Nyssa
(#29781870)
Level 22 Wildclaw
Familiar
Deadland Disciple
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Fire.
Female Wildclaw
This dragon is on a Coliseum team.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
5.84 m
Wingspan
5.9 m
Weight
411.02 kg
Genetics
Obsidian
Iridescent
Iridescent
Obsidian
Shimmer
Shimmer
Obsidian
Underbelly
Underbelly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 22 Wildclaw
EXP: 68264 / 136210
STR
116
AGI
13
DEF
6
QCK
30
INT
5
VIT
10
MND
6
Biography
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< HEIR TO THE DEMON >
When you feel my heat, Look into my eyes, It's where my demons hide. Don't get too close, it's dark inside. I am the Demon inside.
''Nyssa al Ghul, Daughter to Ra's al Ghul... Heir to the Demon.''
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Heir to the Demon, they call her.
She'd known that name ever since she was strong enough to lift a blade, had the strength to swing a sword, had the skills to shoot an arrow, had the brawn to learn more languages than she could recall.
She'd held her head up high whenever she was addressed, responding to nothing but that name ever since it was bestowed upon her. It was her birthright, her inheritance. No one questioned her, no one dared question her, for she was the Heir- except for the only one whom she pledged to- which was, of course, her father - Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head.
However, even so- even with all the respect and fear she held for her father- she hated him. Before he sent her on her first mission, all she knew was the League. She never knew the ''outside world'', thought that this, in Nanda Parbat- was how the world worked. How could she not? All she'd known was this life, and this life was her world.
She'd dared not displease her father, for that the consequences were evident. She'd known assassins of many whom had failed their assignments, and the consequences were... undesirable, to say at least.
She felt the cold, cold water as it beat mercilessly against her bloodied body. She fought the water like an opponent, it's waves threatening to drown and drag her to the deep depths below, but she fought and thrashed and struggled for her damn life. She couldn't die - not like this, not now. She groaned- ignoring the excruciating abuse when the salt water came in contact and flowed against her new wounds, ignoring the plain, sheer pain of the tears dealt to her body, ignoring her strength that was slowly fading away, ignoring her body that was slowly succumbing to the tyranny of the water - and pushed on.
Almost immediately, she felt her already-wavering strength crumble, and she felt her eyesight blur as her body was forcefully dragged into the depths of the frigid ocean. She felt the water rush into her lungs as her brain tried to comprehend and compensate what was happening, and she smelt the stinging of salt as she was dragged further down. Not like this, not right now. With a final burst of adrenalin, ignoring the throbbing, raw pain in her head, ignoring the numbness of her legs, she forced her arms in front of her, and struggled to resurface. She could see her eyesight dim red, her breathless lungs constrict and she could feel her wounds scream in pain, begging for her to stop, to stop fighting, to give up, to let the waters drag her to the depths of their cruel master and to let her soul rest peacefully- preferably somewhere not upon the lands of this cursed place. It was tempting.. but she didn't get this far all for nothing. With a final burst of strength, she felt the waters part as she resurfaced. She sputtered and gasped to intake the pure, fresh air, and felt the adrenaline and found the strength within her to continue on. Slowly, ever so slowly- she felt the power of the ocean lessen, the tides receding and the abusing cold waters turning from a harsh beating to a mere lap. Breathing shallow and strength wavering, she struggled to reach the shore. It was near, so near.
She groaned- as much as she could, and collapsed face-first upon the wet sands. Tired. Her cheek- and body pressed against the cool sands- and if it were any other situation, she would've appreciated the soothing coldness and marvelled at the soft sands.. but after being trapped in the ruthless, cold waves for so long, she couldn't even do anything but shiver as her body pathetically tried to compensate for the warmth lost. Besides, after seeing the wretched sands for so long, being stranded on the unforgiving island for so long, she couldn't appreciate anything about it, no matter the beauty, no matter the scenery. She lay idly in the cold sands. She felt as if her body was severed, broken and unmovable and the pure exhaustion.. She wanted to let her eyelids droop, and let her mind drift off to somewhere far, far away from here.. but she knew that when she did, there was no coming back. Despite the fatigue, despite the calling and despite the cries of her mind to let herself rest.
What was she waiting for, exactly? She didn't know. She couldn't let herself rest, for the fear of the loss of everything she'd achieved- well, not exactly achieved, but done. She couldn't move, thanks to the pure physical exhaustion and the pain that broke her body. She felt the cool waters lap against her feet, and she felt her shallow intake of air getting more frequent by the second. She felt the salt of the water sting against her wounds, but no longer minded it. She felt her senses dull, her eyes dimming at the edges, her hearing getting fainter and fainter and yet fainter again, the once-strong smell of the saltwater no more.
She was waiting to die. She almost laughed at the realisation, but realising that her face was rendered numb. She could feel the wounds that mutilated her body take toll on her, she felt the exhaustion spread over her like the waves of water, she felt the burn of her infected injuries torment her body, she felt her eyelids droop once again- but this time, she didn't resist. She was going to die, anyway. Why did it matter?
Caring no longer, she forced her mouth to jerk upwards in a smile. She let the memories envelop her body and flow over her mind... The laughs of her father and the chuckles of her mother, the small smiles of her sister and of course, her own cheeky grins.. the faint waft of fries and black and white milkshakes her sister used to bring home, the chirps of the Canary in it's cage, trying to break free..
In the distance, she heard shouts but cared no longer. Her mind distant- faraway, she let the beautiful- blissful memories overtake her mind as she succumbed into beckoning, eternal sleep.
