Results 1 to 4 of 4

Thread: Royal Lies(Laura & Koti~) OOC M

  1. #1
    Mystic of the Grimoire
    Koti~'s Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2010
    Location
    Working on sun lab.. need more A/C portals
    Age
    33
    Posts
    10,613
    Mentioned
    22 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    481

    Default Royal Lies(Alura & Koti~) OOC M

    Rated M for adult themes, violence, drug usage.

    IC HERE



    In the lands of Hymnascal, peace reigned durning the ruling of the King Aminan the last in a long lineage of kings ruling back before time counted. Boasting the greatest combination of power and wealth, he ruled his subjects with a strong hand and stubborn ideals, guiding those who fell under his protection. His people even claimed the old king blessed by God, chosen to be the protector of all.

    Of course, he was not lacking in enemies, from those who’s lands he had liberated, and the people he had restored of their sinful ways to the righteousness of the lords guiding light under his tutelage. Not all were pleased with his ways, but those voices were frail against his might and praise. To the world at large, the kingdom was untouchable, and none sane would dare go against the king and his family line, less they fall to his might and wealth.

    Though, not all men were sane during this time, as even with his reign, bandits and madmen still roamed the roads, picked up by deserters and those who had lost all in the never-ending lust of the king to gain more power and lands. One such man, having been lost to the ages, took his revenge, bringing with him magic from the east to conquer the lands. He brought with him the sun in his hands, and thunder at his fingertips, taking down the kings and taking over the castle within months, an unheard of feat as more deserters and unstable men joined him. All of the Royal lines were killed, the righteous rulers and men beheaded for their resistance, showing the greed and lust in his eyes.

    Thus was the rise of the Usurper king, Sinal Balaser.

    For 8 years he ruled, raping the lands for its gold and needs, amasing power to hold up in his castle, looming like the reapers sickle above the peoples hands. Even more cowered in fear, old allies having all but deserted the people, locking away their support and power as he raised those who even hinted at his insanity, and even more the people who dared speak against him.


    Though, on the 7th anniversary of the Aminans death, a point of hope shines in people's eyes. Hidden away for years, the last remaining lineage of the late king, has been shown. Princess Diana, born to the Royal mistress, is the last hope of restoring the old royalty to power. With that news, the people stirred, grasping for the peace that once covered the lands, to end the reign of a mad man and his ungodly powers. She is like a pyre to all, a chance for old Allies to claim power once gone, and people able to vie for the throne.

    But even the kingdom has secrets, as even now, royal blood flows through the castle, people and pieces moving to overthrow the Usurper king, many blades drawn and pointed to several targets, though none shown in light.

    Spoiler: ”Blank Character Sheet” 
    Last edited by Koti~; 02-09-2021 at 11:54 AM.

    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




  2. #2
    Member
    Alura's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2010
    Location
    Wherever I land.
    Posts
    1,915
    Mentioned
    32 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    102

    Default

    Name: Horatia Hast
    Titles: "The Night Mare"
    Age: 26

    Appearance: Hazel eyes shine against the contrast of long brown hair usually plaited tight around her head or pulled into a high ponytail. Her olive skin is sun-darkened also from all the spare moments snatched on horseback tearing through the farmlands around the Duchess of Epona's holdings. She has the small, but sturdy frame of her line. Small enough to be a practical cavalrywoman, she has gained tone and strength from long practice with lance, sword, and the trick riding that she loves despite the distress it brings her father.

    Skills:
    |Master of Horses| Master | Skilled in the care, upkeep, and riding of horses as if they are an extension of herself. Can provide everything from nursing to farrier services, as well as plaiting and other such things for show and parading.

    |Cataphract| Master | A considerable knight in everything but name. Horatia has trained zealously in many styles of fighting and mastered those on horse-back, even if heavy armour. She has also practiced swordsmanship alongside lancing and archery. On the ground or dismounted she is an able swordswoman.

    |The Horse She Rode In On| Master | Horatia's closest companion and faithful steed Capilet is always at the ready. They know each other so well and are so well-matched that they have the same hellion temperament when cornered and he tends to show up at opportune moments for escape when she is in trouble. In return, Horatia spoils her beloved friend fiercely.

    |Hit 'im, Ray!| Proficient | From a youth of wild rides and bad decisions, she is part of a tight-knit band within the Resistance who jokingly call themselves the "Band of Horses". In for a penny, in for a pound. When one of them gets into a scuffle they all get into it. They've taken many a late-night stroll that ended in a brawl. Light on her feet without being particularly fast, she's not the best fighter on the ground, but she can throw a fist or an elbow well enough to hold her own. Their camaraderie also extends to other things, like providing a distraction for the others to get up to their mischief. Their aims may be more refined and just now that they are older, but the bonds still remain and serve them in their efforts to foster the Resistance.

