#araste

Hesitations abound as the woman trekked back towards Silvermoon City. She’d twist and turn within the shadows of the Living Wood, making sure no one trailed her from Sunspire Port. However that didn’t stop the old woman from running smack dab into a hooded figure. 

Just her luck. Panic set in but she kept her composure - at least, until the hooded figure spoke her name. “You must have mistaken one for someone else...” “Nay, Madame... even if your visage changes, your mannerisms will always stay the same...” The hooded figure’s voice, sickeningly familiar. Who could it be? One of the Family stalking her? An old enemy? An old business partner? Any of those could be fatal. “Does one know you.” The ex-director stated bluntly as she tried to not give into fear. “Even if time may have passed, one did...             ...I taught you once, and even in dear time we loved another.”                       “...Araste...Makatal-Nih... Master.”                              “It’s been a long time, my pupil.” Fear set in. Her heart sank. Disturbingly so. Seeing the man before her - her shadowmaster, frightened her to no end. It wasn’t seeing the man - but what came with Araste. Karkarov, the Illusionist. The manipulator. One of the only two undead in existance that could shred her heart with a single glance.

If the old woman was fearful of Lord Valadil, certainly Karkarov ranked up there. Such machinations in her mind came to a grinding halt.

“If you’re-- if you’re-- is he here. Is he HERE, tell me, Araste. Is Karkarov here.” “No, my pupil. He is long gone.”

With that simple utterance her paled visage grew in color. Yet, she wasn’t sure she could even trust the man - even trust that he was truly her shadowmaster.

“It appears my findings were incorrect. Gregori Karkarov lives..”         "Should he learn of your whereabouts.. I doub't he could resist visiting."    The old woman kept within the Darkwood’s clearing. The sparring ring filled with illusions of her master. “YOU PROMISED ONE HE WAS DEAD.” Diaage screamed out to Araste as he left. She was left alone with frustrations and a practice stave held tightly within her grasp.      Gregori Karkarov. A name that left a bitter taste in the ex-director’s mouth. A man that thwarted her every move for his execution and eventual manipulation of her mind and personal assets. One of the only two that could shatter her confidence with a single gaze.      Diaage realized why her master had spoken such cruel words - to get her to focus on training. What skills she dulled within the years of inactivity, he wished to sharpen once more into a living weapon. Yet to what extent? A tool, like always. A tool of cruelty for another hand - whether it be her ex-Uncle or Gregori Karkarov. Regret lined her visage, marred with a clouded anger. She never truly had the freedom to control her own strength on her own terms.