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    Tatiyana of Vidus
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  1. Within the stoney walls of CASTLE MORTESKVAN, the Ruthern heiress would smirk a greedy smile as she witnessed her young sister ordering the servantry about, ensuring the upcoming festivities were up to her own standard. "We must scrub the walls clean. . .we will have guests soon enough!" TATIYANA proclaimed.
  2. The Ruthern heiress, TATIYANA VAS RUTHERN, having bore witness to the bloody battles of Morteskvan, would grin with pride alongside her younger sister Svetlana as the two celebrated the victory and safety of their home. "By bones and barrows, sestra. . ." @libertyybelle
  3. ✥ ALL THOSE WHO WANDER . . . ✥ ༺═────༻❁༺────═༻ Long had it been that Elena had the opportunity to wander off from the grandiose display of royalty and monarchy, losing herself within the lands and nature which covered the continent, unexplored and undiscovered. The freeing wind blowing against her cheeks and the smell of earth reinvigorated the aging women's sense of purpose as peace was finally had. Upon her trusted steed, the Princess in disguise would race through the lands now at peace from ongoing conflict, traveling from coast to coast on her own, free from prying eyes and opinions. STINGING HER EYES AS SHE RACED THROUGH THE DRY LANDS OF THE DESERT, THE STAGNANT SAND WOULD FLOOD ELENA’S MEMORIES OF HER TIME GROWING UP WITHIN THE CITY OF ATRUS, HER PEOPLE PURGED OF THEIR HOMELAND ONLY TO FIND IT ONCE MORE AMONGST THE DUNES. SCUTTLING ACROSS HER PATH AS HER HORSE MADE ITS WAY THROUGH THE SANDS, A BEARDED LIZARD WOULD FLARE ITS NECK OUTWARDS, A SILENT HISS EXTENDED TO ELENA AS IMAGERY OF DRAGONS BREATH AND THE GIANT WINGS OF CLOUDB-REAKER FLOODED HER MEMORY. THE GOLDEN HUES OF THE SAND DUNES REFLECTING OFF OF THE SUN’S RAYS WOULD BRING THE TRAVELER TO SLOW HER HORSE TO A MELLOW TROT, ALLOWING A SURVEY OF THE LAND WHICH FELT SO FAMILIAR YET REMINDING HER OF A REALM WHICH WAS RECOGNIZABLY UNREACHABLE TO THE MORTAL WOMAN. The sting of childhood memories and dreams pricked her mind as the princess re-upped her journey across the continent, the fresh air bringing back a youthful emotion to Elena, though with the sudden abandonment of conflict, returned the anxiety of complacency stirring within her. The feeling of emptiness and lack of purpose scorched the Amiratus’s mind. What was she to do now? Her whole life, the Princess had an enemy to battle and focus on and now. . .now that was gone. CONTINUING ON WITH HER JOURNEY AND FINDING HERSELF AT THE WATERS OF THE AAUNIC COAST, THE REMINDER OF THE SHORES HUMANITY LANDED UPON WHEN FLEEING THEIR BIRTHPLACE EBBED THEIR WAY INTO HER REELING MIND. WHAT WAS MEANT TO BE A PEACEFUL ESCAPE SEEMED TO TRANSITION INTO A RECOUNTING OF ELENA’S LOSSES AND YOUTHFUL MEMORIES - THE GOOD AND THE BAD. THE REALITY THAT THESE LANDS ONCE FELT SO FOREIGN TO HER ARE NOW THE BIRTHPLACE OF HER PEOPLE - HER FAMILY SENT A CHILL DOWN HER SPINE AT THE REALITY OF HOW TIMES CHANGE AND HISTORY CONTINUES TO REPEAT ITSELF AS THE GREAT SCHOLAR SARSON RELAYED UNTO HER IN MANY YEARS BEFORE. Only after a brief visit to old friends within Lemon Hill, Elena would recognize the darkening horizon, mounting her horse once more as she internally declared her travels at an end. The Rubinissima coast was calling the Balianese woman back as the craving for salty air and warm nights grew within Elena. A homeland that was not her own yet grew upon her after the decades resembled some semblance of what the woman once had in her youth. REACHING THE BORDERS OF HER SOUTHERN HOME, THE PRINCESS WOULD STRAY FROM THE PATH OF THE QUEEN’S ROAD, OPTING TO FOLLOW A LESSER