A new JeVondair Advy: Colab Character Creation

[JeVondair]

(A) Imagine, for a moment, the horror of waking from your worst nightmare, only to discover that not only was it real and more hellish than even your darkest fever dreams and you will still fall short of the dread that wormed its way through her. She screamed as he shambled forward, screamed as her back hit the wall, screamed when it fell to all fours, reaching out with hands (devoid of any holes) to grab her leg, screamed when it jerked its arm, pulling her body closer to his. She, kicked them, pleading, shouting with everything she had. She was his daughter. He loomed over her, teeth snapping reflexively as he worked his jaw, glassy gaze focused on the meat of her leg.


She can't get away. His grip is to strong. It's hurting her. It's so cold...


Does she A) Give in to her terror and retreat into her mind, B) Keep fighting to the very end, C) Scream even louder, making all the noise she can, D) Faint.

[JeVondair]

(B) When her father took her out into the woods or fishing, he would point out to her all the things in nature. How death was a natural part of life to be accepted, not feared. She would watch as small predators like spiders or foxes caught their prey. She watched as the prey bucked and kicked, fighting to live. And she bore witness to the very moment the prey accepted the inevitable, implacable fate. They would go still even as the predator began to devour them while they were still alive. "You see?" her father would say. Cold crept up her body "Everything has its time" It was getting harder to move. "It's easier to accept than...to...


FIGHT!


Her father's smiling, beatific expression dissolved into a ghoulish parody of the man that raised her, jaws agape and scant inches from tearing into her calf as though it were a turkey leg. A bite would mean her death, and from deep within her welled a will to live that was stronger even then her fear. Screaming all the while, she drew the knife her father had given her and, twisting her body, drove it into his flesh just behind his chin, pinning the his jaws together and buying her time. She pulled her way towards the door to the cottage, dragging her body through the blood. Her father struggled, seemingly confused, but did not release her leg from his death grip. His cold hands, unearthly cold, gripped down her. She heard and felt something snap, shooting pain through her such as she had never felt. She writhed wildly, every movement bringing her more pain, she kept screaming. Her voice rising an octave when her knife clamored to the floor and he dragged her toward him again, twisting her on her back.


She couldn't crawl, her knife was gone, the cold was spreading through her. But one last time, she willed herself to struggle, to live. She kicked with her good leg, putting all her strength behind it as her heal crunched into her father's nose, shattering the bone. He didn't seem to notice, but she knew that wouldn't stop him. Instead, she pushed, using her positioning to propel herself towards the door, towards the light, again.


And that's when she saw her.


A woman in leather armor with a lit torch in one hand and strange curved knife in the other, hurled herself into the cottage. Launching herself airborne over the struggling girl, a mane of blonde hair whipping behind her, as she smashed bodily into the ghastly creature. It released its grip on the girl, bowled over by the force of this new attacker. The woman, garbed like an adventurer from the stories, straddled the creature and stabbed the torch down into its open mouth. Skin sizzled and the creature emitted an unearthly sound as she took her heavy knife and hacked at the neck until the head separated from the body. It went limp.


Moments later, the little college was filled with soldiers, men and women all wearing identical armor and clearly deferring to her. They seemed agitated. "It was just a ghoul," she said, as though that explained everything and would calm them. "And a new one at that. Nothing to worry about." She looked around the cottage, briefly taking in her surroundings, blue eyes narrowing at the bloodied iron nails on the door, then focused on the little girl who gone stock still.


Does she A) Remain paralyzed and say nothing, B) Thank this heroine, C) Ask for answers, D) Run to the safety of the woods?

[JeVondair]

(D) The only thing that was still in her mind was panic, an adrenaline-fueled urge to run and wake up from this nightmare. She backed way from the woman, flipped over to her knees, and tried to get her feet under her...


Only to collapse as pain from her leg exploded behind her eyes.


She fell, and was caught by A) Selenia JeVondair, B) Godric Tórrarin, C) Random Fearless warrior, D) The Ground.

[JeVondair]

(Sweet! Please put them together and the dates of publication if you get a chance. I'll build  history of Xavax page starting with your reports.)


(D) She fell through the doorway back outside, crying in pain. It took a moment for her to register that the clearing outside her cottage was filled with warriors on horseback or roaming around with bared steel in one hand and torches in the other, lit even in full daylight. Her sudden appearance and cry earned her some suprised glances, but all eyes turned to the blonde woman as she strode out behind her.


One of the warriors lead a horse, a great coal charger, and offered her the reigns. "Xerarch," he said respectfully, "please don't run off like that."


What's a Xerarch?


"Oh it was no trouble, just a ghoul, and a fresh one at that. The bandits were here and gone, left the body unburied. But for the leather lungs on this one-" Xerarch inclined her head to the little girl as she swung up into the saddle, "-we might have missed it entirely, and left he seeds of a new infestation in our wake."


