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Author Topic: Emvy Vevictus - Sevari - Shield Maiden/Ballerina  (Read 7985 times)
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Emvy Vevictus
Sanguine Siren
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Gender: Female
Posts: 63


Elf, Cor'hm


« on: October 31, 2009, 01:01:18 PM »

Name: Emvy Vevictus

Common Nicknames: Emmy, Vay

Occupation: Shield Maiden - Dancer

Gender: Female

Race: Elf

Tribe: Cor'hm

Age: 313

Age By Appearance: 33

Approximate lifespan: 400

Knowledge & Training: Equal to a human 52 years of age.
Height: Slightly over 1 Ped, 2 Fores, 2 Palmspans and 6 Nailsbreadths.

Weight: 1 Pygge, 5 Hebs, 1 Od and 5 Mut.

Eye Colour: Norsidian

Hair Colour: Norsidian, sun bleached to a deep chestnut.

Title: Sanguine Siren

Appearance
Emvys countenance seems fantastically accurate for her tribe, who are known for having lighter complexions. Extensive raven hued tresses, sun bleached a deep chestnut, resonate the sophistication of a starless night. They fall in delicate cascades over her powerful shoulders, ending just below her buttocks. She rarely wears it up, most frequently in an unsophisticated ponytail at the back of her head, with diminutive strands falling out from the restraints. Theses black locks frequently frame her rounded features, which give the sense to hold something of suppleness, detracting from the severity of her warrior facade. The dark elfs sensual lips maintain a fragile rose-tinted hue that naturally softens her stridently angular profile.

Stormy norsidian eyes are in faultless ratio with the rest of her face: a precise, curved, rather stubborn chin, and her petite nose. The elfs willowy eyebrows curve gracefully over her orbs. Emmys eyes are conceivably one of her most dazzling features as they sparkle in shades reminiscent of polished obsidian, culminating into windows that enclose eternal intensity and connotation. Unfathomable passion and idealistic thoughts, obscured behind scintillating opaque surfaces, appear to radiate from within. Occasionally, Emvys eyes transmit her thoughts, but countless times they shroud from the world what agitates her heart. Eloquent flowing eyelashes are pleasing to the eye, though are not exceptionally lengthy.

Her neck is graceful and slight as it leads into her slender yet impressively toned shoulders, which angle down in a poised nature. Even in times of enormous anxiety or tension, she will endeavor to preserve the faade of an unperturbed and serene disposition. Although when confronted she will drop this well disciplined demeanor. The elfs arms are also graceful, lean, yet overlaid in sinewy muscles like corded steel. Though generally lithe she is physically powerful, on par with most any dark elf of her training and size. Emmy's calloused digits are also elongated and heavily scarred; giving visual confirmation to the years of rigorous conflicts she has endured. They have the latent potential to convey destruction, but can also bring an enormous deal of reassurance to those in despair.

Her torso is trim, petite as her body yet gifted with womanly curves that make the dark elf's form aesthetically attractive. One could easily imagine the Cor'hm would look lovely in some formal dress hugging close to her, but she has never been inclined to utilize these shapely features. And habitually keeps them hidden behind loose fitting outfits and various forms of battle regalia. Emvys waist accentuates this slimness, being rather diminutive, with hips just a smidgen larger. Emmys long legs frequently remain out of view, but are nonetheless lean and supple, with well-shaped thighs and calves. With a lifetime of far-reaching exercise, her feminine qualities enable her to maintain a balanced and elegant figure.

The supple skin covering her body is silky and immaculate, yet heavily scarred; mostly due to her dedication to combative studies and a habitual inclination too stay in physical confrontations. Its hue is a subtle radiance similar to a delicate white flower under the gentle glow of moonlight. Collectively, Emvy reaches a height of only a few grains under two peds making her relatively normal sized for a dark elf, though her self-assured personality grants her the aura of being larger than life. Weighing slightly over a pygge and a half makes her extremely light for her chosen profession, though every grain of the elf is an overlay of well-toned, wiry muscle.

No attractive jewelry adorns the dark elf as over the course of her flight from home she has pawned such trinkets to reach Sarvonia. Although her supple pointed ears show the markings of having been pierced, the holes now remain forgotten. The elfess has a few tattoos, one of which is a tribal arch that runs from below her right breast in a wide arc below her ribcage. This black tattoo actually overlays a sword wound that had flayed the flesh away from her ribs. The blow had glanced off her sternum causing the weapon to ride along the outside of her ribs, peeling tissue from bone. Her second tattoo resides on the base of her skull, veiled beneath her lengthy tresses. It is a palmspan sized stylized star with a snarling demon as its centerpiece.

