JeVondair Family/Rania Eastersand

New Blood

After being knighted by Rynn, Rania separated from her twin sister, Mavia, for the first time to being her career in the Obsidian Isles of the East Continent where she was swiftly recruited to the Royal Obsidian Dragoons to aid in the defense of the realm against invasion.

D'Hara

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (9 days, 19 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) It was stormy in Nebel. Strong westerlies off the surf beat at the shutters of the comfortable dwelling of Lord Gaidin. Rain pummled shingles and even the moon seemed to fear the great storm clouds. But to a D'Haran, life was a constant weathering of the storm. And so it was that Lord Gaidin was comfortable ensconced in his favorite chair, warm by the fire when an unexpected knock at his study door roused him from contemplation.

"My Lord," one of the serving women poked her head in and curtsied at his unspoken question. "You have a visitor.."

The Lord's expression shifted from inquisitive to incredulous, considering the strength of the gale assaulting his keep, and the servant stammered an explanation. "I Understand, Excellency, but....your visitor was most insistent to see you concerning claiming the old estate at The Bleak Tower."

"And does this mystery stormcaller have a name?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes, milord. Though only the surname was provided...JeVondair."

Letter from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (8 days, 21 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) Your Majesty,

The clan connections and politics of the sandborn are...intricate, to say the least. When Duke Rynn was but a knight, his entire immediate family was wiped out by monsters swarming from the unsettled lands surrounding the Dessert of Silhouettes. Most of the clans only survived by hidnign or fleeing to the foothills. Only the Duke's sister, Duchess Kalixta, survived. Duke Rynn had a brother, but we do not speak of him. Unfortunately, both he and Kalixta died young. Even his wife, Duchess Khari Kye of Golden Farrow, was not long for this world. And when Duke Rynn joined them in death, his claims and holdings passed to my clan, the Eastersands, to hold until Duke Rynn's trueborn children reached majority. To maintain those claims, and ensure the safety of the JeVondair Legacy, it is my mission to find the children and take them on as squires, protecting them until they come of age. For this, i must find Le Drake.

Thank you for your summary of events that have transpired. It is a shame, although hardly surprising, to see the war with Luria continue. I wonder what reasons support it now, so many years after it began? I was but a girl when it started. Rania Eastersand JeVondair Dame of Nebel

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (4 days, 20 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) "Please, take a seat, Dame Rania," Gaidin said, offering her the chair next to his, while ordering Milayne to bring them some food and wine. "I am more then pleased to see a new face in our great Realm, certainly when she carries such a name as you do. You will however understand I have questions. Before I get to that though, let me offer you this." Gaidin reached down his sleeves to reveal a red rose, which he gave to Dame Rania.

Rania gracefully accepted the rose, hastily plucked from Lord Gaidin's personal, storm-wracked garden. The servants had not even had the time to cut away the flowers thorns. She smiled at such a fitting mental self-portrait and deftly maneuvered the rose tuck it neatly behind her ear as Lord Gaidin appraised her. Pleased by his gallantry, she allowed it.

Rania was a full-blooded sandborn woman. Her skin was dusky as a sunset, and her hair was such a deep brown it was almost black. Unlike most of her kin, however, she eschewed the intricate braids denoting clan and rank, preferring instead to let her tresses fall freely. Despite being over 30 years old, their was not a gram of fat on her. Her wiry frame exuded a certain solidness, though little of it was exposed in her evening robes. High cheek bones and a rounded chin framed almondine eyes, gold flecks catching the firelight as she patiently awaited the end of the inspection.

"It is the custom of my House to meet beauty with beauty, so I hope you accept this gift." Lord Gaidin said at last. "Now, onto my curiousness. May I ask you who you are, what brought you here, what you plan to achieve in your future and how you expect me te be of any assitance in this all? And perhaps as important as my previous questions, we will have to discuss what I expect from you as Dame of Nebel."

"As you wish, my lord" Rania bowed her head. "Your servant did a fair job of it. I am Rania of the Eastersands, inherent clan of the House JeVondair. I have served as a general in Beluaterra and a banker in the colonies, though neither suited me well. Unlike my kin, I have little to my name save my name itself. It was decided some time ago that I should return to D'Hara to squire His Grace's children. To that end, I have already endeavored to join the JeRavosi, though I wonder if that will do me any good..."

She trailed off as she looked about the study, her eyes alighting on the brandy, but she moved on with an inhalation. "How well did you know His Grace, my Lord? I admit, I was never able to meet him in person, having been shipped abroad well before his fall."

LURIA

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (18 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (36 recipients) But for her brief stay in a Lurian jail cell, Rania's journey to Oute Giask had been relatively uneventful, even pleasant, all things considered. A few exciting squalls had delayed here ferry from Port Nebel, and it took almost a full day at the customs house in the capital exchanging her D'Haran gold Dragons into Imperial Marks, setting up her estate, and the other necessities of taking up life in a new realm. She was amazed and grateful that her arrival had not caused a fuss, considering her surname.

