LYLYTH,THE RAVEN VENGEANCE

ウォーマシンMK3
キメラ
シャドウフレイム・シャード
ウォーロック

Passed from the harsh tutelage of her stern Nyss father to the callous supremacy of the Legion of Everblight's patriarch Thagrosh, Lylyth has devoted her life to the pursuit of approval from those who would never offer it. Attempting to satisfy ghosts that existed only as memories of what was lost, she forced herself down a self-destructive path. Her tribal identity and culture had died on a quest for vengeance that consumed all who followed her. She was manipulated and used as a tool of conquest, becoming further lost until she no longer recognized herself.
She has now learned her obsessive malignance that steered her down a path of loss wasn't a moment of misguided weakness—it was who she was. As a Khymaera, her motivations have crystalized. She has become an agent of assimilation, tirelessly hunting all outsiders in order to convert them. Through Rhyas and Saeryn's ability to implant memories and fragmentary consciousnesses, she hopes to resurrect the Nyss legacy within these new shells.

THE VOASSYR

Lylyth was raised by her father to be a warrior crafted in his own image. As soon as her small body was able to comply, she was trained in the traditional Nyss bow and blade to the exclusion of any normal childhood activities. Her father was a noted champion of their shard, and the same rigid discipline that earned him reverence was
implemented to rear his daughter. From her very first kill that earned the initial raven quill pinned to her cape, she became driven to earn a full cloak of feathers. Under his guidance, she matured into an equally unforgiving and deadly hunter.
The Voassyr were nomadic and warlike, even by Nyss standards. They ranged farther than the other tribes, which invited conflict with outsiders as they fought over the meager scraps of game across the desolate landscape of the frozen north. Bloodshed was common in the unrelenting wasteland and simply another truth to be embraced in the name of survival. The seemingly innocuous killing of a lone trapper who had trespassed beyond the unspoken boundaries, just a statistic amidst countless slayings that had occurred over the years, proved to be not only the downfall of the tribe but the catalyst for Lylyth's future.

The Khadoran village the trapper belonged to was outraged by his death and organized a band of hunters to seek retribution. They resented the arbitrary borders they were bound to by their savage neighbors. When the posse of woodsmen came upon two Nyss, they ambushed and slaughtered both of them. Their bodies were left as a brutal warning to others who might trespass in their domain.
It was Lylyth who found the barbaric display of her kin. Each was dismembered, mutilated, and fashioned into a grisly spectacle. Frozen lines of urine trailed toward the presentation like rays of light from a twisted sun. It was enough to stir a boiling rage inside of her, but it was the discovery of her father's broken bow by the side of an otherwise unrecognizable corpse that pushed her across the threshold into becoming an embodiment of wrath.
This act wasn't done merely in the name of survival; it was fueled by hate. The perpetrators would be met with hate in return.
She easily tracked the band of men across the heavy snows and waylaid them repeatedly with her bow, picking them off one by one and savaging their bodies as they had done to her father. She haunted them for a week, felling the last man just before he arrived at his village. As she prepared to construct an effigy of their corpses to warn the townspeople against ever attacking the Nyss again, she recognized that a warning is precisely what the town had done, and her reaction was not fear but anger and vengeance. As long as the town existed, so would its inhabitants' desire for revenge.

The Khadoran villagers were oblivious to their imminent demise. Her arrows fell upon the townsfolk from the woods around their dwellings. At first, they attempted to organize a defense, but as they continued to fall to a swift and unseen enemy within the trees, they huddled indoors. She continued to stalk the town, stealing their food, spoiling their water, and ensuring no one would risk leaving the safety of their homes. She wished to burn the village away from history. Even as she set the last dwelling ablaze, she knew it wouldn't be enough.
Others of their kind, drawn by the smoke, would find this ruined village. If even one northern settlement was left intact, its own torches could find their way back to the Nyss.
Lylyth returned to her people and riled them up with grisly details of what had befallen their kin, including their champion, her father. The scene her words painted angered and appalled the entire shard. They acknowledged the dogmatic blood bond the tribe shared and their collective responsibility for reprisal. She successfully incited them to declare a blood hunt and to join her on a campaign across the remote settlements, attempting to slake their thirst for vengeance. She tried to rally more Nyss to join their cause, but the other tribes distanced themselves from her shard, wanting no part of a war with humans.

