Nyandrah Ny'eth'dras'cal the Initiate of the Jaguar, Drillmistress of Battle

Skill List

Role

Chapter 9

Nyandrah emerged unscathed and fearless from the Void. She gazed around at
the new sights and smells as the Dance sung anew in her mind. She did not
know what to expect, as those who were exiled past the Void often were
never heard from again. She traveled the new lands, searching for answers
to many questions that plagued her mind. However, she held true to her
words to the council members. As she gazed about, she realized that the
new lands were in many ways similar to her home. The familiarity of the
Plains of Arendyl were not lost to her, as was the establishment of the
city of Darsylon. The Ruins of Maethian were aptly named in lore, as she
well knew that tampering with magic caused unknown and disastrous
consequences. Often she would enter the Void once more to embrace a
familiar sense, but only briefly. For even within these new lands, the
Dance and the War continues, and she would need to hone the Dance to an
even higher level and remember that the War is not only to protect
Arendyl, but also to pursue those who threatened the sanctity of Arendyl.
In the new lands, the War was against those who embraced magic, whether
acknowledging the dark taints of magic or summoning divine unnatural
creatures or "gifting" the glories of magic unto others. She had felt
the consequences of magic deep within her soul, and even now, continues
to feel it crawling on her skin.

She had since found a hut in a new Village, those she embrace as kins as,
while they do not embrace the Dance, they have the same desires and goals
as her to destroy magic. While small and few in numbers, the Village has a
unique tenacity against the wiles and guiles of magic - something that she
feels safe in understanding.

Yet, throught all of this, she realized that the taint of magic curses her
even now. The ritualistic tattoos swirl about her body fighting the incoming
magical haze, but were but a sweet relief to the taint of magic embedded
upon her soul. Glimmers of the curse occasionally finds itself to her body,
and she grimaces in pain while breathing the Dance, understanding that this
is a constant reminder of the dangers and curse of magic.

Through her travels in the new lands, rumors of a divine being, the spirit
of an ancient jaguar, emerged. Known as Baerinika, Nyandrah senses a kindred
elf, and journeys to uncover Baerinika's path and in hopes of finding a cure
to the accursed magic plaguing her.

Role

Chapter 8

Nyandrah waited quietly as she gazed at the sorrowful yet greedy eyes of
the council. She was no longer bathed in blood, but in a prisoner's garb
that gifted to the council as a method of a "new civilization" by the
humans. It was, at least, clean. Underneath the garb were tattoos drawn
upon her skin through ancient rituals. However, almost as if a punishment,
the stories that they told were primarily of death and blood.

'Nyandrah, your kin has caused the most disastrous harm to Arendyl. They
have become monsters and seek to undue what we have all accomplished -
but moreso, with the strength of magic that we generously gifted upon
them. You have been spared as you have sought to quell the rage of your
sisters, even outside of our fortress. For that, we are thankful, but
you cannot remain here.'

Nyandrah was well within the Dance as she gazed at her accusers. She
remembered little after seeing her sisters burn and fight against each
other. News of her participating in that massacre came as a surprise to
her. She had not known that her hands were stained with the blood of so
many of her sisters.

'The magic used upon you and your sisters cannot be removed, for it is
attached to the souls. However, we cannot have you continue using these
benefits, and have branded you marks to quench those magics. Leave
Arendyl, Nyandrah. You are exiled through the Grove into the lands
unknown.'

Nyandrah was seething at the pompous fools before her within the Dance.
However, she realized that the tattoos engraved onto her body brought
forth the righteous vengeance of the Dance and the spirit of Arendyl
once more. And for that, she was thankful, as the magic induced hazed
was but a faint glimmer.

'I will leave, council members. But the magic that you so sought has
brought the blood of my kin upon your hands and will bring the ruin of
Arendyl. I will leave and ensure that magic is tarnished from these
lands, and free myself from the magic you corrupted onto our souls and
imprisoned us with. The War remains. The Dance continues.'

***

And so, Nyandrah, first of the Wardancers, last of the Ny'eth'dras'cal,
was exiled by the council and left through the Void near the Grove. Yet,
ever so often, rumors of a wild elf dancing in perfect harmony with
nature perpetuates in the old lands.

