Nellens Alicia, may her soul someday find release.
You stand in front of a statue. A woman, of the Dragon Blood, garbed in a suit of articulated armour and bearing a sword of size suggesting that it might be a Grand Diklave straight out of the stories. On her right shoulder a raven is perched, and at the base of the statue lies an inscription:
The Battle for Lookshy
You wonder who this woman was, and how she had distinguished herself.
Behind a desk, in a small office, in the Imperial City, on the Emerald Isle, at the centre of the world, sits an aged woman; Nellens Omari, the only remaining ancestor of Nellens Alicia. She had not seen Alicia's assignment to the Ninth as exile, as many others had, but instead as a second chance for her to distinguish herself in the Realm and in the House. "Well," she thought "she certainly did that. I can only wish that she had learned to restrain her impetuousness in the process. May her soul come eventually to rest." The Armour, and the Oathbreaker's Sword would have to be repaired, and would have to wait. Alicia had had no remaining close relatives, but one of her cousins is currently expecting. Nellens Omari sets pen to paper; if the child be female, then by family tradition it should be named in honour of Nellens Alicia, and be trained for a military career.
Meanwhile, a legion is marching North from Lookshy. V'neef Bunto accompanies it, bearing a Soulsteel sword in a warded chest. He seeks a way to destroy the sword, and release the soul trapped within.
I turn the corner, past the place where we had first entered the complex, and race down the final corridor. In front of me I see a form, which appears to be trying to hide, but with little success. I draw near and see that it is the Agent of the All Seeing Eye that I had promised myself revenge upon all those months before, and whom had been winding me up ever since. I cannot restrain myself, so I swing at him and my sword digs deep into his side. He rolls away, and vanishes; and I stand ready, expecting a counter-attack. None comes, so after a short wait I continue on my route.
As I arrive at the junction outside the power-room a tall dark shape steps out -- it is Him, our adversary. I do not even stop to consider; honour and anger can only allow one option. I raise my sword in salute, then channelling my flow of Essence change my stroke into a parry as he attacks. I know immediately that my parry was insufficient, and I wish my comrades better luck against this Foe than I have had. Then comes the impact, and my mouth opens in a scream of exquisite pain as His sword wrenches my soul from my body, and from the Cycle of Reincarnation. I die, to an extent, but my soul remains in torment; imprisoned in the blade, Soulmirror.
Tom: the only regret I have for what happened is that she didn't get a blow in on him first. Otherwise I think it was fitting.