ROUTE THROUGH THE CYPRESS TREES AND FERNS WHICH SPROUTED FROM THE EARTH. THE SHARP TROTTING SOUND OF ELENA’S STEED WOULD QUICKLY SUBSIDE INTO A MORE RHYTHMIC MELODY FROM THE TRANSITION OF STONE TO DIRT AS THE WOMAN SOON BECAME ENVELOPED INTO THE NATURE SURROUNDING HER. COMING UPON A STREAM AND MOSSY CLEARING, THE WOMAN OPTED TO DISMOUNT AND ALLOW HER HORSE SOME REPRIEVE AS SHE LED HIM TOWARDS THE STREAM FROM COOLING SUSTENANCE AS SHE TOO TOOK A PEACEFUL REST UPON A PATCH OF DRY MOSS BETWIXT THE FERNS AND TREES. THE CREATURES OF THE WOOD AND HERSELF SEEMED TO BE ALL WHO ENJOYED THE PEACEFUL CALM OF THE LUSH FOREST, THOUGH A SHIVER OF BRANCHES AND THORNS SOON REVEALED THE FALSE TRANQUILITY THAT WAS AT BAY. ──────────────────────────────────────── “Hail, wayward pilgrim.” The words had cut through the evening’s silence like a knife. In Elena’s ears, the rustle of the wind seemed to mute; the hum of the crickets seemed to vanish. Only her own heartbeat drummed between her ears. “Um … hellooooo? Pilgrim?” It took her a moment to realize why Elena’s hair stood on end, and why her blood suddenly felt like ice. For that voice, too, was another childhood memory - one that she had locked away in the darkest part of herself. One that she did not know she could never forget. Atop her mount, she slowly turned her head to the source of the voice. On that moonlit hill near Beleth, through which the lonely road to Balian ran, a strange figure lounged against a leafy palm tree. A figure garbed in green, and with a broad-brimmed straw hat tilted to cover a veiled, dark-skinned face. Her heart thrummed like a war-drum. She remembered that face - that face - from the road outside Atrus, when she was just a girl. She remembered his warm smile, and how she offered to guide him to the dragon ruins nearby. “Are you deaf, too?” the hatted-figure lamented. With a melodramatic sigh, he pushed off the tree, and slowly trudged towards her. “The last pilgrim that came this way was deaf, and - let me tell you - that was a real headache.” Elena remembered when that man - so many decades ago - had plunged his fangs into her neck. No, not man -- vampyre. “It’s … you,” she managed breathlessly. “H-how …?” The figure paused, and tilted his head curiously. “Oh. Have we met?” She remembered the fear, back then as a child. She remembered her powerlessness. “You!” she snarled, and there was a hiss of steel as she ripped her blade free from its scabbard, and brandished it in quivering arms. “Hm.” The vampyre tapped his hat, and pressed a hand pensively to his chin. Even now, it was so hard to see his face - that infuriating face - in the shadow of his hat. “Not a fan, then, is it? Well, that is a shame. I’ll -” Her horse brayed as she urged it forward, and she very nearly buried her blade in the vampyre’s face as she passed. When she wheeled her horse back around, though, she saw no blood glistened on her blade, and the vampyre was already clambering to his feet after he had leapt aside from her charge. “Okay,” he began sourly, “that was rude. You -” She called on every fibre of her strength as she charged once again. She quashed the aches of her age, and the fragility of her form. She would not fall victim to this wretch again, so many years later. “Just - stop -” the vampyre managed, but those were the only words she heard. As she swung her blade down, the vampyre moved in a flash, and she could only watch as claws - mounted with nails as long as knives - split through the aged flesh of her forearm. Time seemed to lull as the sword dropped from her fingers, and clattered to the road. Oddly, she could not feel the pain in her arm where the vampyre had clawed her, but she did feel her body slip from