Asuras

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Much as the thrall had her own ideas of servitude and punishment, Luna had her own -and who would have a better handle on what was best: herself, or a thrall? As the nameless woman slipped back into unconsciousness, Luna disregarded Dragan, and began the quick ritual to revive the woman as her new thrall. With shut eyes, she could hear Dragan's motion in the background. Quickly, blood dripped from her eyes as gentle tears, and ran down her cheeks. She cradled the thrall with one arm, and with her other hand reached up to pry a single droplet. She paused, her body freezing at the feeling of something washing over her.

A warming voice, distant and pleasant, roused her ears and fluttered her unbeating heart. Ichor's voice rolled over the balcony and banisters, and its familiar, enlightening spirit drew greater power from Luna's eyes; her tears flowed more freely, more voluminous, and in turn poured greater power into the ritual. It was not her intention, but this thrall would given more strength than Luna had planned for. In her trance, it was difficult to care.

Prying a single large droplet from her closed eyes, she fed the blood to the thrall through her lips, and offered a short prayer.

"Beneath Ichor's gaze, this child, this master commands thee to rise anew. Born again as servant to Luna Emeraltide."

Whether the thrall awoke or not, Luna stood, still carrying the woman, and hurried up the stairs to the second floor where the others had gathered to witness their Goddesses' light and hear her command. She set the thrall to the side -away from the gates which Dragan had opened- and joined the others. She practically fell to her knees, and clasped her hands in silent prayer as her ears caught the last vestiges of Ichor's mystic presence. Even as it left, she remained there in pious reflection for a moment more.

Standing, Luna only then acknowledged the three additional faces. Little introduction was needed for so notable a crew. Though, truthfully, Luna had little inclination to give regards to one in particular. Their journey was just beginning, and there was little room for petty squabbling and rivalry Luna felt. It was time to behave and consolidate.

"Have we any needed preparations before going?" she asked to the group at large, "Did you find anything of note yourselves?" she directed to Akyasha, Aleksiya, and Giselle.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Luna allowed the dwindling thrall to touch her cheek, albeit briefly, before softly taking her hand and pulling it lightly away. The tenderness of the dying woman was a welcome feeling after eons of sleep, but at the same time the gesture was unsolicited, and by a servant no less. She nevertheless held the woman still, and followed her words towards the heart Ilena held up until it disappeared into blackness.

"Other lords? Were they awoken here in Alavaris as well?" Luna hummed, then turning her eyes to the cathedral's entrance. "And you... where did you come from? How did you even survive?" The vampiress listened to Ilena, and promptly squeezed the thrall more tightly -possessively. She offered Ilena a wholly lighthearted glare -almost pouting- and retorted.

"She will not die! Such a dedicated servant could never be discarded. Look at her," she continued, "She has surely gone through quite the ordeal just to rejuvenate us. And... all without drinking a single drop herself; otherwise she would not be in this state. To say nothing of completing it without a master. Tell me thrall, what is your name?" she asked.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Luna mused to herself that, were she still alive, she might have been gasping for breath then. Their escape complete, and their safety secured, Luna's body relaxed, her shoulders loosening in the soothing presence of her patron goddess long before they reach the main interior. As they tread through the halls, she remained quiet and reverent, recalling the old days in which she'd visited this holy site. Within the main room, her red eyes glimmered before the sight of Ichor's stone grandeur, and pious appreciation filled her still heart.

She rushed up alongside Ilena, and knelt beside the collapsed thrall, briefly looking over them before gently turning their body over, cradling them in her arms.

"Perhaps, their task was to deliver this meal to us. They are weak, dying," Luna said, looking into the thrall's shut eyes. "I've nothing to help them." Luna looked up to Ilena and Dragan, as if searching their expressions for any sign of a solution. She set the thrall down, leaning their back against the altar, and took a vial of blood for herself. She too downed the vigor in one swift gulp, and exhaled satisfactorily as she felt renewed power well from within her cold veins.

She touched her fingers to her lips, reveling in the taste. A great deal of self-control reigned in her desire to consume the rest, and leave Dragan starving.

"The heart may have been cut out within the city itself, to ensure freshness. I hope that they might awake, so that we can ask questions."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

It felt like a test of her hope -having been killed once already by a band of paladins and feeling the despair of that desperate moment, only to be now thrown into another fire before something horrible only because of her weakness. Surely this was by Ichor's design, and was meant to assure the goddess of her determination and ability. Years of idle surety in her past unlife was exactly why she was twice-dead, wasn't it? As much as she wished to prove herself, intelligence was as much a proof of capability as muscle, and wisdom was telling her that Ilena was right.