    |Hot-blooded| Natural | The downside of a burning stubborn streak is that it can cut both ways, to friends and enemies alike. With age and adherence to her family's chivalrous codes, Horatia has managed to wrap up her temper a little. Still, great indignation, wounded pride, anger, or situations in which she or someone she is protecting is backed into a corner or injured can draw out an almost berserker-like streak in her, suffusing her fighting with a frighteningly effective level of raw aggression and allowing her to fight through hurt and pain that might otherwise overwhelm her.

    Personality: Horatia is energy-in-motion. Clever on her feet, but hot-blooded, she often finds herself storming into things full-force before fully thinking them through all the way. This makes her a bit of a gamble when careful planning is required, but there are few as ideal to carry out a risky plan to success. Where there is no way, she creates a path, taking to heart the chivalrous ideals her minor patrician family has long held and handed generation to generation. Explosive as she can be, she holds few grudges because of the immediate nature of her feelings. Some of the more demure aspects of the road to obtaining knighthood as the men in her family always do she struggles with as a result of these natural leanings, but at heart she really does want the best for her family, her people, and those wronged under the mad reign of the Usurper.

    History: On her mother's side, Horatia is from reputable merchant stock, some of whom have held lucrative deals and been blessed with royal favour for generations. Her father, brother, and father's father all pursued their lots as master horsemen, knights of cavalry with the Duchess Epona as their patron despite occasional libel of being nothing but 'hedge' knights from properly ranked knights of noble houses. Despite this, they all rose through the ranks quickly on merit of their skill and were involved in the conflict that deposed the true king in favour of the Usurper. Her grandfather, Shango Hast the Elder and her brother, Shango Hast the Third both perished in the infighting when some of the treacherous knights betrayed their oaths and sided with the mad king.

    Having been living in well-appointed apartments within the castle city with their own merchant contracts with King Aminan at the time while selling the fine clothing and tapestries for which her mother and her two aunts had made quite popular at court, at headstrong eighteen Horatia had witnessed the grim realities of politics and power. Her mother had survived the conflict, but not the death of her only son. Her father had become a shadow of the warrior that he had been, retiring with his daughter to their fruitful and secluded land within the duchy.

    Isolated and angry, Horatia had poured her boundless energy into taking up her brother's mantle and venturing out beyond her father's lands. It did not take long for her to fall in with a wild crowd of youths discarded by a kingdom struck silent and afraid under the oppression of the Great Interloper. Despite their beginnings predicated on being relegated to the outskirts of courtly society and disdeigned in the castle town and castle proper where many of their families had lived comfortably or served prior to the overthrow, they aged from a loose affiliation of impuissant inheritors of a broken kingdom to a skilled band of displaced and disenfranchised warriors.

    Her militant stripe has become a point of contention between herself and her father, who she dearly loves but barely sees as he shuts himself away much of the time. When they see each other they often only fight, and Horatia goes off again riding and brewing in ideals of a restored kingdom.

    Seven years on, murmurs of a princess who survived the taking of the throne fans the flame of rebellion. The little collective of rebel-rousers have found renewed purpose under a few of the knights of the old guard who have taken them under their wing and introduced them to nobles and others also opposed to the current violence and oppression felt under the madman Sinal Balaser. With their new allies, their movements have begun in earnest. The tacticians among them have begun designing plans to snatch away the throne and once more seat an heir of the blessed line of Hymnascal upon it.

    Though they have lost members through the years gone to lead lives of resignation as best they can under the tyrant's reign, those who have remained of the little cavalry have become keystones in the resistance. Horatia herself has earned the name Night Mare for her work as a courier and sword arm in the efforts to protect assets and individuals important to the plans of their leaders. She moves primarily in the twilight hours and beyond when others sleep like an unseen shadow of things to come. Despite the sense of belonging she now feels, the secrecy and hiding rankles against her nerves and she looks forward to the day when the things they do in secret become known. When that day comes, she'll don her father's livery in her brother's stead and ride beside the friends of her youth into the throne room to cut the Usurper off the throne themselves... or so she dreams. When she lays the blade at her father's feet in the same dream, it somehow draws the veil of the past from him, and brings back the man she knew.

    Victory has never been nearer, and the affirming reports of the hidden princess appear to be the key to driving a wedge of fear into the mad king's already suspicious mind.

