ellielove15

This is like... if Undertale and the Shire had a baby and I love it!

Leoni reads the missive, a great amount of sorrow and loss bubbling within her at yet another friend and advocate for her kind are dashed against the rocks and left to die alone. She goes to pen a letter. Brother Vincenzo, You have openly admitted to the murder of a man that I held as a dear friend, for the crime of believing that Devils are indeed people that deserve some semblance of respect and dignity. Marus was a good and kind-hearted man, and you butchered him. I challenge you to a duel for his honor, and in his name. A duel to the death. He was the sort of man that would not have even risen up in his own defense. We will meet wherever you choose. Bring whatever weapons you wish. I will not sit idly by as the murderer of my friend walks freely. Come alone.

The Devil-Knight of Dunkeld, a devil of O’Zen’s own making, would eventually hear of the draugar’s final rest. One of the architects of her most intimate and open sufferings was now dust. How did she feel about this? Ironically enough, had Sermi alongside her master Sarryn not cursed her that wicked day… she would have become a paladin. A soul-servant of the tyrant-god Xan in a war that he was destined to lose. When the tides turned against the Aengul of Order, Leoni was able to walk away before the final battle and go on her own path. Free of the soul-burden that the remaining Paladins were shackled to. On the other hand, such a life had only made such justified anger and rage rule her life for decades afterward. It ruled her so much that it led her to the very mortal powers that O’Zen also retreated to. Such anger towards those naz’therak, the gods that rejected and took so much from her, and the people that denied her very descendancy only made her into a monster. A spite-filled creature with but some notion of honor. Yet had Leoni never fallen to the darkness, she would not have found comfort and purpose in seeking Asioth. As she attempts to throw away the old shackles of hatred for the right of divine privilege, the whispers of the dead speak to her soul no longer. She reforges her purpose to become greater than it once was with each passing day, though not without the echoes of madness clawing at the edges of her mind. Thus is the consequence of meddling in the subjects of Aeriel’s Realm. Fate is a funny thing, within Leoni’s mind. A long journey that started with a young elf, dressed in a Lion’s cloak, being turned into a Devil. Perhaps one day, that Devil will transform into a Dragon.

The Devil-Knight of Dunkeld, who was once held in the throes of Xionism and the arts of Lumbridge, frowns upon seeing a good friend lost eternally to their machinations through death at the hands of the dreaded Arthur. “Not you… you were better than I ever was. I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you from such wicked practices until it was too late…” She had hoped to never have her silver-grey gaze meet with the halls of Lumbridge again, but she may have to. For Nataya and her daughter.

The Devil-Knight looked on in horror at the dying Stroheim with a pained wheeze, having lost her honor-duel with the great templar Sebastian. The ashes of the Red Mountain began swirling around the four fighters. As the light left the Reinmaren's eyes, her own silver-grey gaze grew watery with tears. A legend, now gone forever. She hoped that one day she would die so honorably.

"Despite our differences, I wish I had the pleasure to duel you once more. You were an honorable warrior." Leoni muttered before giving a small toast in his honor.

