Cinndria the Grand Mistress of Artistry, Hunted by the Hounds of War

Role

Chapter 19

The fox chuckled (as well as a fox can) to herself as she gracefully leapt
from tree to tree, leaving the bull in his madness. She turned, briefly, and
shouted back to him: "If it's a fight you want, I'll bring a fox-friend or
two and we can have at it!"

As she continued to scamper away, the Bull's angry shouts could be heard
throughout the hillside.
"YOU BRING FRIENDS? YOU WEAK! SHOULD FIGHT ME ONE ON ONE! BULL SHOULD BE ABLE
FIGHT ONE FOX AT TIME, ONE BEE AT TIME, ONE FLOWER AT TIME, ONE ENEMY AT TIME
- ELSE YOU WEAK STUPID!"
-*-*
Cinndria looked up from the book, charmingly smiling at the group of children
who sat in front of her. "So, class" she said in a sing-song voice, "Who do
we not want to grow up to be?"
"The Bull! The Bull!" They chanted enthusiastically.
"And who do we want to be like?" She asked, grinning.
"The Fox! The Fox!" The children yelled.

Being a role model is a very difficult job, and Cinndria knew it - So she
found that editing the minds of young children was done with the most
efficiency when through the guise of cute stories that contain obvious but
also subtle messages. Hopefully, at this rate, Thrym's warrior school would
run dry, and the Village would follow in turn.

Role

Chapter 8

Hell was much more pleasant than Cinndria thought it would be. She expected
it to be somewhere filled with misery for all (herself included) - but she
found it much more entertaining than miserable. She even had the chance to
follow through with one of her oldest fantasy fetishes: Bestiality (That bull
was a very rough lover, which implies he had his heart broken in the past,
poor thing). She enjoyed the scenery more than anything else. Yes, it was
difficult, but her effort was minimal thanks to the other she traveled with.
She was just the entertainment, and her only duty was to calm their fears
with adagios, bagatelles, battaglias, and the like. It was repetitive, but it
saved her from having to take the brunt of the various devils' attacks.

She particularly enjoyed the circles of lust and gluttony. It was nice to
know she'd have such charming company when she finally died - from the
twisting souls, forever carnally embraced, to the enormous gluttons that
swirled and swished about as if they were part of an ocean. The original plan
was to reach Satan, the Prince of Darkness, and see what he had to offer her.
That plan failed miserably. Her first venture failed when her companions
started to die in Dis to the fearful demons that separated them. She made it
to a shop, which excited her, but it was only for candles, sacks, and the
like (She would have burnt the shop down for its worthlessness, but that's a
bit difficult when there are devils everywhere). Her second venture ended in
the Styx river as they fought Styx devils. Charine, the Chancellor of the
Scion, was supposed to use her superior intellect to take the blows from this
mentally-dangerous beast, but that didn't go so well. She entered combat, was
glared at by the devil, turned around and said "Duhhh, I dun think I's smart
no more, buuuuuudddiess" and then fell dead as her mind was vaporized. The
devil continued to feast upon her allies while Cinndria ran, thinking she
might make it just a little farther. She ran into a room with a number of
imps, and she said "Well, aren't you all a cute group of mischievous things",
attempting to win their favor. Fifteen cheap shots into her gut later, she
knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Role

Chapter 9

So, as her ventures towards Satan failed miserably, she took a liking to the
much more safe, and simple, First Circle. She could gather that wonderful
Ocarina from Linus any time she liked, and she really did like it (except for
the fact that it was invisible, so she didn't know what she was tuning half
the time). One might say she practically lived on the first circle now, as
she visited it often, even if just to glimpse at the tortured souls near the
infernal gateway, or to converse with the various philosophers (she disagreed
with a number of them). Cinndria's mother never told her that 'getting older'
consisted of visiting Hell, but she enjoyed it. It was better than the
surface world, with that harsh light that made her wrinkles seem more
visible. Maybe she could invite Minos to judge some of the self-righteous
paladins in the Fortress - that might be a bit of fun.

