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Meliant de Lys Member
Knight of the Sangreal
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- Meliant de Lys 6 yrs ago
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Bio
I run things from time to time, and exclusively write smut.
Maybe we can do something.
Maybe we can do something.
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"The way we act," spoke the fiery redhead, whose foe had been bested. The boy leapt to his feet, harmed, yet resolute in his stare. Was that stone or iron in his eyes? "is our regard for those lives lost! What is our battle, if not a celebration to the dead?" He was black haired, with a silky mane that reached his waist, tied up in a neat silver bun, eyes narrow, and brows that were like a form of art.
Valiant were their words in the shade of danger. The retinue that had come with the Empress were none other than her own bodyguards, those hand-picked chosen. War paints scarred their hauberks and masks, brilliant plumes of seven-colored feathers. One of them was a known face to us, but why not introduce her again? I speak of Iko, the Silver Sword, whose iajutsu was like a blur. No person had ever stopped her strikes. Alone, her green jade armor made her seem bulkier than she was, her near-innocent visage hidden beneath a menacing war-mask. Her presence alone seemed to hush the martial artists here gathered, like a gust will silence a fire.
She spoke no words, and needed none. The severe straits of these youthful gangster was evident. Some cowered, but not these two stars, that rose bravely before Lucille. "This... passivity of yours, o' queen, is the root of all these issues! Lead us into battle anew! We breathe not to be farmers and tillers! Our blood demands combat!"
"And battle we have provided," said one of the masters behind, silver and black wings unfolded. A black eyepatch covered an amber eye. His smile would be disarming to any woman, but alas, Lucille was not any woman. "can you blame us? What had to happen, happened."
Valiant were their words in the shade of danger. The retinue that had come with the Empress were none other than her own bodyguards, those hand-picked chosen. War paints scarred their hauberks and masks, brilliant plumes of seven-colored feathers. One of them was a known face to us, but why not introduce her again? I speak of Iko, the Silver Sword, whose iajutsu was like a blur. No person had ever stopped her strikes. Alone, her green jade armor made her seem bulkier than she was, her near-innocent visage hidden beneath a menacing war-mask. Her presence alone seemed to hush the martial artists here gathered, like a gust will silence a fire.
She spoke no words, and needed none. The severe straits of these youthful gangster was evident. Some cowered, but not these two stars, that rose bravely before Lucille. "This... passivity of yours, o' queen, is the root of all these issues! Lead us into battle anew! We breathe not to be farmers and tillers! Our blood demands combat!"
"And battle we have provided," said one of the masters behind, silver and black wings unfolded. A black eyepatch covered an amber eye. His smile would be disarming to any woman, but alas, Lucille was not any woman. "can you blame us? What had to happen, happened."
I remember not the year, so I will not attempt to frame this. Far from the overwhelming Realm, far from the plains of Beltagne, even far from the Haltan League; in the distant North did this tale unfold. The Ascendants had been broken, yet at the Battle of the Seven Suns, the advance of the deathly horde was halted. A slightly uncomfortable stalemate reigned, for the Ivani clan held the southern marches against the occasional raid, while the rest of the survivors rebuilt their city anew, this time, in the banks of the Valley of Dandelions. Xavier, the son of the White Queen, was the first child born to this nascent folk.
New Ascension thus matured around the Cradle of Thunder, ancient war-manse of an old goddess. A year had passed, perhaps. Flowers bloomed with ease, but the Ascendants scarcely settled smoothly. They were miners! Their toil was stone, not wormy soil! They turn clay into artforms, craft grand palaces of marble, stone-like-silk and fire! Oh, and let us speak not of the overbearing sun and moon! What of trade? No clansman would willingly be a merchant, but here they come, these winged men of the clouds, with their tall frames, fluffy things and charming smiles. And coin, much of it.
They were frustrated, unfortunately. The youth that had followed Lucille saw themselves with a bitter drink to taste. The abandonment of the life that they had led took a heavy toll upon their faith. The new city had, then, a little bit of an issue. A small issue, no real concern. An entire generation of dispossessed youngsters with energy to spare. Like ice to a cocktail, the Airfolk brought in the second ingredient to this funbag. Martial arts.
You see, Ascendant warfare is a rigid thing. The clansmen of the high clans are the ones trained as warriors. Scale and mail they wear, great shields locked with each other, short stabbing weapons and spears. It served for the ant-nest that was old Ascension. It served for the majestic mountain ranges they dominated, but... as you well may guess, served not for the snow-dunes and valleys that made their new home. But these? The styles of the wind that the Airfolk brought to New Ascension were taken by the Ascendants like fish take to water. Schools formed, grew and gained influence in the city. Soon, merchants paid their respects to the local masters rather than government officials. Underground gangs were formed, fights broke out under the gaze of Luna.
There was strife under Lucille's home again, but I need not speak of this at all, do I?
There was not even time to court the local god-court during the first days of New Ascension, but now? A city-mother had been seen prowling amongst the streets, and a home was built for the charming goddess. She gave few blessings to the people that had yet to prove themselves worthy, but alas, this was a start. Her shrine was planned to be thrice-folded, with three roofs and three floors; all planned according to the theorems of sacred geometry. A grand project, to be sure, but lengthy.
And in the shade of lumbering, chiseled stone did four schools gather. No guards stood, no vigil was kept. The center of this shrine would be baptized by might. Challenges were issued, and rang though the empty halls. Adepts and initiates to the styles of the wind stood there, arrogant in their prowess. The masters watched from behind, wings folded. Indeed, many of the ones here towered over the Ascendants; bronzed skins, tattooed eyes and vibrant gazes. The Airfolk.
Two of them met in combat, dust rising in the wake of their blows. Her stance was aggressive; his was still like water, and like water wrapping around the strikes of the girl. They turned and twisted, grappling to the ground, and then back to their feet. And to this dance were the heavy gates of the temple flung open by a kick!
A booming sound. The gates crashed down. Somebody coughed from the hail of dust.
"The White Queen!" gasped the gangsters.
The Alexsasha's Retinue
The most prestigious rank one may hold in Ascension is that of Alexsasha or Alexandros, named thus for a famous warlord. It is the closest a mortal may reach to kingship over the Ascendants. It is only fitting the Alexsasha maintains a band of companions by her good-nature, largesse and charisma.
Through her journeys, many have flocked to the banner of the White Empress, for good or ill. Here they are named.
Hello! Welcome!
Give us one more day
With the words you say
To regret all our sins
Give me one more night
With a ray of light
To show how we were brave
In a story of time
A Story of Time
With the words you say
To regret all our sins
Give me one more night
With a ray of light
To show how we were brave
In a story of time
A Story of Time
A land in despair, a people whose home was broken; outcasts thread the Valley of Dandelions, where none has walked for centuries. Stygian gods of death make their lairs in mountains of old earth, spirits of might untold burrow the graves of an empire long gone. From the atrocious webs of the Old City, to the serene beauty of the Adamantine Sea.
Of New Ascension and her Wandering Queen, I sing.
I'll edit this later. Welcome to the most recent rebirth of a Story of Time. I can stand a few more, don't worry.
Where's your F-List, pardon?
Welcome back!
Yeah, I'm told I'm pretty good at it. What do you have in mind?
hiii welcome!!!
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