Of course, the transition was hardly something that Rania was not used to. As a girl, her clan had wandered from oasis to oasis in the Desert of Silhouettes. As an adult noblewoman her life had been much the same: Moving from one realm of interest to another while her own achievements were eclipsed by her sister and cousin in Beluaterra, which grated on her more than she'd ever admit to another living soul. Nevertheless, with the death of Rynn JeVondair, she'd been given new purpose.

She was in Giask when she received Ellyn Coquard's 'invitation' and prepared to leave, tipping the courier to return Outer Giask and inform the Lady of her arrival. Gathering her belongings was a swift process, she had little enough that she could carry it over her shoulder. She took greater time with her appearance. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 with long legs and hair so brown it was almost black. If her dusky skin was not enough to denote her Desert origins to the casual onlooker, the intricate braids denoting clan and rank falling in a dark queue down her back would do the job. Rounded facial features and almondine eyes marked her as a JeVondair. She favored darker clothing: A sleeveless leather jerkin with buckles of weathered bronze over a deep blue ruffled blouse. Serviceable leather boots climbed up her calves where simple black pants were tucked, secured at her waste by a sword-belt boasting a rapier and dirk.

It was a fine enough day outside, and Rania resolved to walk rather than purchase a horse or carriage. She took great pride in her athletic form, and days on a ferry had disrupted her exercise routine. So she set out at a brisk pace, exiting Giask by the Southwest Gate. A few more hours, and she would be with kin for the first time in many years.

And she was prepared for anything...

THE DUEL

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (10 hours, 12 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (38 recipients) Dawn.

Rania was awake, as was her habit, long before first light. The sun rose at her back as She made her way to the town square in Outer Giask and was surprised to find a crowd awaiting her. Everything from brown rags to flashes of silk and steel. They grew silent at her approach, parting like fog to allow her forward. She'd never had an audience before.

It was eerie.

Tileni was already there, waiting for her. Her armor shined. Rania was not an expert on armor, the sandborn eschewed metal in favor of leather, and could not tell if the armor was freshly purchased, but she could tell that regardless of its origin, the Ranger had cared for it well, oiling the metal to a blinding sheen. She affected a haughty smile as Rania stopped before her, the crowd closing in behind. Tileni was not a small woman, nor was she unlovely, but her skin had the weathered look and scars of a tough life lived. She was reminded that this woman used to slay monsters for a living.

Of course, Tileni had never faced any monster like Rania before, and she smiled.

Taking the smile for the challenge that it was, Tileni looked her up and down. "You're late, sandeater." A few laughs and a catcall or two rippled through the crowd. There was no love for D'Harans here. Rania expected insults, but what she did not expect was the coldness of it. It was not said so much in anger as it was specifically calculated. Something to throw Rania off balance. Rania revised her gauge of Tileni upward while the other woman went on playing to the crowd. "I knew I said I had a pig to spit, but I never imagined how closely you'd fit the image. I might have walked instead of taking a quick boat to get here. Then maybe you'd have had time for a bath!"

More chuckles, louder this time. Rania ignored them. Stripping down to her fighting leathers. She had changed into the only other outfit she owned, black and red leather armor, segmented for flexibility and named for a particularly nasty breed of scorpion back in the Desert of Silhouettes. The long, intricately braided queue of black hair was tucked into the back. If the outlandish outfit gave Tileni pause, she overcame it, readying another insult when the town official stepped forward.

"A Challenge has been issued and excepted," The old man rasped."Today, honor can only be satisfied by blood-"

"Aye, in the highest tradition of true knights of Luria," Tileni spat. Rania ignored them both. Stretching, working her shoulder sockets, bending her knees, cracking joints to loosen them up. Then stood absolutely still, watching with eyes that seemed to blink too much.

"By the power vested in me, By His Glorious Majesty Emperor Sholan, by the light of the-"

"Shut up old man, get out of the way and ring the bell." Tileni interjected. "Breakfast is waiting."

Intimidated, the old official scurried to the side, raising his hand to signal the tolling of the bell. And the moment the hammer struck brass, Rania aggressively leapt into action, momentarily surprising Tileni and forcing her back before she rallied and the fight was on!

Rania had not been idly waiting in Outer Giask. She had studied everything she could about her opponent. Reviewing Tileni's infuriating letters, seeking out information on her family, interviewing Lurian nobles. So she knew what a formidable opponent Tileni could have been. Just as she knew that Tileni's pride would be her own downfall.