the saddle as she lost control of her mount. The world swam as she fell, and then … Crack. Hours, or minutes, she did not know how long she lay on the road, blinking away the darkness of unconsciousness. Something must be broken - that much she knew. She could not feel her legs or arms, and she could not so much as twitch a muscle. But she could see, and she could hear. She heard the stomp of boots towards her, and those boots appear standing over her. “Tsch,” came a grunt. “Now, look at what you’ve done. And here I was, trying to be merciful. Well, jokes on me for trying, I guess.” She felt the faintest tingle in her arms. If she could just reach her sword, wherever it had fallen … if she could just reach it, and plunge it into the darkspawn … The vampyre crouched down. She could see his face, now, up close; she could see that the witty drawl he spoke with did not seem to match the deep, sad eyes that stared at her now. Lost eyes. “You don’t mind if I borrow some blood, do you? I mean, it doesn’t look like you’re going to need it all that soon, anyway.” She did not feel the fangs enter her throat, but she felt the scar it left on her soul. The vampyre said nothing as it left, alone with only her mare poking its nose at her motionless form, but he did spare one last look at her, his maw stained with his blood, before he disappeared into the night. AND SO, THE AGED PRINCESS LAY UPON THE STONE OF THE QUEEN’S ROAD, HER HEARTBEAT STEADYING TO A PAUSE AS HER LIFE WAS TAKEN TO EASILY, LIKE A TOY TAKEN FROM A BABE. AS SHE RESTED SILENTLY UPON THE EARTH, THE BLADES OF GRASS AND FERNS LICKED HER SKIN AS THE WARMTH OF HER LIVING SPIRIT WAS EXPELLED. PERHAPS THERE WAS SOME TRUTH TO THE TRADITIONAL SAYING REGARDING EYES BEING A WINDOW TO THE SOUL, FOUND TO BE TRUTHFUL AS THE FINAL LIGHT OF ELENA’S SPIRIT SEEMED TO LEAVE HER GRAY EYES, LEAVING BEHIND THE COLD HUSK OF THE WOMAN TO BE DISCOVERED BY ANY WANDERING STRANGER. . . ──────────────────────────────────────── ELENA CASIMIRA NOVELLEN - DE LYONS Princess Royal of Balian, Countess of Rosemoor, Baroness-Consort of Enderoca, Amiratus of the Kingdom of Balian, Lady Seneschal of the Crown and Chief Minister of the Royal Duana. 8TH OF LOTHARS GIFT, 35 BA - 11TH OF SUN’S SMILE, 96 BA [!] LETTERS WOULD BE SENT OUT TO THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS IN ACCORDANCE TO THE PRINCESSES LEGAL WISHES WITHIN HER LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. ༺═───────────────༻❁༺───────────────═༻
  4. Tatiyana vas Ruthern would lock herself up, mourning her mother’s loss. . .
  5. Penned by the Office of the Amiratus Issued on the 10th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 94 B.A. With a heavy heart, the Crown seeks to recognise and speak upon the recent passing of our beloved Palatiadora, Dona Poppiya Sosina Gudonov. Dona Poppiya was a shining light within our community and her tireless efforts to pursue a thriving court will always hold a space within the heart of Balianese history. We know that Dona Gudonov is resting within GOD’s kingdom, free from the suffering we all endure as Canonists. With such stated, we recognise the efforts of our Palatiadora and know that she would wish for her efforts to be taken up swiftly. This being said, progress pushes forth and it is with great pleasure that I announce the appointment of the next Royal Procurator, Segnora Maria del Maur. May God guide her in her endeavors and pursuits of merriment within our blessed Kingdom. Signed, Her Royal Highness, Elena Casimira Novellen-de Lyons, The Princess Royal of Balian, Countess of Rosemoor, Baroness of Enderoca, Amiratus of the Kingdom of Balian, Lady Seneschal of the Crown and Chief Minister of the Royal Duana.