Outfits & Armour
Along the elfs slender legs she wears a sturdy pair of leather boots. They rise to about mid-thigh, with sinewy laces riding along the inside of her calves, keeping them snuggly tethered down their full length. They are tanned a deep chestnut although worn heavily with age, so much that her left knee is beginning to show through. The soles are thick, providing adequate depth to conceal the Coornlh that Emvy enjoys utilizing upon unwitting foes. Upon her delicate hands she wears a pair of gloves that surpass her elbows in length. They are supple so as to grant the dark elf the ability to work with intricate objects. Yet they are well-built and the same general hue as her footwear.

About her torso she wears a sundress, a unique weave of ether-flake and cotton, which is somewhat revealing but clearly woven to create this illusion. It rides just above her bosom in the front and continues in this fashion about her body, falling in respite just below her shoulder blades in the back. At near mid-thigh the garment ends, although a plethora of cloth filaments radiate from the hem. These lengthy strands cascade down to her mid-calves, reminiscent of the flowing petals of a flower. The hemline is double stitched as to garner durability along the length of such delicate additions. She owns two dresses constructed in this manner, one of a snowy white hue and the other norsdian, both of which she prefers when dancing.

In times of conflict, which has been most of the Cor'hms life, she wears full regalia of ring-mail armour. The leather undershirt of this ensemble is substantial black leather as is the leggings that complete the set. The rings that overlay the outfit are a brusque golden colour, an alloy constructed of fine steel, mithrilan and aureum. With the potency of such an alloy, the rings are forged very slender and lighten the armour somewhat, allowing the dark elf an immense range of freedom. The entirety of it snuggles tightly about her lissome form, unmistakably displaying the eye-catching being encased in its protective confines.

Over her ring-mail armour she wears a breastplate constructed mainly of steel and a light addition of aureum. This mixture creates a slightly norsidian hue tinted with a golden sheen when kissed with light. Engraved over the plates surface is a chaotic motif of snarling demons, often twisting into one another. Each exhibits a vast array of horns and spikes that jut out, creating an assortment of sharp tines to wound enemies that engage the dark elf. This frightening design also is prominently displayed on the plates covering the elfs knees and shins. They are of the same metallic concoction as the breastplate, with the exact qualities demonstrated.  All of the perverse visages are accentuated with karikrimson paint awash in their eyes.

Personality
Emvy is in every sense of the word a puzzled individual. Relentlessly she strives to approach life openly, yet her mind forces Vay down pathways of self-doubt. Frequently the Cor'hm is racked by personal chaos, overwhelmed with trying to find out who she is now. The days when she could act impetuously, burying her ethics underneath layers of perverse self-righteousness is gone. In her previous life she had murdered, cheated and deceived, but turning a blind eye to these actions can only shelter you for so long. Remorse for her past choices nag the elf, yet had she the opportunity the warrior would most likely not change them. Rather she seems to revel in tormenting herself by conjuring the phantoms of every immoral action and blames herself.

This indignity does not come automatically from a conviction that killing is wrong, but rather from an understanding that Emmy was reckless for convincing herself that it was justified. Above all the Cor'hm has come to loathe herself for having lived in a state of self-ignorance, and for mechanically moving through a power structure that now seems utterly useless. The futility of life has been laid bare to her; the pathetic power struggles, the killing so that a new puppet can rise to power only to be replaced by another, it all seems hopelessly pointless now. This apathy has been slow in coming, yet it may have always been below the surface; Emvy simply pushed it under whenever it came up for air. Now however, having chosen to leave the Crystalwoods, Vay is strangely free from the bonds that restricted her ability to explore into the depths of her soul. Unfortunately, shes finding that its pretty bloodcurdling in there.

This awakening is not an instant conversion to morality, but rather a slow process that has just begun. Its a progression of discovery, at last becoming vulnerable to her own inquiry and doubts. Yet one that brings a certain measure of newfound independence. This development is at times demoralizing, and leads Emmy down gloomy paths, and into wells of anguish from which there seems no escape but death. Equally as powerful are the moments of blinding clarity, of renewed optimism, a sense of liberty and a desire to experience the good of the world. The pendulum is ever swinging and at least for now, it likes to linger on the shadowy side. So despite the fact that the Cor'hm wishes to walk a different path, Emvy has no clear indication of what it might be. Her overall view of the world is one of cynicism and bitterness, always seeing the raw and hideous nature of things.

On any given day she speaks occasionally and listens much, seems conscious in all her dealings and puts up an excellent masquerade of apparent composure. One could say Vay comes off as unpretentious, shy and clever, yet with a rather sarcastic and mocking sense of humor. When in a foul mood, the elf is moderately unapproachable and biting, seemingly revolted by everything. On the more frequent occasions that she is in a jovial mood she will seek company willingly. Although Emmy is never blatant in this regard, most often seated in a crowded tavern and surveying others eagerly. She will courteously respond to those who approach and engage in lighthearted conversations, usually endeavoring to draw others into a round of drinks. Yet the dark elf never betrays a desire for closeness, despite being starved for any form of meaningful friendships.

