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mady123
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madyyy
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Female
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not sure half the time
Character Profile
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Character Name
Tatiyana of Vidaus
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Character Race
Highlander
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The following days spent within Castle Morteskvan would prove to the young Ruthern heiress once more that to love and to be loved needn’t be what the young girl sought in life. From her dead mother to the now stricken down Queen, the proof that adoration and comfort were luxuries more easily taken than one might think. The days of weeping over friends were long lost, the cruelty of the world and life itself seeming too prevalent at this stage that a young girl might simply fall into the tempting ideology of abandoning all hope for a life of love and happiness. Yet, Tatiyana knew that should she fall into a hopeless reality, any purpose or light within her would dissipate into cruel nothingness. So as the girl wandered the Ducal residency her family held within the snow capped mountains of the kingdom, she made note to plant roses wherever they might take root. “For Amaya. . .”
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MC Name: Madyyy Discord: Mady123 Image: Description of Image: Vidaus COA Dimensions: 1x1
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Overlooking the Haense square, the Ruthern heiress would be forced to quietly swallow the building anxiety which welled within her small frame, the events of recent months still etched within her youthful mind as she went over then repeatedly to herself, not yet able to sleep. The bright flames enveloping the cabin upon the mountain and the sickening thud of her great uncle falling off his horse seemed to ring throughout her mind day in and day out. What could a girl as young as she do in circumstances such as this? Could she wash away the stain of blood upon her castle's walls? Or could she cure the guardian she so admired from his illness? "No." That was the answer Tatiyana has to face herself as she grew to analyse the world around her - its cruelty and darkest sides. That evening, the young Ruthern girl would sleep unsoundly, the sickly noises of the world bouncing within her skull as her vision of rose coloured lands soon dissipated into a bleak and dreary reality.
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A CALL TO THE HAESENI PROGENY Issued by the Office of the 11th of Joma ag Umund, 519 E.S. Calling all children below the age of 15 to the reinstitution of the Kindvikzein Duma, an opportunity for the Haeseni youth as an introduction to traditional governmental participation. Overseen by the wards of the Office of the Lord Speaker, the Kindvikzein Duma will mimic the procedures of the Royal Duma to the extent of it being customized for the youth of the Kingdom and to promote participation for all those who choose to attend. THE DUCAL HOUSE OF RUTHERN THE DUCAL HOUSE OF BARUCH THE MARGRAVIAL HOUSE OF LUDOVAR THE COMITAL HOUSE OF COLBORN THE VISCOMITAL HOUSE OF AMADOR THE VISCOMITAL HOUSE OF WEISS THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF GODUNOV THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF STAFYR THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF KORTREVICH THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF VALKONEN THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF KOVGRAD Regardless of rank, any child from the Haeseni citizenry and beyond is welcomed to participate or observe the ongoings within the Kindvikzein Duma. Should anyone have any inquiries regarding the Duma, they may forward their questions to the Office of the Lord speaker or its ward, Lady Tatiyana vas Ruthern. Signed, Father Amleth, Bishop of Andrikev, Lord Handler of the Duma Her Ladyship, Tatiyana vas Ruthern Ward to the Lord Speaker of Hanseti-Ruska
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Tucked soundly into her goose feather bed, the young Ruthern heiress slept soundly, the soft pattering of snowfall trickling against her windows on the snowy mountain of Vidaus. At peace for hours, the sudden disturbance within her youthful dreams would stir the child, Tatiyana vas Ruthern beginning to toss and turn beneath her comforter. The vision came quick, flashing through the girls subconscious and jerking her from her slumber, a chilling feeling climbing up her spine as she sat up in bed, gasping for air. The strange feeling of true fear clung on to the child’s heart. Tatiyana would not fall back to sleep that night.
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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.
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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
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✥ 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. ༺═───────────────༻❁༺───────────────═༻
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Tatiyana vas Ruthern would lock herself up, mourning her mother’s loss. . .
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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.
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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.
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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
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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. . .”
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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. . .
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