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What is known of so little, can become so much...

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Isil Narmolanya
Crazed Zealot
Crazed Zealot


Joined: 07 Dec 2004
Posts: 3001
Location: Jersey City, NJ

PostPosted: Thu Dec 23, 2004 7:11 pm Post subject: What is known of so little, can become so much... Reply with quote

Name: Isil Narmolanya
Age: 348
Race: Snow Elf/Human/Some other entity
Alignment: Evil
Profession: Mage, Fencer
Current Occupation: Slave of the Order of the Ebon Skulls

Isil Narmolanya was born on Dagger Isle, north of moonglow. Unfortunatly, it is all she knows. She does not know why she is so skilled in the arcane arts, nor fencing. Her earliest memory is one which has stuck with her. The image of her parents being slaughtered by a Lich and his minions.
Ever since that moment, Isil vowed to destroy this lich, and it's followers. For years she traveled the island, only to find ice and snow. On a rare occation, a boat would stop at the island, usually to collect polar bear pelts, and would then leave. On one of those occations, Isil managed to get a ride from the island, to the City of Britain.
For a long while, she was affiliated with numerous factions and brigands, though none shared the same vision as she: to slay the lich. Not until she was told of an army which protected the city of Yew. The Army of the Frontier. This army was at war with the Order of the Ebon Skulls. Isil later found out that the lich that killed her family, also commanded the order.
For months she trained, until she was finally accepted into the army. However, from then on, the army did nothing with the order. It sat at the Empath Abbey, and guarded it from the occasional orc. It was not what Isil wanted, so, even after training for months, and guarding nothing as it seemed for so long, she disbanded from the army. For years she wandered about sosaria, searching for this order. Wherever she went, she was rideculed for being elf, or from being human. She had no place in this world.
Every day, after being tortured by her peers, her hatred grew, and her lust for revenge grew as well. She would lash out at those who even looked upon her. She trusted noone, not even those who said they knew her.
"Noone knows me..." she would think, passing by those as if they were not even there. She began living nocturnaly, banishing the sun. She would visit the occasional tavern, and if one were to try to flirt with her, even if he was drunk, she would kill him on the spot.
Once, while sitting at a stool at Poets Garden, a man shrouded in black garments was speaking in the middle of the well known tavern. He was speaking of power, of vengeance, of corruption, entropy, and of this.... oblivion. Isil became most curious of this Oblivion. The shrouded man would tell of it's power, and Isil became immensly interested. When the speaker told that he was a member of the Order of the Ebon Skull, she barely flinched at it. At this point, she could not even remember who had killed her parents, she did not care. She was too hardened at this point, she showed almost no emotion to anyone, except Hatred, and Anger, among others. Right then and there, she decided that she would be one with this order, to obtain power.
She lost all her rights as a person after joining such order. She is a slave, however, she will have power after slavehood.
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Isil Narmolanya
Crazed Zealot
Crazed Zealot


Joined: 07 Dec 2004
Posts: 3001
Location: Jersey City, NJ

PostPosted: Thu Dec 23, 2004 7:30 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Gaining power, but at what price?

Sure, she did not enjoy being a slave, but she knew that after she would be most powerful. But she needed to become stronger, stronger that even the Lich Lord himself.
On a day like any other, she ventured to dungeon Destard. She had recently been reading up on taking ones soul in order to gain more power. Power is in fact, what she wanted, but she did not know the price.
She ventured down into the depths of the dungeon, when she came upon an Ancient Wyrm, immensely wounded, but still breathing. "This is my chance for power.." she thought with a grin.
She took out a dusty tome, flipped through some pages, and began chanting ancient words from it. Both Isil, and the mighty dragon began to glow with a dark aura. For almost an hour she chanted, until finally, she watched as a dark glow rose from the ancient wyrm. It floated there for a moment, and then crashed into Isil, knocking her unconcious.
Isil awoke from her slumber. How long had it been? a few moments? a day? a month? years? she didn't know. She blinked a few times, and was startled to see that her vision had a dark red tint. SHe looked around quickly, astonished. She looked down to her right arm, pulled up the grey robe, and looked at her arm, which was now a dark blue, ending right after the forearm, blending in with her skin. She was clutching a dark blue spear. As she tried to let go of it, it would not let her. "We are one now, my child." She looked around, looking for the voice. She looked to the spear, and saw it was eminating a dark glow, hissing, shrieking.
Isil ran out of the dungeon, and after emerging from the dungeon, looked quickly into a small puddle of water. Her eyes were now crimson, compared to her usual dark blue, and her skin was a pale white, with intricite marking on it. She looked up slowly from the puddle, and gazed upon a black steed. It was calling to her, but she knew she could not ride it. For a slave to ride a steed was forbidden, punishable by death.
She thought for a moment, "what if i were to just stable it, and ride it when i am in the order fully?"
And that is what she did.
So... to gain power, but she now holds her own body with the soul of an ancient wyrm, beckoning from inside, giving her strenght, but at what price...
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