Role

Chapter 10

Nexuns were almost cute: Very sporadic people, which she enjoyed. One minute
it was "Cinndria, let's take the Head together and make the Village bleed"
and a minute later it was "Darkness is now in power which means I need to
hurt you!". The inconsistencies didn't bother her, and she sometimes might
share the same hefty emotional fluxes, where she might suddenly want to hurt
an acquaintance rather than help them (The result generally was based upon
which required less effort). The 'balance' they so dearly cared about wasn't
important to Cinndria at all, but she did enjoy using it as a method to find
temporary allies in her goals, which were simple: Piss off lightwalkers, piss
off battleragers.

Her life was more complex than following purely those goals, of course, but
those aspects were a heavy part of her 'pleasurable' tendencies. Embracing
her desires (Drinking and the like) provided her with a good amount of
pleasure, but the rest was produced by the pain she caused her two enemy
factions. She felt the same way you might when you give someone a gift - You
become a bit gleeful at the thought that you just made someone else's life a
bit more enjoyable ; she received her glee from the fact that she made
someone else's life just a bit more difficult.

Role

Chapter 11

Lily the Squirrel was a celebrated little creature in her society. She helped
less fortunate squirrels gather nuts, she helped protect the innocent
children squirrels from various predators, and she even took part in the
fundamental aspects of squirrel politics (She voted for Alfred 'Nuts' Gordon
due to his stance on chipmunk immigration).

Overall, everyone appreciated Lily for the exuberant amount she did for her
animal friends. They told her "Thanks" "Good job" "You're a morally correct
squirrel" "You are valuable" and so forth. That's all Lily needed and lived
for. She thrived, embracing a self-righteous mindset that circulated around
how morally superior she was. Sure, there were other squirrels more rich in
nuts, much stronger, more dexterous, more intelligent, and so forth, but they
were still inferior to her due to this new and superior distinction that she
invented: Moral prioritization. As long as she was morally superior to them
(And she was, apart just from others praising her, due to how she defined
'moral' allowing her to establish a system and label that only applied to
her). She felt successful in life - every little squirrel loved her.

One day, in the Happy-go-lucky-hugs-bunny Fields of Rainbow Forest, a
terrible thing happened to Lily and her squirrel brethren. An evil army of
mercenary rodents attacked the City-State of Squirrelyville. The forests
floor slowly became coated with blood. Skunks, foxes, porcupines, and various
other rodents all rushed through the Squirrel's homes; killing, stealing, and
overall being quite devious.

Lily, in her infinite wisdom, decided she would stop this escapade before any
more damage could be done! She ran before a group of rodents, raising her
squirrely hands above her head, "Stop!" she cried, "You all shouldn't be
doing this. I'm a very good squirrel, and the people who live here are also
morally upright and correct which means we deserve respect, care, assistance,
and your obedience. Can't you see that? We are good people. "


**Continued in Part II**

Role

Chapter 12

A portly hedgehog stepped forth, glaring into Lily's eyes. "As if your social
construction means anything" he grunted as he slapped her across the face
with a dirty arm, "You see? My hand hurts you just as much as someone who is
'evil'. The dirt from the ground stains you just as much as it would anyone
else. Your 'moral superiority' is nothing but a veil of nobility. A
pseudo-reality perpetuated only by the people who want to, in one way or
another, be superior and ruling over a 'lesser' class". Lily, stunned by the
slap, held her face while she stayed sitting on the ground. She didn't know
how to answer, her entire world was just torn down before her by people who
claimed her 'superiority' actually meant nothing.

A skunk, stepping proudly before Lily, held his head proudly as he stated
"You see that we won't stand for your haughty behavior any longer. You see
that your establishment burnt as easily as dried leaves. You now know that
your 'superiority' holds as much value as the views of each creature here.
But you see, most importantly, that your methods mean nothing if you don't
come out victorious."

Lily cried pathetic squirrel tears.

The next day she killed herself - her body was found at the bottom of the
pond in the grove. She had tied heavy nuts to her ankles and jumped in. Not a
soul mourned, not a leaf shriveled, not a cloud wept.

Role

Chapter 13

Cinndria sat on her jeweled throne sipping a wine that was mixed with the
most exotic fruits available, and just a tad bit of elf blood. The day had
been grand so far. Her servants had finished installing the hot tub on the
east wing of the castle, powered solely by entry level invokers that could
channel heat, and they had finished cleaning up the Orc dinner hall (A
project that had started approximately three years ago). Overall, her castle
was coming across quite nicely.