    Spoiler: Completely Unsolicited, Contextual Praise Definitely not Acquired via Torture 

  3. #3
    Mystic of the Grimoire
    Koti~'s Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2010
    Location
    Working on sun lab.. need more A/C portals
    Age
    33
    Posts
    10,613
    Mentioned
    22 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    481

    Default

    Name: Damanius, son of Aminan
    Princess Diana of the Royal Mistress

    Title: Prince and last Heir to the throne
    Age: 16

    Appearance: Standing at a somewhat short 5'3 Damanius tries his best to appear tall despite his height, though one can tell he carries his history hard. Sporting the red hair that his father does, it is kept to the small of his back and mostly braided, a gentle curve and well kept. As with all royals, his skin is fair with the high cheekbones of his family. His eyes are a soft brown that hide intensity behind them. He hides a scar along his right forearm, a reminder from fencing to pay attention. The only piece that he wears between both outfits is a golden chain with a blue gem in the center of a silver cage.

    As Princess Diana, he usually sports a bodice and full length green dress, a gift from his late mother. This is usually accompanied with a banding across his chest to help disguise his lack of a chest. Underneath the layers, the outfit is paired with some flats and tights to help hide his body more giving his rather hard features a feminine elegance that most pass off as a gift from his father.

    When granted the few spare moments to be himself, he sports a green tunic and brown trousers. They are often paired with his combat boots. He tends to carry a short sword on his side for protection, yet this outfit is rarely worn.

    Personality: With years of both practice and living a lie, Damanius and Diana have both learned to be detached from all around them, a professional politeness that has kept them out of trouble. Underneath that, he is extremely untrustworthy towards all but one person, the maid who had saved his life. He has come to the harsh lessons that all will lie to save their own hides or to get their own power. The last person who he had tried to use for his gain ended up killed by trying to sell his secrets for gold.

    Underneath it all, Damanius is nothing more than a scared child. Having lived half his life as a lie, he knows little of the outside world, even more how to reclaim all that he has lost. Betrayal and pain had pushed him from making contact with the outside world, and the lack of comfort has left him unable to form social skills. Though he wishes nothing more than to regain his kingdom and throne, he doesn't know how he will win the people's hearts after what happened, nor how will defeat the usurper King.

    Skills:
    Disguise: 8 years of having to disguise himself as a female, Damanius has some skills to disguise himself to look like a woman, or others. While a very strange skill to learn, he has had to learn by necessity.


    Swordsman: As with all royal children Damanius has some skill with a blade, able to handle himself with prowess against the common rabble and squire's.

    Marksman: The most trained skill of his, Damanius is skilled with a bow and arrow, able to hit the center of a bulls-eye from 50 yards away.

    Stealth: Even when dressed as Diana, he can be quite agile and graceful. This skill was born of need while navigating the castle grounds, hardened over time from when he had been discovered and beat for it, having gotten to the outer walls of the groups before getting caught.

    History: Damanius had a mostly typical upbringing as a child of the royal family, even more secluded as the youngest child of a royal line. This granted him some freedom that most of his siblings did not get, as his only chance at a throne was to marry rich, or become strong and lead the royal armies. His future already chosen, he spent his young years learning all that he could of the scholars that had taught the other royal children. This did end up sheltering him from the outside world, his teachings of scholarly ways left the outside world a place of fantasy. Though a bit naive of the peasantry, he was more than happy with this life style.

    It was probably the only thing that had saved him when Sinal Balaser attacked the kingdom. The kingdom was thrown in chaos as the men attacked, leaving the young Damanius to be hidden away during the attack. His maid, the only woman closer to him than his own mother and sisters, knew that there was no way they would survive it all, and decided upon the course of action that would save his life. She hid away Damanius and altered the history of his birth, disguising him as the child Diana, daughter of the Royal Mistress. The lack of information was more than enough, as Aminan was the one of the very few kings to take one. All of his siblings were killed, even his older sisters that had been married off to other Lords and duchies. He had been made to watch his own father beheaded, and his mother was killed shortly after.

    The eight years after the long night were fraught with danger and pain, as Sinal Balaser had kept him alive, planning to use him to become a surrogate for future children and place them in the royal line. The long years turned Damanius, now turned Diana, into a cold harder individual. She had steadily grown unable to trust any that she tried to secret into her way for help, as they either sold her out, or were caught by the mad king and his men. Her only solace through this time was her maid, a woman hardened with age and bearing the brunt of Diana's punishment for breaking the rules or trying to seek help.