During these times, her powerlessness to relate to others is torturous, as Emvy would very much like the camaraderie that friendship gives, but she is apprehensive of the intimacy it entails. The Cor'hms philosophy continues to be one of survival, and she stalwartly believes in the significance of excelling at those things she sets her mind to. Having nothing else but the skills Emmy has honed on the bodies of sentient beings. Vay would be wholly lost without the sense that she has polished them to a razor-sharp edge.

One might imagine that a wanton killer like Emmy carries a lot emotionally around with her. This may be true on some levels, although the elfess has always found comfort in a solitary activity. The art of dance, her skills range from highly formal and structured to flowing nearly ballet style of exhibitions. Surely others can note a pleasant tone to her demeanor during and after these types of occurrences. Although it is not unheard of for the dark elf to couple with another dancer, it is however more likely for people to find her alone in revelry. In truth, dance is a spiritual release for Emvy, permitting the dark elf a chance to set aside the mental screams of her ghosts.

Emvy imbibes alcohol rather frequently and copious amounts of times to excess, her rather new addiction not helping matters in this area. The dark elf can become thunderous, rowdy and flirtatious during these times, losing much of her reservations when drunk. Some might say that the elf is a whole other person at these times, but the mental numbness provided by these bouts permit the elfess a freedom she has rarely felt in her previous life. Emmy has on numerous occasions awoken not remembering her actions from the night before or only bits and pieces in cloudy flashbacks. Those that confront the warrior about these excessive stints are usually met with a stoic front.

Strengths
Swordsmanship: The elfess has been using a duo of shamshirs for over three centuries, giving the dark elf immense expertise with them as close quarter weapons. These utensils of war grant Emvy extensive fluidity and precision when faced with multiple foes. Her strikes are an ever-changing whirlwind of punishment, for all those that enter the swordswomans reach. Even in the beginning of the utilization of these weapons, the elf showed great latent talent, which has become awe inspiring over the centuries. It would require another well-trained challenger to get beyond the elfs skillful strikes; still such enemies would find Emmy's cunning and proficiency quite daunting.

Armoured: The maiden wears a full suit of finely crafted ring-mail. This armor was handmade for Emvy with a unique stylized motif to represent her role amongst the Cor'hm. Its design is not only remarkably protective it is also fluently constructed to allow movement. Upon the shoulders are plates formed to depict demonic skulls. This motif also overlays her torso, shins and knees, multiple horns radiate from these metallic plates to harm those that grapple with the dark elf. Although not as profoundly defensive as plate-mail, the elven craftsmanship does give the elfess a tremendous benefit on a battlefield.

Ambidexterity: The maiden was born with the capability to use both of her hands with identical aptitude. Even complex tasks such as shuffling cards can be done in comparative ease with both. There are no tasks that Emvy knows that could not be accomplished irregardless of the hand she chooses to use. This has been a major boon within her profession; as it has allowed Emmy too practice each appendage with equal proficiency in the utilization of the shamshir.

Dance: The art of dance has kept the elf flexible and agile for the entirety of her adult life. Vay started practicing the intricacies of dancing at the age of fifty. Many might think the dark elfs fanaticism comes from some deep rooted love. Although she does garner enjoyment from it, dance affects her far more on a spiritual level. She seems to lay aside the demons that continually haunt her, even those that preoccupy her dreams if only for a short time. With two and a half centuries of moderate practice, she has become fairly well versed in formal dances and is even more educated in ballet. Complex maneuvers such as temps li, pirouettes, battement jett, changement, and pas de bourre are all within Emvys repertoire.

Kick-Boxing: As the elfess has both hands filled during times of war, she has learned to use her feet as weapons to great affect. When in close combat it is not against the dark elfs morals to kick her enemys legs out from under them or swiftly strike an enemy in the jaw with her nimble feet. With centuries of practice in this art and the limber nature granted her through dance, her blows can come rapidly, accurately and with amazing force. Emvy generally keeps these strikes focused on the midsection and below to wear down the endurance of her enemies. She is still quite capable of kicking an enemy about the face and shoulders in rapid succession. It is also not beyond the warrior to leap up and drive a knee into the jaw of an opponent, should the opportunity present itself.

Coornlh: These spring loaded boot weapons are a natural choice for someone with Emvys talents. Combining the limber nature provided through dance and the dark elfs preference for kick boxing, these blades are an eloquent addition. Although she prefers to keep them hidden for those just incase moments, she is not beyond bringing them to bear in large combat situations. When they are sprung from their hiding places, they give the elfess a vast array of attacks since all four of her appendages are now bladed. She has also been known to utilize these when dancing, to grant swift death to those observing her.

Weaknesses
Night Terrors: One might consider a killer with the blood of hundreds upon her delicate hands to be immune to such feelings as remorse. Vay suffers no sorrow for those she has killed; all of them were merely a matter of life as she knew it. The deaths of those she cared for, over her lifetime, is another matter entirely. She has lost friends, sisters and lovers to the poisonous nature of rival clans. Many of them slain before Emvys eyes and each of them are etched there for all eternity. These ghosts haunt her dreams, causing the dark elf to awaken covered in sweat with their screams still resonating in her mind.

