ooc: sorry for shortness, I also struggle with starters haha xD

Silence was born in this place, beneath blankets of fog and pillars of blackened trees that pierced the flesh of the darkening sky. Stars shyly tried to cast their light down upon the mottled wraith but storm clouds were quickly gathering, their whispering fangs shutting out even the moon. D?gmar had thought long on what it was she had wanted to do with her new life inside a new pack. Though the answers to her questions would not come easily. One thing was clear though. She needed to get stronger. She needed purpose and direction. With a howl the shadowy shieldmaiden tipped her heard to the falling darkness and called for the Tyrant. For Artemis. She was ready to begin.

Cloaked in darkness she glides, a phantom illuminated by the faint pallor of a looming moon she slaves beneath --- wrought by the predatory diligence bestowed upon her houndish kind as she writhes through the dense underbrush of her domain, senses intently focused. It is the amplified banshee screech of her ancillary that perturbs the enigmatic silence perpetually shrouding the forest, and although the fledgling tyrant cannot directly pinpoint who demanded her presence { as she hardly knows her newfound acolytes }, she adheres to the summons anyway with the tenacity that can only belong to a queen. Whomever possessed the AMBITION to surpass their subservient { student } title deserved her attention, and she would willingly gift it to them with the hopes that they would fail to disappoint. The Elysius wraith cannot dismiss the urge to smirk as her pupils indulge in the sinewy form of Daegmar --- the dappled mercenary who had once sought to smite her darling siblings, now inhabiting their home with the tyrant?s consent. She had no reason to deny one who had clearly severed her former ties with negligent rulers, and thus, the woman would be granted an equal opportunity to thrive beneath her reign --- so long as she fought to take it. ?Daegmar,? the paladin croons easily as she maneuvers to encroach upon the distance lingering between them until naught but mere feet remain, adorning the indifferent guise she had all but perfected. ??Student? does not sit well in the stomachs of the ambitious, does it?? she inquires, mismatched gaze unwavering from the magnetic depths of the other?s own verdant. She harbors potential, the tyrant is certain --- it is only her duty to unleash it.

A roll of thunder growled in the distance but it did little to deter the focus of the warrioress. Every sense was alert for the coming of her Queen. She would seek to etch out a role in this pack from which she could continue her studies as well as to be of some use. That was perhaps her greatest fear? having no purpose? being a useless burden. NO, she would put her skills to use, she would render the flesh of the packs enemies asunder. She craved it?


Her Queen, her Tyrant, would not disappoint. The regal phantom would appear before her sight and call to her by name. A grin twisted her maw as she dipped her head in respectful greeting to Artemis. "No, it does not. But I do not take it as an insult. I came here to learn after all." There was no harm in being a studen on the path of life. She sought to be stronger and how else to do that but learn and practice til she could rise to the top. And then if she was toppled to study and practice again in a never ending cycle, a never-ending quest for perfection.


"However, I need more than mere learning for my purpose. I wish to hold the title of Mercenary. I am a warrior and I would be recognized as such and in time I would seek to gain the rank of Paladin. But I will not rush things? I do not know if I'm yet at the level you require for such a task. But regardless? I will fight you if you wish to test me." In fact, she'd rather look foward to the opportunity to clash her fangs against her Tyrant's.


"Speech"

And it is the prominent roar of thunder which serves as a herald of the queen?s ominous presence, mismatched gaze of vibrant amethyst and metallic silver stagnant upon the glowering verdant gaze of her dappled acolyte as lightning illuminates her wicked features, revealing the decadent grin laden upon her dark countenance. The phantom deity is undaunted by the looming prospect of rainfall and disregards the threatening storm brewing overhead, attention entirely fixated upon Daegmar as sentiments stream from velvet lips, piquing her rare interest accordingly. She is a promising specimen { of this, the Elysius has no doubt }, portraying an ardent desire to refine her battle prowess -- all the while teeming with unsated ambition. Avid { and judgmental } pupils rove the woman?s physique in noticeable deliberation as her speech concludes, aspirations having been relayed with hopes of fulfillment. And yet, it is ultimately she { carnage QUEEN } who has the ability to grant or deny such desires; her own verdict paramount to those who chose to thrive beneath her tyrannical reign. ?If you ultimately seek a higher title --? the Elysius wraith begins, willowy limbs propelling her at a lackadaisical pace around her fervent advocate as she continues to scrutinize every curvature of sinew lathering nimble bones -- like a predator encircling her prey. ?-- I will require d e c o r a t i o n s, if you will.? Her words are slow, calculated -- every syllable clearly enunciated for effect. The aura shrouding her cryptic existence is enigmatic, the sinful smirk caressing her corrupted visage a testimony of the madness swarming beneath her collected exterior. ?This forest demands homely attention; I want to personalize it. If you would be so kind to help me gather, say: tongues, ears, eyes, tails?? At this, she pauses, aligning herself perpendicularly with Daegmar?s left side that she had once mercilessly assaulted -- yet, she harbors no incent to destroy. ?Then you will find Paladin within your grasp.? Lightning fissures the shadowed sky above, and the phantom?s pallid coat is pelted by a barrage of raindrops, though still she is unflinching as her gaze remains transfixed upon the dappled woman?s skull. She wonders if the woman will shy away from such an abhorrent task; but even so, her verdict is indisputable. ?I want three of either -- I don?t care how you obtain them, but they must be from our own kind. However, first, you will start with Mercenary; I can gift you the title, if you would be so kind as to host a battle training session alongside me.? The wraith has seen this diligent warrior in action -- she knows that she possesses that iota of competence that Elysium needs to harness for events of the future.

