[PK] A Tyrant's Actual Fall.

[Navigator 4260]

 

 

ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ?

 

Since he truly felt fear? Since that wicked feeling had coursed through blackened veins, ravaged through the entire being that he had become. It had become an alien feeling, and it harked him back to times he had long forgotten. Times wiped away from memory and left as revolting flashbacks of a time that mortality coursed through those rakir-rich veins. Vizier of Hell, Violence Incarnate, Vessel of Xandraza. Titles claimed. Yet at the core, he remained what he once was. The meat inside of the casing, the marrow within the bone. Deep down, through it all, he was still…

 

ʀʏᴀᴅ.

 

How long since he had last used that name? He wasn’t sure. The few that knew it, were too afraid to utter it. He himself was afraid to speak it. It evoked feelings that were alien to him now, after that wicked infernal crown was placed on his brows. Memories and nostalgia of a time where hatred, fear and dread did not fill his heart, and madness did not plague his shattered mind. A time where he ran an orphanage, and was a respected doctor. The times where he dreamed of a good life; a partner, a house, children to impart his wisdom upon. Recognition amongst peers and friends. What had even drawn him to this life? What had plucked him free of stability and happiness, and unto madness and despair? Ah… yes… that very feeling that drew so many more, and would continue to drag even more.

 

ɪᴍᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀʟᴇꜱꜱɴᴇꜱꜱ. ʟᴏꜱꜱ. ɢʀɪᴇꜰ.

 

And so, a man so bright, so happy, met with the Blue Serpent. A brand was placed upon his hand. Madness instilled upon his mind, fear taking root within his soul. And like a cruel, fickle play of fate, a mere year after, he found himself with a partner, and children to impart wisdom upon. That curse drove him to limits he would’ve never gone to. An absent father. An absent partner. A brutal, cunning man, sacrificing and sentencing souls to death and damnation. A child took their own life. Another, hated and scorned him. And the last, recognised his failure as a father. And the husband? The husband, of course, he pushed away. The perfect life he had wished for, vanishing before his eyes. And who else to blame, but him? Fate had been played with, and fate was a cruel mistress, one that took far earlier than it gave. Ambition, desire, that spark in his eye. And finally, after five decades of terror, five decades of madness, five decades of sheer and unfiltered malice.

 

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏʀᴀɴᴛ ꜰᴇʟʟ.

 

Spoiler

Hi :) Ryad was an incredibly meaningful and amazing character to play. It was my first time playing a genuinely evil individual who ‘justified’ his actions and believed himself to be truly correct. He was challenging. There were times I was scared his horrifying actions and behaviours would make people believe they reflected me as a person, but I’m blessed to be surrounded by amazing people who understood that a character was being played, and respected the writing. Thank you to @SethWolf for the opportunity to get my favorite magic on the server, Naztherak, and thank you to everyone who made this journey possible, including but now limited to @_Leyd, @Pallodium, and others, who participated in Ryad’s story. Special mentions to the people who played my CCs as well, who are incredible writers in their own right. GGs, and on to the next story :)

 

OOC: THIS POST MAY BE TREATED AS COMMON KNOWLEDGE!

[spaazmatism 1017]

 

༼————-༺ ۝ ༻-————༽ ⊰ LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON ⊱

ʀʏᴀᴅ ʜᴀᴅ ɢᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ; ᴍɪꜱᴇʀᴀʙʟʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʏ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴏʟʟʏ ᴀʟɪᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪʜɪᴍꜱᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴋɪᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜰᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴏᴢ'ꜱᴛʀɪᴍᴏᴢᴀ. ʏᴇᴛ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴʜᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅᴏxɪᴄᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴀ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʜᴀʀʙɪɴɢᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ, ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜰᴇʀɪ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ.  ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ʏᴇᴛ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴄᴏɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜱʜᴀʜᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴀɢᴜᴇʟʏ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ.  ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅɪᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀʏᴀᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴠɪɴɢ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ɢᴇꜱᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴅᴏɴᴇ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴡᴀʀᴅ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴡᴀꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʟ, ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ ᴀᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏʀᴘꜱᴇꜱ, ʟᴇꜰᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʀʏᴀᴅ’ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴏɴ, ꜱʜᴀʜᴀɴ, ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀᴍᴜꜱᴇᴅ, ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡꜱ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜɪᴍ. ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ. ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ.

༽————-༺ ۝ ༻-————༼

Spoiler

wow ahah. lets go again. round 2.

