Samara Asenta
Member
- Messages
- 224
- Character Biography
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"Hrk."
An iron grip found its way about the throat of a man. An unwelcome pressure on the larynx made all the worse as gravity no longer kept his feet on the floor as it should. The offending appendage had taken to hefting his moderate weight aloft; all that kept from having their throat torn apart from the competing forces were his fingers futilely wrapped about the wrist of their assailant. Their eyes stared up at the ceiling, wild and tear-filled with pain.
Slowly they jerked to look down the length of their executioner's arm. Down to the pale face, black lips, and elongated fangs that waited there. The silent, twisted snarl of her features said more than words could convey. Even the shining whites of their unholy eyes seemed to spin in wait of rending the man limb from limb.
Sudden as the pressure came it went only to be replaced by several more at odd angles. The man's body was flung across the room as easily as one might a spud. Colliding with the shelves had about the same effect as well, but with a far more diverse assortments of clatters, slams. and bangs.
Samara whirled to face the collapsed man where he lay and groan. "You told the Vespine Alliance about the relic tale?" A hiss was all they heard next before her fingers took hold of the man's scruff, hauled him off the floor as one might a book, and swung him up then back down onto a nearby table. A fanged maw snapped in the man's face as she loomed over him. "A relic of such power -- such dominion -- and you told a power-craving group all about it?"
Pain wracked their frail form, which left them scarcely able to respond non-verbally while their vocal cords were held shut by Samara' grasp. His right hand lifted toward her, perhaps to plea for their life. All they got in response was a tendril of all-consuming darkness that appeared from behind the Vampire wrapping itself about their arm and then twisted it in grotesque angles.
It does not matter that they knew of this one relic and might be of use elsewhere. We cannot trust them not to inform others, the Dark One whispered in Samara's ear. Kill him.
It was one of those rare moments -- perhaps one that should have terrified the Dark Elf -- where the two of them agreed on something. Without further ado, Samara shoved the man's head to one side with his chin pushed upward by her thumb. The elongated fangs flashed before they sunk greedily into the man's neck. Blood began to pool on the table beneath as Samara devoured the man's life from what was soon a cold, dead corpse.
The Elven woman snapped up right with a flip of her hair and a light dab at her lips to make sure she hadn't made a mess of things. A heated sigh passed between her lips then. Whether drinking blood was actually necessary for her survival, Samara couldn't deny just how fulfilling it felt to indulge in the urge.
With that unfortunate business out of the way, Samara turned to swipe the book that had contained a vital clue as to the whereabouts of the relic. No point killing the messenger if the message was left for just another to find it. Now she had to be quick before someone else acquired the artifact first. If it was as powerful as the legends foretold it could have devastating consequences unleashed into the world. As someone not tempted by its charms Samara was best suited to locate and dispose of it. Not that she had anyone else to count on for such matters.
After color returned to her flesh and her eyes resumed their blue hue, she flipped the sign on the door to the store. Then Samara slipped out into the evening and sealed the crime scene closed behind her. No one needed to discover the corpse until she was long gone and any association was rumor at best.
Book in hand, and hood up, the Dark Elf slipped into the darkness and began the next leg of her journey. To the secluded locale where the relic was hopefully still waiting or -- better yet -- already destroyed by someone that had similar ideas. Not that she wanted to destroy such a thing, but it was too dangerous to be kept around and Samara didn't know anyone she could truly trust with its power. Who wouldn't inevitably be tempted? All assuming it could be destroyed, of course.
Tag: Ander'ashan Merellien
An iron grip found its way about the throat of a man. An unwelcome pressure on the larynx made all the worse as gravity no longer kept his feet on the floor as it should. The offending appendage had taken to hefting his moderate weight aloft; all that kept from having their throat torn apart from the competing forces were his fingers futilely wrapped about the wrist of their assailant. Their eyes stared up at the ceiling, wild and tear-filled with pain.
Slowly they jerked to look down the length of their executioner's arm. Down to the pale face, black lips, and elongated fangs that waited there. The silent, twisted snarl of her features said more than words could convey. Even the shining whites of their unholy eyes seemed to spin in wait of rending the man limb from limb.
Sudden as the pressure came it went only to be replaced by several more at odd angles. The man's body was flung across the room as easily as one might a spud. Colliding with the shelves had about the same effect as well, but with a far more diverse assortments of clatters, slams. and bangs.
Samara whirled to face the collapsed man where he lay and groan. "You told the Vespine Alliance about the relic tale?" A hiss was all they heard next before her fingers took hold of the man's scruff, hauled him off the floor as one might a book, and swung him up then back down onto a nearby table. A fanged maw snapped in the man's face as she loomed over him. "A relic of such power -- such dominion -- and you told a power-craving group all about it?"
Pain wracked their frail form, which left them scarcely able to respond non-verbally while their vocal cords were held shut by Samara' grasp. His right hand lifted toward her, perhaps to plea for their life. All they got in response was a tendril of all-consuming darkness that appeared from behind the Vampire wrapping itself about their arm and then twisted it in grotesque angles.
It does not matter that they knew of this one relic and might be of use elsewhere. We cannot trust them not to inform others, the Dark One whispered in Samara's ear. Kill him.
It was one of those rare moments -- perhaps one that should have terrified the Dark Elf -- where the two of them agreed on something. Without further ado, Samara shoved the man's head to one side with his chin pushed upward by her thumb. The elongated fangs flashed before they sunk greedily into the man's neck. Blood began to pool on the table beneath as Samara devoured the man's life from what was soon a cold, dead corpse.
The Elven woman snapped up right with a flip of her hair and a light dab at her lips to make sure she hadn't made a mess of things. A heated sigh passed between her lips then. Whether drinking blood was actually necessary for her survival, Samara couldn't deny just how fulfilling it felt to indulge in the urge.
With that unfortunate business out of the way, Samara turned to swipe the book that had contained a vital clue as to the whereabouts of the relic. No point killing the messenger if the message was left for just another to find it. Now she had to be quick before someone else acquired the artifact first. If it was as powerful as the legends foretold it could have devastating consequences unleashed into the world. As someone not tempted by its charms Samara was best suited to locate and dispose of it. Not that she had anyone else to count on for such matters.
After color returned to her flesh and her eyes resumed their blue hue, she flipped the sign on the door to the store. Then Samara slipped out into the evening and sealed the crime scene closed behind her. No one needed to discover the corpse until she was long gone and any association was rumor at best.
Book in hand, and hood up, the Dark Elf slipped into the darkness and began the next leg of her journey. To the secluded locale where the relic was hopefully still waiting or -- better yet -- already destroyed by someone that had similar ideas. Not that she wanted to destroy such a thing, but it was too dangerous to be kept around and Samara didn't know anyone she could truly trust with its power. Who wouldn't inevitably be tempted? All assuming it could be destroyed, of course.
Tag: Ander'ashan Merellien