“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”There was a time when she dwelled on the past. For hours she would sit and wonder why she was cursed with such things, why fate saw it necessary to direct her towards the dead. Many with such great power would take it and do something important, but she never saw the need. She would spend days in crypts experimenting, playing with her abilities. On more than one occasion she caused the dead to rise and dance for her. The woman preferred the dark, and crypts suited her just fine. Due to her repeated use of her 'pets' to retrieve food and water, word had spread of the Summoner of the Dead who spent all of her time in the grim depths, and she had a few visitors over the years. Most wanted her help for one thing or another, she would refuse them. Some simply wanted to ask her questions, she would ignore them. Some wished to kill her, or perhaps purify her in the name of some god, she disposed of them. It wasn't until one offering escape and freedom of her curse came forward that she finally left the crypt, following his promise.
She was lied to. He was not offering freedom, he was taking her for his own cruel intentions. She knew this now. Having woken up face first in the sand on some small island of cutthroats and thieves with a good deal of the past missing from her, she knew she had been used. There were whispers in the dark as she tried to learn of her surroundings, those who recognized her for deeds she may have done, or rumors of some past evil she helped. She did not remember any of this, nor did she wish to. It did however cause her to become secluded, as she found herself creeping from shadow to shadow in an attempt to stay out of sight.
The woman caught herself on many the occasion beginning to summon forth the spirits of the dead, only to stop and wonder why she would do so. Yes she had been given that power, and she could use it as she wished. However, waking up on this island, no one knowing who she is save for vague rumors, she realized something. The man
had given her escape, freedom. She was no longer skulking a crypt, surrounded by the dead. She was instead walking the shadows, spying on the living. Even moreso, she was
good at it. There was no reason to go back to her old ways, save for scholarly reasons, and she had no wish to study such things at this moment.
She was startled from her thoughts by a knock at her door. She had been staying at the tavern on occasion, having been doing odd jobs for the random person; It was better than sleeping in the street after all. Peeking through a crack in the wood granted her the sight of several of the Red Hand, heavily armed. Of course the rumors of her past would reach the ears of the guards, and the gods only know who else. Opening the door and backing away as the men filed in, they explained their intentions. She was being put in a cell and held until further notice, on suspicion of being a threat to the security of Tortage if left free. Of course they were soon to realize how true those suspicions were, as a knife she had been using to eat had made its way into her palm, and a moment later finished its travels in the closest guard's neck. The second found himself impaled on the first's sword and the third, trying to escape and call for help, had his neck snapped mid-stride to the stairs.
The woman now knew what to do with herself. There was another way to appease the shadows, to consort with the dead, and all it required was a thirsty blade and a body for it to drink from. She could do that...
---------------------------------------------------------------Not sure what all to say about me. I'm 22, live in California, and work retail for a living. I've had people tell me I can do better than that, but I'm not sure how. I went to college, but my strongest "workable" skills seem to be in jobs where I would sit behind a desk for 8 hours a day or go to meetings. I'd much rather talk with people
I'd post a picture, but the only one I have is from my DSi. Cruddy little camera that is, makes me look like a glasses-wearing, scruffy-looking computer nerd... wait...
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Subject: Zyraya's Story 
Thu Feb 18, 2010 1:13 am
