Post by Rianne Herculides on Jun 21, 2009 11:38:20 GMT -5
“Bless me father, and protect me from those who would seek to harm an honest child of God. Keep me strong in these dark times, and protect the people of Avaren from the heretics who walk among them.” The soft voice of a young woman was barely audible in the stone walls of the Abandoned Citadel. She knelt in one of the rooms of the old building before a makeshift altar on a half destroyed outlet in the walls. Her clothing was regal and intricate, a heavy red gown with a matching veil for her raven black hair. However it showed signs of wear with a few holes here and there, dust along the hem, stitches being pulled out in random places and some faded color. It clung to a form that was smaller than it should be for a woman in her late 20’s, not shaped or tailored properly to it. Her skin was pale from lack of sunlight, shimmering in the candles on the altar as she said the prayers that were a part of her daily routine. No jewels were around her neck or in her ears, save for a single gemmed ring on her hand.
Rianne Herculides, deposed Queen of Avaren, was not what she used to be.
The Warrior Queen who used to wear shining armor and crowns and was a beauty had lost some of her luster. Living in an abandoned old building could do that to a person, especially one so stressed as Rianne. She had grown up a noble, had married into royalty, had tried to do the best for her people and in the end they drove her out. Into the wilderness she had gone, no longer welcome by those she had to protect and had eventually found her way to the Abandoned Citadel. Nobody resided there for fears that it was haunted, but desperate for shelter Rianne had gone there. And it had served as her outcast home since that day.
All she had wanted to do was save her people from the heathens. Those who were against God’s will and threatened the purity of the populace. If they were not willing to leave then death was a proper way of purging such heretics from the streets. But after several killings the people had not agreed with Rianne and her witch hunt. They had wanted the bloodshed to stop, even if these creatures were evil. And so they had ran her out and now were living in peace with the wicked beings.
She rose from the makeshift altar in a rustle of wrinkled fabric, her face hard with wear. It was difficult to live here when she was accustomed to so much more. But if God willed her to live in such a place then it surely must be for a reason. Maybe the people of her beloved land needed to learn a lesson before the purging could begin unhindered, and maybe he willed her to be away from her people for that to happen. Rianne moved to a chair by a window in the room and crossed her palms in her lap, looking out into the mountains that served as protection for the Citadel.
No sign of her husband after all these years, no sign of her trusted guard Thurel. Rianne probably would have gone mad in her exile if had not been for Father Vidar, a trusted priest and advisor to Rianne. Other than that she had no connections to her old life.
Harsh grey eyes wanted to leak tears, but she didn’t let them. There were no more tears to be shed. She was strong, a fighting Queen even if her people didn’t accept that. There was always a rapier at least in the room with her, and the old bow she had used was tucked by the makeshift bed she had. Everything here was makeshift, for she had to make do with what she could find and what she bartered her jewels for in coin when she first got there. It was apparently God’s will that she learn humility. Now she was waiting for a sign that it was time for her to help her people again.
To lead them away from the heathens and into the pure life they deserved where their soul could go to a pleasant afterlife. The Council that ruled them now couldn’t possibly be looking after their souls properly. She would; when the time was right she would make sure the people of Avaren were made safe. For now she had to bide her time.
Idle hands grabbed the rapier that sat next to the chair and a wetstone and she began to sharpen the blade in her lap. It looked strange her being in such a gown and dealing with her weapon, but Rianne didn’t have the spectacular wardrobe she used to. She would await a presence of Father Vidar, or whoever else decided to brave the mountains these days. There wasn’t much else to do at the time.
Rianne Herculides, deposed Queen of Avaren, was not what she used to be.
The Warrior Queen who used to wear shining armor and crowns and was a beauty had lost some of her luster. Living in an abandoned old building could do that to a person, especially one so stressed as Rianne. She had grown up a noble, had married into royalty, had tried to do the best for her people and in the end they drove her out. Into the wilderness she had gone, no longer welcome by those she had to protect and had eventually found her way to the Abandoned Citadel. Nobody resided there for fears that it was haunted, but desperate for shelter Rianne had gone there. And it had served as her outcast home since that day.
All she had wanted to do was save her people from the heathens. Those who were against God’s will and threatened the purity of the populace. If they were not willing to leave then death was a proper way of purging such heretics from the streets. But after several killings the people had not agreed with Rianne and her witch hunt. They had wanted the bloodshed to stop, even if these creatures were evil. And so they had ran her out and now were living in peace with the wicked beings.
She rose from the makeshift altar in a rustle of wrinkled fabric, her face hard with wear. It was difficult to live here when she was accustomed to so much more. But if God willed her to live in such a place then it surely must be for a reason. Maybe the people of her beloved land needed to learn a lesson before the purging could begin unhindered, and maybe he willed her to be away from her people for that to happen. Rianne moved to a chair by a window in the room and crossed her palms in her lap, looking out into the mountains that served as protection for the Citadel.
No sign of her husband after all these years, no sign of her trusted guard Thurel. Rianne probably would have gone mad in her exile if had not been for Father Vidar, a trusted priest and advisor to Rianne. Other than that she had no connections to her old life.
Harsh grey eyes wanted to leak tears, but she didn’t let them. There were no more tears to be shed. She was strong, a fighting Queen even if her people didn’t accept that. There was always a rapier at least in the room with her, and the old bow she had used was tucked by the makeshift bed she had. Everything here was makeshift, for she had to make do with what she could find and what she bartered her jewels for in coin when she first got there. It was apparently God’s will that she learn humility. Now she was waiting for a sign that it was time for her to help her people again.
To lead them away from the heathens and into the pure life they deserved where their soul could go to a pleasant afterlife. The Council that ruled them now couldn’t possibly be looking after their souls properly. She would; when the time was right she would make sure the people of Avaren were made safe. For now she had to bide her time.
Idle hands grabbed the rapier that sat next to the chair and a wetstone and she began to sharpen the blade in her lap. It looked strange her being in such a gown and dealing with her weapon, but Rianne didn’t have the spectacular wardrobe she used to. She would await a presence of Father Vidar, or whoever else decided to brave the mountains these days. There wasn’t much else to do at the time.