She nodded -if only to herself- and for a moment prepared her lithe legs to sprint away before pausing in wait for Dragan. Luna resented that the powers of her old god left her, whose absence meant she no longer had the ability to mend Dragan's wounds. She extended a hand towards the knight, absent-mindedly considerate even as she realized the knight might take offense to her sympathy.

"If Ichor is yet guiding us, and the Church is where she has pointed us to, then surely it is also a safe haven. We must swallow our pride for some days still. Let's go," she said, eyes chained to the feline mutant in wait for its next savage move.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Luna idly kept hold of the skeeter, its lazy, meandering flight ferrying her further to the other side of the bridge. Critical as the situation was the moment the half-dead beast awoke, Luna maintained a placid demeanor. A side-eye cast to Ilena at her question, and she looked skywards in thought.

"I could nary command a ghoul to shatter its own neck, t'would be difficult with this one, I imagine," she answered. Still she hung on for a moment more after Ilena's dive, marveling at the brazenness of her assault, before opting to drop back onto the bridge lest she find herself soon floating above the yawning ravine between. Luna landed with a small stumble -she was never one for much acrobatics- before righting up and squaring off against the beast's maw.

"But... I can try at least," she mumbled to herself. Luna unsheathed her saber, and her eyes flickered with crimson energy. The beast, seemingly half-reanimated and sporting an unseen barrier, reflected a lingering command from someone else magically-inclined, and perhaps long lost by this point. Even if its master was now dead, their presumed magic still puppeteered the beast; her enthralling magics would be a toss-up, she thought.

Still, she stared it down with conviction. Luna's pupils flared -a starry flash of red- and she exerted herself to influence the creature, if even for a moment.

"Halt, decayed creature!" she shouted. All she needed for now was a moment; just one moment to slow its movement and grant Dragan the second to dodge.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

"I must admit," Luna began, "The state of this city has me worried of the rest of the lands. If it's in this terrible a shape, what remains of the other castles, the cathedrals? Perhaps I'm being impatient. I feel as though we'll know soon enough," she said, half-musing to herself. She continued, making idle talk,

"Do any of you recall what you'd been doing before going under -before you awoke in the coffin? Without a familiar, I'm finding it difficult to guess how long I'd been in there." Stopping at the edge of the ruined bridge, Luna peered over the side. Dilapidated, unmaintained, filthy -Alavaris was well past its prime, long descended into obscurity and hauntedness that cried out in her mind as the first sign of an exceptionally long sleep. Whosoever remained of the past, besides themselves, surely had long since shifted and evolved into something unrecognizable. Besides feeding herself, acclimating to the new world already began to exhaust her spirits.

Finding a place to live was foremost on her mind, aside from understanding Ichor's luring call.

Luna extended a hand to follow in Ilena's suit, grabbing onto the spindly leg of another flying insect. From beneath her lightly-transparent veil, she smiled back at Dragan.

"How many wings would Dragan take?" she giggled, "Do we actually have enough?"

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Still Luna withheld her saber in its sheathe, hands entwined together with patience as the others chewed through those measly pests in the streets. Another wretch approached, and the vampiress deigned to test her own abilities after so long a rest. Even to the mindless creatures before her, her command could not be ignored -in fact, with so little intelligence, it had little in the way of resistance. Or so she assumed...

Luna gave the beast-man but a glance, but in that mere half-hearted gaze, the creature was enthralled. It froze, and shuddered for a moment, the lethargic, lingering, neural pulses of its half-gone mind fighting against her order as they settled and then dissipated in its muscles. The creature groaned, and its head turned... and turned, and turned. It struggled with all its might to fulfill her silent demand to break its own neck without its hands. Sinewy muscles tugged it around as far as it could, but somehow, it resisted.

Sighing, the siren understood then the shortcomings of her long sleep. She stepped forward to the groaning, twisting beast-man, and in a flash of silver, beheaded the mongrel with her saber. Not a splotch of red stained the blade as it was sheathed smoothly in the same fluid motion, though the creature's placid blood began to surge from the exposed arteries in its neck then.

"If I must..." she exhaled, eyes low with disappointment. Luna left the twice-dead corpse standing there, and lunged for one of the insects; if she had to drink any of this putrid blood, she would at least take it from the creature which could itself stomach the filth -there was a sense of 'betterness' to it, she told herself.