  6. Penned by the Office of the Amiratus Issued on the 10th of Godfrey’s Triumph, 94 B.A. Many fruitful changes have occurred over the last several months within the Balianese Kingdom and more are to come thanks to the blessings of GOD and the people of Balian. Progress is pushed forth and made daily and as of this day, progression within the Royal Duana proves itself once again. It is with great pleasure that I announce the appointment of the next Royal Procurator, Don Rhys var Ruthern. May God guide him in his endeavors and pursuits of inclusion within our blessed Kingdom. @teeylin Signed, Her Royal Highness, Elena Casimira Novellen-de Lyons, The Princess Royal of Balian, Countess of Rosemoor, Baroness of Enderoca, Amiratus of the Kingdom of Balian, Lady Seneschal of the Crown and Chief Minister of the Royal Duana.
  7. The Princess Royal of Balian, ELENA CASIMIRA, would look to her niece as they perused the publishing within the hookah room of the Balianese palace. “It was not me!” The Amiratus cried out as she spotted her own first name upon the missive. @HIGH_FIRE
  8. A melodic humming could be heard from the rooms of the Princess Royal, Elena Casimira. Echoing through the halls of the Balianese Royal Palace, the Amiratus of Balian would repeat a certain lyric which had become stuck in her mind. “I think I like this little life. . .this little life. . .”
  9. The Amiratus of Balian would smile the sun's smile as the newest treaty for her Kingdom was published. The Princess Royal ELENA CASIMIRA, PRINCESS OF PROVIDENCE, DUCHESS OF LORRAINE, HELENA and SUNHOLDT, COUNTESS OF POMPOURELIA and BARONESS OF RENZFELD would happily sip a Pina Colada as she basked beneath the Southern sun. . .
  10. As she was being attended to by the Royal physician, PRINCESS ELENA would sip a well-aged brandy upon her return home from yet another victory. "We can count on my hand how many battles is took to defeat those Novellen claimants." Remarked the Countess of Rosemoor to her niece @HIGH_FIRE . "Let the title division begin and AVE BALIAN!" A smirk rose upon the aged Amiratus's features as she cheered aloud.
  11. Limping home from the battle, ELENA OF BALIAN could not help but grin through the pain in the old woman's body. "Let those who speak with hatred remember this day as a day of reckoning. . .No longer will the vultures of Stassion screech their jealousy, for they are buried deep beneath the hills of their failures."
  12. From the heart of Morteksvan, the young TATIYANA VAS RUTHERN would be playing with her newest toy gifted to her by her great aunt. Humming along to an unknown tune, the young Ruthern would begin to plot her wedding gift for her aunt and soon to be Uncle Cassian. . .
  13. PRINCESS ELENA OF BALIAN would be perched upon a bench within the Palatio's gardens, a medley of Balianese cuisine spread around the Novellen as she studiously kept record of her nations growing coffers. "Those bastards have it coming. . .mess with my family and you will receive a tsunami upon your doorstep." Uttered the Amiratus betwixt the swaying palm trees. "Ave ******* Stassion."
  14. “Along the stepstones, senora. The hippo season.” The Amiratus Rosemoor’s young attendant pointed a lone finger out along the outline of the peninsula, where dozens of the great gray beasts lounged in pools and inlets along the coast. As they’d submerge into the sea and propel up in graceful arcs, Elena let loose a fleeting smile, bittersweet toward her squire’s naivety. Throughout her life, the Balianese Princess Elena Casimira had seen her father, the King Alexander, struggle against brutal raids on Atrus, her brother, King Adrian, mocked and derided by foes foreign for his Balianese pride and pedigree, and now, her niece, the reigning queen Sybille captured days after her coronation. As Amiratus, she never forgot each slight with time and time again, the same bands of brigands coming to infringe on her kingdom’s due majesty for little more than perceived slights long settled centuries ago. But on this day in the hippo’s grazing season, an army of ten-thousand and a hundred lancers slithered from the pits of Veletz and their acrimonious allies, set to soil Balian with a slight so deep it could only be met with pitched battle. This was an attempt to slip a dagger into the Balianese nation and seize its capital. It could not go unanswered. Balian’s worthy allies in the Covenant - the mighty dwarves of Urguan, storied Haeseni troopers, Petran infantrymen, Numendil riders, the resilient Hyspians, the fierce Aaunish cavalry and the fearsome warriors of Norland all stood to reinforce the interception of the enemy march, but this was no