Bio: The Twisted Tales of the Darkness and the Bird

Name: Raven

Appearance: standing at around 5’8" this half human half something elvin, held eyes that would change color depending on mood or thoughts, Red hair that would fall over an eye at times, movements like a dancer a cat. leather or cloth held around her neck hiding a nasty Garret wire wound. another that went along her left leg hidden by a Serpentine Dragon (Chinese) Tattoo, and on her back Black Wings that looked tattered another tattoo.

This Sad Tale starts in a Large City along one grimy back street with n a Whore house. A Human Female gives birth to a red headed Half breed naming her.. Tilly.

Growing up this little half breed learned to avoid many things, those seeking to collect her for slavery, or for Certain Clientele that enjoyed the young… When her mother died of disease she left not wishing to follow her mothers footsteps.
At the mercy of the streets she would of died young or ended in a bad place. Yet a Miracle in a twisted fashion saved her from such. Taken in by two men. Rory the Assassin and Silth Leaders of the West Gang. She was given a home a Family. Rory was not around much, off on missions or scouting for new Talent, so her training fell to Silth more then not.

She grew into a fine Roof walker, pick pocket and throat slitter now one would think she would be happy… But Silth did things that kept such from truly taking root. Getting her drunk and marking her skin as he wished was one. Broken black wings on her back, a Dragon covering a long scar on her one leg. Keeping her from finding romance or even a simple lover. small moments of words that turned the Young breed into a bitter solitary Bird.

Her only light as when Rory visited and his most favored Student a odd creature from a different place, a strange half breed part elvin and part Draconic, both bitter though the Dragon was so very much older acted oddly almost young having holes in ‘its’ memory.

As she grew older turning into her 20’s her 30’s a raid from another guild took place. in the chaos a Garret wire slipped around her neck. dragged off the wire digging into her neck. Alone with her attacker a Shock to behold, twas Silth who proceeded to try and rape her.
Sadly he forgot she was not truly helpless even loosing blood and air, pulling a dagger as she bad mouthed and gloated, stabbing him in the gut. she left him.. dieing, bleeding out after she castrated him and shoved the Balls into his mouth.
Stumbling away she wrapped her wounds and fled the City, and somehow even shes unsure of ending up in a new land. Yet thankfully she was not completely alone….


Name: Tristanna Tyrial / Tristen Tyrial (Tyr)

Race: Elf/Half White Dragon

Appearance: stands at almost 6′ with pale almost whiteish blue skin and long hair as white a snow or moonlight, Pale Ice blue eyes that were reptilian slit. Skin was covered by scars that looked like skinning lines from shoulder area to ankle. on the left cheek was a small tattoo of a dragon holding a dagger. Small Horns set in the hair almost unseen and small wings on ‘there’ back that only stretched about 2′ wing tip to wing tip, Tattered and torn useless for flight or anything else.

(Female Form) Voice was rough and cold very unkind and snappish

(Male form) Voice was low smooth sweet and charismatic maybe holding buried deep a coldness of a hunter.

Bio (Original Bio so sorry about the odditys =D)

 Life is a corridor of doors left open so that the memories of your existence could always be accessible. Yet for some the doors are shut, maybe peeked into, but mostly ignored; then there are those who burned the corridor, loosing their past so as to never be pulled down by it. Still the Ashes would always leave a bitter taste of what might and truly should have been. 

Her past was lost, her present a painful darkness behind her eyes, her future, her future… Muffled screams drag themselves into her pointed, little, ears somehow she knew they were her own. Feelings of Air across gaping wounds, the acrid smell of blood and fire, voices that mocked in questioning words she no longer cared to understand; tormented, broken of body and mind; the pain seemed an eternity, yet she knew that time passed. Then silence. The pain slowly diminished but the darkness abided. Peace and with it a sleep so deep she remained unaffected. A Voice rumbled in her blood cooling her burning skin. 

Time held no sway in that restorative sleep. Years pass by like wind on the water leaving behind only ripples – The voice’s effect was the same, mending and changing as it saw fit. She is completely oblivious until one day… 

The forest was silent. A small mound begins to shift, leaves and other forest detritus shake and fall revealing a long, thin form. The creature pulls itself out of the rest of the waste and collapses unto the forests loamy ground. The dappling sunlight crept across unnaturally pale skin, scars webbed across a tenuous form. Coughing, more of the forest floor falls away; a scaled affect is glimpsed in the skin and vanishes just as quickly. Clawed hands push upwards and the creature nearly falls backwards as it gains a seated position. More coughing, more falling leaves, and we can see the creature is a long, willowy woman. Her hair, the color of the moon’s kiss when clean is brown with a green edge, pools around her like a stagnant lake. Another cough brings her head forward and a tiny lump appears behind a pointed ear. She moves her hair away from a surprisingly clean face her hands skim over the lumps, revealing two slim horns. She lifts her head, blinking unusual ice blue eyes, unusual in that instead of being round they were slit like a reptiles. Squinting into the fading light a rusted voice breaks the stillness, “Wh-who…”More coughing, as her throat tries to close, “Who a-am…I?” The racking of her body nearly collapses her to the ground. The dark blankness of her mind offers, “Dri-gen, Drigen… No…no-not m-my… name.” She licks lips gone dry before the tree above her broke ground, “Tr…Trisss…Tristana…ye-yes, my name.” Bitter Ashes fell her as the two names return; one she knows as her own, the other a God, one she vaguely remembers following but is mostly lost to the Darkness of Before. 

