Thrysta
02-23-2006, 05:34 PM
This had been her homeland.
This plague-ridden, dying land…this land that now belonged to the Scourge.
Thrysta strode through the barren crop fields of Gahrron’s Withering, her shadow magics lashing out at the Scourge Spirits that infested the ruined farmstead. She hissed prayers of pain and death for her hated enemies, for these vile perversions of her own dark gift, a gift bestowed upon her by Lady Sylvanas. The creatures tore and raked at her in return with dark talons, but she was unmindful of the small wounds, intent only on killing each and every one of the Scourge who tainted her homeland.
Shaking with rage, Thrysta screamed catechisms of loyalty to the Forsaken as the last Scourge Spirit in front of her gave up its existence with a haunting wail. Her inner reservoirs of precious mana almost completely spent from the combat, Thrysta knelt, pulling from one of her small bags a vile of morning glory dew. The substance tasted vile and reeked of elf taint, but its consumption helped her to regain her inner mana. She put the vial to her lips and began to drink.
Thrysta had barely quaffed half of the vial when she heard the ethereal hiss from behind her. She whirled to her feet, turning to meet the threat as the newly materialized Spirit’s claws raked her face.
Necrotised flesh ripped and flew, dry bone scraped as the Scourge creature tore at her. Her wide-brimmed crimson felt hat flew from her head to land in the dirt of the field as Thrysta desperately shrieked a word of power to shield herself from the Spirit’s dark attacks.
The shield popped into existence around her, giving Thrysta a momentary respite from the Spirit’s rending blows as it continued to batter away at the magical barrier. Her face was in tatters, with dry ribbons of dead flesh hanging from her left cheek and scalp. One of her arms had taken a fearsome blow, the exposed bone cracked and chipped.
Thrysta focused, drawing on what little mana she had left to curse the creature with a dark word of wracking pain as well as a devouring plague that sapped the creature’s strength, slowly transferring it to Thrysta. Her shield weakening, she used the last of her inner mana to cast a spell of renewal on herself, feeling it starting to work as her flesh and bone began to slowly, slowly knit itself back together.
As her shield finally collapsed under the fury of the Scourge Spirit’s pain-maddened attacks, Thrysta drew her dark wand, the Woestave. She screamed her hatred for all Scourge and lashed out with a dark, shadowy bolt as the creature’s claws again found her flesh.
The two undead danced in battle through the fallow field of the ruined farmstead, dark bolts of shadow meeting rending ethereal claws. Thrysta howled her devotion to the Dark Lady as one her bolts finally blasted through the creature’s dark body, destroying its hold on existence. The creature wailed in agony as its form came apart and it disappeared.
Thrysta wearily collapsed into the dirt of the field. She sat slack with exhaustion, her body torn, her inner mana almost totally spent. Summoning the last reserves she had, she again cast the spell of renewal, fumbling in her pouch for another vial of the cursed elf brew that would help her to recover as her flesh slowly began to knit back together.
Uncorking the vial, Thrysta again began to drink, feeling her mana regenerating within her faster as she consumed the liquid. Finishing the vial with a quick tilt, her mana well on its way to recovery, she spied her crimson felt hat lying in the dirt near her.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, her wounds still troubling her movement as they slowly healed under the effects of her renewal magic, she walked over to it, bending over in dull pain to snatch it from the dry soil of the field.
“Agol lo magis!”
Thrysta froze as she heard the shout from a few steps behind her, still bent over in the act of picking up her wide-brimmed hat.
“Lo landowar sturume bur!”
Thrysta slowly straightened up, hat in hand, her back to the owner of the voice. Slowly, she brushed the dirt from her hat and placed it back on her head, feeling the flesh of her face and body still slowly regenerating its way back to her normal ruined rictus and frail but still feminine form. She was still weak, however, and to top it off this Common-speaking bastard had gotten the drop on her.
Tilting the brim of her hat at a rakish angle, a recent affectation, she turned to face the owner of the voice, intent on selling her unlife as dearly as she could in her diminished state…
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Thrysta stared at the figure before her in disbelief from just under the brim of her hat, her face in shadow.
Before her stood a large, dark-haired human male, adorned in gleaming golden armor with a huge spiked hammer slung over his shoulder.
It was not this warrior’s weaponry and attire that caused Thrysta to be taken aback, however. Hovering behind him on feathery white wings was a tiny goblin, holding a bow and quiver of heart-shaped arrows. The goblin was giggling madly and flying in small circles.
Thrysta noticed one of the small arrows poking out from a crease in the large human’s armor. In the numerous other creases and grooves of his armor, there appeared to be rose petals stuck here and there. To top it all off, the warrior absolutely reeked of some sort of cloying cologne.
