Legends of Belariath
Azyrmi Ryoko
Azyrmi Ryoko, the Dark Sylvan.
Late at night a group of cloaked figures stand around a pool in the middle of the forest, staring into it, their faces hidden as they look on into the water, curious about the rippling water it seems. One dark hand raises and a beam of light shoots into the water, making it swirl and twist till the water clears and images form on the surface. One voice asks, cold and feminine, hard and uncaring.
“So, you desire to know about where this dark sylvan came from, this Azyrmi Ryoko?”
“Yes, she puzzles me as to where she originated this girl with the heart of fire.”
“So be it then, you paid well enough… Pool of deep sight, show me what the origin and history is of the half dark elf, half sylvan elf Azyrmi Ryoko.”
The pool bubbles and distorts more and more. It’s powers reaching back to grab onto images of the far past. The sight is given of a dark elf assassin sneaking into a town of sylvans. Not long after a few of the houses go on fire and the dark elf is seen moving off, smirking, till he’s stopped by a sylvan hierophant. A long fight is seen, but the assassin simply was to strong, overpowering the woman, but not killing her, instead he tied her up and raped her for hours. Exhausted and drained the dark elf left her for near dead, leaving with his prize from the home of Azyrmi.
Yet… more then two years later a baby is born, born from the ravages of fire and death instilled on a guardian of nature. The dark sylvan Azymirigino Yenslaten Ry-Oh-Kiardi. Her mother took good care of her during her young years, even if she even as a toddler was hyperactive and furious, but she also had this dumb streak, one not seeming able to learn from mistakes that well.
Time passed by as did her mother, dying at a young age when she tried to ward off human soldiers from desecrating forests to make a short-lived camp. The young Azyrmi, maybe only ten in human age was left totally alone. She fled the wrath of the humans who went to take out any further remains of the sylvan town. She was left alone in the forests and would have died, were she not a natural survivor, able to keep on going. She used her knowledge of the forest to her own advantage, but she never had the affinities to become a true mistress of nature, it was not in her blood.
As time progressed she managed to stumble on an abandoned mage tower deep in the northern territories and find some books on magecraft, once owned by the owner of the tower, now a rotting corpse on the throne of his own tower. She explored it, nothing more but a 14 year old equivalent elfin. She nearly died when she managed to let some of the potions in the tower mix up and blow up. Yet she survived, soon after she managed to find out more and more, learning from the books on her own without guidance. Leading quite often to bigger and bigger booms. That is till the day she fled the tower, loss of memory of all of her past, alone and with nothing more but a few basic spells in her mind.
She went from town to town eventually, more like a clown as that was what she most easily managed to do. This she did till she stumbled on Nanthalion at the age of relative 21. She was found in the lonely inn by Belson, who took her under his care and collar for a while, but as she was quite the head strong type she soon found herself free again, though still with Belson and his household.
After some time she found the very silent half dark elf Saran in the inn, she took quite the pity on her loneliness and approached her. It did not take much for her before she realized this girl needed more guidance and she took her under her care as her own slave. Only recently, after the death of her lover Asuka did she let go of Saran to be at her side as her lover and a free person.
“So, this is what is up till now?”
The voice asked after looking for hours and hours at her antics, showing the dark sylvan to be far from a capable person.
“Yes, but you can see how much her potential grew in the last half year… she might suit your purpose nonetheless.”
“Indeed.”