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The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and it was only now that Princess Tythra of Drakos was making her way back to the capital.She was right outside the capital, having just finished business in one of her own in the far reaches of Colchis. With the few rays of sunlight left that was seeping through Tythra’s carriage, the sky a mix of red and orange before it would slowly turn to black, she was slowly putting away the documents she had been reading. Always a busy woman, Tythra hated to waste even a second when there were tasks to do. But as the light was disappearing, she allowed herself a moment to relax.
Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back. The throbbing in her temple from a long’s day work simply would not cease. It was a constant discomfort, one that she was very used to. Despite given access to the senate and the ability to head or own house by her brother, King Tython, Tythra did not take the opportunity for granted. She fought against the whispers of nepotism and rised to be seen as a capable, strong leader. She had the ability to do anything a man did, and prove to be even more successful.
Well… almost anything.
Tythra’s eyes were shut for just a few moments. She allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy the peace and silence. All was still, everything was go- Why had they stopped? Tythra’s eyes flew open as she heard the drawing of swords, her guards were springing into action. The horses were rearing, loud sounds coming from their upset mouths. And suddenly her carriage lurched. Tythra gripped the walls to keep steady, but eventually, it toppled over, sending the Princess onto her side. A large gash ran down her arm from the impact, ruby blood sliding down it.
What was going on?
A myriad of thoughts was running through the Princess’s mind. With war ever looming on the horizon it could be an invasion of Egyptians had already begun. A sneak attack in Colchis that would leave all of the royals in danger. Surely if Tython was expecting one such attack he would have given a warning. Or it could be bandits and thieves seeing a carriage that certainly belonged to someone of wealth, unknowing that inside the carriage was the Princess of Colchis.
Tythra did not know what to necessarily do. Removing herself from the carriage to run could leave her out in the open, but remaining in the carriage would leave her a sitting duck waiting to be slaughtered.
The clash of steel got louder and Tythra made up her mind. She opened the door (which was now on the ceiling) and climbed out of her carriage, hand slick with blood. There were few corpses on the floor, but Tythra paid it no mind as she ran from the conflict as fast as the Princess could. She felt something catch her ankle, and Tythra found herself sprawled on the ground. Above her a man with a sword.
Please, Gods. Rain fury upon these men.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and it was only now that Princess Tythra of Drakos was making her way back to the capital.She was right outside the capital, having just finished business in one of her own in the far reaches of Colchis. With the few rays of sunlight left that was seeping through Tythra’s carriage, the sky a mix of red and orange before it would slowly turn to black, she was slowly putting away the documents she had been reading. Always a busy woman, Tythra hated to waste even a second when there were tasks to do. But as the light was disappearing, she allowed herself a moment to relax.
Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back. The throbbing in her temple from a long’s day work simply would not cease. It was a constant discomfort, one that she was very used to. Despite given access to the senate and the ability to head or own house by her brother, King Tython, Tythra did not take the opportunity for granted. She fought against the whispers of nepotism and rised to be seen as a capable, strong leader. She had the ability to do anything a man did, and prove to be even more successful.
Well… almost anything.
Tythra’s eyes were shut for just a few moments. She allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy the peace and silence. All was still, everything was go- Why had they stopped? Tythra’s eyes flew open as she heard the drawing of swords, her guards were springing into action. The horses were rearing, loud sounds coming from their upset mouths. And suddenly her carriage lurched. Tythra gripped the walls to keep steady, but eventually, it toppled over, sending the Princess onto her side. A large gash ran down her arm from the impact, ruby blood sliding down it.
What was going on?
A myriad of thoughts was running through the Princess’s mind. With war ever looming on the horizon it could be an invasion of Egyptians had already begun. A sneak attack in Colchis that would leave all of the royals in danger. Surely if Tython was expecting one such attack he would have given a warning. Or it could be bandits and thieves seeing a carriage that certainly belonged to someone of wealth, unknowing that inside the carriage was the Princess of Colchis.
Tythra did not know what to necessarily do. Removing herself from the carriage to run could leave her out in the open, but remaining in the carriage would leave her a sitting duck waiting to be slaughtered.
The clash of steel got louder and Tythra made up her mind. She opened the door (which was now on the ceiling) and climbed out of her carriage, hand slick with blood. There were few corpses on the floor, but Tythra paid it no mind as she ran from the conflict as fast as the Princess could. She felt something catch her ankle, and Tythra found herself sprawled on the ground. Above her a man with a sword.