All the while Thrysta stared the human smiled bashfully, digging his toe into the dry soil, his hands clasped behind his back. Peering at him from under the brim of her hat, a thought occurred to Thrysta.
She had heard the rumors of “love potions” and “tokens of affection” being sold from vendors in the Undercity. She had seen the decorations for some odd festive celebration that was happening across Azeroth. She had heard rumors of strange goblinoid creatures spreading amorous feelings. But all in all, she had paid them no mind.
This human is besotted and drunk with “love”, she thought to herself. As if reading her mind, the tiny goblin cackled wickedly and began nodding, flying in figure-eights behind the warrior.
I must buy time, Thrysta thought to herself. Her healing magics were still mending her body and her inner mana had yet to fully recover. Thrysta pull the brim of her hat low, to further shadow her ruined face.
May the Dark Lady forgive me for such wanton behavior…even if it is necessary, Thrysta thought silently to herself. At that, she put her hands on her hips, striking a sultry pose in front of the besotted warrior and letting forth a long unused girlish giggle.
“You can’t understand a word I am saying, can you, you stupid love-drunk human?” Thrysta giggled, waving a hand innocently at the warrior.
The warrior laughed in amorous glee and began pantomiming.
“Yes, caper for me you stupid fool, while I gather my strength to kill you!” Thrysta giggled again, blowing the idiotic human a kiss.
The warrior first pointed at himself...
He then struck a pose, hand to his chin as if pondering something…
The warrior then pointed directly at her.
“Hmmm…you think I…” giggled Thrysta, all while gauging her inner mana.
The warrior then began striking various feminine poses and strutting like some sort of harlot.
“…you think I’m…wanton…sluttish…hmmm…oh, you mean ‘sexy’, don’t you? You must be terribly love-drunk you pathetic gibbering fool of a human…I am a withered husk and have no delusions about it.” Thrysta cooed coquettishly.
He put his fingers to the sides of his head, as if he had horns, while gesturing to his rear end as if he had some sort of tail.
“You think I’m a sexy…Tauren?” Thrysta hissed indignantly.
A look of panic crossed the warrior’s face as he seemingly recognized the word. He shook his head violently and began pantomiming that he was holding some sort of staff or spear and stabbing with it.
“Hmmm…ah, a devil. You think I am a sexy devil? How…quaint…it will almost be a shame to kill you, human…you are entertaining…” Thrysta giggled aloud, while blowing more kisses at the warrior and giving him a little shake of her hips.
The human smiled triumphantly at her tone and began searching for something in his rucksack. He pulled out a small figurine of a fully armored charger, obviously the trinket used to summon his steed. He smiled at her and then began to mutter to the figure as a small glow surrounded it, obviously intent on summoning his mount to further impress her.
Thrysta watched as he became distracted by his task. Her body had finally mended and she felt her inner mana reach its peak.
It was time.
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The besotted human had almost completed his summoning when Thrysta took control of his mind.
The little flying goblinoid screeched, flying in wide circles and then away as Thrysta approached the enthralled warrior.
The human swayed unsteadily, jaw slack, completely dominated by Thrysta’s mind control. She pondered what to do with the fool…her eyes finally falling upon the nearby barn of the farmstead. As she watched, she could just barely spy shadowy movement inside and heard faint hisses emanating from within.
Scourge infested the darkened barn…that much was apparent.
Thrysta turned to the warrior and spoke to him.
“Well, my foolish little human, can you now hear and understand me?”
“Yes, mistress,” he responded.
“Good. Now listen my little plaything, I left a present for you in that barn over there. Why don’t you run inside as fast as you can and find it?”
“Oh, yes mistress!” the human uttered joyfully, running for the barn and disappearing into the dark, shadowed entrance.
Thrysta felt her mind link with the human break just as the screams, hisses and crashes began. She moved quickly to the side of the barn entrance, waiting and listening to the raging fight going on within as the warrior suddenly became self-aware once again and fought for his life. She could hear armor buckling under wicked strikes, Spirits shrieking in pain and rage…and finally, panicked human cries of pain and terror.
Suddenly, with a last ethereal howl the sounds of conflict within the barn ceased. After a moment, Thrysta could hear staggering footsteps making for the barn entrance from within. She quickly summoned her magics while drawing her barbed and edged mace, the Scepter of the Unholy. Channeling her energies, she suffused the deadly weapon with magics that would enhance its power and channel weakness into her enemy.