Role

Chapter 7

The musty smell of a cell tickled her senses. Hard iron, likely mined by the
dwarves and crafted by the humans, unpleasantly chilled her body. Nyandrah
awoke tired with little understanding of how much time had passed after the
nightmares she had just viewed. Silence echoed all around her.

'My sister, wake up. Shhhh..'

Next to her, similarly chained up, was another Wardancer. However, the once
glimmering hair was now dyed in a dark red hue, similar to what she had
seen in the past. Violet eyes screamed for freedom as they encountered an
internal struggle of insanity and madness. Her muscle was constantly
straining, attempting to escape the cold hard iron cuffing her wrists
together, until blood trickled down.

'Sister, how.. what.. what happened?'

Although Nyandrah's voice was a soft whisper, she had spoken through the
Dance, and the integrity and importance of her question carried through
past the human construction and into the very soul of Arendyl. The other
prisoner sighed a soft relief as Nyandrah's voice permeated the air.

'Tricked, we were. It may not have been the council, but they were
accomplices. Most of our tribe has been infused with magic to aid us in our
duties, and only too late did we find that the magic was not what it seemed.
It was magic tapped through an unknown portal. It errodes the Dance, and we
become ...'

She hesitated a moment and unveiled a short scaly tail.

'We become something else. We lose our reason, our sanity, and become the
beasts that we are tasked to hunt. Only those of us who truly listen to the
Dance remain, but even then, thiss magic ssseeksss to dessstroyy...'

Her words became more of a hiss, unknown to her, as her eyes began to take
on a more predatory and blood shot appearance. A primal scream emerges from
her throat as she stops speaking and gazes at Nyandrah with a plea of
innocence and help before she shuffles away into the darkness, trying to
remain hidden.

Nyandrah remained quiet for the next moons as she tended to her sister's
insanity and mutation. Slowly and surely, she no longer felt her sister
connected to the Dance as magic erroded any semblance of affinity to the
Forest. She herself felt distant from the Dance, for the magical enchantment
cast upon her remained. As she watched her sister slowly succumb, Nyandrah
conducted the last Dance - finding a piece of obsidian near her, she
released her sister from her torment.

Role

Chapter 6

While Nyandrah remained in complete control within the Dance, the vision that
she witnessed shocked her own senses, now dulled by magic. She remembered
little after the hunt, only that she stumbled back towards the council after
cutting off the two scaly limbs with a frightening determination and a list
of demands and questions. The battle had taken a toll on her as the once
protective magic enchantments whispered promises of power and glory unto her
if she only succumbed. These were not magic cast upon her for a successful
hunt, but to experiment with the elves of Arendyl. For what reason or purpose,
Nyandrah wanted answers.

As she emerged at the new barricades erected by the council near a burgeoning
fortress, a cacophony of noise emerged around her. In front of her were her
sisters, those of the Wardancers of Ny'eth'dras'cal, covered with magical
enchantments striking each other and everyone around them in a ferocious
whirlwind of steel and blood. She stared in daze as limbs were clearly hacked
apart and torn asunder by precise strikes of the Dance, while others were
burned to cinder by molts of fireball raining upon them from within the
fortress. In a daze, she stared at the bloodied scene, even more brutal and
grotesque than any she stood in before, as her sisters' magic infused insanity
threatened to destroy everything around her. She fell to the ground, dropping
the limbs filled with questions and confusion, as the sweet embrace of
darkness overtook her senses. And with it, the Dance revigorated itself,
emerging within her mind and body, and the Spirit of the Forest ingrained
itself in her body, a vessel to destroy the corruption plaguing its soil.

Role

Chapter 5

Within the bloodlust, she realized the source of her unease. The limbs that she
saw seemed oddly familiar, as did the swords that swayed to strike her. They
were a mixture of precision and brutality, intertwined with golden cusps of
magic guiding their path. They appeared to be a desecrated form of the Dance,
no longer of beauty and grace but more of a chaos woven insanity only seeking
death. She realized that the movements of the swords were a pattern that she
herself had taught to others in the Dance, a pattern that she would have well
recognized had it not been for the magic enchantments.