Please, Gods. Rain fury upon these men.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon and it was only now that Princess Tythra of Drakos was making her way back to the capital.She was right outside the capital, having just finished business in one of her own in the far reaches of Colchis. With the few rays of sunlight left that was seeping through Tythra’s carriage, the sky a mix of red and orange before it would slowly turn to black, she was slowly putting away the documents she had been reading. Always a busy woman, Tythra hated to waste even a second when there were tasks to do. But as the light was disappearing, she allowed herself a moment to relax.
Her eyes closed and she leaned her head back. The throbbing in her temple from a long’s day work simply would not cease. It was a constant discomfort, one that she was very used to. Despite given access to the senate and the ability to head or own house by her brother, King Tython, Tythra did not take the opportunity for granted. She fought against the whispers of nepotism and rised to be seen as a capable, strong leader. She had the ability to do anything a man did, and prove to be even more successful.
Well… almost anything.
Tythra’s eyes were shut for just a few moments. She allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy the peace and silence. All was still, everything was go- Why had they stopped? Tythra’s eyes flew open as she heard the drawing of swords, her guards were springing into action. The horses were rearing, loud sounds coming from their upset mouths. And suddenly her carriage lurched. Tythra gripped the walls to keep steady, but eventually, it toppled over, sending the Princess onto her side. A large gash ran down her arm from the impact, ruby blood sliding down it.
What was going on?
A myriad of thoughts was running through the Princess’s mind. With war ever looming on the horizon it could be an invasion of Egyptians had already begun. A sneak attack in Colchis that would leave all of the royals in danger. Surely if Tython was expecting one such attack he would have given a warning. Or it could be bandits and thieves seeing a carriage that certainly belonged to someone of wealth, unknowing that inside the carriage was the Princess of Colchis.
Tythra did not know what to necessarily do. Removing herself from the carriage to run could leave her out in the open, but remaining in the carriage would leave her a sitting duck waiting to be slaughtered.
The clash of steel got louder and Tythra made up her mind. She opened the door (which was now on the ceiling) and climbed out of her carriage, hand slick with blood. There were few corpses on the floor, but Tythra paid it no mind as she ran from the conflict as fast as the Princess could. She felt something catch her ankle, and Tythra found herself sprawled on the ground. Above her a man with a sword.
Please, Gods. Rain fury upon these men.
The soldier had left the capital before the sun came up. The swirling torrent of emotions in his heart had caused him to be restless. He was scared. Scared to face the Egyptians. Scared to lose his life and for his daughter to grow up without parents entirely. She already lost her mother, she couldn't lose her father too. Now she believes her father doesn't love her.
He left to clear his head and to expend some of the excess energy that he had. He had grabbed a small meal, his sword, and a few water skins. He hadn't planned on being out as long as he did, but he found solace in the outdoors. Too long had he been cooped up inside the city, following the man-child around for what seemed like years, subject to all manner of debauchery from the young lord. Despite his emotions, he found that he had enjoyed the journey.
It was getting late when he headed back, the sun dipping over the horizon in a beautiful swirl of crimson and purple. Making his way back to the main road, he noticed a campfire nearby. Daxos stopped and checked it out, fresh. The soldier frowned, Six, no, eight men? He knelt to check the recently abandoned campsite for any sign of who it could be. They didn't seem to have any tents and as far as the soldier could tell, they didn't seem to be hunters of any kind.
Bandits, the soldier's nose upturned in disgust, unsheathing his sword and following what tracks he could find back to the road. He had maybe gone a few hundred yards when he heard the sounds of battle. Throwing caution out the window he ran towards the fighting as fast as he could. His heavy feet pounded the dirt beneath him as he broke through the treeline and saw a carriage toppled over, dead me around, and a bandit standing over a hunched body.
He didn't know what was going on, but he could surmise that the carriage belonged to a noble. The soldier saw that the noble's guards had been overrun, and they had only seemed to incapacitate two of the bandits. Daxos took a deep breath, they hadn't seemed to notice him yet. As quietly as he could, he snuck up behind one bandit. He was but a few steps before another bandit turned and yelled out a warning.
The soldier reacted instinctively, his sword flashed through the air. He felt the blade connect to the man's neck and felt the spray of hot blood hit him in the face. He grabbed the man's spear with his free hand as he kicked the dying man over. He then chucked the spear at the bandit standing over the noble. It hit its mark but only hit the man in the leg.
