<a class="postlink" href="http://www.chickensmoothie.com/oekaki/image/image.php?id=561005&amp;size=large&amp;format=auto&amp;rev=34">[ img ]</a><br/>Name:Lythaera<br/>Age:Appears to be 21<br/>Gender:Obviously Male<br/>Race: His mother was a Draemoric and elven crossbred, and his father was a pure Hyor. Infact, Lyth is the son of a Hyor Alpha.<br/>Appearance: Lyth is a menacing man of 6''2. He's very slim and slender though he has an obvious lean musculature. He's got long dark violet hair, easily mistakable for black, that falls just past his hips. He's very pale and has long dark eyelashes, and his hair usually falls over at least one eye. He has large and very vibrant orange orb-like eyes that are wide-set, and a general aryan-type facial structure: high cheek bones, a large fore, an expressive and low-set brow, and a small and dainty looking jaw. He has various celtic rune birthmarks that start on his right shoulder and down his arm, stopping at his palm.<br/>Clothes: He wears two small emerald earrings, He is usually seen wearing a black leather militant jacket with a high collar and various emblems pinned to the shoulders and sleeves.<br/>He wears a black glove with a silver chain pinned to the cuff of his jacket sleeve. the other hand is adorned with various chains and jewels, and has a thin black ribbon tied around his wrist.<br/>His black belt has various pieces of fabric tied to it, along with his sword.<br/>He wears black pants, and tall black combat boots stained with blood and mud.<br/>His weapons include various knives and blades hidden about his person.He carries a beautifully designed elven spear(His is unique) named Ahtherda<br/>He also fights with the dragonic blade named Vyhrda, kept on his belt.<br/>He has a small elven knife named suhfra which he usually has strapped stealthily to the inside of his boot.<br/><br/><br/>Darkness hadn't taken long to fall over the bloodstained battlefields. Victory seemed so merciless. His people would sing songs of this glorious battle for years to come... A battle they called it. The demon didn't see it as any of the sort. There was little resistance, little challenge. It wasn't a glorious victory, the term genocide seemed much more fitting than victory. The others would say they had won. Lyth would say that they had slaughtered thousands. Yet he wasn't a fool, and didn't let the men and women he had killed haunt his dreams. He didn't let himself feel guilty for what he had done. He wasn't ashamed, because regardless of his actions, they probably would be dead, even if they had managed to kill Lyth. Even if they had made it through the night, they were simply destined to die.<br/>With a sigh Lyth turned away from the endless field of death and still bodies. A slight breeze played with his long hair as he remounted his mare and trotted down the hill, and into the trees.<br/>His orange eyes scanned everything as the large warmare carried him along. Even after the massacre, he was still extremely cautious of any elves still alive. Some might call it paranoia, but his alertness and instincts had saved his, and his comrades lives countless times.  The deep chestnut colored horse's ears swiveled, she was listening too. Very gently he pulled the mare to a stop, the mare's neck arching as he stopped her. His eyes catching movement off to his right, his head turned quickly to search the area to confirm what he thought he just saw. The mare's small curled ears perked in the same direction that he was looking. Something was there. Running his fingers through his horse's mane, he dismounted silently, and stepped away with caution. He had no fear of the mare running away, and so he let go of the reins as he had dismounted.<br/>He could feel the presence of another very close by and he treaded quietly, careful not to make a sound, or to leave anything unnoticed. His eyes locked onto a shape in the tall grass, and he drew his blade as he approached the fallen figure. He found himself quite surprised to find out what it was. A girl... But an elf... She was small and seemed at first lifeless, but she was indeed breathing, very shallowly. Placing the blade back in its sheath, he bended over to inspect her. She was a pretty little thing, long legs... Wide hips. On closer inspection he found the medic badge that most of the elven healers wore to identify themselves. A healer? Then the interrogators would have little use for her. Healers would know nothing of plans...  He threw the medic badge aside and inspected her wounds, quickly disposing of all her potential weapons that were on her person. He was actually surprised she was still alive, this one probably wanted to live...<br/>She was indeed quite beautiful, and probably very, very young. It seemed unfair, shameful, and wrong to let such beauty be lost in such an ugly world... He had the growing desire to take her back with him... to keep her. A smile crept across his face. He tore a bit of cloth from the ones tied to his belt and quickly tied it around her side, placing his hand over her wound as he pulled her up into his arms, carrying her over to Bora, his mare, grabbing the horse's reins and leading her quickly back to the fort. The girl was much lighter than he expected, and he suspected that she was probably malnourished along with being badly wounded.