Thick and heavy, the very air itself moved in on the pair but for all its tangibility it was the electricity alive in the skies that sent a thrilling shiver down the wraith's mottled back. What could make one feel more alive than courting danger? Perhaps it was that same reason she felt so drawn to frosted Queen before her. Around her the sound suddenly dissipated. While the thunder continued it's steady growls the wind suddenly stopped. Birds ceased their cacophony and even the insects were suddenly mute. Tension built around her and D?gmar knew in moments the storm would unleash it's fury down upon them. Even so she stood still and calm as if it were but a sunny spring day. Her Queen, her Tyrant was equally unphased. It was? thrilling.


Words split through the silence like fangs through flesh as the Tyrant spoke. D?gmar nodded. She would have been sorely disappointed if she was simply handed over a rank such as paladin. D?gmar believed in baring scars for that which was well fought for and she would not have others question her worth for being merely given something with out the chance to fight for it.


D?gmar grinned at the Tyrant's allusion, her head tilting slighty to the side as she allowed the others words to sink in. They were to decorate the forest with pieces of unfortunate souls. It was an intriguing notion and one that would require some thought to make sure they did not damage any current alliances. At least not until they were robust enough to tackle the larger packs solo. Three? My, my, my? a lofty goal but did D?gmar not desire a challenge? "It would be an honor to host a training session alongside you, Lady Tyrant. As for the new... decorations. Rest assured, they will be obtained by any means necessary." It would be a challenge and while she did bear a doubt she could accomplish it she would try all the same. Fear and doubt were acceptable feelings in a warrior, they protected a fighter against recklessness and dropped guards, against pride that could so easily be a downful. The only thing that marked out the warriors from the cowards was the conquering of these feelings. They were to be recognized then dealt with in the smoothest of motions, the quietest of killings.

this is a repost.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? and while her assignment inspires abhorrence, the elysius deity is yet appeased with her advocate?s relentless enthusiasm towards such a gruesome endeavor, and a faint gleam of mischievous intent encumbers her frigid gaze as the dappled wraith embraces the prospect of danger and gore with opened arms. although the phantom houses a sadistic demeanor and the unyielding and prominent desire for carnage, there is further reasoning behind her repulsive task aside from an intense passion for the macabre arts; the tyrant intends to witness firsthand the extent of the woman?s diligence and battle prowess -- she hopes to spectate upon the violence that her acolyte is willing to inflict with her given artillery and wallow in the breathtaking sight of the woman?s combative skill. there is palpable potential wrought within the compacted musculature of the thyre viper and the elysius yet anticipates watching it unfurl upon the battlefield -- even if it must be her own jaws that unleash the woman?s wrath. the phantom maneuvers with fluidity back towards daegmar?s front in a tacit announcement of their meeting?s adjournment, vibrant gaze of mismatched silver and violet stangnant upon the woman?s own verdant as if to dare the faintest hint of trepidation to filter through the thyre?s gaze. and yet, she receives no sign of weakness, and a satisfied grunt erupts through flared nostrils as the wry grin fully extends upon her lacerated visage -- an expression as enchanting as the elysius can manage given the decadent state of her countenance. ?when i call upon you, you will come -- and we will morph every member into mercenaries worth fearing,? she vows, the tone her vocals harbor one of indisputable nature. with the minute incline of her skull, she bids the woman a silent farewell before weaving back through the foliage of her domain and out of the other?s proximities. --- exeunt artemis