Act 1: Among the Dandelions Nobody tells you how heavy it feels to make graves with nothing to bury. Leoni silently constructs the graves of her family after several years of avoiding the task. Making such things would be a final recognition of their departure from this world, and that was something the Devil-Knight could not fathom until now. As the pillars of stone were embedded within the rocky hillside, her thoughts drifted towards the people she sought to memorialize. The Horned woman would slowly chisel away at the rock, forming less than pristine letters upon the surface. Elena Chevalier - Mother, Wife, Friend, Paladin Nathaniel Maxwell - Father, Uncle, Protector Aurae of Arbi’a - Mentor and Dear Friend After her toil was completed, Leoni’s gaze of silver-grey would rest upon the markers for what felt like hours. Standing there, she became a statue of tainted flesh and metal for but a brief moment. Her scar-ridden face remained dry until the weight finally bore down upon her. Her armored body would collapse, wails being heard for miles across the quaint fields of Dúnkeld. The dandelions swayed idly in the breeze, aloof of the warrior’s suffering. Her scarred, infernal body would lay there, among the dandelions, until she became silent once more. Act 2: A Chance Encounter Just down the road from Celia’nor, the She-Devil would encounter the most strange rider: A teenage elven girl, her skin the color of dull brass. She rides in upon a donkey, quite the stubborn and slow creature. “Hey! S-Stop! Hand me your food and stuff, or you’ll get h-hurt!” She barked in an uneasy tone, her small mace brandished in one hand. The Devil-Knight simply smirked, drawing her heater shield and sword. “No.” She replied. A small scuffle ensued soon after, with the young rider quite inexperienced with swinging the weapon she had. The much stronger and seasoned warrior blocked the attempted strikes with ease. Leoni couldn’t help but tell the girl’s lack of both confidence and experience. “What’s a kid like you doin’ trying to rob folk for food? You’re ne even good at swinging that weapon o’ yours.” She asked. The kid looked like they had been on the road for a while, quite rugged in appearance. She explained that she had no place to go as an orphan, and that she was told that stealing would be much better than begging. The fight had come to an uneasy lull with neither of them attacking each other as they spoke. Leoni’s face grew into that of genuine concern, “Why can’t you find a job in exchange for a place of your own?” She asked. “Most jobs don’t even pay anything…” The child responded, her voice sounding defeated. The Devil-Knight sheathed her weapon, approaching the oem’ii. She placed a hand upon their steed and asked, “How about I have you as my apprentice? I can pay you 10 mina an elven-hour for training in the blade, and you get room and board along with it.” The equestrian mali nodded reluctantly, finally putting her weapon away. Act 3: Departed Dialogue Leoni is found doing household chores, a quite mundane and boring activity. Something was disturbing her within, however. A regal, feminine voice with a New Marian Accent would erupt from within her very being, speaking within the Devil-Knight’s mind. “God… the stench of sulfur is never something you seem to get used to here!” “At this point, I think you’re lying. You don’t even have a nose to smell with.” Leoni thought in reply. “Well how about we switch places properly then, since this whole thing was your idea? What was it that you said? That you ‘freed me’ from eternal torment? Well- where’s my freedom?” “You know I can’t do that, Valeska. I still have a life of my own to live and my own oaths that I’ve made to fulfill.” “Oh yes, your ‘Knightly Oaths.’ I understand taking something like that for a better status position, but why you actually believe in such things is something I still don’t understand.” “I have a higher duty to everyone. It may be difficult to understand, bein’ dead, but I got obligations to protect others from the things that I suffered through.” “You can still do that, but without being so naïve about it. Instead of acting like some righteous crusader, you could use that anger and drive to their fullest potential. Use all the tools available to put those demon and dragon-slaves in their place.” “You may not believe it, but honor and morals are more than what is seen as the most efficient or effective. It’s much more than that.” “The Demons, the dragons and the pitiless slaves in the world do not have such senses of honor. Restricting yourself to such a fairy-tale code will only get you killed, Leoni.” “I’d rather die grounded as a full person, than live as a manipulator and a liar, if that really is the case.” “You’ve had to manipulate and lie as a necessity of your conjoinment with me, Leoni. Not to mention it having been necessary to combat the people that you’re fighting against. You’ve already put yourself into the water. All I’m asking is to acknowledge that you are in it.” “It’s not the same, Valeska! I’ve done what I’ve done because I had to, not because I enjoyed it.” “Keep telling yourself that, Leoni. You lie to me and you lie to yourself. We’re stuck together, you know? I know how you’re feeling. I know what you truly think.” “Silence yourself, Valeska! You’re projecting your own thirst for power onto me. I’m not like you. I still have some sense of hope, despite all that has happened.” “And I will be here when reality finally sets in. It is not wrong to use the power you can take for yourself, I hope you know that. I’m just trying to save you all the time and trouble of clinging onto such a tired thing. It doesn’t suit you.” Act 4: Devil’s Fright Leoni finds herself within a rather cramped room, with no sense of how or when she entered it. The walls were a haphazard mix of thunderstorm grey and ashen black, a constant and visible dampness within the decrepit structure. At the center of the small crypt, several hooded figures could be seen. They were preparing a litany of esoteric, occult objects for some sort of ritual. At the center of such preparations, the most unexpected person would stand there before her: Herself. She had shed herself of her traditional armor, taking on similar robes as the other participants. After a few moments, this Other Leoni would close her eyes, as if to prepare herself for something rather painful or impactful. The ritual, whatever it was, had begun. A sickly and fiery-red ectoplasm would emanate from the area around this robed She-Devil, slowly consuming her entire body. The Observing Leoni would watch in abject horror upon seeing herself slowly become petrified in off-white stone. All the while, the other ritualists added their own ectoplasm upon the changing one, many otherworldly incantations along with them. As the last vestiges of the