Blades clashed in the dawn light as Tileni applied every trick she'd learned over years. The two women were evenly matched in size and speed, even in age. But armed with her knowledge of her opponent, Rania grew more confident of her victory with every strike and parry. Her research on Tileni had revealed one constant fact: The Ranger was a woman who believed she'd earned the right to arrogance. She was proud of her achievements, even more so of her skills in warfare. And to a swordsman, that means one thing. Any mediocre swordsman will tell you that their are a few basic forms of combat. The aggressive, the neutral, and the defensive. A more skilled bladesmith will have learned the overrun strategy, while true masters of the blade are so in tune with themselves and thier steel that they can perform tricks of the blade that would leave an opponent stunned as well as dead. Tileni was truly a master swordswoman and, apparently hoping that Rania's bark was worse than her bite, had opted to display her most advanced skills.

The crowed oohed and ahhed as Tileni went to work. Her blade a latticework of reflected sunlight. Her feints surprised even Rania.

Until Rania brought the Ranger back to basics.

Step, slash, step, stab, step, riposte. Rania countered Tileni's dexterity with vicious ferocity, forcing the other woman towards a wall. If Tileni was growing desperate, she did not show it, continuing to redirect Rania's thrusts at the last possible moment to buy herself some time.

Step, swing, block, step upper-slash, pommel strike. That last glanced of Tileni's pauldron harmlessly as the ranger spun to the side. Suddenly, Rania was perplexed to find a boot in her chest, propelling her backwards towards the center. She stumbled, keeping her sword in front of her as she tracked Tileni. Wincing. Tileni noticed and smiled a wolf's grin, somehow knowing that her kick had fractured one of Rania's lower ribs. She feinted high, drawing Rania's sword upwards, only to hook a foot under Rania's own, pulling the sandborn off balance. Rania fell. White pain stabbed through her chest as she hit the cobblestone. She rolled, just in time to hear steel strike the stone where she'd been.

"And now, desert rat, I am going to crush you like the insect you are," Tileni taunted as Rania rose to her feet, her breathing labored. "Come then, you well bred bitch. Let me show you what the dirt is like. Rania obliged.

Back to basics. Step, swing, block, step upper-slash, pommel strike. Glance off pauldron. Wait for it-

Rania performed the same aggressive attack combination, knowing how Tileni would react. Sure enough, the ranger went for a kick to the chest. Rania caught the blow underneath her arm, locking it there and lifting with her legs, throwing the other woman into the ground and, riding her momentum, Rania thrust forward with all her strength and ran the Ranger through armor and sternum. A cry went up from the crowd. Tileni's eyes widened with shock, legs kicking spasmodically as she struggled with lungs that refused to work around so much steel.

"I swore I'd teach you a lesson, Ranger" Rania whispered, breaking her silence for the first time into Tileni's dying breaths the rangers hands tearing at her armored chest. "Welcome back to the dirt."

Teleni's struggles grew weaker as Rania laid the other woman's head, curiously gently, respectfully, to the ground. Surgeons rushed forward, but it was too late.

Rania staggered to her feet, turning towards the inn. She felt no elation of victory. She felt tired, her chest hurt like hell, and most of all, she felt...dirty.

Avenging Mavia

The journey from the Far East had been a cold one, bitterly so. Ice drifted freely through the currents with great dark forms slithering silently beneath the waves, trailing the ship. Snow fell regularly, and savage wind cut to the bone.

But hatred kept Rania Eastersand JeVondair warm.

She was Mavia's twin sister, together since birth and alike in both form and temperament until the elevation in their noble ranks placed continents between them. Mavia found a home in Melhed, a vanished country in northern Beluaterra, rising swiftly to become Duchess of Fronepu and later of the Ivory Vale. Mavia had pent most of her life as a courtier, fond of the ways of wealth and the halls of power before an age of strife transformed her into a general, an Imperatrix of the Vales. There was a love, a connection between the two that only those who shared a womb might understand. They were an intrinsic part of one another. And now Mavia, the gentle one, was gone...

Rania was a different sort of creature all together. And one that had finally been given purpose.

The path she walked was one marked by war, and by death, and by impotence. Rania had traveled the world, training her body as Mavia trained her courtly skills. Like Mavia, she was a sandborn native of the Desert of Silhouettes in Dwilight. Her dusky skin, dark hair, and almondine eyes marked her as exotic. But the whipcord, toned, visible muscles and graceful gait marked her as eminently lethal. One look at her was enough to know she'd killed before...and that she hungered to so again.

As the ship docked and her boots touched Beluaterran soil at last, her lifelong meandering journey ended, and her warpath for revenge began as she found the road to Creasur. No one that played a part in Mavia's death would escape her vengeance, be they peasant or Empress, the killing would begin.

And Mayhem wold know her name.

