guilty crowns - Printable Version

guilty crowns - Printable Version

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guilty crowns - Hani - 01-13-2023

This is where I'm going to pretend to be organized. Might spiff up this part someday, but today is not that day. If any of my babies strike your fancy please feel free to smack me on discord 83

Adnali (Shanton's Widowmaker): An assassin by trade who hides her honed art behind the flourish of fans, silks, and erotic skin. A dancer for display. Much more likely to interact and approach mortals, but she will be civilized for the most part with werewolves. She is aggressive towards vampires.
Strengths: Stealth, speed, low hesitation
Weaknesses: Pity for humans. Pure hatred for vampiric. Small stature, less suited for long, straight-forward combat

Dimitris (The Wolf Knight): A son unclaimed by the Lord of Dunmeath (deceased) and his lady. Pronounced bastard and unable to inherit the throne upon his father's death, despite him resulting from a coupling with his wife. A cruel childhood wrought immeasurable damage upon him, leaving him emotionally stunted. He was used as a body guard and killer for the King of Dunmeath, dirtying his hands and saving the cleanliness of his father's. Overseas when the war on Dunmeath took place, he comes back to find his family assumed dead and his homelands in tatters. He keeps to himself on this matter, seeking a quiet life with his arranged spouse in the arms of Sanctuary. Serving instead as the peoples' guard.
Strengths: Stronk. Ruthless. Well trained. Very high pain tolerance. Lack of emotional interference in decisions. Protective. Loyal.
Weaknesses: Can't read/no schooling for general subjects (was literally only taught how to fight). Selfless/No self-preservation skills. Blunt/doesn't care for titles.

Lif (Vampire Hunter): A man whos family once religiously hunted the shadows of the dark. His lineage grew lazy and fat upon the wealth and glory. Out of practice and lacking vigilence, the disaster wrought itself upon Lavalles. Unending night brought a great dishonor on his clan's name. Their manor was destroyed, killing his younger brother and driving them from the city. His father died in an effort to redeem their name, and his mother remarried, casting him aside as a young teen. Joining a militia, he learned to fight, but being a volunteer did little to put money in his coffers. He turned instead to taking up his father's sword and becoming a vampire hunter like his forefathers before him. However, such things also didn't have a steady and reliable sense of pay, causing him to also fall in line with other... unsavory means to an end.
Strengths: Sword and spear user. Street savvy. Being a slut.
Weaknesses: Easily provoked. Impulsive. Being a slut.

Theodred (Death's Warden): He is a stoic and noble creature. A knight before being turned into the monster he sees himself as today. He values control and wielding it to accomplish some manner of peace. He doesn't favor the underhanded plotting to over throw the past crown and place the Red Queen in her throne. He prefers to keep some twisted sense of honor attatched to his name. That being said, he is cold and merciless, effective in his place as general and in his newly gained seat as the Lord of Dunmeath.
Strengths: Extremely talented battle mage. Excels with a variety of weapons or magic. Merciless. Strategic. Lack of emotional interference with decisions.
Weaknesses: Using magic deteriorates his arms, making it impractical for more than one fight. Often difficult for superiors and co-workers to deal with. Social outcast.

Westir (The Ranger): A man from a cursed bloodline. Driven from their homeland in the face of their betrayal to their queen, she placed a wicked spell upon them. Never could they lead a normal life and live by a peaceful hearth. Not until they found a way to honor their oath, a burden she placed not only upon the deceiver, Caeven, but all who would follow his lineage. Just as his father before him, Westir was raised almost entirely in the wilds. He learned the trade of a ranger, and has only spent time perfecting his skills.
Strengths: Archery. Sword play. Wilderness survival. Hunting. Tracking.
Weaknesses: Often assumes the best of people. Knows little of the happenings outside of the forests. Antisocial.

RE: guilty crowns - Adnali - 01-13-2023

Nali stuff will go here

Change border top, bottom and hr to species colors. Or don't. I'm not your mom. YOU'RE RIGHT. YOU'RE NOT MY MOM. Vampie: #b8121c. Woof: #ab6d54. Mortal is default.

Aenean ac justo non est luctus dictum tristique nec tellus. Aenean vel lacus sit amet massa auctor facilisis. Quisque dictum porttitor tellus sit amet placerat. Ut sed feugiat leo. Quisque tempus eleifend nisl, sed viverra massa facilisis in. Sed nulla neque, consequat vitae finibus non, efficitur quis sapien. Nullam egestas metus felis, et gravida orci imperdiet eget. Donec aliquet urna vitae erat ullamcorper auctor. Suspendisse eu purus turpis. Maecenas tempus nisi id ultricies elementum. Aenean consequat rutrum rhoncus. Mauris consequat mi felis, in pellentesque mi pretium a.

Jahi

RE: guilty crowns - Dimitris - 01-13-2023

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kings have
honor,
soldiers have
bravery,

and poets have
heart,

but all i have is . . .

RAGE

RE: guilty crowns - Lif - 01-13-2023

THE FAMILY DISAPPOINTMENT WILL GO HERE

RE: guilty crowns - Theodred - 01-13-2023

Jahi

It was a dangerous habit, dwelling in the past. However, that had been his recent days in the present. Since the gathering he'd been forced to attend, his mind was a battleground. His thoughts waged war with one another: what used to be, what is now. Who he used to be, the stranger that he had become. It was the shadow that haunted the dark slits of his eyes, it was the slight crease of a frown that had made his face a home.

