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Old May 21st, 2013 (2:59 AM). Edited May 21st, 2013 by Swolligator.
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Butcher of the Sands
  • Crystal Tier
Join Date: Sep 2009
Location: Syndicate HQ
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Nature: Modest
Posts: 1,955

Victoria Taimor – Rowanion, Golden Islands

The glowing orb of the sun sat high in the expansive blue sky beating back any clouds that tried to form in the clear sky. The sound of waves could be heard crashing against the not so far away cliffs while the taste of salt hung in the air. It was a beautiful day in the Golden Islands, one the citizens hadn’t had in a long time. The Seaquails sprinted for shelter amidst the brush as an arrow ploughed into the ground only centimetres from their feathery bodies, squawking madly.

“Hah! You missed!” Victoria taunted the muscled boy beside her.

“Closer than you could have ever made,” he retorted, making his way through the brush to retrieve the arrow now sprouting from the ground.

“Sure,” from his previous position she notched her Bow, drawing the string back before letting it fly.

“Watch it!” He cried as the arrow imbedded itself into the thin, sinewy tree by his head.

As she joined him in retrieving her arrow from the tree, he grabbed her, pulling her in tight to his muscled body. She could do nothing but look into those hazel eyes of hers that stared back at her, almost as if they were staring into her. She could not doubt it, there was definitely something flying between them but there was no way it could ever work out. She was the second child of a Major House, while she wouldn’t become the successor to her parents, she would be wed off to one of the other Major Houses in order to form a closer alliance and an even closer chance at the Throne of Ethora. Tyler was the first son of the town blacksmith, he wasn’t quite royalty, he was nowhere near her status as an individual and so they never could be an item. But she could not shake the feelings she had for him.

“Hands off, I’m royalty,” she spoke, nose high in the air.

“Ha, you’re not royalty, far from it.” He pulled her in closer.

“We’ll see about—”, Victoria didn’t have time to finish before one of her parent’s heralds interrupted their time together.

“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the herald stuttered, taken aback by how close the two of them were, “your presence is needed in the royal chambers immediately.”

Victoria could tell from the urgency of the page’s voice that it was important. “Tyler, I’ll be back,” was all she said once she managed to extract herself from the boy’s weakened grip.

The page was less knowledgeable of the terrain than Victoria, and as such, she left her far behind as she tore her way through the sometime thorny underbrush. All manner of thoughts began racing through her mind, faster than she raced through the underbrush, but no manner of thought could have prepared her for what was to come. Storming through the doors of Rowanion Keep, she bolted up the stairs, and down the halls, disturbing a number of the maids in their day to day rituals of maintaining the keep. Down one hall and up the other, she burst into the large room that was reserved for her family affairs, only to find Elizabeth and Alexander swamped by officials.

“Eliza, Alex, what happened?” She gasped through large intakes of breath.

“Vic, how nice of you to join us,” Elizabeth’s soft voice commented, yet something sounded off about it.

“Eliza, what’s wrong?” Victoria pushed forward, making her way across the room and past the surrounding officials to find both Elizabeth and Alexander sitting on chairs, Alexander as pale as the White Jellyfish that washed up on their shores while Elizabeth hid beneath he large sleeves. “No, no, no, no, no no!” She continued to yell, tears now flowing more freely from her eyes.

A small piece of parchment fell from her sister’s grasp, addressed to the three siblings. The parchment was charged at the edges, the letters faded with wear and from salt water exposure, yet she could make out the barely legible Ethoran script that belonged to their Swords Master. Her hands shook as she picked the letter up off the cold stone floor, her heart racing within her chest.

Dearest Elizabeth, Victoria and Alexander Taimor,

Whilst sailing back from Ashera, our ships were attacked by the Mages of Raelus. I hope this letter finds you, but I regret to inform you that your parents did not make it past the first barrage, and that my ship is soon to fall.

