Nreisshe Ralsh Mtien the Dark Huntress of the Gaping Maw, Nightreaver of Thar-Eris

Role

Chapter 8

Darkness of the dreams... suddenly broken by faded images, distant
scents, memories of the past.

The first butterflies had woken with the gentle breeze of the spring.
They fluttered around in their seemingly random dance, their movements
enticing, almost bewitching... she watched, minute after minute, the
patterns burning into her mind... something deep inside her awakened,
one of the first times. A primal calling, an urge to hunt. It was not
an urge to simply kill, more like a thirst for the thrill of the last
moment before the leap. The very last, fleeting moment between life
and death. And right now was that moment.

She struck.

The insect flapped its beautiful wings once more between her claws and
then stopped. Laughter. They laughed. Her parents. She was picked up
by gentle arms, holding her close. "Come, my little wildcat, it's time
for dinner" the voice says... oh, the voice. Their faces are long
since blurred by the years, but their scents, their voices still echo
in her head, as clear as ever. She let go of the dead insect as her
mother carried her. It fell, spiraling down through the air into the
grass, its patterned wings glimmering one last time...

...her first prey.

Darkness.

She climbed over the rough rocks with little effort, moving gracefully
and quickly. She stopped before a steep cliff face and turned to look
over the forested valley, and especially the thin trail snaking up and
out of there, eventually disappearing in the shadows of the mountains.
They said that the other side was full of danger, that this was home.
But it was not enough to stop her from dreaming of the outside world
every day, magnificent new hunting grounds... full of life. She knew
that one day, she would be there. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the
day after that... but one day.

Darkness.

She licked her claws, a purr of satisfaction in her throat. The
trampled snow was stained a deep crimson all around her, the sweet
aroma of fresh blood hanging in the chilling air. Her blood, or the
beast's? She didn't care. The cold and the pain of her wounds were
distant, insignificant. The thrill was all that mattered. She tore
into the still warm carcass, rending the flesh, tasting it.

...her prey.

"Nrei! Where have you been... we looked all over for... but, but...
what happened to you? You're bleeding...! And where are your clothes..
Nrei?"

Their concern wasn't necessary. They didn't understand. She didn't
expect them to. They were too set in their habits, they didn't hear
or didn't listen to the bewitching call of their buried instincts.
And that was all their loss. It was a gift, not something she could
ever make them grasp.

Darkness.

As large as the valley had felt, it was nothing compared to what was
outside. Days became weeks, months... years. She learned many things,
she grew stronger and wiser. Sometimes, she returned near her old
home, watching from afar. She saw their hunters and traders, even some
of the strange people from the distant lands, and none ever saw her.
And eventually, she wanted to see for herself where they came from.

New moon. It was dark, quiet, there was a hint of autumn in the air.
Silently she crept up to the familiar cabin. Light in the window. She
looked inside, the brightness stinging her eyes. Mother, father, two
b

Role

Chapter 7

Snowflakes, floating down from the sky. Autumn had passed, and now it
was winter. Her thirtieth winter; as the customs of her people said,
now she was truly an adult, no longer a mere youngling. Yet she was
not with her people, nor did she particularly care to except for one
reason... her true name, one which only adults would have, which she
would have received now. She felt... incomplete without it. Nreisshe,
"nrei aisshe", snow flower in her tribe's tongue. It needed to bloom.

She would not need her people to find it out. She would do it herself,
follow her instincts... and listen to the whispers of the Ancients,
as she had learned to do. Her name wouldn't simply be a word given by
an elder, she would hunt it down, piece by piece.

And so she did. She travelled from one snowy mountain to another,
listening, watching. Only the urge to hunt something more substantial
distracted her now and then. And just then, when she was sating her
hunger, the realization came with the killing blow. The blood of the
Udgaardian patroller flowed down the cold blade of her axe, quickly
freezing in the chill winds. The scent on the thin air... red wind.

There it was. Red wind, "ralsh mtien"... it sounded so right.

Role

Chapter 6

The passing winters and prey caught had brought much strength to her
body, her strikes ever quicker and more vicious, but they also had
brought some sense of... serenity.

The urge to hunt no longer felt as demanding, as intense, but instead
it was simply like a part of her whole being now. She felt much more..
at one with herself and the world around her. Difficult to put to
words, and luckily, she did not need to. She often listened to the
other Outlanders, taking in every word, contemplating them, but she
rarely offered a word, as broken as they might be, to them. They might
be awakened to their instincts, chosen by the Ancients, but still...
she had not met one she would feel a true kinship with.

And then, of course, many of them were elves. Although she had learned
to suppress the urge to sink her claws in them, the thought was there
all the time. And it was made even worse by the slight stings of
jealosy, of how they... confided in each other, had others who truly
understood them. And their sweet blood, flowing with the strength of
the Ancients... how it would nourish her.