To Walk in Darkness

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (just sent) message to all nobles of Nothoi

The walls and towers of Reeds were less splendid they once they were as Rania Eastersand, Dame of Weigie, passed through the heavily defended city gates. Peasants and the battered guards of passing noblemen streamed in from the countryside, baring with them tales of carnage and horror. Gaunt eyes and grim expressions no doubt hid tears of desperation, but Rania was unmoved, striding through the Nothoians as if they were not even there. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 with long legs and hair so brown it was almost black. If her dusky skin was not enough to denote her exotic Desert origins to the casual onlooker, the intricate braids denoting clan and rank falling in a dark queue down her back would do the job. Rounded facial features and almondine eyes marked her as a JeVondair. She favored darker clothing: A sleeveless leather jerkin with buckles of weathered bronze over a deep blue ruffled blouse. Serviceable leather boots climbed up her calves where simple black pants were tucked, secured at her waste by a sword-belt boasting a rapier and dirk. Every step was a graceful economy of motion, denoting years of training akin to that of the finest of dancers...or the most lethal of warriors.

This was not her first time to the Capital of Nothoi. She'd been here once before as a General of Fronen many years ago. She avoided bringing that up, however, preferring to enter the city quietly. The guard at the gate gave her a professional once-over before waving her through, but Rania barely even noticed. Her thoughts were focused on what had called her halfway across the world... Mavia Eastersand was killed in a duel against Valhael today.

Mavia, Rania's twin, had been the best of the JeVondair line. A Lady of the Ivory Court, a consul of Empresses, an accomplished General, sacrificing everything for the Empire she'd help build and lead. There were no words to describe how much Rania had loved her. On the other hand, Valhael Mayhem, by all reports a self-absorbed little man, Rania had learned from the Knights of the Shattered Vales who called him a traitor, too late, and cast him out. But she could care less about who he was or what drove him, for in her mind he was already a dead man, and the the thoughts of dead men matter little. No, there were no words to describe how much Rania had loved Mavia, as their were none to describe the pain of having someone who'd shared the womb with you...suddenly gone.

By the end of the combat, Valhael severed her head and put it up high on a pike. The pike with Mavia Eastersand JeVondair's head was displayed in front of Creasur's Castle.

Her hunt, however, had ended in the Vales when she found that Mayhem had been captured by the Netherworld and imprisoned far, far beyond her reach. As she walked through the refugee-crowded streets of Reeds, Rania allowed herself to slip back into the comfortable, seething hatred that fueled her journey here. She walked, unseeing, as the rage that engulfed her when she'd first heard what that bastard had done to her sister's body flared anew. All she wanted to see was Mavia's smiling face. Smiles from her were so rare, but Rania had always had a knack for finding them. But now, even squinting her eyes shut, all she could see was that lovely smile, the mirror of her own, dissolving into the macabre desecration, the crime, that Mayhem had committed. When Rania closed her eyes, the severed head of the only person she loved in this world stared back at her, damning her. Around her, though, the tenor of the crowd changed into cheers as town criers ran through the streets. "HE'S CAPTURED!" They said, spreading the word like wildfire, "The Demon Prince Akkan is captured and brought to Reeds in chains!"

An ear was cut off from her severed head and sent to Owain Bolton with a note: Traitor, do not let your woman fight your own battles!

Suddenly needing to get away from the noise and stink and cathartic happiness of the crowd, Rania turned into an allyway heading uphill. She needed someplace dark and quiet to calm herself as she'd learned to do on the Obsidian Isles. She let her feet guide her on their own while she wrestled with the mental imagery that both drove and consumed her. She would never know how much time had passed before she stepped through an alcove and into what could only have once been private nook for a minor noble. It was cramped, as city spaces usually are, with a fountain featuring carved faces spouting water into a half-basin below, a stone bench, and a few songbird bushes, now terribly overgrown. Rania sat, collapsed more like, against the stone. It's cold surface seemed to leach the hat and the pain, leaving her numb and exhausted from her travels. Mayhem was gone, roasting in some demonic pit as he certainly deserved...but was nevertheless safely beyond her vengeance. It was as if there was something about this thrice-damned island that conspired against the JeVondair family at every turn: Duchies ripped from them, titles cast down, lives lost in petty squabbles. No doubt if she stayed, she would wind up like Mavia and Kalixta, her aunt: Dead. Dead and with nothing to show from it. This island, its fetid population of desperate, backstabbing, two-legged rodents. They didn't deserve Mavia, they deserved to be consumed. It was as if the coolness of the stone was draining her of her fire, leaving hopelessness in its wake.

Or was it?

Rania rose from the stone as a new thought struck her. Beluaterrans had proven themselves to be indifferent, shortsighted, ungrateful and unworthy of her sister's life or death. None of them cared why Rania was here, but there was one in the city now that might. One who might see them for the sum they all must be, as she now did. And this same one might be her only link, her only chance, of slaking her vengeance in Mayhem blood.

Akkan...