The bandits were too surprised by the arrival of such a large man. Daxos knew his bulk and height would only surprise them for so long, so he charged the bandit he had thrown the spear it. He had closed the distance in what seemed like a few steps and the bandit tried his best to raise his sword to defend himself. Daxos wasn't fazed. With agility that his size seemed to betray, he ducked under the wild slash of the bandit as his blade slid into the man's ribs. The soldier's strike wasn't immediately deadly. He had just missed the man's heart and he knew the man would still get a few swings in.
Daxos avoided another stab from the already wounded bandit grabbed the man's wrist. With a quick twist, he snapped the man's arm. He let out an ear-piercing scream. The broken bone was poking out of the man's skin as he stepped back in horror and shock. It was the man's scream that finally galvanized the other bandits to action. They began to rush closer, hoping to overpower the soldier, but Daxos grabbed the man who was trying to retreat and threw the man into the bandits. The soldier had bought him enough time to snatch up the spear that had become dislodged in his brutal attack and he turned to the noble laying on the ground.
"Stand up. Take this. Stay behind me. I will get you out alive." The soldier probably looked like a madman, his unruly hair and face matted with blood and his eyes wide with adrenaline. He dropped the spear at the woman's feet as he spun back around as the other three bandits got back to their feet. Instead of trying to rush them now, the bandits did their best to spread out.
"Leave you, oaf. We only want her head." The largest of the bandits spoke up, his voice portraying an air of false confidence. Daxos smiled wickedly as he noticed the man's spear shake with fear. The others were unsure of their attack and did not press forward.
"It's a damn shame," Daxos smiled, showing the blood that caked his teeth, "It's a damn shame you decided to do this dumb shit when I've been having a very bad day. I can't wait to carve your heart out and feed it to the vultures. I will bathe in your blood and relish in your screams." The soldier nonchalantly shrugged, doing his best to intimidate the bandits, "I think it was poor to attack anyone from Colchis, let alone a noblewoman. How bout this, if you tell me who sent you, I'll let one of you live." The soldier knew that normal bandits wouldn't dare go after a noble unless they had a serious payout coming for them at the end. He doubted they would talk easily, but the soldier knew he had a special way of interrogation. He pointed his sword at the bandits in front of him, "So what will it be boys?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The soldier had left the capital before the sun came up. The swirling torrent of emotions in his heart had caused him to be restless. He was scared. Scared to face the Egyptians. Scared to lose his life and for his daughter to grow up without parents entirely. She already lost her mother, she couldn't lose her father too. Now she believes her father doesn't love her.
He left to clear his head and to expend some of the excess energy that he had. He had grabbed a small meal, his sword, and a few water skins. He hadn't planned on being out as long as he did, but he found solace in the outdoors. Too long had he been cooped up inside the city, following the man-child around for what seemed like years, subject to all manner of debauchery from the young lord. Despite his emotions, he found that he had enjoyed the journey.
It was getting late when he headed back, the sun dipping over the horizon in a beautiful swirl of crimson and purple. Making his way back to the main road, he noticed a campfire nearby. Daxos stopped and checked it out, fresh. The soldier frowned, Six, no, eight men? He knelt to check the recently abandoned campsite for any sign of who it could be. They didn't seem to have any tents and as far as the soldier could tell, they didn't seem to be hunters of any kind.
Bandits, the soldier's nose upturned in disgust, unsheathing his sword and following what tracks he could find back to the road. He had maybe gone a few hundred yards when he heard the sounds of battle. Throwing caution out the window he ran towards the fighting as fast as he could. His heavy feet pounded the dirt beneath him as he broke through the treeline and saw a carriage toppled over, dead me around, and a bandit standing over a hunched body.
He didn't know what was going on, but he could surmise that the carriage belonged to a noble. The soldier saw that the noble's guards had been overrun, and they had only seemed to incapacitate two of the bandits. Daxos took a deep breath, they hadn't seemed to notice him yet. As quietly as he could, he snuck up behind one bandit. He was but a few steps before another bandit turned and yelled out a warning.
The soldier reacted instinctively, his sword flashed through the air. He felt the blade connect to the man's neck and felt the spray of hot blood hit him in the face. He grabbed the man's spear with his free hand as he kicked the dying man over. He then chucked the spear at the bandit standing over the noble. It hit its mark but only hit the man in the leg.