As twin blades whizzed to cuz her jugular, she gracefully dodged with the
slimmest grasp of the Dance and skewered the beast.

Finality. In more ways then one, as the mist parted, and in front of her was
one of her kins and students. Except that the once pure emerald green eyes were
now clouded with a hateful red glare, the lithe and graceful body was scarred
by magical enchantments experimented upon this poor creature, and a pair of
demonic scaly limbs emerged as two additional arms. A monstrousity of magic.

Role

Chapter 4

Nyandrah breathed deeply as she sniffed the musty air, tenderly feeling
between her toes the wet ground, her eyes darting back and forth examining
every cut of leaf and tree bark. A slash here, a claw mark there, a muffled
voice permeating the air as the unnatural beast scampered away with its prey.
She frowned deeply as a strong sense of unease permeated her mind. It wasn't
only due to the unnatural beast that she was hunting, but the Dance that she
once breathed seems to be disconnected, aloof - struggling to survive amongst
the layer of magic that enshrouded her body. She had pleaded that the Dance
would be sufficient, but the council, in their foolishness, had forced many
levels of magical enchantments on her as a means to guarantee her success.

A sudden shift in her vision brought her out of her musing. A chilling
clicking noise slowly emerged around her, followed by a snicker and pitch
high laughing sounds of a hyena. She had learned that the beast demonstrated
movements and habits unerringly similar to that of humans, elves, and other
beasts. Nyandrah breathed deeply, entranced in the Dance, feeling the
movement of the air and the worms crawling in the soil, as she waited, not to
be distracted or fooled.

A strike to the left, from above, and to the left, each with a spiny limb
longer than that of a humans. Within the Dance, she visualized movements and
swerved gracefully around each, twirling in the air and lashing out with one
of her scimitars. A snarl and a gurgled yelp. Strange sounds indeed, especially
as her scimitar should have cleanly cut off a limb. A flurry of limbs cascading
like a waterfall above her, seeking to overwhelm her. Those that Nyandrah dodged
barely skimmed her skin, and those that she parried harmlessly fluttered to the
ground. She feinted a thrust, kneeled to the ground, and crossed her scimitars.
A laugh in the background as her blades seemed to hit mist. Peculiar, as
intestines should have dripped to the ground.

The longer she hunted, the more the magic induced hazed threatened to foil her
senses. She felt as if she was a child through an out of body experience, only
observing her mother embrace the Dance and not performing herself. She attempted
to regain her senses by breathing properly, but even that was becoming
increasingly difficult as she seems to lose part of her soul to magic.
Frustration mounted to more frustration and the Dance slowly dissipated as she
lost her senses. The desire for blood and the hunt overwhelmed her conscience,
something that never happened before even during her times in the forefront of
battles. These desires were exactly what others feared as her strikes became
more primitive, more ferocious, and more bestial. She was becoming similar to
the beast that she fought in front of her.

Role

Chapter 3

Arendyl seemed to be at peace. New horizons emerged as alliances were
cemented with the dwarves and the humans, much to the Wardancers' chagrine.
A council of elders werecreated in Arendyl, formed solely by those elves
who negotiated the alliances and treaties and were now viewed as the heroes
of Arendyl. To many, peace was the ultimate victory. To the Wardancers, this
peace was a betrayal of Arendyl, yet they could not leave their home and
their voices were unheard within the crowds yearning to learn magic and
build wealth. This peace appeared to have been endemic as the voice of the
Forest drowned in the new frontier.

Then it started. Peace comes at a price. Slowly, and ever surely, the
Forest changed. New creatures emerged from the dark - creatures of unknown
origin, not of the Forest. Darkness was always a hunting ground for beasts,
but even the beasts themselves were no longer the apex predators. Long howls
emerged from the Forest, howls that reverberated into the souls of the
Wardancers and others still attuned with Arendyl but unfelt by those
embracing the new frontier. Beasts within Arendyl mutated by dark magic
emerged to steal the children of Arendyl and cause havoc within its lands.

The Wardancers were deployed away from their "peaceful" homes to track and
confront these creatures. Whereas they were once considered a feared
representative of Arendyl, they were now considered simply a nuisance,
warriors unseen and ridiculed as magic was thought to triumph over antiquated
culture. To prove the worth of magic and instill a greater sense that
Arendyl was on the best path, the council of elders enchanted the Wardancers
with magical enchantments to hone their senses and skills and sent them on
their hunt. The council knew that the Wardancers would be successful, and
sought to attach their glory to magic.

Hypocrisy. For the magic that brought about "peace" also brought alongside
misfortunes.

Role

Chapter 2

Nyandrah had an acute understanding and strange affiliation with the Dance
from an early age. She often appeared bipolar, a kind child with a bright
smile and a cheeful disposition as she gazed in awe at the wonders of nature
around her, but while learning the Dance, a keen understanding of slicing
the smallest of bugs with her fingernail. Some heralded her as a prodigy
even amongst the Wardancers, but with such accolade spread rumors that she
was the offspring not of elves but of wolves, jaguars, and other beasts. A
fragment of truth appeared to be embedded in these rumors, as the
encroachment of the others threatened to tear apart Arendyl's peace and
skirmishes became battles, battles became wars, and the Wardancers of
Ny'eth'dras'cal entered the fray.

Nyandrah was often at the forefront of these battles as she dedicated
herself to understanding the Dance when she strangely felt most peaceful
and attuned to the forest. Even her sisters were often awestruck at the
beauty of her blades, the litheness and graceness of the sheer perfection
as eyes were skewered, ears were split, and ligaments were sliced. When
she emerged from these battles and approached the other tribes, they often
shyed away from her. It seemed natural, as she came dyed in a reddish hue
of blood and triumph, her senses heightened similar to a wild beast, her
walk as a graceful as a jaguar.

The Wardancers became even more feared as they became victorious in more
battles, resulting in their voices faltering. The other elves of Arendyl
soon allowed humans and dwarves to come into the forest. Dwarves brought
within their riches and minerals mined from the deepest of caves, bribing
and soliciting favors from many tribes. Humans, with their ingenuity,
brought a new way to live - lumber, stones, and a strange untapped magic
unknown and unseen in Arendyl. Even amidst the cries of the wood-elves
that the land was being tarnished and destroyed, many elves turned a deaf
ear to them and sought comfort and peace within their new found allies. To
them, the benefits of long term alliances, peace, and often greed, trumped
their protection of Arendyl.

While the Wardancers continued to hear the beat of the nature and the
Forest and sought to defend their home, time and corruption had changed
the minds of many who once listened to the Spirit of the Forest but now
listened to the dark whispers and musings of other races.

Role

Chapter 1

In ancient times, in the forests of Arendyl, a constant War waged amongst
the elves and the many denizens who sought to conquer and control land.
The dwarves of Del-Tol mined and picked at resources, seeking to expand
their empire while in constant strife with their banished darker cousins
who tapped into unknown magic and demons. To the west, a strange growing
darkness took flight as pillars were erected in Maethian, seeking to
control creatures of the night. Nearby, humans fled the fields soaked
with blood and established the fledgling settlement of Galadon. In each
of these cases, the elves of Arendyl took watch, wary through a primal
instinct that something was amiss.

Many factions within Arendyl disputed as to how to approach the
encroaching unease plaguing their land. One such faction was the
Wardancers of Ny'eth'dras'cal, a tribe of primarily female elven warriors
who embraced the grace and poise of Nature's Dance, to be one with the
Spirit of Arendyl. They held an inherent understanding of the woods,
born with the trees, suckling on the roots, and learning to dance through
the winds from the falling leaves. During peaceful times, they were
considered entertainers, seemingly bending their environment to their
whim through the Dance. During bloody times, the denizens of Arendyl
spoke in hushed tones, as the Wardancers' graceful Dance punctuated the
dangers that walked amongst them as they caused endless bloodshed in the
forefront of battle. As precise and poised as they were in their craft,
they were a small tribe and were unable to muster much support to their
cause - that Arendyl should pursue the War outside of the forest.
Pacifists and isolationism surrounded the minds of some factions, while
others sought to align with the humans and dwarves to build a co-existing
kingdom and embrace magic.

History shows the results of this strife, with the establishment of
Darsylon and the death of wood-elves in Arendyl. But History has a way of
leaving unifinished business behind.

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