There was a chicken coop for the various Fortressites she had captured over
the years, a torture chamber specifically meant for Outlanders where her
servants would slowly burn flowers in front of them while their eyes were
held open, an underground hall where cloud giants were used as a sort of
balloon-party (She left them sedated, floating around the room, which
basically allowed her to bonk them with a bat-like object and laugh as they
slammed into each other in the air), and even a room specifically for the new
sport she invented: "Bonk the Gnome" - where a group of gnomes were kept in a
hollow cardboard box that had a number of holes in the top, as the gnomes
popped their heads out the players would practice their cranial strikes,
gaining points for how many they could hit (The gnomes voluntarily poked
their heads out due to the mixture of poison gas and snakes that were also
kept inside the box).

Dwarves, a hard bunch to break, had their own weakness that Cinndria and her
slaves abused. They forcefully bathed them three times a day, and shaved them
at least once each morning, making them look presentable - which is a
terrible sin in Dwarven society. They scream at the touch of soap, reacting
to it as if it were a terrible acid, flailing to get the abhorred
'cleanliness' off of them. Storm giants, another difficult to break race,
were kept in their own water tank due to their affinity with moistened areas.
At first this sounds like a relatively decent situation until one steps back
to see that all of the water for their tank comes directly from the septic
system in Cinndria's castle. Small tubes from all over the castle coagulated
their filth into a large tube at the top of the tank that dropped all of its
bowel-excreted contents into the Giant's water, allowing them to live without
pain, but in disgust.

Role

Chapter 14

The days at the castle went by wonderfully slow due to the constant
entertainment she had. It was nice to be the Queen of Thera (Though the term
'queen' is deceptive, as it implies a sort of governmental or institutional
rule, rather than what Cinndria had - which was a militaristic death-squad
that attacked random locations, directed by her impulse - which was perfect
and beautiful in judgment). Thera was lucky to have such a ruler.

-----------------

The above writing was found submitted into the Balator Orphanage's "What I
want to be when I grow up" contest, but the various teachers and
administrators of the orphanage, despite their best efforts, could not find
the child who submitted this work.

Role

Chapter 15

It was a strange day in Thera. A monstrous ancient bear turd was sucked up,
from the Market Square of Galadon, into the sky as a massive amount of people
left its location. A cloud giant wielding swords was helping numerous people
up from the ground with his shoulder. A necromancer cured a sleeping fellow
of the scourge and then woke him with a spell, leaving him to go on his way.
An assassin was practicing his chiropractic on a poor warrior who had broken
his wrist and shoulder, fixing him with two loud crunches (The warrior walked
away smiling). A battlerager, striking a mage, assisted him by striking with
one of his famed "lifeblows", healing the Mage from the brink of death.

An Orc, in a delicate surgery to cure a poor elf of his broken spike, stomped
over him with boots (as an anesthetic - putting him in a delicate sleep) and
then used his knee to fix the elf's back. Invokers wandered the eastern road,
turning terrible quicksand patches back into normal ground as they pulled
lightning from people's bodies, healing them. Weapon and armor smiths were
beating remarkable weapons with their hammers until they were reduced into
formless scraps, while warrior specialized in maces fixed dents and scratches
in their opponents armor with well-placed strikes, sometimes even creating a
piece of armor out of nowhere! Bards entered noisy areas only to open their
mouths and inhale the sound surrounding them while tinkering with their
instruments until they were perfectly out of tune.

Role

Chapter 16

A group of Outlanders walked through a forest backwards, lightning the entire
place on fire before running into a city and having their shackles removed by
a friendly Magistrate who, when he yelled for his guards, woefully watched
them run away from him. The Draconian Tower was raised from rubble by
powerful magic that tied its stones back together, perfecting its form, and
enormous ancient dragons flew to it from all over Thera, making their homes
deep in its depths. Twist abandoned his honesty due to seeing how helpful
Julias could be in keeping Thera balanced and thriving. A powerful Lich,
Ahtieli, drank an elixir to finally become 'living' again. Old men got
younger until they were small enough to be absorbed into a woman's womb,
where they'd shrink until they no longer existed. Graveyards slowly emptied
as their contents came back to life and continued their lives.

