Zehira

Zehira Al'thor
Status	Active
Race	Human
Gender	Female
Guild	Necromancer
Instance	Prime

"You're right. I am a monster. And I've done bad. I've done things you can't even imagine. Horrible, evil, messy things. And I've loved every damn minute. So thank you, for reminding me who I really am. "

Time stopped in moments, and then the moments passed. The shadowed lands around the me were not the oblivion that would take the soul into it's final rest. Steps could not be taken, nothing could be touched, there was nothing but noise and the resounding screams of the tangled webs of burning bodies and ripping limbs. One by

one the bodies would fall and the screams would fill the black ink of the shadows. I felt as if I was wasting away in this place. The shroud that separated me from the them had been rifting, and tearing, but the I paid it no mind. It was not my time to flourish, it was not my time to, see what lay on the other side.

But who am I? I am one half of a whole, I am the thing that makes grown men cry. I am the thing hiding beneath the bed to drag the wanting living parts to the Void. Restless, implacable, inescapable, and a foe to all that would try and stand in the way of the final rest. Selfish desires, malice, darkness, greed and hate, that lie in everyone.

You will not stop me, you will not stand in my way of the final judgement that is to be made. Quiet and organized, I will take you apart like clockwork, layer by layer stripping your defenses to leave you a quivering mass of what you once were. I will take pleasure in your flaws and torture you with surgical precision. Rifling

through every back drawer of your mind to pluck out the most painful memories, cataloging every weakness and finding every flaw, no matter how small and forgotten it is. Your companions will hate you, your friends will turn to poison, and you will beg me to save you. My angst will grow and I will grow stronger. I will retrieve my other half

and free myself into the oblivion. No one is safe, nothing is sacred. The happenstance has caught the my attention. Murder, rape, anger and hate, that which I need to take over completely. The weak willed, that wished to live the life among the living. To break through the Shroud and pretend that death did not

exist. Weak willed and afraid of death. Death for some was not only the beginning, it was the life that had been ripped from them in a moment of weakness, in a wrong turn down a one way street. The anger that blew the fuse, the words that caused the shot to be fired. The dangerous liasions between two forbidden bodies who then drown

within their own blood. The rift was here, the rift was calling to me and the unending desire to spread malice while able. Anger and hate were two very powerful things when used and twisted in the right way. Squeezing, turning and floating upon the shadowed edges of the two worlds, I was lifted among that which merely

floated on thin air. It wasn't hard, it was merely where I wanted to be. There was no clawing from the grave, there was no pushing dirt out of the way of the sudden appearance that was made. Sometimes, the thing about dead people was, they didn't know that they were dead. They wanted to be on this mortal coil that

housed them. A hazed gaze was looked through, the veil had been lifted and I stood within the shadows of the realm that was going to hell in a hand basket. So here I was in the flesh, in the cesspool that this place had become. The water had never washed it all away, not even when the mortal body had drowned.

It took days to find it, days and days. The angst and anger had time to sit and brew, to become the thing that was standing now before these, things. Let us get one thing straight. I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the creepy monster hiding under your bed, I am the boogeyman within the closet of every child that wakes up

screaming in the night. A for-boding feeling would surround any within it's sights, the chill of the air dropping another ten degrees at least. Invisible, yet on the thought of every viable person within it's touch. I am the mask of a thousand faces, I am that which you will never see. I am a shadowed touch of a lover, the whispered word of a mother.

The screaming of the banshee that fills the night air with the lick of lips that do not convey words. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. I am words unspoken and the brush of darkness that will turn the hardest heart to a chilly wave. The pricks of hair that stand on end, when the realization hits that there are things that will never be

understood. I am the shadow of my former self, and I am here.

Well hello, I know I know, you're wondering why I am what I am, what I do what I do, why I don't feel any sort of well anything at all. The answer is simple, at least simple to me. I am a killer, I kill with no emotion, no thought, no care. I will take down as many of you as I can, and anyone that wants to get in my way. Let the others play with their little knives, I see the bigger picture. My work is my own, my path is dark. Come and join me and feel the true meaning, see what I see, hear what I hear, learn what I know. It's just one simple step, just a little blood, I promise it doesn't hurt in the end.

You are Necorlord Zehira Al'thor, Funeral Director, a Human.

You have an oval face, gold-flecked jade eyes, a small nose and dimples accented by a pair of dark seordstone talons. Her red-streaked black hair is long and wavy, and is worn in a deceptively careless-looking arrangement of upswept locks held in place by a red alerce diadem set with onyx spiders at the apex of each of its three points. She has some whimsical will o'wisps accenting fair skin and a slender figure. You are a bit over average height for a Human.'

You appear to be an adult.'

Your left eyebrow is pierced by an icesteel spike topped with a delicate cluster of frost opal baby's breath. The transparent frost-blue metal complements the lustrous glacial white gems that shimmer with tiny bursts of icy blue and green. Your left hip has a tattoo of a Harawep's Pawn spider bearing sharp fangs drenched in venom.

They fear monsters. They run from them. Sometimes the world no longer needs a hero. Sometimes what it needs... is a monster

Stats & Skills
Misc
Circle	116
Stats
Strength		Agility		Intelligence		Wisdom
Stamina		Reflex		Discipline		Charisma
Armor
Shield Usage		Light Armor		Chain Armor		Brigandine
Plate Armor		Defending
Weapon
Parry Ability		Small Edged		Large Edged		Twohanded Edged
Small Blunt		Large Blunt		Twohanded Blunt		Slings
Bows		Crossbows		Staves		Polearms
Light Thrown		Heavy Thrown		Brawling		Offhand Weapon
Melee Mastery		Missile Mastery
Magic
Primary Magic		Attunement		Arcana		Targeted Magic
Augmentation		Debilitation		Utility		Warding
Sorcery
Survival
Evasion		Athletics		Perception		Stealth
Locksmithing		Thievery		First Aid		Outdoorsmanship
Skinning
Lore
Forging		Engineering		Outfitting		Alchemy
Enchanting		Scholarship		Mechanical Lore		Appraisal
Performance		Engineering