After a week of planning, Rania was finally ready. There was only one being within her grasp that would understand her need for revenge, and help her attain it. The Demon Prince Akkan that was captured and interred beneath the citadel in Reeds.

Rania would free him.

Once she committed herself, it was easier than she might have imagined to prepare. The Demon, a being of pure, dark magic, could only be being kept in the enchanted prison beneath the keep. As a Dame of Wieghie, she could easily manufacture an excuse to enter and leave the castle. No one would question her too closely if she established a pattern of visiting. So over the course of several days, she did exactly that. She browsed the recruitment centers, ostensibly to pick up a new squad of warriors to fight for Nothoi...and loudly proclaiming that each batch was less worthy than the last. She visited tax functionaries, complaining that they were skimming her estates incomes and making a general nuisance of herself. But all along, she was mapping the guard rotations and discreetly inquiring which among the prison guards was going through hard times...

After several days, her plan was mapped and the guards she'd bribed had made sure to all be on the same watch at midnight. She'd lied to them of course, stating that all she wanted to do was study the arcane spells binding the demon the better to improve upon them. Without bothering the Ruling Council of Nothoi to get permission. They were so busy defending the realm, after all.

Rania was ready.

As the sun set, commoners anyone without business in the castle left, flowing through its gates, but Rania stole way. Out of sight, she stripped her normal clothes,revealing the tight-fitting, midnight-black assassins garb she had earned in blood while training on the Obsidian Isles in the East. She hid, still as death, for the castle to ease slowly towards slumber...and then she moved, gliding through the shadows like an oil slick, her footsteps the very whisper of the wind itself. Twice she froze as wandering noblemen crossed her path. One looked directly at her, but they saw nothing and moved on.

Traversing the tunnels that lead to the demon's prison were simultaneously easier, and more risky, for while there were far less people, there were also far less places to hide. Fate, however, was with her and she soon found herself outside the enchanted ward. The long stone hall terminated in a single heavy wooden door. A special knock announced her presence and identity and the prison door swung inward, admitting her into the antechamber where the watch bided their shift. There were 6 of them waiting for her. Beyond them, another locked door, this one of iron, that surely lead to the arcane doors that were the prison's strongest mystical defense.

"Awright you" the Sergeant-at-Arms, Fridend, said. He looked her up and down, surprised at her garb, but confident that he was in control here. "We took yer money n' here you are. Have yer gander n get along before the watch changes"

Rania smiled beneath her mask and nodded. "How about you have those two- "she gestured in the vague direction of the other guards "-watch the hall and turn away any visitors while you take me the rest of the way?" She spoke sweetly, despite the tone being completely at odds with her appearance, but she knew he would by it. Foolish men rarely worry about themselves about women, even noble ones.

"Awright," he conceded. "Jeffers, Dregin, take tha hall would ye'? Make our lady benefactor hear feel a might more comfortable, ya? Rigen, Leren, might as well stay bide here a bit, cant fit more'n 3 men down that way any'ow. Sakrin, tag along-" The Sergeant turned and unlocked the iron door, leading Rania deeper into the prison through a hall lined with torches. Sakrin, barely out of his youth, tagged along. "Close the door behind ya, boy! Been beggin me to come down here ever since ya took up with the watch n the first thing ya forget is protocol?"

Sakrin reddened visibly in the torchlight, but turned to close the door. He was a young man, quick to anger, but that isn't why Rania had selected to bribe him. He was an awkward, unlovely man-child...but he was also a virgin...

Before long, they reached the final portal. It glowed with arcane sigils of warding, likely placed there by a passing sage or mystic at the nobility's request. Rania studied the rooms while the Sergeant crossed his arms impatiently, not noticing how Sakrin's eyes darted about wildly, or he white-knuckled the hilt of his sword...

"Awrght e'ere miss," The Sergeant said after some time had passed. "You've had yer fun, ya? time to go and make good with the rest of the gold you promi-"

"Now, Sakrin" Rania said in a disinterested tone, without turning. Steel hissed against leather.

"Wha th-" but the sergeant's word died in his throat..along with his body. Rania did not turn until she heard his body crumple to the floor. Sakrin stood, breathing heavily and covered in the Sergeants arterial blood. Eyes wide and frighted, but he looked at her with the most intense, lustful desire in his eyes.

Rania smiled.

