3. Lyriel Lyrae

Lyriel Lyrae


  • Character Name: Lyriel Lyrae
    NWN Account: Daenara-

    Height: 4' 9”.
    Weight: 87 Lbs.
    Race: Moon Elf.
    Hair: Long, shimmering silver locks.
    Eyes: Clear and bright azure with pale silvery flecks.
    Current Age: One hundred and eleven years (111).
    Skin Tone: Pale and smooth, with hints of ice-blue at the tips of her ears.
    Voice: Ranges from calmly soft to melodious tones when she speaks.
    Recognizable Features: A small, 2-inch scar beneath the lower left of her jaw.
    Spoken languages: Common, Elven.
    Left Handed or Right Handed: Right.
    Jewelry or Decorations: A small, white amulet of a crescent moon.

    Appearance: Framed by long, gray lashes, two large, round pools of pale azure spiral into small black voids. Scattered within the depths of the sky-blue hue are numerous little flecks of silver that appear brighter when any source of light is mirrored within. Like fine, delicate brush strokes, a pair of slender, silver eyebrows arch above these miniature ponds, lending elegance to an already dignified and smooth face. High cheekbones drop down into the gentle slopes of her cheeks, the youthful, elven features entirely covered with the hue of fresh snow on an early winter morning. A splash of the lightest of pink make up the petite shape of her lips, which more often than not, carry a small, ambiguous smile. A small scar, like that of a sleek knife, dances a couple of inches along the lower left of her jaw. Lengthy and well-kept strands of shimmering silver cascade down past her shoulders, and the dual points of elven ears may be seen protruding from either sides of her head, holding a faint ice-blue color upon their tips. Tiny, when measured with a human eye, Lyriel hardly comes across as intimidating with her short, willowy, but graceful build.

    Appearance, Part II.: Lyriel is most often found wearing the colors of the Moon or the Earth - ranging from shades of silver, gray and white, to gentle blues, or numerous hues of green and brown. Her garbs are usually fairly simple, but people with an eye for such things may notice that they always have subtle, intricate details or that they are cut with a certain elegance in mind. Always found extended on a simple cord from around her slender neck is a symbol depicting a crescent moon- those keen of eye can find this symbol discretely placed around upon her figure, weaved into which ever garbs she wears at any given time. She usually keeps a longsword or a longbow on her person if traveling, and on her belt one may notice a short and thin, ivory flute.

    Attitude: With an amiable demeanor, Lyriel appears to be quite approachable and friendly at most times. She may seem quiet and thoughtful on occasion, but a gentle curve lends her lips a somewhat ambiguous smile at the end of any deep fit of silent concentration. The more time spent around this youthful elf, the more apparent would her flimsy nature become. Depending on circumstance, or even nothing at all, the pendulum of her moods may swing with a constant beat at one moment only to shift into a rapid crescendo the other.

    Dogma & Deity Relations: Ever since you were but a babe resting peacefully on a bed of soft leaves, you've been drawn to the teachings of the Seldarine. From when your mother would lull you to sleep with the gentle tunes of Hanali, to the many pranks taught to you by one of the novices of the Trickster's fold. You practically grew up on the stairs of the Temples within the safe haven of Evereska and a fascination always dwelt within. As such, it came quite naturally to you to begin learning the ways of the Seldarine; eventually finding your place among the clergy.

    (Image from yiasafrai.)
    (Layout taken from WildEyes.)

  • ICC

    Reviewed, XP Pending!


  • Here we are, now lay the burden down
    We're coming to the end of our road
    Sorrowful, yet glorious somehow
    To be humming this one last ode

    Sentenced

    ~ The Aftermath ~

    A large Moon, surrounded by a misty red veil, began rising on the horizon and it cast its luminous light down upon the fields and forests below. The Moon Elven maiden made her way down from the floating gardens, and after tending to the injuries of a small elven boy, she headed out into the surrounding Meadow. A perpetual frown was frozen to her pale features. Her silvery-azure gaze swept over the surroundings, not in search of someone to help, there were so many of them, but in an attempt to seek out those who needed it the most. She tried intently to avoid looking at the worst of the display, but she found herself drawn deeper and deeper into the field, and soon she was in the middle of where the battle had raged as worst.

    Severed limbs lay scattered about, the bloody stumps glistening beneath the light of the Moon. Many pieces were from creatures Lyriel had never seen before and could not identify. Some of the enthralled gnolls had, before fleeing, managed to impale a few elven heads on pikes, the features of these bodiless heads were twisted and distorted beyond recognition. Intestines lay strewn about and pools of blood dotted the entire landscape. Near the fringes of the Vine Vale, on the other side of the meadows, one could witness the large, hungry wolves gathering for the feast.

    Lyriel swiftly covered her mouth and nose with her hands as she felt the sudden urge to retch.

    The feeling did not pass. There were just too many bodies, too much blood and gore, and too much death. With haste, she gathered up her robes and stormed through the masses of flesh torn from flesh. She reached the far end of the field and continued into the northern forest, trying to shake the images from her mind. When she felt that she could go no farther, she went to her knees behind a Blueleaf tree.

    "This is too much…" she whispered to herself and lowered herself further down against the root. As she curled up, it was with a heavy, sorrowful heart she gazed down at her once-white robes that were now severely stained in several shades of crimson.

    ”Just calm down. Deep breaths. Find the courage within, you know you can.”

    She took a deep breath and listened quietly to the sounds around her. She could hear a faint rustling from the trees, the sudden noise of a twig breaking under someone- something's weight. Her pale eyes darted up and about, and she pulled herself from the base of the tree and peered into the dark vale ahead. It was time to get back– something was sniffing the air past the point of her vision and she squinted hard to try and determine the source. No time to waste, be it friend or foe, she did not wish to find out which.

    ”Where's your courage, girl? Where did it flee?”

    She had no idea what happened, but she found herself running blindly through the fringe of the forest, stumbling in a frantic rush through the dense underbrush, back toward the city. Her face and arms were already marked with hundreds of tiny cuts and bruises from the unseen slaps of branches and the sharp prick of thorns. She had to keep moving, she had to get away, they were right behind her, they had to be.

    ”Don't look back, it will slow you down- but how to know if you are being followed -don't look back, keep running, keep running!”

    She stifled a shout as she tripped over a hidden branch and pitched face down into the foliage. She whipped quickly around, suddenly positive someone was standing over her, but she could see nothing in the darkness. Lurching to her feet, she continued running at a break-neck pace, only barely avoiding tripping over her robes.

    ”You have to slow down. If you trip again, you could break an ankle. Don't be reckless, just slow down. Slow down!!”

    She could discern the moonlight penetrating into a clearing up ahead and she recognized the surroundings as she broke free of the dark brushes. She was close to the south side now and she knew she could get back inside from this part. She began to make her way through when she saw the smoking academies up ahead; ruined magic, ruined structures and more death.

    She was praying it was a nightmare, some kind of twisted Reverie, even a curse that made her see these things would be far better than what she knew awaited within the war-torn city. Her steps faltered a moment when she thought she saw a large figure, thousands of sharp teeth set at its top which ended in a huge gaping mouth, sweep through the street and into one of the homes.

    ”Don't worry, I won't leave you. Just look up on that cloud and I'll be there, drifting by. I'll keep you safe, don't worry.”

    With trembling steps, she began to make her way toward the temple across empty streets and trampled grounds, avoiding the dark shadows on each corner and trying to go by as unnoticed as she could by the enemy that had struck so suddenly.

    For the remainder of the night she would pray harder than she had ever done before, and her voice would join the chorus of hundreds or thousands of others, all equal in their desperation.