    After the long years though, a moment of hope has finally come to him, as the news that Sinal was going to announce their marriage plans in three months time, revealing her to the world at large. Once his face was known, he would use this to try and gain allies and take down the bastard who had killed his entire family, yet first he would need to flee his imprisoned graveyard.
    Last edited by Koti~; 02-09-2021 at 10:58 AM.

    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




  4. #4
    Mystic of the Grimoire
    Koti~'s Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2010
    Location
    Working on sun lab.. need more A/C portals
    Age
    33
    Posts
    10,613
    Mentioned
    22 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    481

    Default

    CS for Nabooru, name changed to avoid legality

    Name: Nabura
    Titles: Silence
    Age: 22
    Appearance: Despite her age, Nabura is on the short side, barely 5’4 in height. Years of both training and survival in the desert has left her extremely thin, barely weighing 100 pounds, giving her the appearance of a very malnourished child. Naburas years under the sun has only darkened her skin from her naturally dark skin, her hair bleached whitish yellow from the sun, a few strands of red mixing into. She tends to keep her long hair pulled into a single ponytail, held back by a simple bandage wrapped around her head to hide her ruined left eye. Her right eye is a startling blue color, which many find unnerving and at odds with the rest of her appearance.

    Along her back is a half finished tattoo scar, a swirling pattern that ends just at the middle of her spine, the skin flayed pink as part of her peoples rite of passage into adulthood.

    Nabura tends to go wear a simple dirty smock of a shirt, paired with a frayed green skirt that falls around her knees. She tends to wear lighter clothes to keep cool and allow her to blend into the downtrodden that several pass by. She doesn’t wear shoes, preferring do go barefoot despite the hard stones and sharp rocks, as she has lost most of the sensation in her feet from the burning sands.

    Skills:
    Macaw- Nabura can mimic others voices and even alter her own, making it impossible to pin down her own voice. She uses this to great effect to startle and unnerve her opponents during fights.

    Deaths Embrace- Having been pushed to the edge of death and despair herself, Nabura does not fear the end of her life, or losing her life in a death. This in itself has made her fearless, allowing her to push beyond where others would reasonably flee for their lives.

    I’m you, you’re Me- Nabura is extremely talented in blending into the background, her lack of both weight and height allowing her to hide among even the most bland commoner. She carries such little presence that few can keep track of her during long drawn battles.

    I can see your soul- Nabura easily picks up on people's movements and small details, things that most would allow them to pass by. Even with her one good eye, she is always watching and studying people.

    Personality: Nabura is a blank slate when it comes to emotions and personage. She tends to mimic what people will find either most approachable, or will push people away from her. She leaves little impression on others and tends to remain quiet and uncaring until she is needed to work.

    When actually on her own, Nabura is a very demure and silent person. Having survived so long on her own, she cherishes loyalty and drive, doing what is required with no hesitation to repay those who have saved her life. When left on her own, she comes across as rather feral, relying on body language and actions to tell how she feels about others and people, knowing that words can lie, the body the only thing one can truly trust.


    History: Nabura was born to the desert tribe of Heneras, people who have made a living in the burning sands and sparse landscapes. She was raised upon their ideals and teachings, knowing that one needed to be strong no matter what, to battle the desert they lived in. At the age of 5, she was taken upon her first hunt to find food, which during that time she lost her left eye during a hunt against their meals. She survived the fight and continued to help on hunts and watch over the people.

    At 10, she was placed upon the night watch, a common occurrence for the younger soldiers so the adults could rest during the longer days. She was another soldier in the army by then, cold hearted and skilled with a dagger and short sword as they needed to defend their people against the night time creatures that could threaten their lives.

    Upon the age of 13, she was to undertake the rite of age by her people, where her birth symbol would be carved into her flesh during high noon, a test to show that she could endure any pain that might come her way. She failed, crying out in pain as the flaying dagger passed over her spine, sending a shock through her system. She was banished from her tribe as was common in her people, given the dagger used to flay her skin, and a skein of water.

    For 6 years she did everything she could to survive, struggling to hunt enough meals to live, stealing from wary travelers and even the most fierce creatures of the desert to just survive, her drive to prove herself stronger than her people would allow. She almost died several times, both from starvation and sickness, her body shaped by the harsh winds and burning sands.

    Eventually she was rescued by an army of bandits, having been just about dead on her feet, sick from venom and dehydration. In return, she offered her life to the man who had saved her, her tribal histories stating that her life was in his hands, as she would have already been dead at her own skills. Her body didn’t recover from the time under the blazing suns, but she proved invaluable to the men. While not accepted like most, she found a tribe to protect again, and would not fail her bloodline again.


    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •