Author Games: Dungeon Brawl

Hero: Maeve Wraith

Author: PenNameUnkown

Name: Maeve Wraith

Age: 25ish(She's stopped keeping track)

Race: Spectre

Personality:

She hides her spontaneous nature behind quiet logic. A secret people person, she loves being surrounded by people even when they don't want her around. Maeve is not quick to react against insults but go far enough, and you'll find she has an exciting take on revenge. She's usually found to be quite eccentric, talking to the air and having heated one-sided staring contests with nothing. Despite her outward insanity, she is perfectly sane and usually reliable in every sense of the word.

Appearance:

With the help of a glamor, she appears human. Her black hair is peppered with silver strands that make the curls shine. Maeve's hair is usually swept back in a ponytail, with two thin braids along the sides of her head to keep everything in place. Despite her efforts, a tuft of curls usually falls into her face. Her skin shimmers with a slight purple glow, the first thing to hint that she isn't human. Maeve's eyes are the solidifying fact that she isn't human, the soft lilac color is unnatural but the black that borders the whites of her eyes is the only thing unhidden by the glamor. If the light hits her smile just right, you'll see the fangs protruding from her lips, her skin changes from a healthy olive to an ashen white. She wears only black clothing, a sleeveless shirt with belts crossing her chest. She wears shorts with garter stockings but refuses to wear shoes, letting the fabric cover most of her feet.

Backstory:

A current of electricity traveled through my spine and I shot up. Leaves exploded around me as I shot to my feet, my chest heaving as I tried to breathe. My hands gripped my throat as I panicked, when I looked back they were clean. My eyes hurriedly took in my surroundings, even as my eyes blurred with tears and memories came rushing back. Flashes of my assassination, rough hands yanking me around the carriage, the knife that was dragged across my throat.

The forest was dark, I couldn't see the sky through the thick blanket of the treetops. Light was non-existent in this place, a thick fog traveled along the floor as high as my waist. Fear prickled at the back of my mind as streams cut through the fog, leaving trails that could only be made by entities traveling past. I spun around, my torn dress had been replaced with a black robe and baggy pants. My focus turned to my breathing, a panic attack amid a dark forest surrounded by things I could not see would be catastrophic.

I opened my eyes after a few moments of darkness and took in my surroundings with clear lenses. The trees were obviously old, their thick trunks were ashen like a fire had raged through but couldn't destroy anything. They stood tall and imposing, blocking any way of escape, never leaving a clear way out of this clearing. The perfect circle they made was unnerving, the fog added to the unbreakable idea that I was stuck. The trails moved closer the longer I stood still, slowly encasing me until I had no room to move.

To think about how I got here meant to face my death. To face death meant giving up on the living world, and conceding that I would follow these trails into oblivion. I was being circled when I held my palm out and attempted to produce a magic flame. Conjuring was my preferred form of magic, the lifeline I had gripped until success found me. It would eventually put a target on my back, proficiency in the sleight of hand meant nothing if there wasn't the energy to make it a reality.

My hand fell limply at my side, I nearly collapsed to my knees. My arms shakily wrapped around my chest as I tried to hug myself. The world swam in and out, I couldn't see the colors it was only black and white. My magic was gone, I couldn't feel a single ounce of the energy stored in my core. A cloud of fog gathered in front of me as I realized my unusual warmth was gone, I was cold, empty.