The first of the human tribes was taken before they could organize, but the deeper into human lands the shard thrust, the stauncher the resistance. It was atter clashing with an especially formidable clan known as the Vindol that their incursion was put down. Both sides were reduced to nothing.
As Lylyth lay in an expanding pool of blood that darkened the snow beneath her, she had her first moment of calm to reflect.
She debated if she had failed her father, his legacy, and her people, or if she had succeeded in making their enemies pay a thousandfold and saving her race from meeting the fate they had preemptively wrought upon their vile foe. Before she could arrive at any answer and as her mind whirled while she slipped from her world toward another, a sobering voice neither hallucination nor nightmare offered her an ultimatum.
In her languid and delirious state, she agreed to an offer that seemed too promising to be real. Her fiendish savior told her that she could have power beyond her understanding and live eternally, and the deal with a simple one. With nothing left to lose, she accepted the deal from this mysterious entity. But the slurred acknowledgment from her pale lips had not only cursed her, it had also signed the death warrant for countless other lives that would fall by her hand.

A DIABOLIC DEAL

Thagrosh, an escaped ogrun slave who was tricked and lured by the dragon Everblight, had recently become the embodiment of the dragon as its symbiotic vessel. Twisted beyond recognition into something neither ogrun nor dragon, he was preparing for his conquest of the Nyss when a great battle drew his attention. He walked among the recently perished until he came across the dying Nyss warrior who had fought her way so fiercely through her foes. Her chest slowly rose and fell as her last breaths approached. Instead of merely watching her die, he instead offered her salvation, power, and vengeance against humans in exchange for her service. She was disoriented and incredulous as she accepted his offer, but her acknowledgement was all he needed to hear.
Thagrosh lifted Lylyth's fading body in one hand as the other plunged a severed fragment of his athanc into her chest. She responded with anguished convulsions as its blighted energies seeped into her being until she settled at last with grim acceptance.
Her body teemed with burgeoning energies as the essence of a dragon bonded with her. The light of the world became blinding, but as she attempted to shield her eyes and shut it out, she discovered her senses pierced both flesh and darkness alike.
Although the transformation was excruciating, she was saved from death but had yet to grasp what was owed in return. She arose appreciative and devoted to this enigmatic creature that had enabled her bloodlust to continue.

ACCURSED SERVICE

The dragon Everblight's mind was connected to all whom he had dominated. With his presence linking Lylyth and Thagrosh, he first directed his new vassal against her own people, those who had refused her call to action and left her shard to die to their enemies. Normally, she would never have taken up arms against her own kind - but Everblight manipulated her thoughts and directed her continued rampage. They would kneel and accept her new master, or they would die by her hand. She scouted ahead and acted as Thagrosh's herald as she approached each tribe with offers of unity or desolation, expanding his ranks of blighted Nyss or offering their slain flesh to produce more blighted spawn.
Everblight's army grew vast as his servants annihilated and assimilated both the Nyss and the Ogrun tribes nearby. Lylyth became the leader of his scouts and hunted for new villages to absorb into their growing legion. A safe realm had been carved from the frozen landscape free from the scrutiny of the civilized world. They would have been able to continue to grow in secret if not for a great gamble.
Everblight had learned of the alleged resting place of another dragon, his brother Pyromalfic, who was long thought deceased. Pyromalfic's athanc represented an exponential expansion to the legion's might, and Lylyth was sent on a recon mission to ascertain the veracity of this rumor.

She successfully uncovered the resting place of Pyromalfic, but in the process, she was overwhelmed by his blighted sentries. Although she managed to escape, she was mortally wounded in the process.
Everblight sensed her imminent demise and instead of saving her plotted her replacement.
Free from her pursuers but grievously wounded, Lylyth made peace with the fact that she would soon succumb to her injuries. As she faded, feeling Everblight's abandonment, she pried the shard free trom her own chest. She slid her mask from her eyes and cautiously opened them against the stinging light that she had not so much as glimpsed since her blighting. She breathed deeply as she drank in the beauty of the world as all the repressed guilt and horror of her own actions assailed her mind.
She had been blind to the world in many ways, but her inability to perceive the pain she had caused to those she held dear was her greatest failing. Despite recognizing that her path of vengeance had compromised all she had wished to preserve, she guiltily acknowledged that she had relished the thrill of the hunt and the power it had given her.
As death approached, Lylyth greeted it eagerly, ready to face penance for her horrific actions. While she slipped from lucidity, two shapes approached through her hazy vision.
The twins had found her.

Feebly, she offered them her athan shard. The two sisters seemed to consult each other wordlessly as they gazed upon her offering. Saeryn gently cradled her while Rhyas delicately pressed the athan back into the open wound in Lylyth's chest.
Panic gripped her as Lylylth began to fight the return of the damnable shard. But as soon as the athanc touched her heart, the hopelessness and despair melted away. The screams of the dying that had been plaguing her mind were silenced as arcane power once again surged through her. Her wounds were tended as she was returned to Everblight, who rewarded her with greater power and responsibility for her successful mission.
Lylyth's resolve appeared amplified as she embraced her rebirth, but deep inside she remembered the grief she felt over the fate of her people. She threw herself fervently into any assigned task, but this was less driven by devotion and more by caution as she witnessed how expendable his subjects were to their dragon master. They were one tailure away trom being replaced, as they were all merely objects to Everblight.

FAMILIAR PREY

Lylyth had lost herself in perfecting her servitude.
She unquestioningly meted out Everblight's will as her identity faded, becoming one with the dragon's.
She allowed herself to live in a dream-like state where her actions weren't real and her feelings irrelevant. This minimized existence continued until she received a pivotal assignment: Rhyas and Saeryn had gone rogue. She and her fellow tracker Fyanna were tasked with hunting them down and returning their shards to their dragon patriarch. From the chaotic glimpse they saw of the twins, they thought it possible that both had already have died in a great battle against infernals.
The closer they came to their quarry, the more Lylyth questioned her actions. When Rhyas and Saeryn had come for her, they did so with gentle hands and had embraced her like a sister. But Fyanna was fiercely zealous and intent on proving the strength of her allegiance with this mission. Even if Rhyas or Saeryn survived and were open to reason, Fyanna would not allow them the opportunity of forgiveness.
Lylyth had ceased to fear death that fateful day near the Castle of the Keys, yet something clawed at her from within. It was the fear of a meaningless death, an ignoble death, a dishonorable death as she betrayed those who offered her amnesty with the promise of nothing in return.

When Lylyth and Fyanna's forces converged and cornered Rhyas in caverns deep below Cygnar's Wyrmwall Mountains, Rhyas was somehow different. Her blows were more forceful, more deliberate, and she was utterly determined. At the climax of the battle, in a moment when Rhyas had no hope for survival, she transformed into a grotesque, wingless, draconic abomination that moved like quicksilver and possessed steely might.
Lylyth paused in shock and disbelief, feeling Everblight's anger and revulsion through her shard.
She scarcely had time to recover before she was forced to fight for her life against whatever Rhyas had become. Lylyth's evasive spells were of no use, and the creature pinned her to the ground, shattered her bow, and clawed through her chest toward her shard. Rhyas's bestial form then whirled to finish Fyanna when she was interrupted. A third force of Cryxian thralls that had been observing and waiting to act erupted into the chamber.