The bandits were too surprised by the arrival of such a large man. Daxos knew his bulk and height would only surprise them for so long, so he charged the bandit he had thrown the spear it. He had closed the distance in what seemed like a few steps and the bandit tried his best to raise his sword to defend himself. Daxos wasn't fazed. With agility that his size seemed to betray, he ducked under the wild slash of the bandit as his blade slid into the man's ribs. The soldier's strike wasn't immediately deadly. He had just missed the man's heart and he knew the man would still get a few swings in.
Daxos avoided another stab from the already wounded bandit grabbed the man's wrist. With a quick twist, he snapped the man's arm. He let out an ear-piercing scream. The broken bone was poking out of the man's skin as he stepped back in horror and shock. It was the man's scream that finally galvanized the other bandits to action. They began to rush closer, hoping to overpower the soldier, but Daxos grabbed the man who was trying to retreat and threw the man into the bandits. The soldier had bought him enough time to snatch up the spear that had become dislodged in his brutal attack and he turned to the noble laying on the ground.
"Stand up. Take this. Stay behind me. I will get you out alive." The soldier probably looked like a madman, his unruly hair and face matted with blood and his eyes wide with adrenaline. He dropped the spear at the woman's feet as he spun back around as the other three bandits got back to their feet. Instead of trying to rush them now, the bandits did their best to spread out.
"Leave you, oaf. We only want her head." The largest of the bandits spoke up, his voice portraying an air of false confidence. Daxos smiled wickedly as he noticed the man's spear shake with fear. The others were unsure of their attack and did not press forward.
"It's a damn shame," Daxos smiled, showing the blood that caked his teeth, "It's a damn shame you decided to do this dumb shit when I've been having a very bad day. I can't wait to carve your heart out and feed it to the vultures. I will bathe in your blood and relish in your screams." The soldier nonchalantly shrugged, doing his best to intimidate the bandits, "I think it was poor to attack anyone from Colchis, let alone a noblewoman. How bout this, if you tell me who sent you, I'll let one of you live." The soldier knew that normal bandits wouldn't dare go after a noble unless they had a serious payout coming for them at the end. He doubted they would talk easily, but the soldier knew he had a special way of interrogation. He pointed his sword at the bandits in front of him, "So what will it be boys?"
The soldier had left the capital before the sun came up. The swirling torrent of emotions in his heart had caused him to be restless. He was scared. Scared to face the Egyptians. Scared to lose his life and for his daughter to grow up without parents entirely. She already lost her mother, she couldn't lose her father too. Now she believes her father doesn't love her.
He left to clear his head and to expend some of the excess energy that he had. He had grabbed a small meal, his sword, and a few water skins. He hadn't planned on being out as long as he did, but he found solace in the outdoors. Too long had he been cooped up inside the city, following the man-child around for what seemed like years, subject to all manner of debauchery from the young lord. Despite his emotions, he found that he had enjoyed the journey.
It was getting late when he headed back, the sun dipping over the horizon in a beautiful swirl of crimson and purple. Making his way back to the main road, he noticed a campfire nearby. Daxos stopped and checked it out, fresh. The soldier frowned, Six, no, eight men? He knelt to check the recently abandoned campsite for any sign of who it could be. They didn't seem to have any tents and as far as the soldier could tell, they didn't seem to be hunters of any kind.
Bandits, the soldier's nose upturned in disgust, unsheathing his sword and following what tracks he could find back to the road. He had maybe gone a few hundred yards when he heard the sounds of battle. Throwing caution out the window he ran towards the fighting as fast as he could. His heavy feet pounded the dirt beneath him as he broke through the treeline and saw a carriage toppled over, dead me around, and a bandit standing over a hunched body.
He didn't know what was going on, but he could surmise that the carriage belonged to a noble. The soldier saw that the noble's guards had been overrun, and they had only seemed to incapacitate two of the bandits. Daxos took a deep breath, they hadn't seemed to notice him yet. As quietly as he could, he snuck up behind one bandit. He was but a few steps before another bandit turned and yelled out a warning.
The soldier reacted instinctively, his sword flashed through the air. He felt the blade connect to the man's neck and felt the spray of hot blood hit him in the face. He grabbed the man's spear with his free hand as he kicked the dying man over. He then chucked the spear at the bandit standing over the noble. It hit its mark but only hit the man in the leg.
The bandits were too surprised by the arrival of such a large man. Daxos knew his bulk and height would only surprise them for so long, so he charged the bandit he had thrown the spear it. He had closed the distance in what seemed like a few steps and the bandit tried his best to raise his sword to defend himself. Daxos wasn't fazed. With agility that his size seemed to betray, he ducked under the wild slash of the bandit as his blade slid into the man's ribs. The soldier's strike wasn't immediately deadly. He had just missed the man's heart and he knew the man would still get a few swings in.