...so hard to resist. And she would not be able to do so forever, that
much she knew.

Role

Chapter 5

Unlike before, so many wanted to talk, to pry words from her these
days. Some level of infamy, perhaps. Then again, she had agreed to the
whispered suggestions of the dark Ancients, to be their voice...
Luckily, those looking for her attention were not the irritating
Sunwarden's ilk. Almost always rather talking about dreaming and such,
instead of hunting. At least some of them showed some hunter's spirit,
even if they needlessly restrained themselves.

Then, there were some which she would have preferred to have hunting
at her side, but were not looking for the Ancients' blessings... some
of her own kin. Even though she had faced many as enemies for one
reason or another, they still were always above being mere prey. One,
actually, asked her why. If he needed to ask, then there was no point
in wasting words trying to explain something that was just... right.
Still, even if it was somewhat disappointing they did not see things
her way, other felar would have her respect... at least to some
degree.

Role

Chapter 4

At fleeting moments, she could feel the weight of the years, if not in
her limbs, then in her mind. In her youth, there had been nothing but
the thrill of the hunt, but now, there was also something else. Or
perhaps, it had always been there, but not until now she actually
would notice. A kind of... hatred, not much expressed to the outside.

Sometimes, striking down prey or a foe, she felt not only the
satisfaction of a successful hunt, but also an almost twisted
sensation of pleasure at their death itself. Especially it would crop
up when she struck down the unaware friend of other prey who had
escaped or proven too strong to catch at the time... the thought of
bringing pain and regret, fear and feelings of helplessness to the one
who had dared escape her claws was almost as pleasing as slaying them.

Even if it might make her hunt harder as the prey would cower in
terror in their damned cities and keeps, it perhaps wasn't too high a
price to pay for making them realize their weakness, to fear treading
outside their hiding places. A fear.. of the dark, and whatever dwells
in it. The creeping, lurking doom.

Yes, at times it was very satisfying.

Role

Chapter 3

It was not all just dark, brooding thoughts. Much to her surprise, she
sometimes would feel strange... respect towards certain others among
those blessed by the Ancients. Namely, those storm giants. Many of
them had certain solemn, quiet strength, something very different from
the irritating elves which luckily did not show themselves much near
her.

She had even voluntarily... talked with some of them, shared some
thoughts. Maybe they did deserve the power of the Ancients after all,
even if they were not quite as consummate hunters. And even if one of
them actually struck her just as she managed to fell her prey, a Maran
of little importance... she could not bring herself to feel the same
kind of disdain as for many others. Quirks of old age, no doubt.

Role

Chapter 2

Many more winters, many successful hunts... and many fruitless ones.
Gral Trefen, the elder... how old was he when she left? Eighty,
perhaps. And he had had longevity not often seen before, yet was
becoming sickly around those times. She would no doubt last longer.
A clear proof that the blessings of the Ancients did not only sharpen
her body and soul... but also temper, harden them. And recently, ever
since the strange... episode with the peculiar imp-creature, she had
felt even more at ease, the weight of the winters lesser and the
wisdom brought by them feeling even clearer and easier to grasp. The
odd mark left in her arm had needed some getting used to. At times,
it seemed as if it was... smirking, mocking her when her stalking
went wrong. Perhaps she just had imagined it, as it seemed less so
now.

She certainly needed the clarity now, with that particularly loud and
drunk elf about. Always offering his opinions and advice, smelling so
much of alcohol that it made her eyes sting. Luckily, not the most
confrontational one, else she just might lose the serenity.

Role

Chapter 1

The cold winds, the dance of the snowflakes. Always so very soothing
to listen and watch. Even greatly educational, as she found out not
too long ago, having heard strange whispers of ancient spirits among
the howling. They spoke of secrets and teachings, some of which they
even shared with her. Even though such lessons felt somewhat daunting
at first, she would not let doubt get in the way of learning even
better ways of catching her prey... and she did absorb every bit of
their ancient wisdom she could.

It was clear many others had heard the whispers of the spirits. More
hunters than she had ever seen before were lurking around, many even
hearing the call of the Ancients. Even though it made prey more
scarce, forced them to hide within their "nests" in fear, deep inside
she felt strangely content to see young felar, sharing many of her
thoughts and feelings. Like her children, in a way...

...yes, her children. Perhaps her only regret, and one she wouldn't
forget even after all the years. Her dead children, miscarried as she
refused to cease her hunt even for a while, when she should have. On
a moment of weakness, she had even shared her darkest secret with
that wood-elf... Aeria. She, too, was dead now. One she had had much
respect for, both for her wisdom and her strength.

She flinched, eyes closed tight, and let out a quiet, powerless growl.
Those thoughts were better buried away. She still had some time left
to see the young ones grow strong and savor their hunt. When her time
would come... there would be someone to carry on.

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