A QUIET RECKONING

[Demonica 678]

 

 

 

 

The princess had traveled to New Valdev more times than she could count. She had been a ward there, under the Princess Zofiya. None had paid much attention to her, for she was a shadow of a girl, always listening to whispers that no one else could hear, her eyes lingering on empty spaces, and she liked it that way. She enjoyed the quiet. On the ride into the city, she sat silent, hands curled in her lap, wondering what new voices would greet her this time. Today would be no different, she told herself.

 

But it was.

 

It happened in the span of a breath. The marketplace, alive with the hum of traders and minstrels, erupted into a symphony of screams. The carriage she was in was now shattered and splintered around the square. Men, women, things, draped in twisted flesh and robes of unholy thread swarmed the streets, their stench a thing of rot and cruelty. At their head stood a man, or what had once been one. The Black Pontiff, who carried a deep and terrifying voice, and behind him loomed a headless knight clad in armor black as a starless sky.

"The Black Church has come for you all. Kneel before it, or die."

 

Whether anyone was truly going to surrender or not, made no difference. They had cut all who stood before them. The humans matched them in numbers but faltered in strength, in readiness. They had not been prepared for the slaughter. Among the invaders was an Oyashiman monk, his face veiled beneath a woven basket. He moved like a whisper, fluid, almost gentle, yet still he was swift and merciless in his actions. And there was the behemoth. Brash, thunderous, a force of raw destruction. Where he struck, the ground crumbled. He did not fight to kill, only to break, to crush, to bend the world to his will. And none could stop them.

 

 

Fear gripped Rhiänwen. It coiled tight around her ribs, pressing into her bones, whispering in her ear. No. No, this isn’t real. Her mind had conjured nightmares before, and had filled her ears with voices that were not there. This was only another illusion. It had to be. Yet the world did not vanish. It did not warp or twist away into nothing.

 

She had not seen the thing that took her down, not until her body hit the stone. A creature of flesh and filth pinned her to the wall, her arm shattered beneath its grip, her foot twisted beneath her weight. She screamed, but the city was already drowning in wails of its own. Fight back, she told herself. Fight back.

But the princess had never been made for fighting. That was Ilmariël’s strength, not hers. Ilmariël, her twin sister, who was fierce and unyielding, who could wield a blade as though it was an extension of her very soul. And what are you? Rhiänwen thought bitterly. Weak. Always weak.

Blood continued to pool in the streets. Flesh was torn, blades met bone, and still, no one came for them. For her. No knights, no banners, no saviors. She was going to die. And worse, she was going to die pathetically.

Then, from the madness, a shadow loomed over her. A thing among the horde. It bent down and smiled, its grin a thing of horrors.

"What is your name, child?"

She should not have answered. She should have tried to run. But what was left of her pride? Pathetic. Useless. She swallowed the bile in her throat and forced out the words.

"Princess Rhiänwen," she whispered. "I don't want to die."

"Die?" it rasped. "You will not die today, Princess."

Its hands moved over her, and pain fled from her body as though it had never been there. Bones knit, skin mended.

"Find your family. Cherish them while you can. And then, grow strong and seek me out again. For when you do, I will be seated on a throne of bones. And only then, will I kill you."

Her foot twisted back into place. Her arm was whole again. "Run," it told her. And she did.

She ran until the city’s screams were only echoes behind her. She ran as her tears burned trails down her cheeks. Then, her foot caught on something. A body. A knight, his lifeless fingers still curled around the hilt of his sword.

Rhiänwen stopped. Her breath came ragged, her hands trembled, but still, she reached down. The steel was warm, slick with blood, heavier than she had imagined. She lifted it anyway.

She could still hear Smilebone’s voice, curling in the depths of her mind. Grow strong. Seek me out. Then, I will kill you.

No. Rhiänwen thought.

I would be the one to kill you.

One day, she would return, not as a girl begging for mercy, not as a frightened princess cowering in the dark. She would return as a blade sharpened by fire, as a storm that no agent of darkness could stand against.

And when she did, she would carve through this unholy flock, and she would burn every last trace of them from the world.

Even if it cost her everything. Even if it killed her.