Would his siblings even recognize him anymore? His appearance hadn't changed remarkably over the years, but the skin was ill fitting of the monster he had become. A skinwalker, donned in the robes of Theodred, a nameless beast that puppeteers his skeleton. The conversation with the pianist, the memories she had stirred by nothing more than the innocent play of music, it had all brought him here to this very moment. He didn't know what kind of ruler his brother would have been. He didn't know what kind of lady his sister would have grown into. They had been taken before their lives even had a chance to flourish. He remembered the raspy, uneven breaths his brother had taken near the end. He had been chosen by whatever semblance of order they had possessed. He was to be turned as well, but death hadn't spit him out, not like it did for the bastard son. He knew the way Isabella had screamed.

But he knew they would be abhorred of him.
They would loathe this thing that he had become.

So that was why he stood here now, idly watching the wind rock the sign for the Toad & Thyme to and fro on its gentle current. Of course it wasn't the face of the general that currently held fixation on the adornment. It was a tawny, shorter man with angled features and longer, shaggy hair that softly curled around his face with some of it pulled back atop his head. It was not his normal disguise, but he certainly didn't want any to know of his visit here. Known or otherwise. The streets had eyes, the walls ears. The less any knew, the better for them. He couldn't exactly afford to openly fall out of the queen's good graces, at least for now.

So it was in a lighter, meeker tone that called out a soft "Hello?" As he pushed open the door to peer around the shelves. He'd heard great praise about the keeper of the business. A different manner of magic, they claimed. One he hoped would be of service to him. So that he could be of service to others - what he should have been doing for a very, very long time now.

RE: guilty crowns - Westir - 01-13-2023

Westir stuff

RE: guilty crowns - Daesn'yri - 03-07-2023

ara stuff here :3

the thorn wreath

a wreath of thorns adorn the door.

No matter the assurance of her parents, the coming of the full moon was always a time of great unease. Its silver light made her skin crawl beneath the touch of her own grasp - a sorry attempt at self soothing whims. She sits, as she does most evenings, by the window in the upper floor of the manor. Curious eyes lining the walkways and tracing the passing faces. Some of them have become all too familiar, almost intimate in the ways they come and go like a mockery of the sun dial's long shadow. She can tell the time of day by their presence and the direction in which they're going. A young mother usually struggles with two seemingly unruly boys early in the morning, tugging them along by their sleeves, or their napes if they've been particularly misbehaved. This signals that it's nearly eight. In the evening, she normally walks back to their home across the cobbled road with her arm tucked within the elbow of who must be her husband. Their children are very well behaved in his presence. This return comes in the early evening, normally no later than half past four, though she has seen them close to five should they be toting sweets or some other treat.

Today, there came a difference in the day to day routine. A carriage pulled up in front of the home, and she would raise slightly in her seat, all the while trying not to draw the ire of her current tutor. The woman was quite irritable after all, and had little patience for Arabella's regretfully limited attention span for fine artistry and its history. More time than not, her thin lips were pulled into an even thinner line that seemed affixed in a permanent downward slope. Her brows would raise slightly in somewhat of a pointless effort to see more over the window's ledge. However, all pretense of being sly deserted her as she caught a glimpse of the pale blonde hair that stepped from the wagon.

She had seen him in paintings that littered the home. Often times, she was in them as well, though she didn't recall them. she didn't recall him. Yet she knew him, and she had been anxiously waiting to meet him once more. It was in hopes that this morose feeling of knowing the unknown would dissipate. She yearned to remember, and he was the only one of their family that she had yet to see in person. "Miss Beleveron! Sit down this instant!" Came the furious hiss of the instructor, followed by the sharp tap of the pointing stick across the table in emphasis. "O-oh, but my brother's home!" She stammered slightly in the throes of her excitement, a habit she loathed, but was unable to surpass when afflicted by emotion. Before the woman could lock the doors on her (again), she bolted from the chamber, the lengthy, unpleasant dress tails lifted high within her hands as bare feet quickly traversed the cold marble of the floor with surprisingly quiet steps.

Out of breath, but beaming furiously, she would beat the butler to the door upon the first knock of the handle, throwing it wide open. Her infectious simper would only grow as she panted out, "H-hello! Welcome home!"

no one comes home anymore

Jahi

Change border top, bottom and hr to species colors. Or don't. I'm not your mom. Vampie: #b8121c. Woof: #ab6d54. Mortal is default.

Aenean ac justo non est luctus dictum tristique nec tellus. Aenean vel lacus sit amet massa auctor facilisis. Quisque dictum porttitor tellus sit amet placerat. Ut sed feugiat leo. Quisque tempus eleifend nisl, sed viverra massa facilisis in. Sed nulla neque, consequat vitae finibus non, efficitur quis sapien. Nullam egestas metus felis, et gravida orci imperdiet eget. Donec aliquet urna vitae erat ullamcorper auctor. Suspendisse eu purus turpis. Maecenas tempus nisi id ultricies elementum. Aenean consequat rutrum rhoncus. Mauris consequat mi felis, in pellentesque mi pretium a.

Jahi

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