Curse this infernal desert, curse the sun and the blazing heat that drove every drop of water from the skin as sweat dripping down the crest of the breast and the nape of the neck. Nymeria would have sold her soul right then and there if she had had one, a subject of some debate, as she drove on through the blistering heat. Sand whipped and cut her pale flesh, vibrant red caking with dust before it could clot leaving muddled streaks along the ribbons of her clothing. “Who in the nine hells dreamt this place into existence,” she growled, the sound rumbling forth in waves, harkening back to her pure form. 


Nymeria had set forth on this cursed adventure before knowing the true scope of the issue, the cursed rising from the dead and bringing with them the powers of the sands…this was god power, but not one that she had recognized. Not like the powers of her mistress, not like the power of darkness or death….more. So much more. Nymeria stopped, the heat too much, the sand hurting too much…there was so much worked against the lost girl that she merely sat down ready to admit defeat. 

“Alright Dalanesca, you win, come and get me you bitch!” The words stung, but what was a familiar without her sorceress, what was a servant with no master? Soon, so soon, Nymeria would join her mistress in the afterlife, and there would be peace- and above all, no fucking sand. AS Nymeria laid down, a sandstorm beginning to kick up in the distance, wind howling as it came to sweep her back to her prior existence, Air….the fuel for fire, the conduit that fueled her being…simpler times….

Ice blue eyes slid closed sand slowly covering her legs, the stinging heat fading with each passing moment, the haboob visible in the distance. Nymeria laughed manically, she had come from the realm of air, and here it was to summon her back, lighting flashing within the enormous dust cloud, calling to her, thunder calling to her heart as the loud crack of poor called her home, home to the realm of air.

Come home Nymeria, the winds wailed, she turned her face up to accept the fate that welcomed her. This plane was toxic, consumed by greed and power and left the mortals to claw their way from the dregs back into the graces of demonic deities. Better that her mistress was gone, better that this world was being consumed by evil.

Domus Tenebris was rather quiet, and Dalanesca found herself basking in the silence.  She had spent a great deal of time in the wastes of the Harena Desert as of late, battling the hordes of undead that she was unable to control.  That damnable lich priest had taken up far too much of her time with his consumption of souls, and that was something she was wholly unappreciative of.  She had enough, and had retired back to her home for some rest and relaxation…

The relaxation faded once she felt her name being called from the damned desert.

She had gotten rather decent at tuning out the calls when they came.  Strange cultists and the overly enthusiastic psychopaths prayed to her on a daily basis, and it was enough to drive her insane - thus, she educated herself… but there was something different about this call.  This call was laced with a different sort of power, as well as anger… and her interest was piqued to the point where she was not bothered by the fact that her peacefulness had been disrupted.

With a wave of her hand, she disappeared from the quiet halls of Domus Tenebris and reappeared in the hot, desolate sands of Harena, not far from a woman who lay in the sand, looking as though she were mere inches from making a one-way trip to Inferos.  She walked closer to the woman, crouching down slightly to examine her a bit more, making eye contact with her as she lifted her face.  "And just who might you be that curses my name?" she asked, sensing a strangely familiar power - was it the power of an old god, perhaps? - tilting her head slightly as she continued to analyze her.  The goddess's hair whipped about in the harsh desert winds, her skirts flowing just as well.  "And to call me a bitch, of all things… Only my friends have such a privilege, and you are not one of those."

"Here," she said, and tossed a canteen of water imbued with a healing property at the woman, curious to find out who she was and why her call resonated so much with her.  "Drink this, and enlighten me," she said.

The heat was too much, bearing down on the world in nauseating waves, stealing the breath from those caught in the deluge of misery. Nymeria had spent this time contemplating the folly that had lead her to this existence, answering the call of a sorcerer all those years ago. She had been tied to Rhylana ever since, a cat at that point that would grow and change with the power of her new mistress. No one had said what would happen when that mistress died, no one said that she would feel so unbelievably alone in this world, that it would consume her and leave her like…like this. 