The warrior staggered out of the entrance right past Thrysta, not noticing her off to the side. His armor was rent and torn. He bled from dozens of wounds, and it was obvious he could barely stand. His hammer dragged in the dirt as he gasped for air, clutching his side.
The warrior desperately dug into a pouch on his hip, his hand emerging with a red vial of healing liquid in his grasp. He struggled to unstop the cap from the vial just as Thrysta’s wickedly edged mace crashed deep into the small of his back.
The human let out a tortured shriek and then crashed forward onto his face in the dirt of the field.
Thrysta stared down at him in disgust as he gurgled incoherently, facedown in the dry soil. She sheathed her mace and hooked the toe of her boot under his shoulder guard, flipping the fallen human onto his back with some effort.
The warrior coughed and gurgled, blood running freely from his mouth. His body was quite still…only the coughing and panicked rolling of his eyes let Thrysta know that he still clung to life.
Kneeling down next to the fallen warrior, Thrysta tilted the brim of her hat back so that the human could look right into her ravaged face. As he gazed into her rotting visage his coughing and gurgling increased, his eyes welling with tears of terror.
“Yes, my foolish plaything, I am hideous…aren’t I? And now you see me with your own eyes. Look upon me, fool…you sought my heart for all time a short while ago. You sought to take my heart and make it yours. Ironic that I took your spine in turn, is it not?”
Thrysta leaned over the dying human, her taloned hands on his shoulders and her face inches from his.
“I know you cannot understand me fleshling, but know this. In life, I had a husband. He was small, slight of frame. He knew nothing of being a warrior or bearing arms. He was kind, loving and gentle…and he died for me without hesitation.”
Thrysta leaned in further, her mouth brushing the warrior’s ear.
“For all your strength, size, armor and weaponry…you are not half the man he was.”
The dying human tried to speak as tears and blood ran freely from his face.
Placing a taloned finger over his mouth, Thrysta spoke.
“Shhhh…the time for words has passed, human.”
She smiled at him, their eyes meeting one last time.
“I am going to feed on you now, fleshling…you may think of each bite as a bloody kiss, if you wish. Oh, and you may scream as much as you want...”
The screams began as Thrysta’s teeth found the flesh of the man’s face. They carried through the field, right to the ears of the little winged goblinoid who was watching the proceedings intently from the roof of the barn. He smiled wickedly and took flight.
There was more love to spread this night…
This plague-ridden, dying land…this land that now belonged to the Scourge.
Thrysta strode through the barren crop fields of Gahrron’s Withering, her shadow magics lashing out at the Scourge Spirits that infested the ruined farmstead. She hissed prayers of pain and death for her hated enemies, for these vile perversions of her own dark gift, a gift bestowed upon her by Lady Sylvanas. The creatures tore and raked at her in return with dark talons, but she was unmindful of the small wounds, intent only on killing each and every one of the Scourge who tainted her homeland.
Shaking with rage, Thrysta screamed catechisms of loyalty to the Forsaken as the last Scourge Spirit in front of her gave up its existence with a haunting wail. Her inner reservoirs of precious mana almost completely spent from the combat, Thrysta knelt, pulling from one of her small bags a vile of morning glory dew. The substance tasted vile and reeked of elf taint, but its consumption helped her to regain her inner mana. She put the vial to her lips and began to drink.
Thrysta had barely quaffed half of the vial when she heard the ethereal hiss from behind her. She whirled to her feet, turning to meet the threat as the newly materialized Spirit’s claws raked her face.
Necrotised flesh ripped and flew, dry bone scraped as the Scourge creature tore at her. Her wide-brimmed crimson felt hat flew from her head to land in the dirt of the field as Thrysta desperately shrieked a word of power to shield herself from the Spirit’s dark attacks.
The shield popped into existence around her, giving Thrysta a momentary respite from the Spirit’s rending blows as it continued to batter away at the magical barrier. Her face was in tatters, with dry ribbons of dead flesh hanging from her left cheek and scalp. One of her arms had taken a fearsome blow, the exposed bone cracked and chipped.
Thrysta focused, drawing on what little mana she had left to curse the creature with a dark word of wracking pain as well as a devouring plague that sapped the creature’s strength, slowly transferring it to Thrysta. Her shield weakening, she used the last of her inner mana to cast a spell of renewal on herself, feeling it starting to work as her flesh and bone began to slowly, slowly knit itself back together.
As her shield finally collapsed under the fury of the Scourge Spirit’s pain-maddened attacks, Thrysta drew her dark wand, the Woestave. She screamed her hatred for all Scourge and lashed out with a dark, shadowy bolt as the creature’s claws again found her flesh.
