☽ яєтяσgяα∂є ☾
- Dec 31, 2018
ᴄʜᴇᴠᴀʟɪᴇʀ x ᴄᴏʀᴘsᴇ
"Long may she reign!"
◣ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ◢
6'6" | Thirty-Eight
Beyond the great, eastern mountains and far from the eyes of civilization came a horde of terrifying power
endless waves of barbarians crashed across the kingdoms, tearing their castles asunder while pillaging and
raping those unfortunate enough to be caught in their wake. Those that were not killed were enslaved and
soon, it wasn't long until even the most powerful and prestigious Kingdoms had fallen to the flow of history.
Led by the accursed Wolf King, Fenris is a giant among men, a warrior that puts all others to shame, he rules
his armies with but a single commandment, that: only the strongest survive. As such, all others are merely
people to be conquered, toys to be claimed.
sɪʀ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀʀᴘᴇʀ
6'2" | Twenty-Four
Sir Oliver Harper is the new Commander of the Queen's Guard, appointed following the death of his
predecessor who was slain in battle protecting the late King. He is often regarded within the Kingdoms
as the greatest swordsman to have ever lived, besting every warrior to ever challenge him and taking a
countless number of tournaments in the name of the Royal Family. A childhood friend of the new Queen,
he has been infatuated with her since his youth, often citing his love for the Queen as his main motivation
for becoming a Knight. His romantic feelings have only become more obsessive over time, the Knight often
cursing his commoner birth for separating him from the woman that he loves dearly.
ʟᴀᴅʏ ᴀsʜʟʏɴ ᴇʟʏsɪᴀ
5'6" | Twenty-Eight
The Duchess of Hironedein, Lady Ashlyn is the last of Ecclesia's Great Lords. Ruling the fertile southern
lands, she commands the largest army in Ecclesia and is well respected by the remains of the nobility.
With the fall of her most prominent rivals, there exist few nobles remaining to contest her ambition,
and while it is hardly a secret that Ashlyn desires the throne for herself, challenging her power would
plummet the already faltering and wounded kingdom deep into the never-ending depths of ruin.
ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʀɪsᴛᴀɴ ᴠᴏɴ ᴀᴜʀᴇʟɪᴀ
6'0" | Twenty-Six
The Crown Prince of the Imperialis, Prince Tristan is set to inherit the largest and most populous nation
within the charted world. The Imperialis' territories stretch from sea to sea and their seemingly endless
legions are infamous for their brutal efficiency. The Imperialis has always been recognized, even by their
rivals as the pinnacle of civilization. While their warlike tendencies often put them at odds with their smaller
neighbors, they are often content with allowing other Kingdoms to remain their sovereignty, so long as
they recognize the validity of Imperial rule. Tristan represents all of the positive and negative traits of the
Empire... Tristan is arrogant, ambitious, but most of all, the Dragon is terrifyingly cunning.
Queen of Ecclesia Knight of Ecclesia
The throne room was vibrant and lively, the dense crowds of younger nobles intermingling with one another as the Queen's servants attended to their every whims. At the center of the room, they danced gracefully to the gentle hymns of violins, a lavish spectacle befitting for a newly crowned Queen. But despite the spirited festivities, there lingered a dark and brooding aura over the room; an unsettling feeling which brought uneasiness upon what remained of the nobility. Though they danced and celebrated, the silent murmurs which passed from ear to ear spoke about the fall of the civilized world, a doomed kingdom, an incompetent Queen. Indeed, it was no secret that Ecclesia itself was in turmoil, threatened by the Horde that encroached upon their very gates, leaving an endless sea of destruction and suffering in their wake. The Royal Army had been defeated, leaving the King and the Prince slain - just how long would it be until the capital city would fall as well ?
As the Queen sat upon her father's throne, the silhouette of a noblewoman would approach, separating herself from the crowd. She was slender, her fair height accentuated by tall heels which clattered confidently across the glossy veneer beneath her feet. "I would like to be the first to congratulate you on your coronation, your Majesty." Her voice was soft spoken, yet possessed an authoritative allure to it. It was the sort of voice with the ability to gently instill fear into those who listened, the type that need not be raised to invoke powerful emotions. When she spoke, the violins croaked into a sudden halt, for even the violinists knew better than to play over the Duchess' lips. The noble who stood within the Queen's presence was none other than the Ashlyn von Elysia, the Duchess of Hironedein. "It aches me to hear about what happened to your father and brother, but I trust that you will lead us in the same way your family has led us for generations." The Duchess delivered a terse bow, electing to bend at the waist and curve one hand beneath her chest in the same fashion that men bowed. While the more conservative nobles may have seen a woman bowing rather than curtseying a deprave and uncouth act, there were none still alive that dared to question the Lady.