Unable to move, completely depleted from the trauma of remembering her own name and waking from a forced slumber, she laid waiting. After several hours a small furry creature that came to investigate lost its life as she devoured it raw, uncaring. Night was well advanced when she felt strong enough to make her way east. After a while she stopped at a tavern called… Spoke…something, relieving a drunk mercenary of all but his skivvies while she waited. 

As a new sun peaked over the horizon, a waif in ill fitted armor emerges from the forest into town. Her hair badly shorn and a sword belted to her side, not to mention the money pouch she got off that mercenary, she walked down the road. Looking carefully around, squinting at the light, she turned south. She felt like she knew this place, the taste of ashes teasing her tongue; no matter, she would make new memories and chase the ashes away. A power in her blood, so different from the one she had once felt from the Shadows; a power that rumbled and stretched the wings of a battered soul, calling her down another path, though the skills of the former still lingered.

Ashes of Memorys: peices of the Past returned. 

Fragments of memories Like Ashes in a Fire pit jumbled up but still making a whole someday. 
The Night held a Chill of Fall as He waited crouched like some creature on a rooftop watching a building waiting for his mark. He had stalked her for months watching her pattern her every step, he had nothing but time, if she died before his blade then so be it, he was already older then he should have been. She would not be showing for a bit longer as he yawned tongue curling like a cats behind slightly pointed teeth. The Sound of the door slamming shut making him look down to see her dashing from the building. 

He cursed something had disrupted her pattern, a tip off to her death? Heh no matter as he lifted his arm a small what looked like an Arm Crossbow and a small dart and aimed at the fleeing women. A few seconds after he fired the dart, the women stumbled and collapsed to the ground. With speed and agility he moved and swept her up making it back into shadow before anyone could know anything had happened. Once back to his roost he watched as another shadow appeared were she had fallen… 

They had sent another after her and Take HIS Kill how dares this person… first though to find out who was behind her fleeing then who had sent another. Back to the Shady inn he had booked a room at. No questions from the man behind the desk. Once in his room he dumped in women on the bed not even tying her and waited. When she woke looking around in alarm he smirked and lifted his arm again and shot her with another dart. 

“So you tell the truth my dear” He gave her a death head grin as she looked at him. “Why did you run?” 

She sputtered some stuff and though he looked dead calm to her on the inside he seethed coldly the vary Farging Wench that had sent him on this mission had told his mark she was hunted…but none of that mattered now. With a cold grin he moved tot eh door and nodded. “You’re free to go and safe no one will kill you ever fear” 

He watched her go and waited. A few moments later the sound of a body hitting the floor and he walked out drawing a sword, the poison he had shot her with had finally acted. With a fast slash and some work he severed her head leaving the body to be picked clean. 

When he got to the house of his employer a stained bag in hand he was shown to her study, this women that could have been a snakes relative so cold and deadly. “Here ya go one dead Wench” Dropping the bag onto her desk so the head rolled out and smirked inwardly as the Women started and made a disgusted look. 

“So you have well done Trist” She got up and went to a safe dialing up the numbers not hiding the code and got his price. “Here you go I have another job if you are interested” 

“No thank you I have a job to finish first” With a swift movement grabbed the women and slammed her to the wall. “You tried to up my Kill and now you seek to kill me… Death is your only answer” 

Swiftly he pined her hands and feet to the wall with daggers grinning as he slit her open from her chest down so she died slowly and opening the Chest grabbed all the money before leaving satisfied on the wall next to her dieing body in her own blood…”no one Double Crosses the Shadow of Death” 

The morning was silent in the compound everyone morning the death of a Clan Sibling he had been the best of the single Death dealers. Sitting in a tree away from everyone Trist shook his head. The Boy had been good a mere 20 years and of the Death Rank the highest one can hope to gain with out killing the Elder off. But the child had one Flaw his God. He remembered that day finding the boy Broken and laughing, looking like some great thing had thrown him around like a rag, the boy had babbled about his God Raekhan and the Gift he had been granted. It was true the Gift of Rage made him to the place he had been but he was unable to control the fire and it made him sloppy enough to get caught and killed. 

