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"Farewell Beautiful Black Spider"
"You mortals are so one dimensional..."
The words left her lips, painting a soft smile upon her features. What a hypocrite she had become. One dimensional thinking is what made her awaken to her curse to begin with. Oh, she would boisterously claim it was a blessing passed down to her from her maiden of undeath, but it was not so. She was a product of inferiority. The undead live to serve the living, and she was forced into this position. Even she could not help but choose a master, giving off feelings of it being so light hearted in origin, but it being so ingrained in her mind.
What could cause such a transformation in such a coveted Yathrin? There was a saying that originated in the old times.
"Lie with passion and be forever damned."
Those who worshipper her have not given her the title Vengeful Banshee for being understanding to the plights of others. No, the deepest of curses is reserved for those who wrong the Banshee. And she did, indeed. Such a favored priestess of Kiaransalee. Foremost in her worship to a point the other Yathrin envied her. However, it was her affections that damned her. For when the trap was sprung from the weakness of passion, it was the church that found itself destroyed. Such a betrayal from one so high...
Vampire... She wished she could enjoy such a freedom. She would have stepped into the sun long ago to join the others in the Demonweb who had gone before her. Instead she was cursed to the material, death only finding her in limbo, returning the next moon rise to live in the shame of it all. A limbo that forced her to watch her soul dance before her, so close but bound to the hands of Kiaransalee herself. Like a ghost with an unfulfilled purpose she lingered on. Hundreds of years, a millenia, will thousands pass before she could appease the debt incurred? Never to set foot in the midst of her own people. Each step below binding her back to the realm above come moonrise. And the sun itself, cursing her with Lathander's Ire.
She despised the sun and the moon both. Each toying with her. One forcing her return while the other forcing her departure. The whole state of things was maddening. Some would call this a blessing. Never to truly die because your goddess rejects your ascension. Even she, for a time, tried to see it this way. Oh yes, deathlessness made her joyful in the beginning. However, on the surface she was alone, an abomination, revolting, undead, Dhaerow, traitor, vampire. No, when nothing you do matters, when all you come to know decays, when any you would seek to know despise you, the curse becomes evident. Lock a man in a cave alone with no contact for a year, and he will become maddened. Maddened she had become. And in her madness she seeks to cling to others, anyone who will even tolerate her long enough.
Vampire. She would have begged for this curse to replace her own had any the power to grant it. She would have shoved a stake through her own heart and been done with it all long ago. Whatever damned afterlife she could have would be better than the life she has now. She would sell her soul to the first devil had it not been stripped from her.
Only false happiness will be painted on her face. Only temporary pleasures would find her. And all her misery would be masked behind a web of lies and false smiles.
"Farewell Devasha... You've been a great help to Lolth. May your sisters not judge you so harshly when you meet them in death."
"You mortals are so one dimensional..."
The words left her lips, painting a soft smile upon her features. What a hypocrite she had become. One dimensional thinking is what made her awaken to her curse to begin with. Oh, she would boisterously claim it was a blessing passed down to her from her maiden of undeath, but it was not so. She was a product of inferiority. The undead live to serve the living, and she was forced into this position. Even she could not help but choose a master, giving off feelings of it being so light hearted in origin, but it being so ingrained in her mind.
What could cause such a transformation in such a coveted Yathrin? There was a saying that originated in the old times.
"Lie with passion and be forever damned."
Those who worshipper her have not given her the title Vengeful Banshee for being understanding to the plights of others. No, the deepest of curses is reserved for those who wrong the Banshee. And she did, indeed. Such a favored priestess of Kiaransalee. Foremost in her worship to a point the other Yathrin envied her. However, it was her affections that damned her. For when the trap was sprung from the weakness of passion, it was the church that found itself destroyed. Such a betrayal from one so high...
Vampire... She wished she could enjoy such a freedom. She would have stepped into the sun long ago to join the others in the Demonweb who had gone before her. Instead she was cursed to the material, death only finding her in limbo, returning the next moon rise to live in the shame of it all. A limbo that forced her to watch her soul dance before her, so close but bound to the hands of Kiaransalee herself. Like a ghost with an unfulfilled purpose she lingered on. Hundreds of years, a millenia, will thousands pass before she could appease the debt incurred? Never to set foot in the midst of her own people. Each step below binding her back to the realm above come moonrise. And the sun itself, cursing her with Lathander's Ire.
She despised the sun and the moon both. Each toying with her. One forcing her return while the other forcing her departure. The whole state of things was maddening. Some would call this a blessing. Never to truly die because your goddess rejects your ascension. Even she, for a time, tried to see it this way. Oh yes, deathlessness made her joyful in the beginning. However, on the surface she was alone, an abomination, revolting, undead, Dhaerow, traitor, vampire. No, when nothing you do matters, when all you come to know decays, when any you would seek to know despise you, the curse becomes evident. Lock a man in a cave alone with no contact for a year, and he will become maddened. Maddened she had become. And in her madness she seeks to cling to others, anyone who will even tolerate her long enough.
Vampire. She would have begged for this curse to replace her own had any the power to grant it. She would have shoved a stake through her own heart and been done with it all long ago. Whatever damned afterlife she could have would be better than the life she has now. She would sell her soul to the first devil had it not been stripped from her.
Only false happiness will be painted on her face. Only temporary pleasures would find her. And all her misery would be masked behind a web of lies and false smiles.
"Farewell Devasha... You've been a great help to Lolth. May your sisters not judge you so harshly when you meet them in death."