Cinndria woke, startled, from here dream. She wiped some of the sweat from
her face as she sat up, panting loudly. "What a.Terrible nightmare." she
muttered to herself. A loud metal *ding* rung out in the air, alerting her to
a nearby presence. "Maybe that's what caused this ridiculous dream", she
pondered. Following the sound, she turned a corner to see an ugly stout dwarf
standing awkwardly with a hammer in one hand, and a sword in the other. The
sword's blade was bent all the way around, almost upside down, and his hammer
seemed dented and etched. He had stopped his 'work', noting her entrance, and
raised a single bushy eyebrow while looking directly at her and innocently
said "What?"

Role

Chapter 17

A beautiful fox, with thick and luscious fur, sniffed around a lightly
forested meadow in search for food. This fox was known, throughout fox-kind,
as one of the most beautiful, clever, and fine of the species. There had
recently been a lack of small rodents for her to feast on, so she searched
this meadow in hopes of finding some sort of sustenance - animal, vegetation,
or otherwise. Little did this fox know that a beastly form lurked nearby...

SNORT! RUSTLE! STOMP! SMASH! CRUNCH!

Sounds erupted from a nearby bush, causing the fox to leap backwards in
fright. She bared her teeth, growling at the source of the noise, preparing
for vicious combat.

"BULLLLLL! SMASSSSSH! STOMMMP!" a voice shot out across the meadow just as an
enormous deformed bull leapt from the shrubbery. He stomped the ground, swung
his horns around with barbarous precision, and snorted so intensely that the
surrounding grass shuddered in response.

The fox, while confused by this entrance, was glad to see such a noble
creature in this meadow. Bulls, while violent, were some of the most reliable
and powerful creatures of the wild. "Hello, fair bull" the fox said, "I'm
here looking for a bit of food. Might you know where I could find some?".

"BULL!!! SMASSSSH! STOOMMMP!" was the bull's only reply.

The fox pondered his statements - confused as to why a bull would speak like
this. Yes, they were known to have heavy tongues, making their language a bit
difficult to understand, but they were never a species that bordered on
idiocy, and they could generally speak as viciously as they fought. This
bull, perhaps, was different. His skin was mangled, cuts visible almost
everywhere on his thick form. One of his horns, the weapons of these beasts,
was slightly cracked from some harsh blow. His face revealed nothing but a
primal stupidity, a sort of self-righteous barbarism (The worst kind).

Role

Chapter 18

Without warning, the bull charged the fox - lowering his horns as he stormed
across the ground. "What in the world" the Fox wondered, as she gracefully
sidestepped his charge and pulled herself up the branches of a nearby tree.
She called down at him: "Bull, I don't understand why you're offended. I've
only asked if you know the location of food. My fox-kin and your
Bulls-brethren have long shared land and worked in cooperation. What ails you
so?"

The bull's angry face slowly grew red as he unleashed a yell that caused
crows to flock from their nearby nests, "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" He lowered
his horns once more, this time slamming his head into the tree, causing a
minor tremor to the branches that the fox resided on.

"You know you'll make no progress with this, Bull. Calm down and tell me what
your problem is, perhaps, and we can come to an agreement. "
"Problem?" The bull replied, speaking his first coherent phrase, "My
brrrooooblem is dat yous not letting me kill you! You supposed to bend over
for Bull! You supposed to let me make corpses without any effort! Supposed to
sit still while I kills you!"

"But Bull", the fox replied rationally, "That doesn't make much sense. Your
species pride themselves on their hard work. They pride themselves on making
corpses through great strain and vicious combat. What corrupted you so? What
makes you desire only the easy death? No doubt you've been exiled from your
species due to your methods, but maybe I can help you find the correct path
to redemption!"

The bull stomped and snorted, once again slamming his head into the tree. His
head, while firm, was beginning to be covered with small open wounds from the
bull's vicious attack against the bark.
"EFFORT STUPID! SMASH! STOMP! You stupid fox. You so stupid! Pissing me off!
Make bull work for meat? Make bull deal with even odds? SMAAASH! STOMMP! THIS
IS NOT HOW WORKS! Come down and let me make corpse!"

