Kyleria

Character Name: Kyleria
Name Meaning: Intense One.
Age: 60, though appears 26 due to her numenorean bloodline
Date of Birth: Fall 2950
Race: Man, Dark Numenorean
Residence: Angmar, Mordor... Currently Wildlands roaming
Profession: Rogue...spy...ish..
Appearance:Slender feminine frame, Five feet and ten inches in height. Waist length light red hair. When touched by the sun has blonde highlights. Kyleria’s skin is as pale as moonlight. Often seen wearing a black blouse made of gauze-like fabric that hands off the curves of her shoulders, around her middle a corset sits under her modest bust. Made from bat wing leather. Around the curve of her hips sits a belt of tarnished chain link silver with medallions that are set with various shaped black stones that have been highly polished. On one hip sits a pouch that contain poisoned needles. That can be used for a primitive blowgun, to poison a target from afar. She carries a black bow with her and poisoned tipped arrows. Preferrin to hunt her prey from a far like a shadow. Though she can weild a sword, often choosing a bow instead. Kyleria prefers to wear black leather pants that hug close to the body as a second skin with tall flat boots. Though she is also has been known to wear a black floor length skirt, though she is not often given the opportunity to wear such a confection.
Personality:She has sworn her life to Sauron and his service, the will of Sauron and the witch king drive her. She has the mouth of a well-seasoned sailor and strong vivacious spirit. Blunt to a fault, she always says what’s on her mind, if her opinion is wanted or not. Usually it’s not, being a woman. Kyleria has a violent murderous temper that she tries to keep a tight rein on...most of the time. She’s able to think fast on her feet, manipulative of situations and independent of those around her. She believes trusting people is what get’s you killed. There for you do not trust people. She doesn't know how to let anyone in, not even her lover. Kyleria has a fanatical love for Sauron and The witch king. The darkness is all she has ever know. So s he is sadistic and masochistic, temperamental. She is broken and damaged.

Parents: Mother-unknown. Father- Kyleris
Sibling(s): None
Spouse: Reviedir (Its complicated)
Children: None
History: It was the with last light of summers eve and the first breath of autumn that Kyleria Valyndiar was born. Born in a cold tower in Minas Morgul. A child of a Dark Númenórean, a girl child born to a man that was in the service of The Witch King. While Kyleria knows she was born in Minas Morgul, and her parents made a stop near Dol Guldor when she was a young child to switch horses with travelling companions. It was ruins of Angmar where the girl would grow up. Her closest compatriots where children of other dark Númenóreans. The most fascinating to Kyleria as she grew up, was seeing orcs that went on to train as uruk-hai. The tall orcs that were most like a man. With braided back hair, war and tribal pant across their faces. They fascinated her, the art of sharpening teeth on stones to fine razored points. The blood that oozed. Of these almost man like beasts, the young darkling was most fascinated. And sought to imitate in play. In games of hunting and killing for pure sport.
As she grew from girl to woman, it was always whispered in hushed black speech that the blood of elves lingered in Kyleria. None could explain the height of the woman that towered over human women, her eyes were too pale to have belonged to any Númenórean in recent memory. The blood of the elven did run in her veins but was barely there. So diluted, by eight generations removed that any hint of a single drop of elven blood was so impure that she was very much human. Eight generations prior, a elven man had existed. In love with a Númenórean woman who had turned dark. For whom he had chosen a mortal life. The ancestor that she was said to resemble.
Growing up in the ruins of Angmar, Kyleria was always able to feeling the residual lure of magic in the air. The witch king of Angmar had once controlled the area and his magic radiated. It sang like music to her, she could hear the notes, could feel the notes always tugging on the edge of her mind. But could not reach the power without training. Could not shape the notes into anything of use. Always present, did she feel the tingle in her fingers but not able to reach out to the notes. It frustrated Kyleria. all the power of magic at her fingertips and yet she could not touch it. Unable to touch the source of magic, unable to draw upon the notes that could make her a sorcerer. Forever out of her reach but always within the edge of being touched. Torture within her skin and mind that she could not touch the source of magic yet never keep at bay, always taunting her that she would never obtain a wizard’s gift. Has a way of twisting the mind and turning a simple longing into a devout zealot.
It was when Kyleria was near adulthood that her father and her travelled to Minas Morgul. Traveled and passed through the black gates of Mordor. There it was she was to be part of a training session. Meant to be simple, they were to suppose to creep into Angmar’s chambers and take a cup that had been placed there and report back to the commander. It was all a session in sleath. Of who could creep through the shadows. One that failed miserably as neither of the two she was paired with, where adept enough at sleath. More brawn than brains. More mouth than silence that ended with The Wraith, sitting on his throne. Staring with ghostly orbs from behind his black robe. The ghostly face boring into each soldier of the failed training session. He was displeased by failure, the failure of the exercise almost cost Kyleria her life, but it was her speaking up before him. “I can feel your magic in the air, every time something is shifted by magic. A defense, a cup...I feel it” that saved her.
Angmar gave pause as he stared at the young númenórean. She could feel magic, he mused. A rare gift. His gaze burned as he fixated on her and decided the red haired young woman might be worth something to Sauron and him at some point in the future. Spared from the death that her two companions shared. Spared from death but not from pain. Pain was weakness leaving the body. Pain made you stronger, made you endure more. Pain of a searing heated blade slashing across her pretty face.
Leaving behind a scaled burn, marring the features of beauty by the standards of outsiders but to the darkness, her beauty was enhanced only more by the scarring. The still fresh burn, packed with fine powdered black ash. Leaving a permanent black swipe across her face from one temple to the other, Kissed across the bridge of a slender nose. And across one of those pretty grey green eyes.
Though from that day on, Kyleria’s lessons shifted. No longer just the routine battlefield training tactics, her lessons became more finely tuned. Angmar sought to teach Kyleria how to tap into her magic. She could hear the notes, feel them. But without guidance she would never reach them. Never recite the words that held a power to conjure. It was simple things he tried to teach Kyleria, magic took a lifetime to master and she was young enough, malleable enough that she could be taught the songs. But no matter how many tunes they tried, no matter how hard she reached in her soul. Kyleria could still not reach the notes. Even under a wraith’s guidance. Inside her a fire was set, to try and learn.
Kyleria would leave Mordor in her pursuit of knowledge for knowledge is power. A power that she hungers to have. In the wild, Kyleria met other lost souls like hers. During this time, she came to know and be involved with an elf named Reviedir, the name he had taken for himself. A name that was not of his birth for he had forsaken his people. Been lured into the darkness. Sundered from his kin. They have wandered the land together seeking answers to their questions. They love each other and they hate each other. Always coming together in a furor of passion and breaking apart in the same manner. For their ideals align but their tempers always get the better of them. Kyleria always running for she knows if she fully surrenders herself. She will never find the answer she seeks. Yet some how….they always somehow find each other. Reviedir and Kyleria are a complicated pair and are currently separated from one another, not seeing eye to eye right now over her being called back to Mordor.