The Tyrant King

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The Tyrant King

Post by Zerifachias on Sat Nov 14, 2009 6:27 pm

Backstory:

Some time ago, King Jonah Von Huron XXIII of the Hurons declared war on their arch enemy, the Aconites. This brutal war, started by a simple threat from the Aconites, would last for 20 full years. Unbeknown to either nation, the war would stop abruptly in a direction neither would have suspected.

The King Jonah Von Huron XXIII had a daughter, who's name was Celestia Von Huron. The plan was for Celestia to marry into the Aconite family in order to stop the marriage. Unfortunately, this didn't go over well with Celestia, and arguments between her and her father occurred. It became evident that Celestia would no accept the plan, so the war continued.

The King, in an attempt to win over his daughter, gave her a servant with whom to do as she pleased. However, this did not turn out the way the King wanted. Celestia and the servant became attached to each other, spending more and more time together. The King, furious, threw his own daughter and her servant out of the kingdom.

"Celestia, if you won't help me, then begone with ye! I have no further use of you!" Von Huron boomed, the large throne room echoing with his voice.

"Father, if you will not have me in your walls, then no longer will I obey you," Celestia replied with a silent anger in her voice. Her brown hair whipped around her head as she spun on her heels and walked away from her father. Celestia's white dress flapping at her feet. "I am taking my servant with me, the only one whom I can trust around here." With that, Celestia no longer came before her father's sight.

Celestia had returned to her room, where the servant she had mentioned previously was waiting in. The servant herself had to endure hardships from Celestia's father. Celestia had saved her friend, resulting in the King calling her to his presence. As previously stated, Celestia and her friend were banished.

Without a word, Celestia undressed, putting more a more appropriate attire for travel. Celestia was the pampered daughter of King Huron, however, that didn't mean she wasn't trained for travel or war. Celestia may have been pampered, but she wasn't spoiled. Far from it. Instead of becoming a brat, Celestia developed a sense of individuality, she had no problems surviving on her own, but this time around, she would have her closest friend, her servant, to help her. The two of them could accomplish many things together, but Celestia had only one thing on her mind, overthrowing her father. And for that, she needed the help of a country equal in strength to Huron.

Celestia's new attire was similar to an archer's uniform. Black leather gloves pulled over her hands, protecting them from a number of attacks to a certain extend. A leather archer's vest complimented by leather pants and boots. Celestia was a master of archery, having loved the sport since she was a child. Proficient in both white and black magiks, Celestia needed no more than her bow to carry out spells and the like. She could even cast such spells as she shot arrows.

Celestia stood straight and tall, eying herself in a mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she nodded at her servant to pick up her own equipment and get ready.

****************
Okay, here's the deal. You have to name your own character, give her an intro and appearance, then a profession. She could be an archer/magician like Celestia, or she could have her own different job, like a knight or a swordsman. Remember, this is a fantasy story, so the laws of physics don't necessarily apply here. If you have any questions, feel free to ask away. ^^

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Re: The Tyrant King

Post by VIII Redeta on Sat Nov 14, 2009 7:02 pm

Laraine needed no mirror to gauge her appearance. Her fiery red hair (the trait of a foreigner) was a bushy mess that left much to be desired. She was a tiny little thing of small stature and a petite frame. The only redeeming feature she had - "filthy" servant girl that she was - were the set of emeralds her father's noble genes had bestowed upon her. Laraine hated her green eyes almost as much as she hated her mane, but there was nothing that could be done about either at the time being.

She saw no point in primping prior to leaving the kingdom that had exiled her. Why would anyone care for the appearance of a misfit? The world had never treated her well. Laraine had been the child of a common street whore and some forgotten nobleman who'd toyed with the hearts of both his wife and mistress. Imagine that! Laraine hated being the byproduct of such an unfaithful bastard (well, she herself was the only bastard around here.)

Her life in the slums had been filled with hardships. Whereas some people worried about where they would be in ten years, Laraine had always wondered about tomorrow and whether or not she'd be able to open her eyes in the morning. Thievery was a given and she had become quite an adept at pickpocketing. Loose pursestrings could feed her for a week, and she had learned never to squander her resources on the trivial things in life, hence her lack of pretty trinkets and materialistic objects.

Once she had been caught trying to rob a merchant's stall of fish and meat. The nasty whipping that followed left a few scars upon her back, a constant reminder that she was not a young lady, but the child of a prostitute, a creature lower than dirt. Yet for some reason, she'd been able to make a name for herself.

It had all begun with a pretty glass. Laraine had snatched it off the top of a windowsill and stared at it all afternoon, watching rainbows refract from its shimmering surface. Some kindly elder gentleman dropped a gold coin in her stolen glass, and left before Laraine could sputter a 'thank you'. That gold coin wasn't spent on a luxurious meal. That gold coin had been used as tuition for a textile class.

Thus Laraine had learned at the tender age of 10 how to spin cotton. A few months later she had learned how to embroider. By her next birthday she was selling clothes of her own. It was nothing so grand as a true business, but she never stole ever again.

Eventually she became friends with the guards whom had once hounded her, and through them she'd learned the names of a few knights. Bridging such connections led to the royal guard and through the royal guard she finally realized that the family who reigned over the city and the entire kingdom were not physical manifestations of gods, but rather people like her. Somehow, her simplistic realization and hardworking nature stood out amongst all the other girls who had come from much cleaner backgrounds. She became the princess's personal servant.

Yet all of this had yet to be divulged. The princess knew not of her rotten roots, and Laraine had not forgotten how to wield a dagger. In fact, she'd taken secret lessons in between chores so as to better defend herself (as far as anyone knew, she was some middle-class citizen hired from another country.)

Laraine tied a leather holster around her thigh and tugged her skirt over the blade, concealing the dagger. She grabbed a bag off a chair and slung it over her shoulder, hearing the contents jostle and knock against one another. "Milady, I'm as ready as you are."

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