During a pitched battle that saw their animosity placed aside against a mutual foe, Lylyth briefly fought these new forces side-by-side with the thing Rhyas had become. Both Fyanna and Rhyas became debilitated as more thralls poured into the cavern that served as their arena. Lylyth, separated from the other warlocks and seeing no possibility of defeating their ambushers, fled to preserve Everblight's shard.
As she raced from the tunnels, Fyanna was slain, and Rhyas was gifted the tracker's athan by the commander of these mysterious forces. Lylyth knew Everblight suspected she had held back, and it had cost him dearly. She could tell that if she didn't prove herself quickly, her usefulness to Everblight may soon reach an end.
She rejoined the bulk of Everblight's Legion of blighted creatures and spawn as they marched in force on Rhyas and her new allies. As Everblight's servant, Lylyth had felt power beyond her wildest aspirations and believed Everblight to be the ultimate being. But it was during the ensuing battle that his vulnerability was highlighted.
The dragon Blighterghast fell upon their forces while they were fully involved with both the armies of Cygnar who rose up to protect their lands and a shadowy force protecting Rhyas beneath the earth.
The Legion's amassed might that had been accumulated over years of her service was vanishing in one impulsive act.

Lylyth raced through the labyrinth of subterranean corridors with her assigned hunters to flank and eliminate their target, but she found herself intentionally choosing the wrong tunnels, delaying her strikeforce's arrival. Through her athan shard's connection with Everblight and the other warlocks, she could see their forces ubiquitously faltering. She moved her unit as close as she could to the action while feigning ignorance of the correct approach as they remained just shy of the engagement.
As the entirety of the Legion assault force crumbled, she again withdrew. Everblight's distrust would be even greater than before. But Lylyth knew that with the losses he suffered, Everblight couldn't afford to dispose of her just yet. She had held back due to a loyalty to Rhyas more intense than she realized. She had been chasing the ghost of her community since the destruction of the Nyss, and Rhyas represented the last trace of the camaraderie and culture Lylyth so dearly missed.

LAST CHANCES

After the Legion quickly recovered, a final trap was set for Rhyas that would risk Everblight's main vessel Thagrosh as well as most of his remaining warlocks. Lylyth was to lead a surprise force to cut off Rhyas's escape. It was made implicit that any failure within this mission would be met with immediate and definitive punishment. The ambush within a moldering Morrdhic temple would decide all of their fates.
Everblight's rationality had decayed and his cunning dulled since he had absorbed Pyromalfic. Although the plan was sound, it risked everything in pursuit of petty vengeance. Saeryn was gone; Ryas had changed beyond recognition. Lylyth came to terms with the fact that her future was with Everblight, and the Rhyas she knew was no more. She was chasing a lie — the Nyss were truly gone. If she were to ever regain Everblight's favor, this must be her audition.
She awaited the signal as Everblight's chief commander, Vayl, who acted as his architect in the destruction of the Nyss, was utilized sacrificially to lure Rhyas into position. Vayl stood vigil at a Mordhic chamber that held a ley-gate that, with great sacrifice, bridged fortresses of the fallen civilization across Immoren. Once Rhyas was in place, the Legion would spill forth. As Vayl's life was taken, Lylyth could hear through their shared senses Rhyas whisper, "For our people" as she twisted her blade inside her. The words burdened Lylyth, but there was no time to be distracted by their meaning.