"Come to me, Sakrin" She cooed, lowering her mask and biting her lip for him in a display that no young man could resist. He was there in an instant, bigger than she, wrapping her up awkwardly. She allowed herself to melt against his body, letting the blood on him soak into the midnight black of her assassin clothing, lifting her leg to wrap around his skinny hips and using it to pull him close, flaring his passion. He started to speak, but she ended his words, darting under his chin and letting her tongue play about his throat as her hand roamed him... Sakrin's hand's gripped her tightly at the waste, working desperately to find her. "Not yet, love." She replied coyly, letting her leg fall and parting from him. "Business first. And then- " she caressed him "pleasure. The Key?" Sakrin nodded stupidly, rooting around the Sergeant's corpse for the iron ring that held the Arcane key. "Come" she cooed again. "Do it for me, do as you promised, and I will do as I promised" Rania let her voice fall to a breathy whisper of suggestion...and it worked like a charm. Sakrin hesitated only slightly before fitting the key to the lock, but when he felt Rania's hands at his waste, her breasts pressing into his back, her breath at his neck, he found the motivation to twist the key and open the door to Akkan's prison...and at last they laid eyes upon the form of the Ambassador of the Netherworld...

Rania and Sakrin beheld the form of the Demon Akkan, Ambassador of the Netherworld and Bane of Man. His form was humanoid. Lime green. Stout legs planted firmly to ground. She imagined that when he walks, the ground shakes with the increasing tremors of his passing. Long arms with claw-hands that are a bit of a cross between crab claws and hands and Taller than humanity by enough that he must bend over/down quite a bit to get in their face. Noxious gasses rose from his skin. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to reveal a proboscis stored in his throat that he could uncoil to drink blood. His body was chained at the wrists and ankles by cold iron in-graved with glowing runes. Light seemed to pulse from the demon's form out down the chains and into the stone of the wall where they were anchored, dissipating the nether energies. Akkan's form seemed...desiccated, no doubt a result of being bled of his power. The Demon's nostrils flared and his jaw seemed to unhinge as he focused on Sakrin.

Sakrin the manchild, the virgin, was rooted to the spot, terrified, unable to look away from the horror before him...which made lifting the cell keys and slipping around behind him all the easier. He must have noticed, or at least sensed the change around him because he started to turn and look back at her just as she planted her foot firmly into the small of his back and kicked mightily. Sakrin was surprised, unblanced...helpless. He toppled forward, his face colliding with the demon's chest. He screamed, but barely had a chance to start flailing before Akkan's muscular proboscis shot forth, drilling through the unfortunate Sakrin's neck and piercing his heart.

The sound that followed as Sakrin died was unlike anything Rania had ever heard, or even imagined.

Akkan closed his eyes in pleasure, drinking the virgin blood. As he did so, a light was drawn up and out of Sakrin's body and into Akkan's.

Sakrin's soul.

The runechains that bound Akkan began to smoke as they struggled to contained the Demon's renewed strength...but it was too much. They exploded in glittering clouds of magic-enhanced shrapnel. One of which tore itself through Rania's abdomen. She went down, bleeding heavily, her last vision an image of him striding triumphantly towards her, the ground quaking at his approach, steaming with every footfall.

A brief spike of terror.

Then, Darkness.

Hours later, the city bells began to ring after it was discovered that the Ambassador of the Netherworld had escaped.

Avenging Mavia: The Culmination

Valhael had accepted her challenge, a duel to the death, their fates to be decided at sunset.

How appropriate Rania thought to herself.

The city was burning, humans cowered in fear, locking themselves behind doors or in cellars, only traveling in large armed groups, hunted by demons in their own city streets. Everywhere the twin cries of misery and terror rose, teeming against the cacophony of war. Buildings burned, corpses of soldiers and civilians alike littered the ground. But no demons. No, those bodies burned to ash when they died, leaving behind the mutilated bodies of their 'prey' as the only evidence they'd been here at all.

That, and the sulphur.

Rania walked alone. Proud and tall as ever, and curiously unafraid. She'd blacked out, blood pouring from the wound she'd suffered from the force of freeing Akkan, Supreme Commander of the Netherworld, from the prison the Nothoian's kept him in below their keep. She awoke in a glade, some miles from the city and hidden from sight. Her wound had been completely healed. More than that, she felt...energized. But most curious of all, the demons did not bother her.

They did not even come within 50 feet of her.

She should have been scared, the small, primal, rational part of her mind railed against her calmness, against the smile that crept at the corner of her lips. But Rania felt more empowered, more alive than at any point in her life. The Beacon of Light pulsing into the sky above the city barely warranted her notice, so focused was she. Even as she strolled toward the meeting place where it might end. Toward her vengeance.

Again, she only smiled.

Sunset cannot get here soon enough.

You were attacked! (just in) personal message You are surprised by a dark figure suddenly emerging from the shadows just as you are going to sleep. Desperate, you take out a dagger, the only weapon within reach, and face your attacker. You can parry most of the attacks, but one gets through, wounding you. Fortunately, your guards arrive before your attacker can finish the job. The guards are unable to prevent the attacker's escape.

Rania checked the slash across her left arm, which she'd used instinctively to deflect the blade that thrust at her form the shadows. The wound was not deep, she still had full mobility. But even as she looked, she saw the skin slowly, unnaturally start to knit together.

She smiled, slow and terrible, then looked about for her assailant. But she'd was so focused on her goal, and it all happened so quickly, that she barely knew what had happened or where he/she might have gone.

But she could guess.

In a flash, she was off, springing after the 'unknown' infiltrator...

Rania prowled through the streets, hunting the shadowy assailant that accosted her- This is all wrong, you were all seduced by daemonic power!!!

Her smile grew as she ran. She knew that voice...and it was far too close to be a coincidence.

Swift as Death, she closed in on where she'd heard Valhael Mayhem's voice...

There he was!

Rania sped into the square where Valhael was standing. He turned at her approach, eyes widening as the expression she wore. Rania slowed to a walk, feeling as though she'd at last cornered her prey, and began to stalk towards him.

"Lady Rania!" Valhael said, "I know we have our differences but Humanity must be saved! There is this evil ritual against Humanity and we must stop it at all costs! Instead of a pointless death, whoever loses has to walk into the Light! Fight for Humanity at the daemons home! They came in by a Portal! What you say?"

Rania stopped, still a respectable distance from him, looking at the besieged city around them as if to consider his words. Valhael made as if to speak again, thinking perhaps he'd forstalled her, but Then she looked at him, and he knew that nothing would.

"Our...differences?" The word seemed to slither from her mouth like a poisonous viper. "Pointless DEATH?" she hissed, advancing on him. "Did you give Mavia that chance before you struck her down? Did you think she'd have more to contribute to humanity" she spat the word "with her head mounted on a PIKE? Her ears. Sliced. OFF?!" She shouted, her voiced booming through the square.

"No, Mayhem, I don't expect you did." Rania stopped barely 10 feet away from him.

"This city can burn"

She drew her dirk, looking at the red line on her arm where the assailant, Valhael she was certain, had wounded her. It was all but gone, and she smiled.

"Humanity can burn"

She drew her rapier, rolling her shoulders and neck.

A moment passed between the two. A silence that was not silence. A stillness that only the warrior knows. Rania closed her eyes, breathing deeply, opened them, focused like a wyvern on the hunt with all of her intensity focused on Valhael. She barely noticed the flaring in her abdomen...

"I want my sister back you sonofabitch."

"-NOOO, poor girl! What are you doing, tomorrow we will fight and you stabbed yourself?? Why??" Valhael said in what my charitably be described as a coo, reaching out for her-

"DON'T YOU EVER TRY TO TOUCH ME" Rania shouted, reversing her grip on the dirk in her left hand and stepping inside his reach to launch a controlled punch, connecting with Valhael right in his face. Rania was tall for a woman. 5'10 with the strength and agility of a master swordswoman that belied her otherwise wiry frame. She could pack a surprising amount of power into an attack with great speed...

Valhael took Rania's punch like a champion boxer. Valhael was silent for a moment, rubbing his jaw tenderly "What are you??? Gorilla fingers???-" his jaw seemed to rack powerfully as though he'd set it back into place..."-You know... when you said about sliced off ears? Well, I would trade sliced off ears instead a huge iron mallet to the head anyday!

He smiled at her.

"You know I will blow your head with this - " he pointed to the iron mallet that Rania had not noticed before and laughed aloud. "Also I think you should know something..." he cupped his hand around his mouth as though sharing a secret. "When my blade went through her chest, it feels like I was impailing a mallard duck, it was natural to her body!"

Valhael began to laugh again, and Rania drew her swordarm back to stop that laughter...forever. Neither had a chance to finish either, however, as a new cacaphony of otherworldy screams screeched through the city, forcing both nobles to their knees, dropping their weapons and cupping their ears in a vain attempt to protect themselves as they suffered through the full dualistic auditory pain of low and high sound frequencies wreaked upon the locals as, unbeknownst to the two combatants, portal stone after portal stone was obliterated by eldritch bolts of energy.

Power without end ripped through Reeds in a Vortex, scything through the souls and sanity of the city's inhabitants. Still on her knees before the onslought of magical power Rania whimpered in pain. A barely audibal sound of frustration and hopelessness to have come so close to avenging her sister. Her shoulders wracked with coughs and her abdomen burned anew, forcing her to double over as she heaved with sudden nausea. There, at her lowest point, Rania felt an urge that had been alien to her since childhood.

The urge to pray.

It took everything she had to weather the auditory storm brought on by the screaming Daishi souls, her prayer began as a wordless hum. Weapons on the ground, arms wrapped around her abdomen as she rocked back and forth, Rania began to poor her frustrations and her pain into a wordless tune of supplication, wrath, heavy with sorry and intense desire. The unkown song suffused her, growing stronger with every breath. It is a prayer for strength, victory, and vengeance. A bloodlust so intense as to equate to a new star in the night sky. Her faint prayer rose, to on the wind, no, but on the flowing etherea that deeply magical beings are attuned to.