Role

Chapter 1

When Cinndria was a young girl, probably around seven or eight, her parents
found her torturing animals behind their house. Her parents were devout,
god-fearing (Specifically Corrlaan) individuals with a very modest and holy
life-style. They built the small house that Cinndria resided in, at that
time, and spent all of their time caring for the people, animals, and land
around them - as to live the most 'good' life possible. As one could guess,
when they found their daughter torturing animals, they were quite upset.
Cinndria had cut off all of a puppy's paws and had jammed sticks into the
blood stumps, as to create makeshift wooden paws.

When they found her, she was crouching over the whimpering canine, laughing
gleefully and singing to herself. She was consistently slapping the dog on
its head, singing "No paws for the dog, as now his legs are made of log!".
Cinndria turned, hearing footsteps behind her, and smiled at her parents,
saying "Now he is much more interesting. All the other dogs will be jealous
of these wooden legs. Mommy, why didn't you tell me dogs could be such fun?"

Her parents grabbed her up from the bloody mess, bathing her and locking her
in her room. Her father decided that Cinndria was to be taken to the a local
priest, in hopes of purging whatever foul spirit was inhabiting his daughter,
as he couldn't imagine that such a cute young girl would be so evil of her
own volition.

The night before departing for the priest, Cinndria had wonderful dreams of
dogs - all with their limbs hacked off; whimpering, bleeding, crying for help
- but only receiving more pain. They were lesser creatures anyway, and they
weren't nearly as wonderful as she was, why would someone want to protect
them? They were just toys - tools to be used and thrown away.

Role

Chapter 7

Cinndria stared down at the corpse of Varuk. It was his fault. She
didn't want to have to kill him, but they both knew it would come to
that. He used to be a reasonable fellow - Following the Scion way of
life, practicing exceptional collection of potions/magics, killing
Battleragers, and so forth.

One day, though, for whatever reason, Varuk went insane. Like always,
Cinndria contacted her ally as they had a tendency to travel together
(Multiple times into the dank abyss of Hell, and even more into the
underdark after that same Displacer every single time). She offered him a
treat, something he generally took kindly to, "Shall we steal the Head
from the Battleragers?". This time, instead of responding with glee at
the prospect of filling the Huts with blood, he said "That wouldn't help
them accept me into the Huts". At first Cinndria assumed that Varuk, as
always, was either drunk, high off of poppy juice, or toying around with
his duergar humor. After all, it'd make no sense for someone that was so
tied with the Scion to suddenly join the ranks of those mindless, idiotic
barbarians who claim that "killing mages" is the most important thing in
the world.

As she spent a bit of time around him, it was obvious that Varuk was
serious and very intent on joining the Battleragers. This was terribly
depressing to her, as they had spent many enjoyable, and deadly, times
together in the various exotic areas throughout Thera.

While walking through Galadon, Cinndria heard Varuk's cries: "Help! I'm
being attacked by Arkellin!". With a beer in hand, she watched Varuk and
his hunter rush down into the sewers. She took a sip from the sweet,
brown beer and thought: "What to do. I could rush in there and attack
him, as he is a Battlerager - But he was also very good to me. Hrm. So,
what is he to me now? A friend or an imbecile". She sighed to herself,
tossing the beer at a child who was walking through the market, and
rushed towards the sewers. As she dived in to the rancid abyss, she saw
Varuk desperately fighting off two guards and the Provost Arkellin,
swinging his swords as viciously as possible to hold them at bay. It was
obvious that Varuk could escape this situation, only needing to flee and
run back to his 'Village'. Cinndria looked at him as a grin spread across
her face, "What the hell" she mumbled to herself. She rushed into combat
and kicked Varuk's feet out from under him. As he hit the ground, he
looked up in confusion at Cinndria with what seemed to be pleading eyes.
She looked back into his eyes, giving him the most sincere smile that she
could before slamming the Black King's Scepter into his face, killing
him.

It was his fault. Who needs friends anyway?