For Kin and Country,

Swords Master Daemon Kerrigan

The letter fell from her trembling hands as she sunk to her knees. One of the officials tried to console her but she dropped her shoulder, letting their hand slide off. As tears flowed from her eyes, she cursed the Burning King and his madness; she cursed each and every one of the mages that burnt her parents’ ships to the bottom of the floor. She cursed the gods that hung over their heads for forsaking her parents to die a watery grave. Getting to her feet, she sprinted out of the hall, the heavily robed officials barely managing to catch up with her as she fled the scene, tearing through the castle and out the gates. She raced through the town, tears flying behind her as she ran full pelt away from the damaged parchment with its damned words.

Standing on the southernmost beach of Rowanion’s island, she screamed, yelled and cursed at the murderous outline of Roleston. She spat profanities, swore curses and yelled, fully enraged at the Burning King whose orders took her parents from her. “Dabel shall twist your soul in Infernum until the end of time! Lilyth’s demonspawn shall feast on your bone marrow while you wail in pain.”

Tyler’s grip once again encompassed her entire body as she let herself slip into his grasp. Burying her face into his chest she cried in pain at the loss of her parents, she cried at how helpless and distracted she had been when they had ultimately met their fate. “By the Gods, I vow that my arrow shall strike down the Burning King, my face will be the last he sees before the demonspawn of Infernum drag him to its depths.”

“Shh, don’t say such things, Victoria,” Tyler consoled her, stroking her hair.

“Tyler, I will one day make my way to Rolsten, when that day comes I shall have an arrow in my quiver, one with the Burning Kings’ damned name on it. I will pierce him through the throat and watch his life drain from his eyes. Only when I do that, will I allow myself to live.”

“Victoria, do not do this,” Tyler’s voice was chocked up, by Victoria had sworn to the Gods. Pushing Tyler away, she made her way back to the castle, dragging her feet through the town as the townspeople, her townspeople watched with sadness in their eyes. In the distance, she could hear the bells tolling, announcing to the city and nearby isles the deaths of her parents.

Several Months Later…

“Victoria, I would like you to meet…”

“I know who he is,” she spoke, cutting Elizabeth off, “and I’ve already told you, I will not go through with it.”

“Could you excuse us for a moment, kind sers?” Elizabeth addressed the Knight and his accompaniment. They had travelled far, from one of the northern houses of Ethora, a partnership Elizabeth had spent the last couple of months setting up to further consolidate her rule over the Golden Islands.

“I told you Eliza, I’m not marrying some North Ethoran swine! He probably has disease riding in his pants!” Victoria spat.

“This marriage, Victoria, is the one way we can show the other Major Houses that House Taimor is still within its ranks! It is necessary that you two marry to consolidate this alliance!” Elizabeth pressed on, urging her sister to consider the proposal. The man was from a wealthy Major House and quite dashing looking as well.

“If it’s so important, then why don’t you marry him?”

“I have my own marriage prepared. We can even get married at the same time in the eyes of the Gods. It will be a wedding befitting our Major House status.”

“I said no, Eliza, and I stand by it. There is no way in Infernum you will make me marry him!”

“Hold your tongue, I am the leader of this House, and my word goes. You will marry the kind Ser and you will be a good wife to him.”

“Our parent’s didn't die and make you Queen, so I refuse to go through with this ridiculous proposal!”

“Our parent’s died and I was put in charge. So yes, my word is law, and I AM Queen around here, just because you’re my sister, doesn’t mean you can go running off with the blacksmith’s boy! Oh don’t look so betrayed, everyone knows of your little fling with him, it’s the talk of the town and besmirches our parents’ good name!” Elizabeth was beyond furious now.

Calling her officers to let the kind Sers back into the room, both ladies resumed their facades as the men knelt in front of them. “Lady Victoria of the House Taimor, will gladly accept your offer of betrothal, she will depart with your contingent in the morning,” Elizabeth spoke, much to Victoria's disgust, “We thank you for your patience and kind offer you have endowed us with.” Smiling, the Sers thanked both the ladies before returning to the guest chambers she had provided with them.

“I’ll be in my room, packing,” Victoria announced, leaving the room and ascending towards her chambers. Once inside, she tore off the Ethoran silk dress Elizabeth had made her wear and tossed it to the floor like discarded rags. From her drawers she drew her hunting leathers, strapping herself into the tight fabric before slinging bow and quiver over her back. In a rucksack, she piled as many clothes as it could handle for the journey ahead. Victoria separated her coins into pouches, stashing them in her boots, quiver, rucksack, almost anywhere that would hold and conceal them.

