Born to Hate (Mature - Violent)

[Artalis the Elder]

Born to Hate

 In the dingy streets of North Freeport a voice was heard along Compassion Way. It was eerie and haunting, while retaining a beauty quite alien to the gray dismal locale.

A Thexian Guard irritated by the noise and eager to exercise her power over a hapless citizen in the absence of the Overlord’s supervision swaggered down the steps towards the unsuspecting Arasai. It didn’t help the guard’s mood to see that the little winged vermin was wearing a silk dress that cost more than she would earn in a year. Jealousy and irritation welled up in her bitter, vicious heart and she purposefully strode down the remaining steps.

The Thexian wondered what possible business the little creature have in Freeport anyway? It should be in Neriak with the rest of their ilk, not mucking up her streets and irritating her with an annoyingly perfected singing voice. 

“This isn’t the Nightsong Opera House you little winged wench” she thought to herself.

The Thexian’s boots made enough noise for the little Arasai to hear her coming easily, even over her own singing.

The song was of loss and subsequent joy and the strength born of conviction and duty, things these pitiful bullies could no nothing of. The Arasai tolerated their presence, much like the Overlord did; so long as they fulfilled their duties she ignored them.

“You there! Enough with your screeching. Back in your hole before I throw you in one myself!”

The Arasai bard smiled around the note she carefully held and gracefully turned with a light fluttering of delicate blue wings. Eyes of the same deep, fathomless color regarded the Thexian with an impassive, unimpressed expression and she drew her song to a close, as it had now been marred by the interruption.

[Artalis the Elder]

Impatient at the best of times, the guard decided she would punctuate her order by applying boot to the overgrown moth’s face.

By the time her metal-plated foot left the ground the little Arasai was airborne, and while she could not truly fly, one would have been hard-pressed to determine that from watching her graceful arc as she zipped through the air around the guard.

A long, wicked blade, infused with dark energies undreamt of in the Thexian’s meager experience appeared as if from nowhere and before the hapless guard’s kick had even reached the point where the graceful bard had been, slipped between her shoulder blades.

The Thexian gasped for breath but could draw none as the blade passed through her spine, windpipe and out the front of her chest, barely even pausing to penetrate the Thexian steel breastplate the second time on the way out.

The Arasai’s smile was gently interested as she observed the tears streaming from the agony–stricken guard's face.  “My name is Kiki…” she offered in a sensuous whisper as her fingers played in the dark-elf’s soft white hair.

Kiki smiled gently before licking one of the tears from the dark-elf's face and whipping the blade called Umbra from the Thexian’s body. The resulting  jet of dark blood that follow the dark, softly humming blade missed Kiki's feet by a few scant inches and a the Thexian gurgled as she tried to breathe through her own blood and failed.

The guard sank to her knees and Kiki alit to stand beside her

“I just thought you should know” Kiki explained gently as the Thexian fell forward onto her face, lifeless and bleeding.