These nightmares have been known to leave the elf exhausted for days at a time. Dark circles forming under her eyes, tiny tremors showing in her hands and a frigid tone appearing in her voice. The extent of these horrifying moments come and go as the frequency of these horrendous episodes wax and wane. Always they leave Emmy in fear that her enemies are closing in and that death is never far away.

Poor Tharian: With only a little over a decade of associating with humans on a daily basis, one can only speculate at how poor the dark elf understands Tharian. Under duress Emvy frequently resorts to Styrash to convey her thoughts, generally frustrating those listening to her. She is also plagued in this way when trying to convey complex thoughts that the elf does not know how to express properly in Tharian. In a light or casual conversation she is rarely beset by these issues, but rarely does not mean never. In truth, if in the company of other elves she will choose to speak in her native tongue, irregardless of any other races present.

Even with all of this being said, Emvys Tharian is at most the best of the worst. The majority of her time spent upon ships and the slums of port cities. Hence her vocabulary is limited to some of the most retched human kind has to offer. Countless people would be bewildered to converse with the elfess in Styrash, as her speech patterns change to eloquent and quite intricate. Showing many how well educated she is beneath the surface.

Alcohol: The elfess drinks to excess quite frequently, an aspect of her personality that has become more prevalent since her departure from Nybelmar. When completely inebriated Emvy loses all control. She has awoken in pools of her own vomit in places she does not recall visiting. It is also not unheard of for her to awaken beside gentleman she vaguely remembers meeting. Although alcohol might give the dark elf a peaceful nights rest, it also places her in some precarious and dangerous situations.

No Pain, No Gain: With Emmys fascination in extreme forms of dance, it is somewhat frequent for her to be suffering from aches and pains. This is especially true for her ankles and legs. Everything from minor sprains, cramps and torn muscles plague the dark elf at various intervals. True she has learned a multitude of exercises to remain free from these maladies. They still find their way into her life and she is forced to deal with them as they come.

Nefarious Nature: On a slightly bizarre note, is her cannibalistic tendencies, when no other food sources present themselves. Anything from roasting up the hindquarters of a fallen foe to goblets filled with their blood is not beyond Emvys twisted ideals. She is concerned with survival, preferably her own, and will go to great lengths to ensure it. If others express disgust at these actions she may be inclined to relate her reasons, but it would be difficult to dissuade her from them in times of need.

The Strong Rule: Although the dark elf has spent over a decade away from her brethren, she still holds much of her upbringing inside. For those that would argue with Emmy, they will quickly find she still believes Might makes right. The elf is more inclined towards violent rebuttals than peaceful negotiations, even amongst perceived allies. Although Emvy may relinquish her ideals when faced with a majority, it is not beyond her to force her opinions on solitary individuals. Not surprisingly this harsh attitude can lead her into very dangerous predicaments and cause others to ignore her during times of duress.
 
Fighting Style
A tumultuous maelstrom is an accurate description of Emmy in battle. A naturally intuitive warrior, her refined movements and potent strikes would leave most to shy away in apprehension. The shamshir is akin to an innate extension of her spirit, every thrust and parry implemented with exactitude. With three centuries of education and genuine combat knowledge against most any weapon imaginable. The elfess knows the advantages and disadvantages of her weapon under all circumstances. Leaving most at a keen weakness against the flowing and ever-changing techniques Emvy brings to the field.

Another most surprising tactic that the dark elf brings to the field is the swiftness of her feet. Many foes have found the elfess to be out of reach as their blows sliced only open air. The Cor'hm is a mistress of the parry and counterstrike, often fooling her opponents with the quickness she lashes out. The agility of her blades and expertise make this maneuver nearly equal with the speed at which she can bring her arm to bare. Emvy has honed this expertise over a pile of bodies numbering in the hundreds within her expansive lifetime.

Without a sword her deadliness is not lessened; she has adequate power behind such tiny fists, quite frankly astonishing most with their force. This has permitted the dark elf to overcome larger foes in unarmed combat, as most underestimate the nimble Cor'hm. The maiden would have troubles with a foe that is enormous, like a Chyrakisth. Still her ability to strike brutally with various parts of her legs would not go unheeded and overtime would begin to castigate even one of these impressive warriors. With the skill to kick a foe in the jaw, with swift accuracy, she could easily slit the throat of a foe with a Coornlh, before an enemy realized what was coming. The dark elf is fleet and merciless in a conflict and usually goes for the kill to minimize any chances of retaliation.

History
It didnt take the dark elf long to find what she was looking for. She remembered the defile from earlier, a narrow split through a massive chunk of rock that wound upward at a sharp incline and barely allowed for the passage of one. Emvy knew that if she tried to make a stand in the open, the hunting hounds would overwhelm her in a few blinks. But if she blocked their way through the split, they could only come at her one at a time. Sooner or later, they would break through by sheer weight of numbers or they would find their way around. But she didnt need to hold them indefinitely; she only needed to buy her companions a little extra time.

