| The subject of this article is dormant and is not currently active on the Earthen Ring Server. |
Basic Informay[]
- Full Name: Niain Bloodraven
- In-Game: Niain
- Nickname: Niain
- Loyalties: Herself, Circle of the Bloodraven
- Title: The Unforgiving.
- Race: Kal'dorei
- Class: Rogue
- Professions: Leatherworking and skinning, Expert Alchemy / Toxin Work
- Age: Unknown to even her
- Sex: Female
- Hair: Long silken, white tresses fall down to just above her waist
- Eyes: Hidden by the soft, pearly glow.
- Height: 6' 5"
Physical Description[]
((A rewrite comming soon!))
Standard Attire[]
Don't touch what you can't afford.
And I'm priceless.
-Almost always wearing something tight and revealing, it could be said that the elf has something of an exhibitionist inside of her. A simple wardrobe of perhaps two or three outfits, including what she would call her battle armor - just a random gathering of whatever works best - she often be seen in the same thing for days straight.
((Not finished. Need to gather screenshots and finish typing it up. Estimated time? A month or so, I'm lazeh. ))
Her Past[]
Niain lived two lives before Arriving in this world; one which she has never known, and one she wishes would join her first.
Her First Steps[]
Niain spent many days after her Waking wandering around, her eyes wide as she expirenced everything for the first time.. again. She, literally, could not remember the last time she had eaten solid food; Or a time where she had anything to eat besides what bowls of food came to her in the day, as she slept. Many months passed and she rarely traveled out of the glow of the forest she had found herself in, the growing taint to the north terrified her; such a horrible feeling it gave her. A land of nothingness to the south, patrolled by imposing green skinned men and oversized puppies kept her hiding in the shadows. The west held a beautiful ocean, controlled by hideous snake creatures more than willing to turn her into a decoration in their little underwater caves.. The woman had no room to travel freely.
Befriending the animals that roamed nearby, she soon gained an affinity for the creatures; most especially those in the canine family.
Her daily rations diminished as time went by, the bowls gradually carrying less and less. It crushed her when the food finally stoped. She went a few days without eating, believing her mysterious supporter had just forgotten her for a period or was distracted. Something, anything. She had never, in her limited memory, gone without this support... what could a woman do? Then it came, her first dagger, the sides sharp as one could want, the sides of the blade rounded, the tip sharpened, all seeming more like a short pike than anything else.
She stared down at it curiously, never having seen one before. She wondered where this peculiar thing came from, and it came to her. Perhaps her mysterious friend had forgotten it? ...While he was delivering her food! She rushed to where the bowls were normally left, and found nothing but a taunting layer of dust staring up at her.
Her first, of many, dissapointments.
Returning to the dagger, she took it in her hands.
As if a flood gate had opened, memories poured into her mind. The bleak blackness of her mind opening up to a bright light. A warm light, a welcome light. Pleasant thoughts were soon tossed away as echos of screams filled her ears, as if they were real. Visions of unspeakable acts were forced into her mind, none of which she could hide from by closing her eyes; although that didn't keep her from trying.
Seconds seemed like eternity, the waking nightmare finally waning. She realized everything was black, and that she was laying down on something hard. Wood. The ground, where she fell to writhe in her agony. Slowly the black faded into a pale gray, only seeing part of the world around her now.
After finally returning to normal, she realized she was laying a good five feet away from where she once was, the dagger clutched tightly in her hand. She stared down at it with a mixture of horror and fear, now knowing the purpose of this weapon. Her life or her friend's, a beast or an Elf's.
Sighing sadly she stood with wobbly legs, her entire body trembling. Walking out of the room with teary eyes, she called her canine companion...
Niain: In Depth[]
What isn't remembered, never happened.
Memory is meerly a record.
I need only rewrite that record
Niain's Way of Life[]
((Reserved, to come soon!))
Niain's Thoughts[]
((See above statement!))