"Xerarch," another warrior said as she exited the cottage. "It's a real mess in there-" She caught sight of the young girl and lowered her voice somewhat. "What would you have us do?


"Burn it down. See to it that nothing rises here again. And-" Xerarch looked at the girl, "What is your name, child?"


A) Lexa, B) Ayden, C) Tyraea D) Remain silent

[JeVondair]

(B) "Ayden"


"Ah...Ayden. Do you understand what's happened here?"


"Yes, milady."


Xerarch's face softened. "I am sorry, Ayden. Do you have any place to go?"


Ayden shook her head no. Behind her, the house she'd been born in took flame.


"I see. Then you must come with us." Xerarch reached to her belt and her hand came up with Ayden's knife. "I saw what you did with this just before I arrived. You displayed courage in there and made it out alive. Captain Xander!" Xerarch shouted and another  mounted soldier cantered up and saluted.


"You called, Your Grace?"


"Yes..." Xerarch smiled sadly. "I've a new recruit for you....Ayden, this is Captain Xander of the Fearless. Captain, see that this one gets patched up and finds lodging in your barracks. She'll the other berieved of Itor Bass. We're taking her back to Xavax" The Xerarch turned her horse to leave.


"Wait!" Ayden cried. "What is your name, milady?"


Xerarch look over her shoulder. "My name is Selenia. And you, Ayden, are safe." And with that, she cantered off, her mounted warriors falling in behind her while those on foot monitored the blazing cottage. Captain Xander trotted up to Ayden and reached down. She took his hand and he lifted her up into the saddle. Her leg hurt, but she bit it down. Xander nodded with approval and cantered after the Xerarch.


That terrible day changed Ayden's life forever. The armies of Xavax arrived to push the bandits out of Itor Bass and put down the undead infestation that had arose there. The Xerarch rescued scores of children and families broken by the bandits hateful war crimes, returning them to Xavax so that they might begin new lives. Those with fire, like Ayden, were trained to become Fearless fighters, soldiers in Selenia's personal battalion...a unit that assaulted the walls of Itorunt, Ibladesh, and Semall, that was part of the army that delivered the first defeeat Perdan had felt in years, and fought side by side with Uthred the Unstoppable's shieldwall on the day he died in Leibo. When the bandits blitzed the broken defenses of Xavax City, Ayden was there, having grown into a lethal fighter. She watched Selenia, Ruler of Xavax, get killed in that battle.


But what she thought then was the end, would actually become the beginning of everything for her,

[JeVondair]

From the Eyes of Godric Tórrarin



Roleplay from Godric Tórrarin ka Habb   (22 hours, 48 minutes ago)
message to all nobles of Greater Xavax
To say that Godric had seen many battles was a bit of a joke. To his peers amongst the high nobility it was a given that crazy Godric had fought from every end of the Imperium and on islands past and to meet him intoxicated or to draw his ire was a lovely chance to engage in a duel to the death. To the average noble he had attained a mythos as some mythic warrior who lives and breathes death and blood. And to the peasantry the passing of his caravan and retinue was an excellent excuse to go inside and not mind the hell-beast dread reaver passing outside.


His story was more complicated than that. But Godric had indeed fought for Cathay in the Southern Resistance against Arcaea. It was there he made his career and reputation and earned the epithet Dukeslayer from the Cathayan general, Jonn Dodger.


It was also true that Godric Tórrarin had fought in every region of the Imperium and even as far off as Semall and Abadan. These battles will one day become legend as names like Selenia, Lionel, Uthred, Tharan, Aramon, and Kin amongst many others become heroes of old. And Godric will be pleased if he is mentioned with them. But in these days they are simply his countrymen and allies, stalwart features of the battlefield as they defend the Imperium from foreign criminals and rebel scum.


The Xerarch's personal force, "Fearless", was reputed to be made up of rescued peasantry displaced by the fighting. As far as Godric could tell that was largely true. They were skilled warriors in their own right, but together they were a behemoth on the field. They fought for each other and for the love of their country.


This was, of course, opposite to Godric and his men. They fought for the sheer joy of it. To forge their Saga and honour their god. Their actions were frequently seen as extreme and vile and it was little coincidence that few chose to break bread with the Torenmen after a battle or indeed at any time.


Godric had been trained since childhood as a warrior. Like all Toren nobility he was learned in the fighting arts and he benefitted from his father's influence to secure only the best tutors: and some days his father himself would teach him and he would learn the oldest secrets of his people. There was a distinct arrogance and superiority he held with his martial ability, so his noticing of a member of the "Fearless" was that much more a shock.