Jumping from the tree he had been in he made his way to the small temple set aside for all the Clan to worship there God or Goddess of choice. Pulling his Clan dagger from the spot in his boot he laid it down and lowered his head sending a prayer to his Lord Drigen to watch his step to not let him end so pathetically for the Game was not yet over nor the pieces all placed. Afterwards he had left leaving his dagger for his God not realizing he had been watched. 

That night at Dinner words were said for the lost Sibling then the Sensei Called him forth while holding a box engraved with Dragons, the top of the box a Dragon holding a Sword dancing in Shadow with Jade, Ruby and Onyx stones inlayed into the design. 

“I noticed you left your weapon to thy God so I am hoping this will be a humble replacement Sir Death” The box opened and inside resting on Velvet and silk a Slim dagger the vary blade’s surface covered in Runic Writing, the handle a Black Dragon the blade was hard to see for it danced with dark energy a constant moving shadow over the blade. Trist felt the blade and swallowed this was the mark of the top assassin the Death giver. This blade bound itself to one and one only becoming a dull useless non magical item on the owner’s death. He took the blade expecting to be nothing more then an illusion, but the feel of the blade in his hand a feeling of something dark and hungry emanating from it he Grinned and bowed deeply. “I will not fail thee Master or this blade, by Blood and Shadow may the Clan be always standing…by this mark by this weapon I pledge myself to the Call of Death and Shadow…” 

he laid the blades edge on the Clan marking on his right cheek faded and stretched from the many years he had lived with in. then as the room broke into screaming and yelling he ran the undaggered hand though his hair checking the twin bumps under the hair really fast as he did to make sure they did not need filing yet and took his seat again sliding the dagger into it’s place in his boot. 

A summers day spent inside as her mother scoured and filed the two bone like protrusions on her head 

“Sweetie Trisatana you will have to do this too your Fath. My Husband must never know all right no one must know you are an elf simple as that nothing more or less an elf.” 

Another summer day nibbling at the Treat gained for her fifth year living… the voice of her Father… 

“You have all it takes to be a great Clan Child you would bring honor but for that to happen…I Have No Daughter… I have A Son…Trist you are my Son understand that you are not a girl you are a BOY!!” 

A toy hidden till alone with in the compound, the only thing from home a simple toy top. But nothing would save him older boys found him and laughing took it away joking among themselves as a few tears fell. A dash to a tree and more tears. Till a kind voice and hand pull him away, letting him cry. Only after was it found the shoulder he had gotten wet was the Sensei’s head man himself. 

A crisp spring day shifting from one foot to another as gifts were handed out to the new graduated Students. A small object placed in his hands by the Sensei himself with a wink. Looking down to find a harmonica with the elven words- "toror of loomin OR lumbe OR" meaning “brother of shadow”. A grand gift indeed. 

The day was bright the compound abuzz with excitement a fight between the top Lone Shadow vs. the top paired Shadows. Everyone came, any of the Shadows not out on the hunt, the whole compound. 

He walked the arena perimeter annoyed he had just gotten back from that semi bungled job. Though the thought of that –Things- pets finding her pinned to the wall did bring a cold smile to his face. But instead of being able to rest, offer up his tribute to the alter he had been challenged to prove himself. He did not care that much… but something felt wrong and as he watched everyone gather that feeling grew, a hand went into his pocket only to curse as he remembered the Harmonica was still in his room. 

The Fight was brutal for the pair. He never allowed them any room, pulling all his abilities, using his gear to darken the arena then going invisible, he downed them one at a time, even the Shadow dancer of the pair fell fast. Yet before he could throw the wooden blade he had been using down… 

Pain racking his body holding him in place as dozen of spells went off from the surrounding forest… Death. So much death to those that made it there life to hand it out. Watching as hooded hidden men and others killed with no mercy his brothers, destroying in a single day, mere hours a great Clan…. 

So much more to it but no the memory of the last hours still hidden so much still lost. 


That last memory a final piece returned, so sharp to bring her to her knees, choking back a scream. 

With the Clan dead… those who held him brought forth the Man that had been like a father the Sensei. Before his eyes and the rest of the day they tortured that Old Elvin man using techniques he himself would come to know all too soon. Though it hurt to see such the true pain that drove daggers into his heart was the one doing it. A Clan Sib one of there own had destroyed everything all because of a mistake made. The last job. His last job the killing of that Woman for double crossing him… his Sib was also hers…destroying his clan torturing his Sensei all for revenge on one person…

— Though many things, many changes did ‘they’ go though along the way a Portal found a path taken a new realm, were a elf assassin found ‘them’ Rory. he took them under his wing, the magic becoming not as Important, yet a gift was given a Spell that gave hope to the darkness to Tyr to have himself a true life. from him they relearned how to truly fight to utilize the magic and combat together. They also met a young half breed Raven, both bitter souls a friendship of oddity between them grew and warmed. Till seeking answers after the guild attack a odd portal found and entered hoping to find ‘there’ Bird of darkness.

Image, Image( just the wings mostly)

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