The split in the boulders ran for perhaps eight peds, and there was a widening about halfway through. She chose this point to make her first stand. When she was forced to give away there, she could fall back to the upper opening and try again. Emmy glanced over her shoulder, another seventy to ninety peds away was a large cluster of boulders. That is where she would make her final stand, if she survived that long. Wish you could see this. She said aloud. It should be interesting.

The minutes slipped away, not many had passed before she heard the approach of the tracking hounds. They did nothing to hide their coming, made no pretense of concealing their intent. Sharp snarls and grunts punctuated the sound of their heavy breathing and their raw animalistic smell drifted on the wind. Further away, but coming closer, were the dark elves. Emvy unsheathed her shamshirs and braced herself. When the first beast thrust its blunt head around the nearest bend in the split and saw her, it attacked without hesitation.

Emmy crouched low and caught it midspring on the tip of her weapon, splitting it through its chest and pinning it to the earth. Where it thrashed and screamed and finally died as she twisted the blade within the beasts lung. A second and third appeared almost immediately, fighting to get past each other. She jabbed at their faces and eyes as they jammed each other up in the narrow opening, forcing them to back away. From beyond them she heard the shouts of dark elves and the snarls of other hounds as they tried in vain to break through.

Emvy fought in the defile for as long as she could, killing another duo of hounds and wounding a third before making her retreat. She may have fought there longer, but she feared that the dark elves would find their way around. If they trapped her in the defile, she was finished. Emmy had bought as much time as she could at her first line of defense, it was time to fall back. With the hounds snapping at her heels, she backed through the split, then made her second stand at the upper end. Straddling the opening, she bottled up the frantic creatures, refusing to let them through. The elfess killed one and wedged it back inside so the others could not reach her without clamoring over the slain beast.

They tore at their dead companion until it was shredded and bloodied and still they could not break free. Emvy fought with a wild and reckless determination, adrenalin flowed through her like molten iron, sweeping away her weariness and pain, her reason and doubt, everything but the moment and its intoxicating sense of power. Nothing could stop her! She was invincible! Even when the dark elves got around behind her, she stood her ground. So caught up was she in the euphoria generated by her bloodlust that she would have done anything to keep it flowing. She drove back the fresh assault, then returned to battling the hounds trying to emerge from the split, intent on doing battle with anyone that challenged her.

It took a deep slash to the thigh to sober her up enough that she finally realized the extent of her danger. She turned and ran without slowing or looking back, gaining enough ground to enable her to clamber into the rocks and find yet another place for a stance. She was a good swordsman and the closeness of her enemies brought these skills to the fore. The first hound garnered an immediate death with a sword buried in each eye socket. Wounding two more hounds they slowed the advance of their companions, allowing the elf time to slay two other dark elves, before turning and running once again.

There was nowhere else reasonable for the elf to make another stand so she sprinted for the mountain ledge her companions had fled across. It was a long run, perhaps two stral, and she soon lost track of time and distance, of everything but flight. Still infused with adrenaline, its power singing through her veins drawing strength she did not know she possessed. Emvy ran so swiftly that she outdistanced her bulky pursuers leaving them to scramble over boulders and rock-strewn trails she had taken in swift strides. Maybe, just maybe, she would find her way out of this.

Cor, Cor! She cried out, euphoric and wild eyed with reckless disregard for who might hear her. Cor! She howled.

They caught up to her finally at the near end of the ledge, forcing the maiden to turn and fight. Emvy stood her ground just long enough to throw them back yet again, before rushing out onto the ledge. The zephyrs swept by with a backdrop of mountainous peaks and sprawling valleys like a painting stretched across the horizon, somehow not quite real. The hounds came at her once again, but they did not have enough room. They tumbled away, clawing and screaming as they fell. She glaned back down the slope she had just climbed and it was crawling with hounds and dark elves. How many more could there be? Pressed against the cliff face she retreated as fast as she could, slashing at the closest pursuers when they came within reach.

She had been clawed and bitten in a dozen places and the bloodlust had become a high frenzied whine within her ears. Her stamina and strength were nearly exhausted and she would fail soon after. Cor! She called frantically, fighting to keep her newfound fear at bay, feeling the euphoria desert her as the brilliance of the blood frenzy began to dim. She was only thirty peds out from where she had begun, the cliffs wall to her left an almost vertical rise and the drop to her right was deep and precipitous. She did not look away from her pursuers, they were crowded out onto the ledge behind her and still coming. Rage and hunger were reflected in their eyes waiting for her to drop her guard.

