Mirielle - Beauty of Battle

The Beauty of Battle - Mirielle

Description

A flash of light reveals a slim female figure, almost as black as the night. The last thing visible are three long braids of white hair. They flow in the air and paint a perfect arch into the blackness.

Thunder rolls. Thin twin blades reflect dim torchlight. Metal rings catch the lightning of the thunderstorm. One ring around each upper arm. One ring around each lower arm. One ring around the left thigh.

The torch gets knocked down. An inhuman scream. The fire dies out, but just before it does so, dark brown skin reflects the light warmly. Perfectly smooth. Perfectly soft. Muscles play gently. Darkness reclaims the night.

An enemy shield blazes with magical daylight for a moment. The man stands 5'8'' tall. The female is taller. Her graceful dark chocolate face is finely cut and full of agression. Her slim eyes sparkle in red, yellow and orange tones all over, no pupil is visible. Eyes like fiery sunstones. Thin white eyebrows. How old is she? Twenty?
She almost leaps into the shield of her opponent. Her blades pierce. The light flickers and dies slowly. She lands, the three long braids, held by slender golden clips slowly settle on her back. They reach almost to her knees.

Archers ready burning arrows. They whiz by. Some almost graze tender curves of the dancing form below. White, gold and red silky ribbons float through the air. They spring from golden clips attached to a leather belt dancing losely on her hips. They spring from the hilts of the tender swords. And she spins in between the deadly arrows.

Dark lips whisper words of trust. Rings and clips reveal inlays as the arrows race toward the woman. The theme is always the same. Weapons, movement, battle, war. A small crest keeps the perfectly white hair out of her face. On her forehead rests a fiery sunstone, smaller stones in red and yellow sparkle at the sides.

A wide jump carries her between the archers. There are more screams and bodies fall to the ground below. Oil, burning arrows. A fire breaks out. Her body is barely covered by a red and golden top made of metal chain and  fitting chain-bikini-bottom, the links so fine that the armor almost seems like soft liquid hugging her soft form.

A fiery sunstone sits in the center of her chest above her rather small and firm breasts. Small chains with golden and yellow stones jingle and reflect the fire. They stroke over her upper belly and glide over the gently muscular structure. Longer delicate chains reach down her back almost to her bottom.

The top line of her agressively cut chain-bottoms is also beset with larger sunstone in the center and smaller chains dangle down the side, dancing as she moves.
She wears neither gauntlets, nor boots.

Every now and then she sounds a battlecry with a soft voice, not a powerful voice, not crytal clear, but soft and yet clearly audible over the sound of her metal blades piercing armor or flesh.

This is Mirelle. The Beauty of Battle, the Swordmaiden, the Deadly Dancer. As people call her.

Equipment

Mirelle uses twin blades, slim and long, like rapiers, but sharp and pointy, as much a slashing weapon as a thrusting one. The hilts are beset with sunstones. From the hilts silky ribbons flutter. White and yellow and red and orange they show pictures of battle and follow every movement the blades describe, painting paths in the air. When Mirelle doesn't use her blades, they are attached to her back and wrapped in the silky ribbons.

Mirielle can likewise conjure a bow seemingly out of thin air, by simply taking a stance as if holding the bow and pulling the string. With a flash of light a golden, ornate bow will appear in her hands, slim and beset with several sunstones. The arrows it shoots flash and sparkle with divine energy.

At times Mirielle will appear in light clothing, too usually a tunic, slitted completely at both sides and only held by a slender golden chain beset with sunstones, and red and yellow gems. The white tunic carries no ornaments at all and contrasts strongly with Mirielle's dark skin.

As needs demand it, Mirielle will also rely on other mundane weapons.
When her powers as a goddes are not active, Mirielle prefers to wear casual clothing, usually in white and orange and leaving her belly exposed.

Powers

Mirielle knows how to use any weapon instinctively. She is superhumanly strong and dexterous and can recover from wounds struck to her, though the more severe a wound is, the longer it takes. She can also lend her powers to others, making those around her stronger or helping them to fight on.

Mirielle can conjure weapons, like her rapiers and her powerbow – indeed these weapons are manifestations of her power.

Motivation and Background

Mirielle always searches for new followers and as thus is very open and sociable. She is also a very proud creature. Mirielle loves combat for the beauty of it. Violence – dealing and withstanding – fascinates her, but likewise does a honorful duel and displays of the art of combat even in athletic challenges.

Mirielle despises torture as well as one sided battles. Especially acts of terrorism without any real chance to fight back make her angry.

A long time ago, Mirielle was  one of the great gods of the Era of Steel and Sorcery. Her amazons were well known, respected and feared. Warrior Witches would seek out challenges in her name and overthrow enemies and systems alike. The Inquisition arose and Mirielle saw it as a new opportunity, a new opponent to enter the ring and encouraged their Templars and Paladins to strike in her name, just as she encouraged the amazons and knights in the past. However, they grew too strong and corrupted. Mirielle found herself allied with evil powers bound on conquering the world and casting each and every life to the shackles of a false faith.

War arose. Gods and mortal creatures sided against the oppression. Mirielle didn't pick a side. Why should she? Both sides were fighting. And both sides in the end saw her as a traitor. She was cast out from her former allies. She found herself without any friends and was cast into Oblivion by the demon god of rage. Stripped of her powers she slept in the blackness for a long time. Until a new time of heroes arose. She heard the wakening call.

Nowadays Mirielle is largely uninterested in normal mortals, believing their achievements to be below her. Only really determinated warriors and individuals gifted with greater powers draw her interest and she spurs them to even greater deeds.