"I, Ashlyn von Elysia, vow to protect Ecclesia... and you, to my last dying breath. My armies will ensure the safety of this city." The inflection upon that single word pierced deep into the ranks of nobles, who immediately turned to exchange their venomous gossip.
"I think you're mistaken, my Lady." The retort stemmed from a familiar voice, one that may have been comforting to the Princess during such a foreboding time. "Those armies belong to the Queen." Standing adjacent to the throne lingered the Queen's closest ally: A tall male with an unerringly handsome gaze and a mane of gold, he sported the full uniform of the Queen's Guard, complete with decorative, shoulder epaulets that matched the hue of his shining locks. Sir Oliver was the Commander of the Queen's Guard, a man that found fame and prestige not through noble blood, but through dedicating himself to a single cause: the Queen.
"Ah, the commoner speaks." The Duchess' vibrant gemstones lulled lazily towards the man that stood at the Queen's flank, "Perhaps the young man needs a refresher on politics. Tell me, my little Lion, who pays the salary of my soldiers? The gold does not come from the Royal Treasury, I assure you." The corner of her lips curved upwards into a mischievous smile, of course, what she spoke of was akin to treason, but who was going to stop her? What powerful lords remained were all under her thumb, while the Queen's army had been rendered practically nonexistent. "But, these are difficult times." She averted her gaze back to the Queen, her dark eyes reaching up into the Queen's own. Then, to the alarm of the guards surrounding the Queen, she slowly ascended the steps. "We should stand united as one. After all, what hope will we have if we bicker and squabble to the very end?" She hovered nearer still, her distinctly feminine hand reaching outwards. Her soft digits delved down towards her neck, before arching upwards to capture the bottom of her chin. "An unmarried Queen is certainly a powerful tool. I'm almost jealous with how many suitors will posture themselves beneath your feet." She leaned closer, until her lips lingered dangerously close to the Queen's own, the warm exhalation of each breath brushing across her face with every word.
"I'll give you three seconds to remove your hand, before I remove it for you, my Lady." Oliver's hand hovered down to his waist, towards the sword which rested in a scabbard upon his hip. "One... Two..."
Before the Knight could sound off the third number, the Duchess drew her hand away from the Queen, "Relax, little Lion, I just wanted to make sure the Queen considers all of her options... however unconventional they may be." She stepped backward, retracing her steps while never averting her gaze away from the Queen. "A strong Queen should never be tied to such traditions anyways." With that, the Succubus bows, before turning and disappearing back into the crowd of nobles. "Until then."
"Your Majesty, do you have a moment? I would like to speak to you... in private."
Upon the border of Ecclesia lay an abandoned spire, nestled upon an ominous cliffside and reaching towards the sky; blackened by the deviant powers which encroached upon the land. To the outward observer, the dark tower was in a state of obvious disrepair, even the pathway leading up the titanic slopes being lost to the weathering elements. But despite its crumbling battlements and weathered defenses, its mountaintop position meant that any that dare encroach upon it be met with the full might of its defenders. Indeed, the ruins of the once marvelous fortress represented Ecclesia's best hope for stemming the tide of invaders which sought to break into the countryside. For two months, the defenses held, mostly in part to its favorable position, but in no small part the efforts or its garrison and of course, the talented Captain which commanded them.
But even if their resistance had been admirable, their defense had been destined to fail.
Within the derelict, dark corridors of the cavernous spire, a single man sat upon a dejected throne, the last vestige of a Kingdom that had once existed thousands of years ago. He was a towering, foreboding figure, with a chiseled jaw that accentuated his masculine features. A set of deep scars marred the corners of his portrait and a dark, leather eyepatch obfuscated the right flank of his gaze. The dreadful hulk was none other than the Wolf King himself, the warlord that was destined to conquer the world: Fenrisulfr.
"My Lord, we've brought the enemy commander to you, as you've requested."From beyond the doorway, the lithe silhouette of a woman appeared into his single-eyed visage, the familiar chime of metal shackles reverberating through the abandoned throne room as the light haired figure was presented before her new master. Her wrists were bound together behind her back, the chains reaching upwards and connecting to a metal collar which had already been locked around her slender neck. With a single curl of his index finger, the Wolf beckoned for her to approach him, watching as the warrior behind her shoved her forward, until her own feet would carry her towards him. "You caused quite the ruckus among my ranks. But I'm sure you're quite proud of that, aren't you?" The man snarled, waiting for her to draw closer before speaking once more, "Leave us." Upon command, the other figures in the room dispersed, until the Knight was left alone with the towering warlord. Once they were alone, he stood from his seat, hovering closer towards her so that the little Knight could see just how overwhelmingly large he was in comparison to her. His mere presence blocked out the light, obscuring the knight's vision so that she would only be able to see him.
"I will give you but one chance to receive mercy..." His voice was deep and primal, like some sort of voracious, masculine beast. "Kneel."