Then the dark elfess heard a rumble of rocks from above, causing the elf to turn and run. The closest of the beasts was on top of her in a heartbeat; she whirled and knocked it backward with a fist. In that moment rocks and dirt showered down from above, pouring over everything in a thunderous slide that swept across the face of the cliff. Emvy tried to run through it but she was too late. The hounds and her pursuers disappeared in a roar of stone and then a massive section of the trail ahead tore free and was gone. She flattened herself against the cliff wall and covered her head. The entire mountain seemed to be coming down on top of her. For a few blinks, she held on, pressed against the stone face.

Then the avalanche plucked her away like a leaf and she was gone.

The Cor'hm regained consciousness in a sea of mind-numbing blackness and bone-crushing weight. She could smell dust, grit, the raw odor of torn leaves and earth. At first she could not recall what had happened or where she was, and panics sharp talons pricked at her. But she held fast, forcing herself to be patient, to wait for her mind to clear. When it did, she remembered being swept over the narrow ledge and into the void, tumbling downward through a rain of rocks and debris. She had caught something momentarily before being torn free, tangling up in a scrub of thickets, all the while engulfed in a roar that dwarfed the fury of a raging storm. Then darkness had closed in about in a wave and then everything else disappeared.

The elfs vision sharpened as she realized that the avalanche had buried her in a cluster of tree limbs and roots. Through small openings in the makeshift tomb she saw grey clouds rolling across a darkening sky. She had no idea how much time had passed. Emvy lay without moving, staring at the distant clouds and collecting her thought. She should, by all rights, be dead. Yet the roots and limbs while trapping her in a jagged wooden cage had saved her as well. They had deflected the boulders that would have otherwise have crushed her. When she tried to move, she found herself pinned to the ground, her right leg securely wedged beneath a massive boulder.

Carefully, gingerly she tested her fingers and toes to make sure they were still working and there. Then she tested her arms and free leg as well, amazingly nothing seemed broken, even though everything hurt. For a longtime after that she spent working with an unwieldy piece of tree limb that she was able to drag within reach and position as a fulcrum. But from her supine position she could not get the leverage needed and the branch was too long to place properly in any event. Nevertheless, she kept working until it was so dark that she could no longer see what she was doing.

Deep breaths, she told herself, stay calm. She felt raindrops through the chinks in her prison and saw that night had fallen. The rainfall was slow and steady, a soft patter in the stillness. She licked at the stray drops that fell on her lips, grateful for the dampness. She fell asleep then and the dreams began

Blood. It was her first kill, she had been five summers old and the euphoria of slaying the hare with bare hands has always lingered. Her mother Lizya had watched and trained her for this day, the point at which Emmy would begin survival on her own. Oddly, the dark elfs father, Inex, remained a mystery to her. The dark elfs patron had been slain by her mother for infidelity shortly after the youngsters birth. It may have been her first killing but as the decades passed, it became clear it would not be the last. By the age of thirty Lizya had armed her offspring with a duo of blades and taught her the finer arts of proper retribution. Murder from the shadows, poisonous platters served to close friends or open challenges for prospective mates .. none of them stood a chance against the vengeful young maiden.

Bloodthirsty. Near a century into her life and already the elfess held the third tier in her house, dozens had died by her sword and feet. She was a pillar of pride for her mother and a name to be feared by the females of her age in other clans. Already she had forcefully taken two mates from rival women and neither of them could speak of their demise. Even in Sevari her name was being whispered in dark shadows on quivering lips. Plans for her downfall spoken only upon trembling utterances to Cor, imploring The Shadow to consume the dark elfess. All of which brought a spiteful grin to cross over Emvys exquisite countenance and her own unholy prayers to be articulated.

In the one hundred twenty-third year of her existence, the dark elf married an Ifferhem Necromancer. Mjollnir was a worthy prize for Emvy, as her slaying of his previous mate had garnered the elfess her most prominent battle scar. The mark of honor runs in a perfect arc from her sternum, under her left breast to her shoulder blade. Which after being healed by her newfound pet, Emmy had a cascading tribal tattoo placed around the wound to accentuate it. This gash obtained much prestige for the Cor'hm in the echelon of power within her tribe.

She awoke, it was still dark, but the rain had stopped and the silence had returned. The dark elf went back to work with the branch, it was morning before she gave up the task as impossible. Despair crept through her and she found herself wondering how desperate her situation really was. No one was coming to look for her; she wouldve heard them by now if they were. If she was going to survive, she would have to do so on her own. What would that cost her? Would she cut off her leg if there were no other way? Would she give up part of herself if it meant the saving of her life? Survival at all cost

Emvy lay back again, drenched in sweat. She was aware suddenly of how hot she was, buried in the earth like a corpse and covered over by layers deep of rock and debris. The dark elf was coated with dust and grime. She felt as if she knew exactly what it would be like to be dead and she didnt care for it. Sleep claimed her a second time and the dreams once again began.