Another silvery cut, and one more monster was felled, this time coating the blade in dripping ichor. Luna maintained clean hands, and drank lightly from the dripping that slid from her weapon. Sickening as it was, the shiver in her body started first as disgust, and then as delight. It could only be so terrible when you were dying of thirst. Luna flicked the saber, and turned to the remaining creatures in the street.

"We should reach the Cathedral first, and expect the familiar's news later, yes?" she asked.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

"Oh dear. Explorers... looters, perhaps? Or but another of our kind? Hm..." Luna blinked, her yet-adjusting eyes nevertheless keen in the gloom, and focused upon the misshapen body that had stumbled out into the street. The vampiress merely nodded passively as Dragan took the lead, before watching curiously as Ilena sacrificed her digit for the summoning of an arcane eye. It's horrid little skittering anachronistically put a smile on Luna's face, and she watched it scurry off.

"Sending it to investigate? A good idea. Given the state of this place, I imagine it is long for the dead, and longer for the living. If the bearer of that light is the only blooded creature around, we might do well to find them quickly. Not to mention..." Luna looked upwards, and sighed.

"We may not be the only other disciples risen, and much as I detest the idea of devolving into quarreling with others so soon, we may wish to find some food before we're left with nothing."

For her part, Luna fought with tangible steel; a curved saber that dangled behind her. With no need to spend time summoning her means of combat, she did not feel compelled to arm herself just yet. Striding forth behind Ilena, Luna began into a little hum, filling the streets with a lightly echoing tune. Her hair dragged behind her and through the murky puddles, no doubt tracking dirt and grime -a fact that Luna seemed to care little about.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Luna Emeraltide

Another night...

The reflections of the moon had long been dimmed. Ripples of white upon a wide lake before Luna were naught but faded, thin veils now. In the scant light, auras of blue and violet emanating from mystic flowers illuminated a path that lead up to the very edge of the lake. She took one step. A second. A third. Slow, heavy, and shaking. Each step left behind a print of blood where the soles of her feet pressed into cold stone. A thin, frail arm was lifted aside, beckoning to an unseen audience in the waters she approached. The other arm held tightly to a blade thrust clean through her body.

She was defeated, but now alone, for naught but true dead lay nearby.

The corpses of knights rested in the garden, their gleaming plate armor reflecting flowers' glow. Each petal lightly kissed at their forms with the wind, gently guiding them to eternal sleep. Their rest was reward for completing their duty: Luna Emeraltide, Vampire Siren, was run through with a half-dozen weapons, and left to slowly die; truly and finally this time.

Luna lived only to love life, even in an undeath, and yet now was robbed of it by fearful fools and tyrants. What was it that had earned her this spite? A spurned advance? A misconception of her intentions? Mere prejudice? The paladins could not answer her, now bereft of air in their lungs to speak. The keep from which they rode, wherever it originate, was too far to travel to now that she held only minutes more of life. Luna cursed this state of the world. The pallor in the moon, her namesake. The darkness in mortal hearts. The silence of the divine. Beauty was turning to dust at every corner.

The lake before her was to be the last vestige of goodness in her unlife. Luna sang to the skies, to the waters -to the tiny beasts of the night who scurried within the gardens.

"♩ He longs for his green fields. His feathered bed.
He longs for his lover's voice. Now hears the dead. ♩"

She neared the water's edge, and began to step into the lake. Her legs sank below, and then her body, dispersing unending blood into the inky blackness. Her hair, which trailed at length beyond her heels, spread across the surface of the waters.

"♩ Battle cares not for wishes. It sees but red.
Turn now to your own lands- ♩"

...

"My vision..." Luna croaked to herself. "I am tired." Luna swayed in the water, now chest-deep in barely-shimmering darkness. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to keep open. "Atmeria... I had left you long ago, but now I return to you in final moments. I can say naught but... Goodbye..."

The vampire's light left her eyes, and lids closed upon blood-red irises. Luna's body fell to the side in the lake with little else than a gentle rippling of the waters.

---

Below the lake... No, it was not cold. This was a different sort of darkness. Luna's eyes opened to a lightless interior, and slowly became aware of the satin cloth that lined the cloistered walls around her. Her fingers extended, touching its surface lightly. She was in a coffin -an ornate one. It was certainly not her own, and she was quite dry. Someone... or something, had spirited her from her watery grave. But had she truly died, or something else? Luna pushed the lid aside, and sat up in the sarcophagus, looking about.