simple battle ahead of them, with the Veletzian coalition’s forces swelling to new heights after their prior victory. The Amiratus reined in her horse and looked proudly at the Balianese army assembled in its rich red and royal purples. Commanding their host was the new Fleet Admiral Ruthern, backed by the veteran Admiral DeNurem, with dozens of battalions standing at the ready to meet the riding horde. She could spot them now, packs of Veletzians rushing down the mountains like some avalanche of steel and flesh. With one sharp breath, clearing her mind before the Admirals and Covenant Generals rose the standard for battle, she thought last of the dishonor these armies brought to Balian by sacking Portoregno during its first queen’s coronation. She remembered her Queen’s response - a vow to remain united in face of their terror, and a promise that their blood would mix with the fresh brine of Balian’s coast before Balian would ever be broken. Hard words, strong words. The only sort of words that would make sense in the face of such adversity. “Ai, ai, pecherocito. The hipopatam have come for a show. Let’s give it to them.” Elena, assured to her squire, as the vanguard of the Covenant army charged forward. Three times, the Veletzians and their allies attempt to barrel in from the west, with Covenant armies crashing into them and pinning them fixed in place. With every push came a returning shove - every melee met with Covenant arms. Elena maintained her position along the left flank of the battlefield, fighting aside the troops to avoid a counter-flank and having a keen eye on the captains of the field in pitched battle. Her heart soared seeing the grizzled DeNurem cut through an Uruk warband like a Sariant reborn, and Captain Banjo order the forces to crash again and again into their ranks. She saw Ser Garen, fearlessly charging into their lines and cutting down many foes, and marveled at the dwarven regent Sigrun Stonehammer, who rode with Dungrimm’s fury as he led the cavalry battalions. By the third crash of armies, the Veletzians were forced to route - with their coalition banners trampled underfoot by roaring Covenant forces chasing down stragglers. But in some display of the land’s own will, Elena gaped as the hippos of Balian, which had first fled at the sight and sound of warhorns and stampede, now began to frenzy in the chaos. The colossal watchers of Balian’s waterways started to chase and maul the fleeing Veletz and Orc soldiers foolish enough to try and escape via the freshwaters. BATTLE OF HIPPO’S GORGE 10th of Peter’s Glory 91 BA The latent might of these hippos was now unleashed as they defended the lands alongside the Balianese that they lived aside. Elena watched with horror as she even saw one great corpulent hippo kicking along in the still waters of the stepstones, with a lifeless Stassion bannerman dragged by his great maw. However grotesque that sight was, she took some solace knowing that this was the fate of any who came to trample upon Balian’s shores. As the soldiers of the Covenant rejoiced at their decisive victory, the Amiratus herself stood proud, doing her duty as penultimate force of her country - keeping the promise of her Queen, that Balian would not yield, and remain FOREVER GOLDEN.
  15. Penned by the Office of the Amiratus Issued on the 12th of Owyn’s Flame, 91 B.A. With progress comes change and akin to the seasons coming and going, so do our honorable members of the esteemed Duana offices. After many years of service and dedication to the Kingdom of Balian - beginning in the continent of Almaris and extending his tenure into these new lands of Aevos, our beloved Fleet Admiral, Ser Dante DeNurem, is set to step down from his post. We thank the Margravine for his service and work in establishing his office and contributing greatly to the Balianese Armada’s success. The Crown wishes Ser Dante the best of luck in his future endeavors with his family. With such being addressed, it pleases the Crown to announce the newly appointed Fleet Admiral to his post, a man who has worked beneath Ser Dante and fought by his side in many battles. Ser Demetrius var Ruthern will henceforth take up the title of Fleet Admiral of the Royal Balianese Armada, leading our nation to victories as those in the past have done so. The Crown welcomes Ser Demetrius and looks forward to his future successes. @oryP Signed, Her Royal Highness, Elena Casimira Novellen-de Lyons Princess Royal of Balian, Countess of Rosemoor, Baroness of Enderoca, Amiratus of the Kingdom of Balian, Lady Seneschal of the Crown and Chief Minister of the Royal Duana.
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