He learned her name was Ayden. She was both pleasing to the eye and to his Toren sensibilities. Pale and raven haired, eyes dark but bright with focus, and best of all he had never seen her smile or laugh. She was unlike the other "Fearless" but her dark hair and slight features had ruled her out as Toren as Godric initially suspected. He was unsure at all how someone from this corner of the world came to fight as she did. The technique was wrong, she fought with daggers like some vagrant in an alleyway, but she was merciless. None who crossed her was allowed to live even if they had surrendered. She was like a cat, a huntress, who reveled in all aspects of the battle. She fought like someone already dead; though she did not realize it, she fought like she spoke to Tor.


Toren place a great deal of emphasis on blood and its purity. That said, someone who is decidedly not of Toren descent can exhibit valued traits of a Toren. The best example of this would be Godric's father, whose mother was Toren and father was a dark man from some Atamaran desert. From an early age it was never doubted that he was truly a full-blooded Toren. They say that these people are the children of an eagle sent by Tor, hence the name Tórrarin. Godric is certain that Ayden is Tórrarin.


And so let this be the first tale in the Saga of Ayden Tórrarin, a full-blooded Toren huntress born in the backwoods of Oc Lu Pesh, retold from the first hand account of Godric Warbornsson himself.



The bandits came suddenly towards Xavax, the few defenders were of admirable stock but a pack of dogs can fell even a bear if there are enough. First Lionel fell. Godric felt no fear, this battle was invigorating and he was certain victory would come. His aspirations came crashing down as the Kuda Hitam descended on the front lines. His scant men banded together to try and resist the heavily armoured horsemen but they simply smashed through. Godric was thrown perhaps a dozen feet in the charge: no call for his men to retreat as they were all wounded or killed. He looks up to see the Xerarch fighting, golden mane flowing, but a terrible sense pervades him. He whispers a prayer but Tor is too enthralled with the bloodshed to listen.


Selenia was already wounded, but now she is gored with a lance like Godric has never seen her struck before. Her eyes go wide and she gurgles. The world seems to slow. Godric Tórrarin has seen this before, too many times. Selenia looks up at her attacker and moves to retaliate but another lance finds her. And then the blades. The bandits begin to hoot and holler, eyes wild and licking their lips. They stop striking and descend on her corpse before it has even struck earth.


The Fearless cannot accept this. They cannot believe what they have seen, though Godric knew it as it happened. The Fearless become frenzied trying to break past the thick hub of the Kuda Hitam to rescue their Lady. It is no use.


Godric reverts to his most basic Toren thinking. Endure. Survive. As he begins to crawl away a vita washes over him. He looks back to see the raven haired huntress being dragged away by a vile horseman: she had attempted to fight directly through to save Selenia but was knocked out in the attempt.


Godric engages in some distinctly un-Toren action. He gathers all his strength to stand and hurls a helm at the horseman. The anonymous warrior looks over with bemusement, then greed as he realizes a wounded Xavax noble stands there. Godric challenges his foe to single combat, crying the names of his ancestors.


"I am Godric, son of Warborn, whose blood and life was given by an eagle of Tor!" He is unsteady but begins to walk towards his foe. His foe laughs, tossing the huntress to the ground. He draws a sword, still dripping with blood. The main bulk of the army is still fighting the Fearless.


Godric has gripped his spear tightly but his eyes are not looking at the horseman. They are fixed on the horse. He is speaking to it, cooing at it with his energy to calm it. The horse has scarcely made a bigger mistake.


In a swift movement Warbornsson roars and startles the horse which rears up. He throws the spear at the horseman, it clacks off his armour. But this gave him the moment he needed as he plunges his sword through the horse's neck killing it instantly, sending the horseman tumbling down with the horse.


**


Ayden awakens to one of those bastard Kuda Hitam grovelling. His leg is broken and some warrior is standing above him. He screams as the warrior stomps on the fracture but is silenced as a spear is driven through his neck. But not quite. It has gone through his windpipe and the side of his neck, enough that he can only whistle and cough but not enough to kill swiftly. Death is certain but he will bleed slowly. Ayden is sure that she sees the warrior chuckle. She closes her eyes and when they reopen that gory warrior is overtop of her: the stone face and light eyes of Godric. Other hard faced Toren appear, all wounded. They begin to speak in their grating language and then they walk away. Ayden looks around. She is in the keep at an injured camp. Selenia is lost. She cries out, hateful towards the man who saved her. She was certain she could have saved the Xerarch. Again her world is crumbling.


**


Godric and his wounded men made their retreat shortly after. They brought the raven haired huntress to a wounded camp but were moved. In her stupor, all she could murmur was "Selenia".


Godric Warbornsson Tórrarin was a man that knew himself. He knew his men, he knew his oaths, and he knew his god.


And so it was that the Torenman knew his duty.