Of Creation And Hate:
– Born unto a callous society, Lunavae's origin was kept secret, even from her father, as the result of a forbidden coition between a Teir'dal and Feir'dal. Sheltering this infant was not easy, being nursed within Neriak away from the public's eye, away even from the grip of Innoruuk, as the first child to this distressed elf. However, as the months crawled past, her Teir'dal features remained dominant, all but her vibrant green eyes and seemingly high spirit. The steps from infancy to childhood began and she followed the teachings of her mother, learning the art of an Enchantress. Her practice became confidence, and over the years, her confidence led to knoweldge. She soon joined the sisterhood of The Spurned to persue her art, finally mixing in amongst her people with some quiet suspicion and cold looks towards her lively green eyes and exposed cheer. It wasn't long before she'd stumbled into her first intimacy, a fellow Enchantress from her school that had wicked intentions.
– The natural hatred of the Teir'dal is harsh, it's magnitude constantly boiling within them, towards the outside, their people and even their God. Guarded from this malice, overtly and internally, Lunavae was blind-sided as this Enchantress spared none of it. The mental torment and abuse led to the breaking of a once composed spirit and the hurt caused her to run to the shadows, away from everything, even her protective mother and newborn brother, Naevik. Time passed on, salvaging from her surroundings as emotional wounds scabbed over, Lunavae once again crawled. Her place in the shadows had drawn the attention of Neriak's scamps and scoundrels, their interactions with Lunavae led her to the Guild Hall of Rogues. Wearily approaching those in power, she began fufilling menial tasks to aquire some means of keeping herself from the gutter. As she struggled to get by with no mentor, her unrefined skills proved to be enough for her work and it helped give her the courage to return home and seek her mother's guidance and discipline.
– The night that she'd returned home, she'd caught a glimpse of her mother upon the floor, blood splatter and a glint of steel from the corner of her eye as a knife caught her side. Feeling the air pushed from her lungs, she quickly turned to flee the doorway, frightened and confused. A bright flash of stars shook her vision as her body smacked the ground, piercing heat beneath her shoulderblade drew the pain from her impact. Her presence once again stirred up ill-will, this time amongst a different crowd, unaware that an Assassin within her new guild had assessed her impurities and became irate. Small gasps of air led to a euphoric sensation as she squinted at her blood forming a deep, red sea before her. With a spat to her face, the cloaked figure quickly darted from view, leaving her to drown in her own sullied blood. Numb and fading, what seemed like hands had begun to lift her body from the floor as she fell unconcious.
– It seems before this event, she'd impressed a few contacts within the Hand of the Ebon Mask and became more than a lowly servant in their eyes, now being taken, nursed back to health and trained under dark wings. The failed assassination upon her life leaves but a glaring reminder beneath her left shoulder, in the skewed shape of a thick line. Within time, and once again, practice became confidence, yet with the wisdom that hatred had brought, a deep scar now hardened over her heart, sealing in the need for revenge. Using a few of the lessons learned as an Enchantress and her former spry behaviours, the charisma of the Rogue became her new art and the blade her new liaison, studying both the talent of stealth and the methods of agile combat. Her past teachings gave way to new skills in deception, transforming her into something cold-blooded and dark behind her black mask.
She'd become dominance in it's sweetest form.
