realm of Rothos-Ver, bound by immortals tethered to vice. Indulging there every sin with delight and wealth. Pragmatic the ancient blighted elf held little contempt to indulge. Heritage of tradition sundered the feeble momentary bliss. Yet his lineage lingered here, the melting pot of the Deldran brought many of the races of Saryndil to the region. Be it bastardized by the culture of the realm, it still brought a half smirk to his ancient visage. With the separation of his kin his heart broke but the world would try to mend it.

Choosing the undertaking of his exile to seek out the truths that corrupted his world. A new wonder given to him with his cursed affliction. Upon consuming the ichor of others he would relive their memories. Knowing of the existence of forgotten gods who came the cleansing era. To taste their crimson upon his lips and see through their eyes had the potential to shatter the status quo of the world. Forbidden knowledge etched into their souls. Using his perfected memory to write burned tomes into his personal library.

Following such curiosities for his illusive prey into the realm of Rothos-Ver. Searching the city streets for fragments of the past. Its deception mirrored perfection. Making the chase nigh impossible for anyone but a being cursed to live forever. Maluithil stood before a vendor. Using his wealth to purchase a meal before seating himself under the vantage of an umbrella. There he sat and watched the city through his monocle and curious gaze. Hoping the shelter of the shade would conceal his identity. For his rank came with status of the divine.

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04-29-2021, 12:16 PM

Ahhh, the attention was so…exhilarating. Lissa was almost ecstatic as she walked the streets and felt pairs of eyes here and there fixating on her, if ever so briefly. Some of them were mortals and other races, much like herself. Most, however, were vampires. And she drew their attention rather easily. Not by looks, no, but rather by smell. After all, she was carrying a bloodied sword in hand as she walked towards the district of commerce. Vampires that felt their hunger roused, authorities that could all but smell violence, there were many who at least momentarily took note of her. Yet, no one was stopping her. She was wearing her master’s colours, after all. The red band on her throat marked her clearly as someone who was already claimed by someone important, the crest on her jacket indicated who it was.

Plus, some people simply knew who she was. A mortal that executed those who wronged her master. And she was still riding the height of her last kill. Taking deep, heated breaths she simply enjoyed her nightly stroll, pacing slowly, but purposefully. Granted, she didn’t have another duty for the moment. But people thought she did. And that tended to make the guilty nervous at the least. And a lot of people simply looked at her.
Ahh, it was so amazing.

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05-09-2021, 07:57 AM