She would not be weak again.

 

Spoiler

Shoutout to the Black Church of the Mivtahza group for the fun RP 🙏

 

[_Leyd 1010]

The Eye crowning ash-laden clouds had laid witness to one such discovery of Fate; it churned beneath scarlet lightning, the guttural choir made from the heavens, leading ripples through the split iris casting dim rays over the onslaught in some twisted psalms of Flexio. The Prophet returned to the town’s center from the flank, some malnourished, charred and battered harlequin drug by chains of abyssal flames in the streets behind his entourage. 

“Men bruise their knees in prayer, they wage war in His name, our Lord; who bestowed the tongue of angels unto Humanity. We too, serve a True, and Living GOD.” 
 

“Know that it was Sin which lured us here, and Sin which will see us return.”  
 

Not a single victim was given the mercy of death, blessed instead this display of divinity which dared echo through their dreams for eternity. A seed sown to be harvested yet again.

[MysticalWeasel 910]

Spoiler

 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•• ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  ••𒋝•• ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ••
"Oh sorrowful children of Horen, led astray from the path of truth. Our visit was to help those touch by the divine flames of liberation. To remind that festering chains of flesh wreathed around soul and mind. That the darkness is but a gift"

Words spoken of a King most maddened. How could one see about the charred humans, the dying and running youth. From what did he see in such carnage to brew such thoughts of mercy and liberation. In all he had seen something no mortal had, a truth wrapped in horror but laid in truth. A king of worms, for that was him. One who had sunk deep into the earth and gazed upon the fallacies that plagued all, that bore into all things.

 

Spoiler

PS: I had an amazing time, sorry if my shot calling for Emote turns was bad. Or if any of my emotes or actions confused/upset people. Am always looking to improve my actions and RP. RP is a two way street and I wanna ensure the otherside enjoys it in all matters. Even if its mostly just me schizo larping. 

 

[lemonke 6014]

“Pain is an illusion of the senses, fear an illusion of the mind, beyond these only death waits as silent judge o'er all."

---

 

Smilebone watched as her allies fell, cut down by the so-called forces of good. Yet, she did little throughout the battle—muttering only prayers and maddening chants as she observed the chaos unfold. No worthy opponent had presented themselves, so she remained idle, merely watching those who fought. Occasionally, she caused foes and allies alike to combust with her fire magick or shielded those locked in duels. One might say she was bored—until, through the thick of battle, she saw something. A spark—a flicker of anger, resentment, and undying determination burning within the young princess. It piqued her interest, and so she approached the small human.

“I will wait for you. To shatter my throne and become your strongest self—so that I may finally die. I am Smilebone, Kholidav’s chosen and I fight only the strongest. Thus, as long as I breathe. You will not die today. I desire to witness your peak as all deserve to reach their own mightiest moment.”

Like a merciful god, she hovered her palm above the child, and a foul wave of lifeforce seeped from her dulled claws. Wounded flesh sealed. Bones mended. It was an act that appeared benevolent, but no—she was still wicked, still dreadfully evil. Yet her voice, her mannerisms, spoke of desperation—of one who bore honor, even among the wicked. One who sought death and finally a meaning between this existence of life and death. After all, she wished to create heroes. She sought to forge knights anew through her own evil acts—so that one day, their strength would unite against her and bring her downfall. In her twisted way, she longed for them to usher in a new age of peace—one that could only be born through her vile sacrifice.

 

“Cherish your family, enjoy your life. Come back to me when you’re ready– so that we may duel under the eye of our wicked lord.”

 

“Run.”

 

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But as serious as she sounded. She would be seen at the end of the battle flying into the sky. Leaving a shining spark in the sky as she was thrown far beyond with her two undead.

"I WILL RETUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURN!"

Spoiler

 

 

Thanks, y'all for being fair sport. I'm glad I could offer some character development and I look forward to seeing people's characters growing from this interaction to eventually coming to kill my villain character and give some cool fun crps! My emotes were kinda of bad throughout the interaction since it was too late but I do hope everyone had fun equally.

 

Sorry my allies if I did some friendly firing :3

 

@Demonica  Ty for making me sound cooler in your post!!