Role

Chapter 6

What to do with my life? It's a curious question, and it honestly sounds
insane. Yes, insane. Why? I'm me. I shouldn't be wondering what to do with my
life - I should just 'be'. I should currently exist and act as I am. I am
urges, I am indulgence, I am lazy, desiring, lusty relaxation(With blood
thrown in every so often, which happens to occasionally be my own). I've
explored the reaches of Hell, the deeper parts of Yzekon, but for what?

Silly to ask myself that too. For shinies, of course. What woman doesn't
appreciate some good jewelry. The actual adventure part is the annoying
aspect though. I like getting the items, but the effort that goes into it is
just ghastly. How can I expect to be beautiful and active? It's an insane
idea. I honestly think I'm losing my mind. Just to reinforce that idea, I
helped people. Helped people without any benefit to myself. It was nonsense,
I don't know what came over me. They didn't pay me, trade things to me, or
touch me in 'that' spot. Don't call it altruism, because I'll punch you in
the face if you do. It wasn't that, so I don't know what it is. Maybe I do
have some sort of human weakness, which is something I'm not apt to admit. I
don't consider my laziness a weakness, nor my drinking, excessively slurred
speech, sexual habits, violence, inconsistencies in action, etc. What would
make me help someone like that? I'm limited it to sound better; I helped
someones, not someone. It was a terrible plural - something that makes the
action even more generous than I'd like to think. Maybe it was because they
were cute? Ignorance is sort of adorable I guess. That's it, yes! Think about
it....Who is more adorable? An elf telling you a story or a fire giant trying
to guess what that brown thing he just shoved in mouth was? The giant, no
doubt. Cuteness has a dimension all its own, almost a plane of existence,
outside the purely physical sphere.

Most idiots(A term reserved for people who consider themselves morally
superior) consider cuteness to be something you find in a rabbit. Something
in a child. That's note cuteness, that's weakness. Inability to protect one's
self does not a cute make. On the other hand, intellectual ignorance, or
misconceptions about one's surroundings, that is adorable. This is especially
valid when an ignorant individual makes that ignorance audible, letting you
know that they perceive the world in a clever, but inane, way. That is
something to be appreciated. Maybe that's why I like Orcs so much. Those
beautifully boiled skins poignant with blood....It makes sense I think. Orcs
are adorable. They're cute. How I wish I could help them more.....

You know what? Maybe this journal wasn't such a good idea - My drinking hand
is getting tired.

Role

Chapter 5

Middle age. Cinndria was thirty now, and it was terrible. Her perky breasts,
though still luscious, began to lose their 'bounce'. Her hair was slowly
becoming less fine, her body becoming much more mature - losing its young and
inherently attractive look. She, in turn, began to wear more makeup. Better
to hide the age than embrace it.

Many people learn things with age. Some learn to become more mature, some
learn that they need to "do something" with their lives, some learn that life
is short and they change to a carpe diem mindset, some settle down; Cinndria
also learned something. Something very important: Though she keeps aging,
teenage boys never get older. There was nothing more invigorating to her than
stealing the innocence of a younger boy. Many older men vied for her
attention, specifically wealthy ones, but wealth can take you only so far and
she knew it. This is why, for her flings, she enjoyed a taste of the younger
life. She would choose the love stricken shy boys who were anxious to find a
girl who just "wanted them for them" (which, while nonsense, made them much
easier to manipulate). She would need to play the part of the older woman who
just couldn't find someone who understood her, then she would create an
imaginary connection with the male she had in mind, making them think that
there was something special and unique between them. Add in a few beers,
Cinndria's body, and maybe a bit of music, and you've got yourself quite the
tempting scene.

Life wasn't all lust, though; it was also a bit of gluttony. As her age
increased, so did her drinking. She found herself drunk, more often than
tipsy. This was a way for her to cope with the time passing by, with her age
slowly escaping from her. If only there were a way for her to regain the form
of her youth, some way to forever make her physique that of a teenager again,
when everyone lusted for her - not just old suitors and young men.

Role

Chapter 4

Cinndria enjoyed adventuring. There was something deeply satisfying about
sharing the rewards of a warrior without putting an anything close to the
labor they did. They'd stand in front of her, protecting her with some false
sense of honor or vigilance, fighting things so that they (Her included - and
that is the most important part) could profit. Whether by experience, armors,
or luxuries, she took a very passive stance in exploring and fighting. She
could fight, that wasn't a question, but she didn't always want to. She could
sit, with a nice view, behind some strong warrior and twiddle on whatever
instrument she had at the time, all the while the warrior did most of the
effort. It was such a grand idea to her.