 

i will miss the stupid chud. ryad was a generationally awesome character and he's shaped the paths of THREE of my characters. two of which were his children. its been very fun.

it is a shame he is gone. not just because im out of a teacher, but also because he was genuinely so fun to interact with . completely puzzling, insane, and incomprehensible, but  . he was fun because of all of that.

now hes dead. 💔 bye bye

 

 

[silariathas 112]

Spoiler

 

[Sonybut7 530]

r

[Monty Cobra 921]

Njáll Ásvard did not believe it the first time, and he certainly did not believe it now. The paranoid Nord likely never would, in truth. 

[thejack 198]

Much like the boy, the Dog that caught wind of the news cannot be sure of it. What makes it different from last time? What stops the King from crawling his way back up from the depths? She can't know, not with absolute certainty at least, and the doubt will follow her until her own death.

 

 

Spoiler

ill miss him genuinely the best villain ive encountered on lotc. very glad to have met him

 

Edited February 24 by thejack

[laugh_giggletehe 113]

 

Deep within the chest of a certain drow, a diseased heart beats just as it always has.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━━━⊱⛧⊰━━━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

 

 When Vysryana caught wind of Ryad’s death, the news was met with only light relief. Relief, of course, that accompanied a bated breath which has not yet escaped. She does not speak of the peace that followed, nor the uneased glances she sends towards her sibling- for just like a candle, if this hope is spoken over, it may very well be snuffed out; leaving only faint, wispy trails of what once was behind.
 

 

Edited April 5 by laugh_giggletehe

[ProcaPro 557]

A deranged leper had watched the initial confrontation with hardly any interest. More petty familial drama, to one who had never had a true family. She couldn't understand it, and so ignored it.

 

Then it happened. Something broke the King, or maybe the King broke something else. Either way a blade was drawn, a declaration, a lethal wound made.

 

The Leper had laughed. The absurdity of it made it hard to do anything else. To watch the pinnacle of her own goals crumple was a surreal, strange sight that threatened to unhinge her further. So, she laughed, and mocked, and in a way reveled. Reveled in the fact that even Kings could be chained if only by themselves.

[TheDrHedgehog 150]

.

[Moumins 378]

Spoiler

 This information is only known through interaction and roleplay. Do not metagame.

.-───── ──────༺─༺  ༻─༻────── ─────-.

A scorned, simple stygian stood bent over a splintering cane. Black, baleful indictments lambasted a guilty King. Protesting in the King’s audience, the dissident was first to witness the sword-hand. The abdication of Dread’s throne, that ruled behind two remorseful eyes. The Monarch burned on a pyre he built for himself, and the stygian was witness to how his soot repainted the walls. She would complain of the way the curtains were drawn from the walls, and their reddish hue fabrics were soon replaced with bloody, black, smothering linen. None listened to her plight now. The two had made a fortress of their circumstance, and the dissident was left alone to rule over what was left. She, who wept of weighty burdens, was never made to rule. 

◎────────⊰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ'ꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ⊱────────◎

⎝༺	“ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴜᴍʙ, ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏɴ.    ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴀɴ.    ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪ ʀᴏʙʙᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ.”	༻⎠
	༺─- . ─–─ . -─༻ In that crude house of only one head, the devil was left to roam halls with portraits of dead men. It would be fitting to say that her very world had been repainted. What was there left of the Beaumont who no longer had something to hate? A dissident with no authority to fight against. A fool. ༺─- . ─–─ . -─༻

◎────────⊰ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ⊱────────◎

The devil’s cane slowly slipped from sharp digit fingers. 

 

CLACK. 

 

The absence of her spite was damning in of itself. For how could she hate, without something to hate? What was revenge without a culprit? The foul-blood staggered, collapsing as bile filled her gullet. It was not a force of wrath, this time, but instead a terrible nausea that caused bruised lips to spit out a mess of ugly hues. It was only after all of that, when the revolted Esther’s expression was no longer returned from the King’s, that she approached. The pass was narrow. That ill footing may have caused one to slip, and verily did it make her unbalanced on her ascent. 

 

“Who…..”

 

A pause came with recognition at the name. Ryad. 

 

“Who am I to blame but myself any longer?” The stygian pled for answers she would nary receive. “Who, father of my sister, do I have left to hate? But not the face which sits before me. So cruel is it that I cannot feel joy." Another belch billowed outward, but managing, she continued her last words to this empty hall of missing faces, “You have stolen the last thing I had of her….” the devil wept, wiping her mouth of vomit from moments before.

 

 “You have stolen her loss from me with your guilt.”

 

 

[sapphic_spidy 1089]

Safety once more, but for how long? Will this last? Will it remain?

 

Castien cannot be sure. 

 

He has so much to lose.