Alavaris. It was effortless to recall the place she awoke in now, dilapidated as it was. Luna stepped outside and felt the moisture of stagnant puddles splash upon her feet. As a once-cleric of Atmeria, she nary had to look down to intrinsically know that it was quite unclean. Two others were with her, she had similarly quickly realized: other vampires.

Luna stepped away from her coffin, eyes turned to the cathedral. Her hands clasped in prayer before her as she strode lightly forward.

"To awaken here, her voice crystalline in our minds... Yes. There is no question of our path forward," Luna replied to Dragan, each word of hers steeped in melody. She looked to Dragan and Illena with a pleasant smile. "Though we've not had each other's company much, I am glad to see your faces once more."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Full
Character Sheet

LUNA EMERALTIDE
♀ | 5'8"

---

♪Rest now, in my arms
This needn't be a nightmare
Dream my voice, hear my song
Your blood is safe with me♪

Abilities:

A longing for control, stasis, and jurisdiction serve as the fundament of Luna's peculiar magic, borne of her unique and particularly strong capacity for enthrallment. So potent is the pierce of her mystic gaze and the ineffable quality of her voice that even her kin sometimes cannot resist. The extreme character of this ability manifests too in her applied magic as ethereal chains, enrapturing spirits, and dismissive auras. Upon the battlefield, Luna dominates her adversaries by way of binding them into paralysis or sapping their will.

Luna can ensnare victims with manifested chains, tying their arms to prevent retaliation, or binding their legs in place to stop their movement. Similarly, she can achieve the same effects by draining the target of their inclination to fight -a 'charm' spell, more or less. At its most powerful, Luna can outright dominate a victim's mind, temporarily throwing them into thralldom, and contesting against their willpower.

Each of these things Luna manifests through her gaze and through voice. Beautiful and soothing, her voice can at one moment be merely an enticing melody, and the next a disorienting curse. To mortals, even unintentionally, a look into her eyes for just a little too long may draw dizziness, confusion, or captivation.

She is in all ways a siren that nullifies and neutralizes, leaving one helpless of her approach when at last her saber or fangs find their way into flesh.

Personality:

Matronly. Focused. Curious.

Luna favors peace over violence, and would rather a world return to its former glory, than to stagnate in moonless ennui as it is. To her, everything now is a mistake that must be corrected, albeit with carefully-designed adjustments in favor of her own kind. Though loyal to vampire-kind and Ichor, Luna holds that man is an existence that should be respected less as cattle, and more as a reservoir of 'friends' to draw from. The connotation in her wording and demeanor, however, ties the nature of 'friends' and 'pets' closely together. A servant, a dog, or a cow -each is still something that even humans can come to 'love and respect' despite the reality of their existences.

Posturing as an accommodating and reliable figure, Luna strives to be a mentor and leader in many ways, perhaps out of a longing to be considered helpful and appreciated. With a longing for the return of the moon, she is driven to uplift Ichor, her kin, and all those who would further this endeavor. Some might call her ambitious, though Luna would describe herself as a merely hopeful soul.

Though outwardly cold in demeanor, she is in reality quite fond of socializing, new relationships, and even comedy. With a joke, her poised expression turns to giddy laughter, and the veil of seriousness drops in favor of someone amicable and friendly. Though her dedication to her goals are iron, she need not be herself.

Biography:

When Luna yet breathed, her profession was that of a priestess in service to the goddess Atmeria, now long forgotten by man. As a priestess to the deity of rivers, lakes, and other freshwater sources, Luna blessed locales with safe travels, bountiful harvests of fish, and purity. The sanctity of wells, guarding them from proliferating disease and taint, fell into her purview as well.

The sole caretaker of a temple to Atmeria, Luna was more often visited by hopeful suitors rather than villagers seeking divine blessings and rituals. Her immaculate voice, like crystalline pristine waters of a mountain stream, drew the attention and desire of many. Some merely sought her innocent company, while others nigh-demanded less savory things.

In the twilight of the Ophidiel Era, one such persistent suitor would visit upon Luna not merely his own charming company, but eternity itself. The vampire, in their affair with Luna, feared the loss of her immaculate song, and begged her to remain at his side into the yawning road of forever. Smitten by his person, and herself always an aloof priestess, Luna accepted his proposition and bound her destiny to endless time.

The rendezvous with the man would not last, in a cruel twist of fate: he himself would not last, leaving the once-mortal priestess alone in the Gotterdamerung. As the curtain upon the world descended but inches above the stage, Luna took to wandering, drinking in all that she may experience, and honing the beliefs in Ichor that now guide her newly-awoken chapter.