And one of them answered.

Valhael sensed...something...and was able to gather himself enough to look in Rania's directly. Over the whirlwind of power from the portal stones and Yao Ling's spell, he saw Rania on her knees screaming. But..not in pain? She was smiling, laughing even, eyes rolled back in her head and hair tearing loose from her tight braids like tentacles with a mind of their own. Her entire form outlined by strange, oily darkness like smoke, but surrounding her the way the light of a setting sun outlined the form of a mountain.

That is, if the sun had turned black...

To Rania, it seemed as though the screams of the Daishi souls were slowly ordered, bending themselves into tortured melodies at once horrifying, and oddly beautiful. And beyond them, a single note, deep and dark as the see, thrumming through the screaming song with purpose. With...offering...In her mind's eye, Rania saw herself reach out toward that dark, deepness of the song as if it were right there in front of her. Huge and powerful and oddly...familiar? Rania could not understand, but she did not fear. The pain in her abdomen eased as she drew toward the Song, which reached out to her. She, in turn, reached out to it with her hands as if to grasp it...but her hands grew heavy with real weight...weighing her arms down. Keeping her from the song. She wanted to let go, to drop everything and bound forward-

"Take it. Take it now!"

Against her will, her hands closed tightly around solid objects and the vision of the Song began to fade to the point that Rania could here the sound of her own voicing, laughing and sobbing, until the song and the screams had faded entirely. Her long dark hair, normally so intricately and tightly braided, and impossibly torn themselves loose. But even more impossible were the two items she held in her hands. One was a ring forged of white gold with a stone so dark it hurt to look at. The other was a perfectly balanced Saber, impossibly sharp. But instead of steal, it appeared to be made entirely from...bone? It's hilt looked uncomfortably like a human femur...but for all that, it felt good in Rania's hand. Natural, even. She put the ring of power on the ringfinger of her sword arm, a cold breeze writhing through her mane of hair as she did so and gave the Bone saber a few experimental swings and thrusts.

Rania.

Felt.

Good...

And then her gaze fell upon Valhael Mayhem

Duel Postponed (38 minutes ago) The duel between Rania Eastersand JeVondair, Dame of Weghie and Valhael Mayhem, Knight of Reeds is being postponed because Valhael is not fit to fight.

"Get up" Rania muttered at Valhael. "Get up and meet me. Face Me. FIGHT ME!" Her words ended in pitched screech as she kicked at him.

Rania moved to kick Valhael again, but stopped as a figure rushed to the side of her nemesis, crouched down by the target of her rage and laid a hand to the fallen man's throat. He tossed Rania a lopsided smile as he spoke, "He might yet Lady, but it won't be today. His pulse is weak but stable. I can't see what laid him low, but from what I can see, he'll be out for awhile."

Drawulf stood up, cradling his wounded arm. "Don't suppose you could tell me what in the Abyss just happened could you?'

Rania's chest heaved as she exhaled explosively. This boy, barely 18 by the looks of him, was no threat to her. She shouldn't just kill him. She closed her eyes, rolling her head as if to shake the murderous thoughts loose. Better to simply get him out of her way. Muscles in her arm bunched with tension as she visibly restrained herself from pushing the lad aside to gleefully chop Valhael apart where he laid . A tick at her temple pulsed as she struggled against new and fearsome urges.

All of these thoughts and emotions flew across her face in the handful of seconds it took for her to calm herself, drawing upon a lifetime of lessons as a swordswoman. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 with long legs and hair so brown it was almost black. If her dusky skin was not enough to denote her Desert origins to the casual onlooker, the intricate braids denoting clan and rank falling in a dark queue down her back would do the job, or would have, had they not been torn into a main by the magical surge of energy that swept the city only minutes before. Her rounded facial features and dark, almondine eyes marked her as a JeVondair. She favored darker clothing: A sleeveless leather jerkin with buckles of weathered bronze over a deep blue ruffled blouse. Serviceable leather boots climbed up her calves where simple black pants were tucked, secured at her waste by a sword-belt boasting a rapier and dirk. When after a few moments time she opened her eyes again, her breathing was more or less under control. But anyone who'd know either her or Mavia, her twin sister, would notice that her dark eyes now had a very distinctive ring of gold around the pupils, giving her a piercing, otherworldly gaze.

"I do not know you...Sir" she said to Darwulf at last, picking out by his speech that he was clearly of good breeding. "But either put a weapon into that man's hands-" She gestured at Valhael with her new Bone Sabre of Julma Jaune's Femur, "-or get out of the way of mine..." She finished meaningfully.

Darwulf knew he'd have to think fast to talk her down, or get a lot more help, because this woman was intent on her kill and he couldn't be too sure, by the look in her eyes, if she cared who she killed...