She found her on the shore. She was bloodied, bruised and battered all over, and the mere sight of the wounds and her angelic, unconcerned face had indicated that this woman had suffered a quick and painless descent to Death. Bow still drawn, she edged near the woman. There was no such thing as being overly cautious, but there was such thing as being paranoid. Nyssa was sure she was the former.
After a quick inspection of her wounds, however - she was mildly surprised that she hadn't succumbed to the unforgiving embrace of Death. Yet. The woman's chest was rising slowly, her body still faintly warm and her pulse beating weakly. Perhaps not dead, but close.
She found the determination of this woman admirable. If anyone else had suffered to such injuries, they would've either died or let the waiting cold hands of Death take their soul, hence her surprise when she found that she was still alive. Not for long, though.
Nyssa let all thoughts on the woman evaporate and turned to the horizon, intent on finding other survivors on the island. Her team had already tracked down a few, and they provided rather.. useful intel. However, when she trekked away from the woman and scanned the perimeter, she saw nothing but her team currently undergoing interrogation on the pathetic, stuttering and spluttering survivors. The sound of the roars of the waves as it beat against the sands softly, and as it lapped against their ship that was parked against the harbour. The stares of the survivors on her back until the assassins harshly forced them to look away and waited them for to speak with a harsh glare of their own.
However much she tried, she couldn't keep the dying woman away from her mind. What was it with her today? She was the Daughter to Ra's al Ghul, Heir to the Demon. She had taken hundreds and thousands of lives, and yet now she could not let even a single person die?
She sighed and turned back to the lying woman. Although badly wounded and on the edge of Death, she was still alive, heart pulsing weakly but she saw somewhat of a... determination stir upon the woman's pale face even as she stared at the face of Death itself. Perhaps she would prove useful...
Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save that light..
She sees Sara, pain evident in her eyes. She sees the venom, working, working its way into her heart.
She kept the facade up long enough. Her walls, once impenetrable and unbreakable, had fallen - willpower shattered, heart broken. By a Canary, nonetheless.
Now, she is cradling the small, so terribly small Canary in her arms. Ta-er al-Sahfer.
Willpower long gone and walls long gone, barriers once everlasting and indestructible now shattered - Her refusal tearing through her soul and yet so, so her. It was so like her to rather die than let her hurt her family, so like her to take the venom and end her life rather than continue the killings, so, so her.
She doubted that the pain of death was worse than this. Would be worse than what she felt now, would be worse than her habibti slowly dying, dying in front of her...
She shook her head. She couldn't afford to be weak, not like this, not right now. However, she could hear her father's taunts echoing in her mind.
You always let your emotions cloud your judgment, Daughter. You are meant not to have any weaknesses, and yet you have them in the form of Ta-er al-Sahfer. Remember, you are disposable.. and I can always make another Heir.
She ignored his droning, painful voice in her head, and turned towards Ta-er al-Sahfer, head in her lap, eyes pulsing clearly of the Tibetan Venom, both faraway. Don't do this to me, habibti. Please..
Her voice hitched, and she felt something wet and warm slide down her cheek. She furiously wiped it away, remembering her father’s mockery. Almost suddenly, she felt a weak caress to her cheek. She gazed into the tired, but determined eyes of her Beloved. She heard her silent, faint, almost inaudible croak. ''I'm sorry.. Nyssa.''
Still cradling her in her arms, she kissed her temple and let the droplets flow freely from her eyes, before she let the built-up rage seep through and let the blood in her veins boil, let herself slowly, carefully settle her habibti onto the wet floor, rage bubbling and threatening to burst as she heard the footsteps of the intruders in the warehouse, and let her emotions cloud her judgement yet again.
When she turned, there was not a single trace of tears in her eyes, not a single trace of the vulnerableness earlier, not a single trace of the person she was, she is...
The Canary watched, transfixed yet horrified as her guards and reinforced walls went up, as her demonic side let itself show once again. Nothing was left but burning hatred woven in her eyes, hungry to be let out, an unnatural, bitter smile forming on her lips as she took in the scene, her shouting, shaking father as he lifted up his gun and told Nyssa to back away from her, her posture alert and ready, the tint of red in her eyes long gone.
She let out a snarl, her lips curving up as she drew her bow, the greediness evident in her burning eyes with the eagerness, the satisfaction of the prospect of shedding blood.
No! This isn't you. Please, Nyssa.. don't do this.
But, deep within.. she knew that side was truly her. Known by Legend and name whispered only through stories and myths, the Daughter of Ra's al Ghul - the Demon's Head - Heir to the Demon. The unkillable assassin without weaknesses, without faults. Trained to be Heir ever since youth, destined to take her father's mantle as the Demon's Head in the case that the Prophecy never came true.
She was the cold-blooded killer. (Though, she was a killer as well)
But she wasn't that to her.
She was the kind and caring person that took her off Lian Yu, gave her a second chance at life, trained and guided her through the darkness. She was the person that gave purpose to her living, to life. Perhaps not the 'light of her life', for that the both of them had too much darkness inside them to be that.
In battle, she was cold, deadly but calm and calculating - careful not to even underestimate the most inexperienced of fighters. She wasn't afraid to kill, and she did even more so in the field. She never yielded, and almost always took down her opponents with the pure swiftness and gracefulness of her attacks and raw skill.
She turned her attention back onto Nyssa, who strode towards her parents with ease, showing no sign of the exchange before. Her were eyes devoid of any emotion as she spoke, only letting the barest hint of fury appear in her tone.
Heir to the Demon.
She saw her turn towards her in the slightest, spite laced clearly in her tone. ''If you want to be with your family so badly..'' she growls. ''You can join them in eternity!''
And without another word, she lets the arrow fly.
And without another thought, her world dims black as the scene spins away, away — just out of her reach, as she felt herself stop fighting, and let her body slip into the darkness.
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