|Weapons:||Staves, 1h Swords, Daggers, Totems|
The Dominator is a support Mage who terrorizes opponents, leaving them unable or unwilling to act. Those who muster the courage to assault a Dominator will find themselves at the mercy of arcane shields that turn the fury of their own blows against them.
With mind-altering abilities that easily disrupt focus, Dominators are the bane of enemy casters, especially healers. Dominators also excel at sending enemy ranks into disarray, making isolated, terrified individuals prey for the Mage’s allies.
Like many who thrive on terror, Dominators are themselves fragile and require a solid screen of companions to shield them from the wrath of those they torment.
Nyx was beloved of the Kelari. A beautiful young girl, she was betrothed to Heliod, who was fated to become high priest. In a land where ruthlessness was a virtue, Nyx was known for her sweet demeanor. Her melodious voice called the squirrels from the trees and the birds from the skies down to perch upon her shoulders.
Returning from a day in a shady glade, Nyx entered her bedchambers to find an Abyssal sorcerer waiting, knife in hand.
“Your destiny dies with you…” he began, but the faceless cultist’s threat died in his throat as Nyx's magic overwhelmed him. In a brief instant, his form twisted grotesquely, leaving behind a squirrel that ran in erratic circles where once a man had stood. Humming a dulcet tune, Nyx called the beast to her and dropped him into a cage, which she immediately submerged in a cistern. She sang over the animal’s terrified shrieks, then finally flicked the carcass out the window.
The Water cultists had arrived. Again. "Oh, bother", thought Nyx, "How many times must I deal with these people?"
“Heliod?” she called out pleasantly, hand on the bejeweled ritual dagger at her hip. “I think we shall have visitors soon!” She opened the door to the salon where he would doubtless reside, deep in meditation.
Instead she saw more Abyssal cultists, wearing masks made from the skins of their victims. The large one with the swords was hacking her Heliod into parts needed for their demonic rituals, while the others were busy painting profane symbols in the mess.
“Well, I see you’ve already made yourselves at home.” Her practiced smile never wavered. “You must be tired.” Following a wave of her hand, the cultists found themselves struggling to stay awake. The pleasantness about her evaporated and the air around her darkened. “And now you’ve forced me to train another husband,” Nyx said before her form wavered and tore into shadows that crept about the walls.
The cultists of Akylios are accustomed to madness, but in the house of Nyx they found themselves engulfed in a nightmare beyond their control: running through the room, they clawed at their faces to remove imagined insects, lost all memory of who they were, and began to turn upon each other in paranoia. With their own spilt gore, they destroyed whatever arcane pattern they had attempted to draw with Heliod's remains.
Nyx turned and regarded the leader, who had just found the strength to stand. “Witch!” he hissed, “The power of Akylios will not waver before the likes of you!” A bolt of profane energy streaked towards Nyx, but flared against a conjured barrier that caused it to rebounded upon its caster. Nyx was uncertain what he had cast, but the cultist's screams suggested that it must have been painful.
“Yes, yes, you cultists and your prattle. Consider me officially bored.” In an almost disinterested way, Nyx invoked a spell that tore the magic from her foe, streams of energy wrenched through his mouth and his nose until the husk of his body collapsed upon the floor.
Nyx straightened her appearance in the salon's mirror and furrowed her brow. “Well, then. Nothing for it but to show this Akyli-person that I will not be trifled with.”
- Domimator's Official Page