Niniva Aerovine- Resubmission

(I have revised much of the sentence structure and story for the purpose of understanding as well as grammatical correctness. It still isn't perfect but it is certainly now superior. More added for a more prologue-esque ending.)


Name: Niniva Aerovine

Race: Lucarvi (a type of sub demon, later described in Bio), Once human.

Age: 23

Time Period: Used in an "Enlightenment" Age RP or similar. e.g Renaissance. Think Spanish inquisition era. This gives a slightly more advanced society in general while retaining medieval elements. Her world in particular has heavy elements of a 'steam punk' genre.

Alignment: Neutral

Weapons: (She has the following eventually, though not within the prologue)

Hemeranyx. A set of ridged dual blades crafted for her through unspecified means, given to her when she became an associate of the Arbiters of Wrath (information coming sometime). They are enchanted to return to their owner upon beckoning. They can meet at their base to form a swallow.

The Melancholy. A Flintlock Pistol /w custom revolving chamber for 5 shot succession. (More of a revolver/flintlock hybrid really. weapon is replaced by a small crossbow in RP's banning guns) Presented to her when she became an associate of the Arbiters of Wrath.

Appearance: While reverted to human form, her skin is slightly tanned, hair is a forest green and slipped to mid-neck length. eyes of gentle hazel. standing only about 5'6. her frame rather lean, bust is of an approximate C size. When in lucarvi state, the skin loses much pigmentation, eyes splice and turn a crimson red, hair loses much of its color, the natural color evident at the ends of strands. A set of small fangs form in mouth. ([Both Pictures created by an RP friend for my character]). In either form, the point of infection is always visible upon her mid back, often covered by clothing. a black smog looking mark upon the skin.

Personality: Indifferent, Callous. Outright Vicious when danger presents itself, she comes across as an enigmatic killer, Remorseless in her works. Beneath however, a fragment of her humanity remains. Given the right circumstances and situations, she can learn to trust, be trusted; provide loyalty, and even to laugh love and enjoy life. Overtime that is the very shift that transpires, as lucarvi become more 'civilized' in their thinking process.

Family:

Lavona Aerovine. Human-Krah(native race), Mother, Deceased.

Althea Weston. Human-Cyrelian, Half-Sister, Living, Knight in service to Cyrel. (My alt character, Profile coming soon)

Victor Weston: Human-Cyrelian, Father, Unknown. Nomadic Blacksmith

(Making Niniva, Half Cyrelian, Half Krah, at least before infection)

Bio & Story: Once a simple girl of a tribe called the Krah, on the outskirts of Tarvin, the capital city of the Cyrel Empire. Consisting of a small community thick with tradition, using magic where the Empire used technology. Populated by only a few dozen or so people; Living in a relative peace with their powerful neighbors. That was of course until The great conflict between the realm of demons and the world of humankind. The tribe, would be thrust into a reckoning forced upon all mortals and beings of this earth.


Months into the war, when times looked their bleakest, A traveling brigade of Demonkin known as the Evox, with skin like the shields of men and eyes as piercing as that of a lion; on their way to march upon the capital city, ravaged the small village. Amid the destruction, they released a type of parasite, the Arackneu upon the small population. By this time, Niniva's mother had already been slain grievously by their curved blades, leaving her "Lucky" enough to meet with an even graver fate as the Evox moved onto what seemed an inevitable conquest. Arackneu, were left to finish the job, in their own distinct way.


Native to their realm, it had little lethality on demonkind, though, upon the human anatomy, it was a deadly vermin. With 4 jagged legs and the mass of a small tarantula, they latch upon prey, viciously burrowing beneath the skin. In most cases it controls the host, making them ideal for spy work, mincing among crowds, or simply to swarm. Though not all cases are like this, in fact it is the exception to this process that would later make all the difference. The human body is a foreign entity to these hellish insects. When the body is strong enough to repel control, an unintentional merging initiates. it fuses with the host, drastically changing the very biology of the would be victim, right on down to the genes. a painful and agonizing process, few among those who repel control live. Survival comes relatively infrequently, the host often becoming unconscious, drifting into a coma-like state. By the time they awaken, they are not truly human, nor truly otherworldly. they are essentially what lies between. They become what would be later dubbed a "Lucarvi". Emotions are dampened though not eradicated. making it hard to feel either happiness or pain (an effect loosens over time). Human morality is gone, leaving no line between what is good or evil. The pre-described physical changes occur, leaving them a sore thumb among common folk. The senses of hearing and smell are enhanced, as well as agility. strength however, receives little difference. Their new biology matches their hasty nature. Oily blood surging through heated veins at 1.5 times the normal human rate. Characteristics of the parasite carry on over to the host, to create a new being altogether.

Niniva would awaken to an ominous dusk sky, just hours later, a foreboding orange over the horizon, the stench of death filling her senses. Around her lie the bodies of the slain and those who fought infection but would face a demise soon after. picking herself up to her feet, she noticed the grand city in its splendor , with smoke as black as night drifting into the air, and several defensive walls torn to pieces. Though, it would seem, the flags of patriots waved, victory had been won over the invading hordes. Through whatever means they had fostered, natural selection ran in favor of them this day.