“What do you think you are doing?” Elizabeth’s voice rang through her room, shattering Victoria's concentration.

“I’m sick of this, I refuse to listen to you anymore. You sold my soul to this Ethoran swine and I refuse to go through with the marriage. You have no control over me, none at all! I never want to be your sister again, I never want to see your face ever again!”

”Victoria, listen to me please!” Elizabeth was far from pleading, verging on ordering Victoria to follow her orders; but this was an issue Elizabeth had no control over Victoria with. “You have to marry him; it will strengthen our ties with much of Ethora.”

“Mother and Father may have left you in charge, but you will never control me. Never!” Victoria’s blood was boiling as she shouted at her sister within her private chambers.

A cool breeze washed over Victoria as the sun hit her hunting leathers strapped to her body. Now she had her hunting leathers strapped tightly to her body, bag slung over one shoulder and ready to head out. Victoria would miss the friends she had made with the populous of Rowanion, but she needed to get away, she needed to escape the grip her sister had on her. The marriage had been the final straw, she was cutting her ties with the family, for both sides, she would cease to exist on a familial plane.

“Goodbye, sister…”

Victoria “Alys” Taimor – Currilan, Eveamoor

Sickly smelling potions mixed in with the thick, moist air of Currilan as Alys stirred in her sleep. From darkness she could hear voices beyond, but not close enough for her to identify what they were saying or who they belonged to. Images flashed before her eyes as her mind reeled from all the new information now pouring into her brain. Last she remembered, she had been backed up against a stone wall, bow in hand and vision blurred so badly it was just a mess of colours. Her arms had drawn back the bow, letting it fly before relaxing once again. Blurred images flashed past again, a hulking figure falling to his knees before Alys’ vision shifted and her body lurched. She felt the pain as something, someone carried her out of the dark caves and into the blinding light of day. That light continued to beat down on her as seven or either shadows waved about, above her blurred vision. She felt needles jap her skin, pulling the flesh together and people yelling, ordering each other about as the poured over her. She lay there feeling helpless, wishing that her one friend, Castiel, could be beside her.

From her window, and all too familiar squawk rang in her ears, and in the pale moonlight, the silhouette of a large falcon draped across her bed. With a flutter of wings, she felt Castiel’s sharp beak brush against her cheek. He nudged her gently, as if to cast his concern for her health, but she smiled weakly at him, hoping he would understand that she was fine. He had watched over her sleeping body like a guardian angel, never leaving for longer than it took for him to find a field mouse to munch down on.

“Castiel, my friend” she croaked, “I missed you.” She struggled to raise a hand, putting all her effort into patting the feather friend’s soft plumage. He squawked again before nestling by her shoulder.

One of the healers came into the room to see what the commotion was, relaying to the other healers on staff that Alys was awake and, more importantly, alive. She drunk deeply from the stagnant tasting water they gave her, her throat drier than the deserts of Rastra. While the water was foul, she assumed that no doubt it contained several medicinal herbs that would aid in her recovery. Once finished, they helped to prop her up in her weakened state.

“How, how long have I been asleep for?” Alys asked wearily.

“A week, miss,” one of the healers slipped.

“A week? Where are the others, are they still here?” She pushed, she felt bad for getting seriously injured in battle, but she hoped they hadn’t just left her to die in Currilan.

“Relax, miss, they are in the tavern-proper, discussing amongst themselves. Once we have you ready, we will take you to them.”

Finally relieved, Alys relaxed back into the warm bed she had been lying in. From how it sounded, it seemed like she was the only one to get badly injured, which she cursed herself for even getting into such a situation in the first place. She was an Archer after all; Archers had no place being in close-combat like she had run head on into. While she let the healers check up on her, she turned her head to watch Castiel now resting on the window sill. They had been to Infernum and back before, but this time she had come closer to the Death Lands more than ever. Remembering the vow she took those many years ago only solidified in her mind that she was almost ready to depart from this group of mercenaries to take on the one man she had vowed to kill.

With Castiel by her side, Alys felt near unstoppable.
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