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Venitra

  1. Regrika Blackpaw
Total mentions
616 mentions
First mentioned in chapter
2.29
Last mentioned in chapter
10.41 T

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Chapter Text
2.29 Her name was Venitra; all else was meaningless. She stood before her master, in darkness, in the silence of his castle. She was here to report, and that provided her with all the joy in her life. When she spoke to her creator—when she was in his presence and felt his attention on her, however slightly—she felt fulfilled.
2.29 Venitra nodded, although she knew Az’kerash wouldn’t see her. She had been taught to mimic the gestures of the living and she did so dutifully even though she’d never been alive.
2.29 Venitra hesitated. The watchers had seen something else around the girl. Some kind of…things. Blurry, fuzzy blue things. Frost Sprites. But her master had long ago insisted they were unimportant, so she did not mention them. She did not want to fail him or bother him. That would be her greatest nightmare, if she actually slept.
2.29 Venitra’s eyes glowed brightly and she smiled.
2.29 Her moment was over. Reluctantly, Venitra withdrew, and then went to deliver the instructions she had been given to the guardians of this place. She left the large room where the supposedly-dead legend stood, and walked out the double doors, letting them swing silently closed behind her.
2.29 And it was inhabited, just not by the living. A small army stood in front of the doors, waiting for an enemy that had never penetrated these walls. But it was always best to be vigilant, lest their master be troubled, so Venitra decided to be extra-cautious.
2.29 She raised her hand, and a dozen undead warriors followed her as she strode through the halls. Venitra walked through the darkness, needing no light. Only the glow of the deathless eyes lit the darkness, not just from her and behind, but from the corridors, the walls, the ceiling…
2.30 “Venitra. Lower your sword.”
2.30 “That won’t be necessary. Thank you, Venitra. I will take care of this myself. Leave me.”
2.30 She did, pausing only to pick her belt off the ground. Ryoka stared at the door, and then looked over and saw Venitra. And Kerash. And Bea. They stood around her, faces full of—
2.30 She punched Venitra in her bony face and felt her hand crack. Broken bone? No, just horribly bruised. She reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a glowing orange-and-pink potion. Bea reached for her and Kerash intervened, pushing her pallid hands back with his.
2.30 Venitra reached out towards Ryoka. Her fingers began to close over the young woman’s shoulders and then froze.
2.48 Venitra was at home with the darkness. She had been born of it, and in the castle of Az’kerash, the famous Necromancer of Izril, bright light was a forgotten memory.
2.48 Now Venitra waited for her glorious creator to finish his work, half dreading what he would say when he learned of her failure, half exultant at the thought of hearing his voice and knowing his will again after so long.
2.48 It was Venitra’s worst nightmare to be found wanting in the eyes of her master. To disappoint him in any way was unthinkable; she would be betraying not only him, but the grand design he had made in her being.
2.48 Venitra was unlike Kerash or Bea. She had been designed by Az’kerash personally; she had been created from nothing by his perfect mind, not reanimated from the dead or self-forming like the other two. Even among the rest of Az’kerash’s servants she was unique, for she served their master and received his commands in person.
2.48 And now she would bear witness to one of his greatest creations yet. Venitra stared up as the massive creature of flesh and bone finished forming overhead. It was nothing like the horrible blend of parts that Ryoka had glimpsed; now that it had attained its true configuration, it was a creature of nightmarish grace and terror.
2.48 And at its head, a sunken spear of bone jutted outwards, half sunk into the undead monsters’ skull, surrounded by sinew. Venitra knew bone and muscle and so she could guess at part of what this behemoth had been designed for, but even still, the idea took her breath away, if she had any she could have given in the first place.
2.48 In front of her, the ancient man who she loved lowered his hand. The undead thing floated downwards, still and waiting for his command. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then nodded and turned to Venitra.
2.48 He was smiling. The wrinkles and silvery hair on his head took nothing away from the awe Venitra felt every time she beheld him. His black eyes and white pupils made her shudder as they fixed on her. But it was his smile she basked in.
2.48 “Is it not wonderful, Venitra? With this, my army nears completion. Even the Walled Cities will tremble to see this creature upon the battlefield.”
2.48 Venitra said the words truthfully. Az’kerash nodded. He gazed at his creation with pride, and then looked back at Venitra.
2.48 Venitra said the words truthfully. Az’kerash nodded. He gazed at his creation with pride, and then looked back at Venitra.
2.48 The man known to very few as Perril Chandler waved a hand at Venitra as she placed her hand on her breast.
2.48 “Don’t be ridiculous, Venitra. Without enchantments you would sink to the bottom of the ocean. No, I believe I might send Bea. Her plague abilities would allow me to harvest entire pods without damaging their bodies.”