Had they known? Had Dalanesca known? Great, she was going to die with a headache that was almost as oppressive as the sun. Curse the maker of these lands, curse the useless mortal world that now was her home.

Then, Dalanesca was there, darkness personified that looked at her with such curiosity that it stole her breath away. She was a beautiful creature, but there was more…a beauty that was tinged with a brutality that smacked of death, a sudden finality that made the pressure on Nymeria’s throat ease. It would end soon. It had to end soon. 


But she was hit with a bladder of water, ordered to drink and explain. “Bu…” the look on Dalanesca’s face indicated there was no argument. Struggling with the lid to the waterskin, Nymeria cursed before opening it and drinking the healing elixir. Inch by inch she could feel the potion healing the damaged muscles with icy proficiency. Each breath became easier as the girl slowly sat upright, no looking to the Goddess before her. Literally saved by death, her shame was now complete. Nymeria blinked, eyes bright once more as she was left baffled by the deity before her….why not simply take the soul, why not kill her and be done with it?

Why save her?



“My name is Nymeria, and I called you by name because I knew it would summon you here, in hopes to incur your wrath upon my sorry existence.” It was the truth, her name, the reason, she had offered it all. There were some key portions left out, certainly, but that was not for the goddess to know at this time. “I have nothing in this world,” truth, eyes glittering as she rubbed the sand from them and stood to be almost the full height of the goddess herself. Pale hair filled with sand, clothes tattered, Nymeria looked like a vagrant, which she supposed she was…no longer an elegant member of the house of fires and darkness. 

Taking a steadying breath, the familiar…no, the sorceress squared her shoulders and met Dalanesca’s eyes. “I was the familiar to the Empress of flames, now I am….this.” she gestured to her too thin body, clothes left in tatters, hair dulled by the elements. Once a beautiful creature, once a liger of astounding beauty…it was shameful. If the sorcerer could see her now, if her mistress could see her, they’d both die of shame. 

Dalanesca only blinked at Nymeria as she offered her name.  It rang a bell in her mind, from days in the past long before she had achieved divinity herself.  "Unfortunately for you, Nymeria, I do not spend most of my time ending the 'sorry existence' of common mortals," she said, her voice rather dry.  Of course, she knew that Nymeria was not an ordinary mortal - she knew, thanks to her divinity, that she carried the very essence of a fallen goddess herself - a follower of her in a time long since gone.  When she stood to face her, Dalanesca had to admit that she was impressed with her gumption.  "You claim to have nothing in this world, yet it still seems you carry a sense of pride, else you would not stand to me in such a way," she said, facing her eye to eye.  She could see that there was a dignity to this person, a dignity that seemed to have been beaten down by the harsh sun and sands of the desert."

"The late Rhylana… yes," she said, as Nymeria confirmed her suspicions.  "I had the pleasure of meeting her once long ago, before I attained divinity myself - suffice to say I have taken one of the thrones of her father, if I am not mistaken," she said.  There was no air of haughtiness to her voice, no sense of betterment - only pure fact and statement.  "You say that this is your state, though once cleaned up from the sun and sand, I would beg to differ.  You still carry the significant air, the air of someone who once walked with purpose.  Though, perhaps walking is not quite the term we should use," she said, offering Nymeria a smirk as she indicated that she was aware of her previous state.

"I can't offer you the power and glory that you once held as Rhylana's familiar… nor do I have any need for one myself," she added. "What I can offer, however, is a place to clean yourself up and perhaps regain your strength - maybe you can tell me a bit more about your previous mistress - that is, unless you are too upset with me for not 'ending your miserable existence,'" she added, offering her a bit of a smirk once more.  If Nymeria accepted, she would open a portal back to Inferos, where her servants would come and tend to Nymeria before they would converse a bit more on the subjects at hand.