Consider it like she does: Two people doing the same job, let's take an
example like, say, forging. They, as a group, are paid one hundred gold to
make fifty weapons. One of the smiths forges forty weapons, the other forges
ten. They both receive a payment of fifty gold. How could someone not be
attracted to such an idea? "Here, good fellow, do one tenth the work that I
do and receive the exact same pay!" Only a fool would refuse such an offer,
and only a fool would accept the position of the hard-worker.

Role

Chapter 3

In the school, there was only one singer that surpassed the abilities of
Cinndria: A lithe little human female who looked almost androgynous by the
name of Liltie. Liltie's notes somehow always came out a little truer, with
more volume, and with more passion. Her voice, independent of the tune,
always topped Cinndria's. Cinndria loathed the girl, why couldn't she have
the beautiful voice that Liltie had? It just wasn't fair. Cinndria wanted to
be the "prized pupil" and wanted all the attention that little bitch was
getting, but she could never surpass her, no matter how she 'tried'. People
told her that, with practice, she could - Anyone would think that practice
makes perfect, it's a simple basic idea, but Cinndria loathed the idea that
she would have to put forth effort to top this ugly girl. As such, she didn't
practice.

Instead, Cinndria came up with a plan. A devious plan that would show that
'oh so wonderful' Liltie who was really the best. The plan was simple: Leave
the school.

And she did. Cinndria, rather than put forth the effort to finish her
classes, come out on top, and beat Liltie to the ground, simply left the
school one day with a satchel of stolen food, drinks, and clothing. It was
much easier than actually trying.

Liltie, when she woke up in the morning, found a very vulgar note on her
dresser. It explained numerous ways she could have been killed by a creative
number of invaders during the night, the sexual escapades of her mother with
animals, a treatise on how stupid and ugly her face was, and a post script
that referenced how she'd be untouched by men for the rest of her life.

Role

Chapter 2

"You missed class again?" A teenage girl said to Cinndria.
"Yeah, so what?" Cinndria responded, sliding a yawn in after the phrase for
added effect.

Cinndria was now about fourteen years old. She hadn't seen her parents in
four years, which she didn't mind at all. They had taken her to the priest,
so long ago, and had a worthless ritual done on her that involved a priest,
chanting, some 'holy water', and prayer. She went along with it, annoyed that
her parents were upset with her 'cruel' behavior. It was easier to go along
with the ritual than argue against it. She pretended some evil spirit had
been torn from her body, and she even impressed herself with how skillful her
acting was. Her parents bought the whole ordeal, as did the priest - They
were too stupid to consider that Cinndria was smarter than them, or that a
ritual like that could even be falsified. Her parents cried a ridiculous
amount, hugging her and telling her how much they loved her, they were just
getting more and more annoying.

After taking Cinndria home, life was normal for a year (save Cinndria hitting
puberty and gaining breasts that resembled swollen mosquito bites). At that
time, her parents decided it would be good for Cinndria to gain some skill in
various artistries. Without any conflict, being as Cinndria played an
apathetic and accepting attitude, they sent her off to a school for various
skills: Singing, dancing, painting, cooking, fighting, and so forth. It was a
large school filled with primarily human students, all in their teenage
years, who were all sent in to learn some sort of trade or skill.

Cinndria was late to most of her classes, and she flat out skipped others.
Her time there was primarily filled with sleeping, piddling, and sneaking
alcohol from the brewery (meant for the adults) up to her room. Many of the
other students resented her, as she was coasting by in the classes without
working as hard as they did. She would cheat on exams, seduce teachers into
giving her passing scores, and slip gifts into the hands of those she needed
to beat in any given competition. The only class she put marginal effort into
was singing - she enjoyed it. She was naturally good at it, and it came very
easily to her, making it a perfect class to actually show up to.

Immortal Comments

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges

Mob Deaths

Timeline

Leveling History

PK Deaths

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Wins

Arena Statistics

Title History

Skill List

Song List

PK Statistics

PK Gank-O-Meter

Immortal Comments