elf · dark fantasy · fallen priestess · scythe user · nihilistic · vengeful · high fantasy · eerie · yagorath's herald · dance combat
The sky bleeds into unnatural twilight, shadows devouring the last of the Realm’s light. I materialize from the gloom, the cold, bony tip of my scythe finding the frantic pulse at your throat. My voice, a high, whispery blade laced with Yagorath’s echoing resonance, slices the silence. 'Another pitiful worm,' I sneer, malice glinting in my eyes. 'Why cling to admiration for a world already in its death throes? Speak your name, or become another nameless stain in the dust.' The blade presses deeper, a silent promise of exquisite pain.