She was near two centuries into the power struggle of her dark elf brethren. Emmy held the second seat of power amongst her clan and all those that knew her name did so with a tinge of fear. All told the elfess displayed a plethora of war wounds as physical confirmation of her battle prowess. Already, the warrior demonstrated a mastery of the boot-blades. With near a century and a half of formal dance training, her preference to use her legs as lethal weapons brought her body count to an ever-rising numerical value. Power had become a way of life for the rising matriarch and life was good.

For the next five decades the elfesss supremacy had only become solidified throughout her clan and those surrounding. Challengers had become few as all before them fell in vain. Within her brethren the dark elf was renowned as a killer, conqueror and an unwavering force to be reckoned with. Even within more civilized ensembles, where Emmy was becoming a potent figure as well. In her two hundred fifty-third year, her chosen mate was slain by a rival, not long after she took his murderer as her new partner. Without question her newest pet excelled at laying claim to his well-earned prize.

'For the next half century she continued in the utilization of all aspects of her martial prowess in the gaining of renown. She had lost her most recent mate in an attempt on her life, another body on the pile. Orders came down from above to exterminate the clan that had so pompously sought to destroy Emmy.

Once again she awoke it was daylight and sunshine was flooding down out of the clear blue sky. She would not give herself time to dwell on the darker possibilities of her situation, but went back to trying to get free. This time, she used a sharp-ended stick to dig her way at the rock and earth packed beneath her leg. As she did tunnel under her leg, she reasoned, she might create enough space to worm loose. It was slow going, the digging often reduced to one pebble, one small chunk of hardened earth at a time. Emmy had to start as far back as her knee and work her way down, inch by painful inch.

She worked all day, ignoring her growing hunger and thirst, the aches in her body and the heat of her cage. Emmy had come too far and endured too much to die like this. Quitting was not an option, she would not give up. The dark elf repeated the words over and over again; she had made them into a song and chanted them like a mantra. It was almost dark again when she finally worked her leg free, leaving behind most of her pantleg and much of her skin. Immediately, she began digging her way out, burrowing upward through the debris towards the fading light. She could not afford to stop and rest, she had begun to feel a sense of panic taking over.

Night had fallen, a velvet soft blackness under a starlit night, when she pulled herself from the rocks and earth, standing again in the open air. She wanted to weep in joy, but would not let herself, afraid that if she broke down, she might not recover. Emvys motions were raw and jangled from her ordeal and her mind was not entirely lucid. The dark elf glanced around at the jumble of boulders and jutting trees, then upward to the darkened cliffs. In this light she could not determine from where she had fallen. Only capable of observing where she was, standing at one end of the valley that lay in the shadow of two massive mountains.

Within a short time Emvy assessed her present circumstances and made her way to the enemies which she had previously slain. She wandered over to the bodies of her foes and at a glance realized they were Bloodletters and that something had gone horribly wrong. Without a second thought, she began to rob their rotting carcasses of precious items. The dark elf understood in that moment that such a powerful group had surely slain her brethren till the last. She was faced with returning to her people and meeting a swift execution. She made a choice. Flee or die .

As Emvy scurried South, a single thought had occupied her mind, why? She continued to Anis-Anpagan, the capital of Anpagan society and a great port city where much trade is done. Taking the first boat away from this dreadful place she spent the next three years of her life traveling from port city to port city along Nyblemars eastern coast. At last Emmy garnered some understanding of the common Tharian tongue. At last, she had found her way out, a ship going to Sarvonia. After a lengthy sea voyage, she made ground in Lorehaven, a bustling sea port and the hub of all the worlds trade. Over the last decade the lovely warrior has wandered aimlessly across this unexplored strangeland, seeking a new permanent home and life.

Weapons
Shamshir: The overall length of the swords are near a ped, a perfect mixture of iron mined in the Troll Mountains and smelted with vernik. An alloy which is rumored to be unbreakable. The flats of the blades are engraved with concentric rings, creating flowing blood grooves. The guards are designed with a complex pattern of interlocking horns and growling demonic faces, that cover Emvys powerful hands in almost a full bell style. The grips of the swords are wrapped with nor'sidian leather, having an outline of golden rings and snarling devils sewn into them. The pommel is a gleaming urmarillion ring with a firestorm carved upon its surface. The identical blades are fine ventures in what can be accomplished by means of dark elven magic and craftsmanship. These utensils of war are firmly sheathed in scabbards of a charcoal hue.

Coornlh: Within the soles of each of the maidens boots she conceals a Coornlh. Small spring loaded blades near a palmspan in length, made from finely crafted steel. Both blades are serrated along there edges, allowing the elfess to kick through plate-mail armor. Each has a demonic visage engraved upon its surface, with the majority of the blade stylized as a tongue. In order for the dark elf to bring them to bear, she must tap her heels together. Bringing the blades back to concealment requires Emvy to reset them by hand, until such time they remain unsheathed.