The two undead danced in battle through the fallow field of the ruined farmstead, dark bolts of shadow meeting rending ethereal claws. Thrysta howled her devotion to the Dark Lady as one her bolts finally blasted through the creature’s dark body, destroying its hold on existence. The creature wailed in agony as its form came apart and it disappeared.
Thrysta wearily collapsed into the dirt of the field. She sat slack with exhaustion, her body torn, her inner mana almost totally spent. Summoning the last reserves she had, she again cast the spell of renewal, fumbling in her pouch for another vial of the cursed elf brew that would help her to recover as her flesh slowly began to knit back together.
Uncorking the vial, Thrysta again began to drink, feeling her mana regenerating within her faster as she consumed the liquid. Finishing the vial with a quick tilt, her mana well on its way to recovery, she spied her crimson felt hat lying in the dirt near her.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, her wounds still troubling her movement as they slowly healed under the effects of her renewal magic, she walked over to it, bending over in dull pain to snatch it from the dry soil of the field.
“Agol lo magis!”
Thrysta froze as she heard the shout from a few steps behind her, still bent over in the act of picking up her wide-brimmed hat.
“Lo landowar sturume bur!”
Thrysta slowly straightened up, hat in hand, her back to the owner of the voice. Slowly, she brushed the dirt from her hat and placed it back on her head, feeling the flesh of her face and body still slowly regenerating its way back to her normal ruined rictus and frail but still feminine form. She was still weak, however, and to top it off this Common-speaking bastard had gotten the drop on her.
Tilting the brim of her hat at a rakish angle, a recent affectation, she turned to face the owner of the voice, intent on selling her unlife as dearly as she could in her diminished state…
---------------------------------------------
Thrysta stared at the figure before her in disbelief from just under the brim of her hat, her face in shadow.
Before her stood a large, dark-haired human male, adorned in gleaming golden armor with a huge spiked hammer slung over his shoulder.
It was not this warrior’s weaponry and attire that caused Thrysta to be taken aback, however. Hovering behind him on feathery white wings was a tiny goblin, holding a bow and quiver of heart-shaped arrows. The goblin was giggling madly and flying in small circles.
Thrysta noticed one of the small arrows poking out from a crease in the large human’s armor. In the numerous other creases and grooves of his armor, there appeared to be rose petals stuck here and there. To top it all off, the warrior absolutely reeked of some sort of cloying cologne.
All the while Thrysta stared the human smiled bashfully, digging his toe into the dry soil, his hands clasped behind his back. Peering at him from under the brim of her hat, a thought occurred to Thrysta.
She had heard the rumors of “love potions” and “tokens of affection” being sold from vendors in the Undercity. She had seen the decorations for some odd festive celebration that was happening across Azeroth. She had heard rumors of strange goblinoid creatures spreading amorous feelings. But all in all, she had paid them no mind.
This human is besotted and drunk with “love”, she thought to herself. As if reading her mind, the tiny goblin cackled wickedly and began nodding, flying in figure-eights behind the warrior.
I must buy time, Thrysta thought to herself. Her healing magics were still mending her body and her inner mana had yet to fully recover. Thrysta pull the brim of her hat low, to further shadow her ruined face.
May the Dark Lady forgive me for such wanton behavior…even if it is necessary, Thrysta thought silently to herself. At that, she put her hands on her hips, striking a sultry pose in front of the besotted warrior and letting forth a long unused girlish giggle.
“You can’t understand a word I am saying, can you, you stupid love-drunk human?” Thrysta giggled, waving a hand innocently at the warrior.
The warrior laughed in amorous glee and began pantomiming.
“Yes, caper for me you stupid fool, while I gather my strength to kill you!” Thrysta giggled again, blowing the idiotic human a kiss.
The warrior first pointed at himself...
He then struck a pose, hand to his chin as if pondering something…
The warrior then pointed directly at her.
“Hmmm…you think I…” giggled Thrysta, all while gauging her inner mana.
The warrior then began striking various feminine poses and strutting like some sort of harlot.
“…you think I’m…wanton…sluttish…hmmm…oh, you mean ‘sexy’, don’t you? You must be terribly love-drunk you pathetic gibbering fool of a human…I am a withered husk and have no delusions about it.” Thrysta cooed coquettishly.
He put his fingers to the sides of his head, as if he had horns, while gesturing to his rear end as if he had some sort of tail.
“You think I’m a sexy…Tauren?” Thrysta hissed indignantly.
A look of panic crossed the warrior’s face as he seemingly recognized the word. He shook his head violently and began pantomiming that he was holding some sort of staff or spear and stabbing with it.