She tocused on her mission and took flight with her detachment.
The battle raged ferociously as her fellow warlocks continued to fall until only she and Thagrosh remained. Her arrows had taken many who stood against, her but they would not be enough to impress Everblight. She saw her opportunity manifest amidst the chaos of battle. Thagrosh was in his death throes as he assailed the gnashing jaws of a two-headed dragon gripping his throat.
Lylyth guided her Hellion into a dive as she began to fully draw back her bowstring and line up a shot on the monstrous beast Rhyas had grown into. Before her eyes, the second head unleashed a scalding torrent of steaming bile that instantly flayed Thagrosh and began liquefying the rest of him as his body tore itself apart under its own weight. As she prepared to release her arrow, Rhyas's draconic head inclined to her and stared unflinchingly - but without aggression. The destruction of Thagrosh, the echoing words in her mind, and the hint of humanity in the revolting creature's eyes left her stunned. Her arrow remained nocked as she pulled out of the dive and flew past.
Lylyth felt Everblight's consciousness withdraw from her and the battle. He no longer concerned himself with its outcome. As his hold lifted, Lylyth's conflicted teelings surged back, accompanied now by the traumatic separation from Everblight's connection. As her focus divided, she attempted to land her mount but gracelessly crashed amidst the scree. Her Hellion scrambled up and abandoned her.

To maintain his control over her, Everblight had been repressing her emotions and memories of the atrocities she had committed. Before he could seize another opportunity to once more control her mind, she drew her knife and, for a second time, pried the shard from her chest. She lay on the ground in a tormented stupor until the tollowing morning. The words of Rhyas, "For our people," still reverberated in her head. A creature as grand as Everblight never concerned itself with the well-being of mortals; they were mere pawns to advantage itself against its peers. But Lylyth considered the possibility that Rhyas was different. Still, she recognized that as long as she had the athan shard, she d be a target.
She approached the battlefield from an overlooking precipice and prepared to heave the shard down to the surviving forces of Rhyas's new followers. As she prepared to close one door and open another, she recognized she had no place to go. All that she cared about in this world was gone, mostly by her own hand. The only thing that scarcely resembled a future lay with Rhyas. She laughed at the absurdity that her life led her to a point where this was her best option, yet somehow it felt right. She clenched the shard in her fist as she advanced toward the unknown and offered herself to whatever awaited her while seeking the remote possibility of redemption.

A SHADOW ASCENDED

Lylyth was escorted by Rassyk down into the temple.
She expected to be greeted by the two-headed monstrosity, but Rhyas instead stood cloaked in her familiar elven form, awaiting her. Lylyth was ready to offer herself, but suddenly had far too many questions to remain silent. Rhyas's responses were patient and cryptic, while her voice was that of her and her sister's overlapping and competing despite saying the same things. Lylyth was promised not only immortality but freedom from control and purpose beyond anyone's selfish desires —and even a chance at the resurrection of those who lived on in her memories. She asked finally if they could make her forget the suffering she had caused, but she was offered something better: a grand perspective that would allow her to accept herself and what she had done without pain or shame.
Lylyth was respectfully remade as a great winged Khymaera that amplified her speed, grace, and strength. A compound bow was crafted befitting her grander physique. The light of the Nyss had too greatly dimmed, and their god was dead, but aspects of their culture lived on within this developing civilization poised to eclipse their prior legacy. At the same time, Saeryn found Lylyth's lust for vengeance at her father's death buried in her memories. During Lylyth's transformation, Saeryn enhanced this bloodthirst to nudge Lylyth further down the path of being a complicit weapon.

Within the Khymaera, Lylyth holds a unique position. She has no specific role or responsibility.
She is given autonomy to range as she pleases and has the authority to recruit any who are available to follow her. This would pose a liability if not for the earned trust and deference she routinely reinforces.
She utilizes the same cunning she exhibited under Everblight but is now driven by a greater purpose than mere subservience.
Reborn as a Khymaera, her mind clearer than ever, Lylyth sees her path of revenge against the Khadorans wasn't misdirected emotion. In fact, it was the pragmatic destruction of an invasive species that was incompatible with her own. The conflict was inescapable, and her tribe's death was inevitable.
That fire she lit so long ago has now been rekindled within. Even the entirety of the northern tribes would no longer be enough. Survival means all outsiders must be consumed by the blaze of change. It will now burn its way across this world, blanketing the land in fertile ash for Lylyth's memories and tribe to be reborn eternal. This has become her goal in the world.