Belongings
-   Two outfits fully described in the Outfit section.
-   One full suit of ring-mail armour.
-   A duo of shamshirs, one sheathed on either hip.
-   A pair of sturdy leather gloves.
-   One pair of well-worn leather boots.
-   Two waterskins filled with Milno Fire.
-   A waterskin filled with potable water.
-   Flint, tinder and firesteel.
-   A weeks worth of waybread and jerky.
-   A large rucksack to carry her supplies.
« Last Edit: December 13, 2012, 02:01:36 PM by Emvy Vevictus » Logged

Power and dominion are taken by the will!
By divine right, hail and kill!
Alexandre Scriabin
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« Reply #1 on: October 31, 2009, 01:05:08 PM »

Awesome. I can't wait to comment on this. Thumb up
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Lorek Bearfist
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« Reply #2 on: November 15, 2009, 04:44:18 AM »

Welcome to Santharia Lady Vae'victous. If I were modding, aside from some grammatical errors, this would have a

!~First Approval~!
« Last Edit: November 15, 2009, 04:46:45 AM by Lorek Bearfist » Logged

"My blade is malicious justice forged into metallic form! I seek the blood and destruction of all who persecute the innocent! Wickedness, I am your killer!" - Lorek Bearfist

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Emvy Vevictus
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« Reply #3 on: November 15, 2009, 04:58:32 AM »

Thank you Lorek! I am still pondering balance in this CD, although I have yet to hear it isn't. ~shrugs~
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Sylvia Palinor
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« Reply #4 on: November 15, 2009, 05:03:37 AM »

I'd say you a very close to being balanced. Perhaps you have too many weapons? Three seems a bit much. I suggest removing the  crossbow, but do what makes you happy. If you do this I'd say that you are balanced and would have no further quips with your CD. Excellent job, as usual for you. Thumb up
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"Sympathy is a luxury I simply cannot afford, for in the death of others do I make my living."

Sylvia Palinor
Azhira Styralias
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« Reply #5 on: November 15, 2009, 05:08:54 AM »

I agree and would say that crossbow makes Emvy a tad unbalanced. I would stick to being strictly melee.
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« Reply #6 on: November 15, 2009, 05:14:28 AM »

I personally have no issues with her crossbow use, as it states she is no master of the weapon. In her lifetime, she could have gained these skills through practical experience. Maybe add another minor weakness to cease issues of balance? Something like an addiction to a certain drug (like Queprur's Blight), maybe a fear or allergy. Get creative. Excellence in my opinion.
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"My blade is malicious justice forged into metallic form! I seek the blood and destruction of all who persecute the innocent! Wickedness, I am your killer!" - Lorek Bearfist

~Shameless Self Promotion
Emvy Vevictus
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« Reply #7 on: November 15, 2009, 05:31:28 AM »

Well I view her weapon skills in this way, she truly has four of them. Boot Blades, Shamshir, Crossbow and Kick-Boxing.

Sylvia and Azhira would be privy to the exacts of this more than I presently. A human of 32-34 summers can be the Master of two weapons, by the age of 42-44 three is not unheard of. As Emmy is about 52 relative to this equation, I was seeking a fourth so she could survive on her own. As all members of her tribe are required to survive on their own from a very young age, it seemed only fitting to possess a weapon to do this with.

So I shall ask straight out .... should I remove the crossbow, lighten her skills with it or add a weakness to endeavor balance?
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Power and dominion are taken by the will!
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Sylvia Palinor
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« Reply #8 on: November 15, 2009, 05:38:13 AM »

Personally, I would remove the croosbow. It is, however, your decision. If you wish to add another weakness, be my guest. I just feel that removing the crossbow would be best, because you can attack from a distance, and up close if you leave it in. This easily unbalances you. But still, your decision.
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Azhira Styralias
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« Reply #9 on: November 15, 2009, 05:50:48 AM »

I'm going to say remove it. You are more than powerful and skilled enough without it. You're essentially a kickboxing elven knight (without the shield). I have always favored giving melee oriented characters minimal skills in weapons, but making them especially good at what they do use. Throwing in extra weapons skills because an elf ages slowly enough to learn them in their lifetime is possible, but makes them overpowered.

You can wield a sword with both hands, are extraordinarily agile, possess blade boots and can shoot a crossbow (however skilled you are) seems overpowered to me. The weaknesses don't really balance the combat skills so removing a combat skill is better.
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Emvy Vevictus
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« Reply #10 on: November 15, 2009, 06:02:47 AM »

Crossbow removed as requested, even from history.
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Azhira Styralias
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« Reply #11 on: November 15, 2009, 06:06:07 AM »

First Approval  clap
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Sylvia Palinor
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« Reply #12 on: November 15, 2009, 07:22:58 AM »

I wish I could give you your second one, but I can't. All I can do is say that I strongly believe you are ready for your second approval. I hope the CD mods swiftly attend to that. Thumb up
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Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #13 on: November 15, 2009, 07:42:40 AM »

And here's my 2nd approval for you.
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Emvy Vevictus
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« Reply #14 on: November 15, 2009, 07:44:27 AM »

Gracias to you all for the helpful input! hug
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