Her eyes trailed over the bodies of the dead, oddly finding it difficult to feel sorrow for the fallen, Though she recognized her former kin in their gory hunks of flesh. Attempting to walk, she'd almost stumble over herself, falling upon her hands and knees, clothes torn over her body. Still weakened from what had transpired, chemistry still adjusting . She had a thorough glimpse at her hands, the differing coloration surprising her, she'd lean back on her knees in examination. Looking over herself with curiosity, thoughts frantic, what had been done to her she thought? she hadn't much time to ponder however. Her ears suddenly perking to the sounds of booted feet upon dry dirt. Militiamen, armed with long swords and rifles entered the shambling remainder of bloodied huts. 4 all together, wearing brown leather and chest plates of iron.

Niniva again slipped up onto her feet, with a better knack for balance. She could smell them amongst the fumes of corpses. the stench of sweat, and grilled mutton. They came into view, their chatter soon turned silent; left only with the leaders assertive orders as their vision fell upon her. The two with rifles spread out to two sides and swiftly took aim. As the leader and his right hand man stepped closer with their weapons drawn. The leader shouted at her, asking what she was, dressed in tribe clothes but with the demeanor of something much different. Quick to believe her one of the marauding Evox remnants.

She hesitated, at a loss for words, herself confused, exhausted. knowing only these men presented harm, eyes shifting over the ground before her, spotting a knife of stone upon the soil a few feet away.

Without much reprieve the leader ordered back to his men, the initiative to attack. then would come a sound of thunder. Shots fired. A sudden instinct drove Niniva, dashing forward and lunging her body down, the rounds whizzing just over her, one slicing across her cheek, a narrow miss. She'd sprint forward wildly, dipping her hand down for the knife as she made way towards the two swordsman. A look of shock across the leader's grizzled face as he stepped back and frantically sliced his sword in a diagonal swipe as the feminine creature before him, feral as an injured wild tiger would dodge her slender form ever so slightly. The blade's whiplash across her back as she drove the dagger upwards in a thrust, straight into the jugular.

A light spray of blood splattered over her left cheek as she'd rip the weapon out and shove the body backward; her legs propelling her sideways in an evasive leap, missing another two rounds just as the second swordsman thrusted his weapon towards where she had stood. Her swift movement barely avoiding impalement. The cold metal of the flat end of his blade running across her skin, the sharp edge managing to cut into her stomach, creating another slit spilling black blood.

In a carnivorous fury she threw her stone dagger while in mid-bound at her assailant, the bloodied flint penetrating into the nape of his neck. Causing a gasp for breath as the red liquid flowed, just as she landed upon her dirtied feet. His body falling forward in front of her, Niniva agily ripped the blade from his throat and stepped sideways as he fell upon the soil.

Standing tall with a look of ferocity upon her cut face, the knife dripping at her side in her tight grasp. the two remaining militiamen, with their rifles, had readied their third shot. Gasps of fear as they pulled their trigger's; Firing unsteady , ill-aimed and desperate rounds. Whizzing to either side of her, she hadn't needed to attempt to dodge those. With no time to reload their weapons, the two turned to rush back to town in a life-or-death sprint. Bending at her waist Niniva sprinted after them, still wrought in her uncouth blood lust, catching up to one stumbling over his own feet. Her jagged weapon soon met into his back straight through the fragile leather. Tearing it upwards, she ripped it across the the rendered flesh before yanking it out, the body fallen upon the stained grass; the 4th militiamen now far away in his rush. Her ferocity subsiding, she lacked the care to chase now that her life was safe, al beit, bloodied. Perhaps a mistake however. As he would live to tell tales of the mystery being slaughtering his comrades. Knowledge of her kind would inevitably fill the air of taverns and gospel of doomsayers.

Turning about, chest heaving in a pant, the Lucarvi whetted her eyes upon the scenery. Beyond the ravaged sanctuary of her former home lied a deep wood that soon gave out to open fields. She needed a place to go.. a haven to collect herself within. In her vivid memory, she recalled a few hapless homes scattered here and there along the dank trail, which eventually led onto the next bastion of civilization. Night was beginning to overtake the sky.. she would have to hurry. "If i stay here.. more will come.." She spoke aloud to herself, breaking the unsettling silence. Knowing very well that leaving too, brought its dangerous.. Lycans roamed about for sure. She sneered to herself over this paradox of the choices before her.. "Leaving is the only option."

Half hour passed, The moons settled in the sky. The corpses laden around the town set up side by side out in the open. A final act of her former heritage.. respect for the dead. Clad in what clothing she could scavenge. A shroud of animal hide and few thin articles of torn clothing, laden only in the cultural markings of her former life. A sharpened stone kris, sat firmly across her lower back. Niniva set out into the darkness. Just in time as well.. as that lone survivor of the squad had come back.. a torch in toe. Muttering frantically to a battalion of heavily armed soldiers behind him; he shook a pointed finger at the lined corpses and the bodies of his dead comrades. Swearing as the events that had transpired.. at the forefront of the brigade, a woman with orange-red hair and clad in heavy knight armor surveyed the scene amid the man's incoherent tale-telling. She Noted the dead.. and the missing.. for she knew this village well.