Petrified Leoni would become stone, the statue would then shatter. The new figure that would emerge would no longer be mortal, but had surpassed life and death itself. The same fiery-red color would encompass the ‘body’ of the Spirit as Leoni’s ectoplasm. Its face was disgusting and decayed with chipped, rotting horns sprouting from its head. This figure had become a mockery of what she once was. A monster. Upon the completion of the transformation, this newborn creature would make a bone-chilling WAIL to the skies that would pierce through the Observer’s very soul. Within a moment, the entire reality before her would snap out of existence. Leoni found herself jumping from her bed in the middle of the night, apparently having experienced a rather vivid nightmare. “Another Wight-mare?” A familiar voice chuckled from within her soul. “I promise you, it’s not as bad as your mind’s making it out to be. You’ll be cured, no more High Hells! Not to mention you’ll be doing it for yourself, better than those slaves of the Gods.” “Shut it, Valeska!” Leoni hissed, her hands shaking and her sweat still present. “I can’t do it. I just can’t… I have to find my cure somewhere else. Perhaps an experiment is in order.” Act 5: Devil’s Fall Within the frigid northern plains, an aged and leafless tree would stand amongst the snow and grass. At the tree’s base, a Devil and a Specter would meet. The Specter, a semi-transparent figure in the form of a departed Mali’ker, would always be floating just above the ground. Both of them seemed to already know one another. The Specter spoke first. “Why have you come to me once more?” “I’ve been thinking about things in regards to my curse. I think I might have a way to cleanse my soul without becoming undead, or a slave to the gods.” The Devil replied, her tone cold and rather blunt. “Which is?” The Specter asked expectantly. “I might be able to use the soul of someone connected to the Aenguls to purify my own. I think I found a candidate.” She responds. “Fëanor Sylvaeri. He’s somehow connected to multiple Aenguls through an artifact that he has. Perhaps if I can take his soul, I can finally put this nightmare to rest without becoming undead.” There was a clear emotional resentment and desperation in her words as she spoke. The Specter seemed puzzled at the response. “Is Fëanor a good man?” He asked. The Devil nodded. “He is.” Her mind would flash between all of her memories of the Lawbringer as she stood there silently. “That is quite cold-hearted, Leoni. In the eyes of most that are honorable, that would be a horrid deed. Are you sure you wish to pursue this?” The Specter’s expression and tone did not hint upon any judgment or malice with her plan. It hinted closer to a distanced curiosity than an emotional response. Upon such a question, the Devil seemed to have a shockwave sent within her mind, body and soul. Her expression went from simmering rage to utter horror and self-loathing. Upon such a question, The Devil realized just how far she had strayed from the honorable path that she once walked, considering something that would have been considered monstrous by her past self at the start of her journey. The Devil put her gauntleted hands upon her face, tears starting to flow from her eyes. “No… Oh my god, I’ve made a horrible turn. Look how far I’ve fallen!” She whimpered. In only a few moments, her self-image had shattered. “I can’t go on with any of this anymore.” The Specter hovered there, giving silent comfort for that moment. He allowed the Cursed One to speak further. “I’ve let hubris overtake my humility, deceiving myself into believing that there is no problem that I couldn’t solve on my own." The Devil bemoaned, starting to choke up. “May I suggest speaking with the Adrazi, as we have discussed earlier? They are not the people they were during the war. Azdromoth is freed from his ibleesian shackles, so villainy is no longer a part of their association. Perhaps through him, your own curse may be lifted.” The Specter softly replied, his expression slightly concerned. The Devil paused for several moments in a silent and sobbing deliberation. The Departed within her own mind screamed at her, demanding that she not become a slave as all the others have. After a very heated discussion, She rose from her seat. “I will consider it.” The Devil-Knight finally responded. After the two said their goodbyes, the Devil made a long and arduous journey West. Upon her arrival at the illusive sanctum of Tor-Praeth, Leoni sought both a place to rebuild herself and a cure to her infernal curse. Act 6: Ashes to Ashes The Devilish Dame approaches a familiar gravesite. Her soul felt a sense of isolation it hadn’t experienced in years. Her conjoinment that held Valeska within was now annulled. The Departed can no longer whisper their lies and half-truths to her. Though her mind and soul are forever scarred, such a price was something she was more than willing to pay. Leoni sat among the dandelions once more, taking several deep breaths as she faced the markers. The coastal breeze would roll through the evening air, crashing upon the Horned Knight with a delightful sensation. This time, no tears would roll down the Deviless’s face. No cries would be made. She grieves, but she is also glad. They are gone, but they are also at peace. There was a very small but growing sensation within her, something that had eluded her for more than a decade of struggle and darkness: Peace. The Hatred that had gripped her very being for so long finally seemed to loosen. Perhaps this could be one step in many on the path to Asioth. There she sat, among the dandelions, until the setting Sun disappeared entirely. The deep emptiness of the night sky would emerge, with glittering stars appearing in the wake of the Sun's exit.

The Devil-Knight of Dúnkeld would be roaming about the realms of Aevos, her mind plagued with nightmares and day-visions. Upon hearing of Vikela's razing, she frowns. "I hope Cerrick made it out." She murmured solemnly.

A formally written missive would be distributed throughout the Duchy of Lumbridge. The entirety of the note is written in Blackspeech. Those who do not understand the language would be unable to read this note. For the past several years, I have been learning the paths of Xionism alongside the mortal powers of the soul. After intense introspection and reflection, I have realized that such a path is not for me to take. I have been searching for one to disconnect me from such powers within Lumbridge’s walls for months with no sign of such a person. Due to this, I make this open call for those that will see it when I am unable to attend. Whichever of the Barrowlords are willing to undo my conjoinment, contact me. The Devil-Knight A wax seal in the shape of a female lion with devilish horns would be attached to the bottom.