Aralina Oni`antae
| Aralina Oni`antae | |
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Long ago...
Aralina Oni`antae, Royal Assassin of ShadowMoon Isle, by means of physical appearance, can only be described as exquisite, or perhaps even "achingly beautiful". Her entire frame of six feet of lithe, svelte grace, stands tall in the midst of the dark shadows in which she normally prowls, seeking her next victim amongst the sea of worthless souls.
Her long, shapely legs carry her slender, and most definitely sensually-curved, figure effortlessly as she follows the chosen path of the hunted, the unfortunate, and the soon-to-be dead. Silence seems to be the ally of this one, the only ally she might come to have, as she strides undetected through the shadows of the alleyways.
Like most assassins of the medieval era, her dark-hued attire hugs her frame tightly, allowing her to move with slight sound; black breeches, a dark blue tunic, and a midnight blue cloak, all of simple make, seem to suit this one well. The cowl alone, even without the sanctuary of the night's blessing shadows, proves to be well-adept in concealing the usually-stern visage of Aralina Oni`antae.
Still, those few lucky souls--perhaps those who cower below her whilst she kills--might catch a fleeting glimpse; gently-curled wisps of silken obsidian, lustrous like that of well-polished glass, frame the flawless flesh of her delicately-sculptured features as glacial eyes of deep cerulean penetrate the soul of the victim with their endless depths of ice. The wave of darkness that is her hair cascades over her slopped shoulders, ending in pleasant ringlets at the small of her back. Full lips, laced with a combination of russet and gold-hued rouge, curl deviously into a smile of un-merciless malevolence.
A pinnacle of false innocence, and one who would be foolish enough to underestimate the woman of darkness, would likely find the end of the blade embedded deep within the flesh of their throat. Many have been deceived by the beauty of this woman of merely twenty-six cold winters. Most have thought of her as an angelic being, until of course those flashing blades are withdrawn; two sets of deadly blades hang from the belt on her curved hips. These serve as tools of deceit, death, and quick skill, all equipped with cruel uneven edges. A skillful huntress of the night to say the least.. all beware the Huntress of the Night; Aralina Oni`antae.
Aralina now permits herself to be in the absence of common presence, simply a wraith in the darkness of the night; here and then gone in the next fleeting moment. Rarely does she visit any longer, perhaps off in other realms and instilling her wicked desires elsewhere. Will this woman of darkness find a suitable resting place? Perhaps not.. But always will this figment of ethereal chill be present whether it is noticed or not.
Now...
Those rare of individuals who have caught a glimpse of the assassin of ShadowMoon Isle in the most recent of days, and have remembered her from all those years ago, have said that the woman has grown older, though in the most graceful of fashion. Silver strands have now peppered her mane of darkest black, and yet no other signs of older years have marred her beautiful face, nor the fluidity of her strides. Now thirty-four harsh winters, one begins to wonder if the assassin has lost her cruel edge, has grown languid in her once-precise execution of the blade. Perhaps it would not be best to confirm or deny the rumors floating about...
Whereabouts
Rumors have it that the assassin now resides in the province of New Dauntless, but in the recent days, sightings have her in Myrken Wood itself. But why?