“Hmmm…ah, a devil. You think I am a sexy devil? How…quaint…it will almost be a shame to kill you, human…you are entertaining…” Thrysta giggled aloud, while blowing more kisses at the warrior and giving him a little shake of her hips.
The human smiled triumphantly at her tone and began searching for something in his rucksack. He pulled out a small figurine of a fully armored charger, obviously the trinket used to summon his steed. He smiled at her and then began to mutter to the figure as a small glow surrounded it, obviously intent on summoning his mount to further impress her.
Thrysta watched as he became distracted by his task. Her body had finally mended and she felt her inner mana reach its peak.
It was time.
---------------------------------------------
The besotted human had almost completed his summoning when Thrysta took control of his mind.
The little flying goblinoid screeched, flying in wide circles and then away as Thrysta approached the enthralled warrior.
The human swayed unsteadily, jaw slack, completely dominated by Thrysta’s mind control. She pondered what to do with the fool…her eyes finally falling upon the nearby barn of the farmstead. As she watched, she could just barely spy shadowy movement inside and heard faint hisses emanating from within.
Scourge infested the darkened barn…that much was apparent.
Thrysta turned to the warrior and spoke to him.
“Well, my foolish little human, can you now hear and understand me?”
“Yes, mistress,” he responded.
“Good. Now listen my little plaything, I left a present for you in that barn over there. Why don’t you run inside as fast as you can and find it?”
“Oh, yes mistress!” the human uttered joyfully, running for the barn and disappearing into the dark, shadowed entrance.
Thrysta felt her mind link with the human break just as the screams, hisses and crashes began. She moved quickly to the side of the barn entrance, waiting and listening to the raging fight going on within as the warrior suddenly became self-aware once again and fought for his life. She could hear armor buckling under wicked strikes, Spirits shrieking in pain and rage…and finally, panicked human cries of pain and terror.
Suddenly, with a last ethereal howl the sounds of conflict within the barn ceased. After a moment, Thrysta could hear staggering footsteps making for the barn entrance from within. She quickly summoned her magics while drawing her barbed and edged mace, the Scepter of the Unholy. Channeling her energies, she suffused the deadly weapon with magics that would enhance its power and channel weakness into her enemy.
The warrior staggered out of the entrance right past Thrysta, not noticing her off to the side. His armor was rent and torn. He bled from dozens of wounds, and it was obvious he could barely stand. His hammer dragged in the dirt as he gasped for air, clutching his side.
The warrior desperately dug into a pouch on his hip, his hand emerging with a red vial of healing liquid in his grasp. He struggled to unstop the cap from the vial just as Thrysta’s wickedly edged mace crashed deep into the small of his back.
The human let out a tortured shriek and then crashed forward onto his face in the dirt of the field.
Thrysta stared down at him in disgust as he gurgled incoherently, facedown in the dry soil. She sheathed her mace and hooked the toe of her boot under his shoulder guard, flipping the fallen human onto his back with some effort.
The warrior coughed and gurgled, blood running freely from his mouth. His body was quite still…only the coughing and panicked rolling of his eyes let Thrysta know that he still clung to life.
Kneeling down next to the fallen warrior, Thrysta tilted the brim of her hat back so that the human could look right into her ravaged face. As he gazed into her rotting visage his coughing and gurgling increased, his eyes welling with tears of terror.
“Yes, my foolish plaything, I am hideous…aren’t I? And now you see me with your own eyes. Look upon me, fool…you sought my heart for all time a short while ago. You sought to take my heart and make it yours. Ironic that I took your spine in turn, is it not?”
Thrysta leaned over the dying human, her taloned hands on his shoulders and her face inches from his.
“I know you cannot understand me fleshling, but know this. In life, I had a husband. He was small, slight of frame. He knew nothing of being a warrior or bearing arms. He was kind, loving and gentle…and he died for me without hesitation.”
Thrysta leaned in further, her mouth brushing the warrior’s ear.
“For all your strength, size, armor and weaponry…you are not half the man he was.”
The dying human tried to speak as tears and blood ran freely from his face.
Placing a taloned finger over his mouth, Thrysta spoke.
“Shhhh…the time for words has passed, human.”
She smiled at him, their eyes meeting one last time.
“I am going to feed on you now, fleshling…you may think of each bite as a bloody kiss, if you wish. Oh, and you may scream as much as you want...”
The screams began as Thrysta’s teeth found the flesh of the man’s face. They carried through the field, right to the ears of the little winged goblinoid who was watching the proceedings intently from the roof of the barn. He smiled wickedly and took flight.
There was more love to spread this night…