Daxos avoided another stab from the already wounded bandit grabbed the man's wrist. With a quick twist, he snapped the man's arm. He let out an ear-piercing scream. The broken bone was poking out of the man's skin as he stepped back in horror and shock. It was the man's scream that finally galvanized the other bandits to action. They began to rush closer, hoping to overpower the soldier, but Daxos grabbed the man who was trying to retreat and threw the man into the bandits. The soldier had bought him enough time to snatch up the spear that had become dislodged in his brutal attack and he turned to the noble laying on the ground.
"Stand up. Take this. Stay behind me. I will get you out alive." The soldier probably looked like a madman, his unruly hair and face matted with blood and his eyes wide with adrenaline. He dropped the spear at the woman's feet as he spun back around as the other three bandits got back to their feet. Instead of trying to rush them now, the bandits did their best to spread out.
"Leave you, oaf. We only want her head." The largest of the bandits spoke up, his voice portraying an air of false confidence. Daxos smiled wickedly as he noticed the man's spear shake with fear. The others were unsure of their attack and did not press forward.
"It's a damn shame," Daxos smiled, showing the blood that caked his teeth, "It's a damn shame you decided to do this dumb shit when I've been having a very bad day. I can't wait to carve your heart out and feed it to the vultures. I will bathe in your blood and relish in your screams." The soldier nonchalantly shrugged, doing his best to intimidate the bandits, "I think it was poor to attack anyone from Colchis, let alone a noblewoman. How bout this, if you tell me who sent you, I'll let one of you live." The soldier knew that normal bandits wouldn't dare go after a noble unless they had a serious payout coming for them at the end. He doubted they would talk easily, but the soldier knew he had a special way of interrogation. He pointed his sword at the bandits in front of him, "So what will it be boys?"
Tythra was no soldier. She never fought in any war, nor did she train like her brother did. What Tythra was, however, was a woman of Colchis. Strength and bravery ran in their blood. And so when the stranger threw the spear at her feet, there was no hesitation. Her prayer was answered, and fury would be rained upon the imbeciles that dare try to attack her and carriage. She was a Drakos with the blood of Kotas, not some weakling to be trifled with.
The bandits surged forward and the soldier did well to defend her. Guts spilled to the ground, the grass beneath them painted in scarlet. As one got closer to Tythra, she jabbed the spear in an upward, admittedly clumsy fashion, catching him underneath his chin. She leaned her weight into it, using the momentum of battle to break through his jawbone, sending the spear clear through to his brain. Tythra blinked, sickened for a moment as his blood spilled everywhere, the hot liquid splashing onto her face, and his corpse collapsed in a useless heap. Tythra felt bile began to rise in her throat. She was a princess, not a soldier.
But this was her life on the line.
With the spear now lost in the man’s skull, she picked up his discarded sword. This was something she was more used to, though Tythra would hesitate to call herself skilled. She stayed behind the man, trying to move as he did to not get in his way but to remain safe among his guard. It was as if it was a dance, foot moving to and fro, dodging out of the way as steel slashed towards them. Another bandit made his way to Tythra, but this time the sword was lodged into his stomach. She twisted the blade as she pulled it out, guts spilling onto the battlefield.
Idiots. Tythra thought to herself seething. Corpses outnumbered bandits now, and quickly they started backing up. No longer were they trying to advance on the Princess and her savior, but instead ran towards the mountains with their tail between their legs. Cowards.
These were not people of Colchis this much was evident. Their people had courage and honor. These men were scum, worse than slaves, deserving of their deaths. They’d suffer in Tartarus where no light could ever be found.
Tythra practically snarled at their retreating backs. Eyes flashed up to the man. Reward, compensation, and medical attention shall wait. “They do not deserve to live.” To go after the Princess in while war was impending was a slight greater than no other. These men deserved the joint wrath of Kotas and Drakos. But as her guards lay pathetically slayed on the ground, souls traveling across the River of Styx, it would be this stranger that would finish the deed. Death was deserved upon the weak that pray on innocents, that cause others to suffer for their selfish desires. They were not men but beasts, beasts that no longer have the privilege of breath, for it shall be taken to them as they dive into the abyss.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
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Tythra was no soldier. She never fought in any war, nor did she train like her brother did. What Tythra was, however, was a woman of Colchis. Strength and bravery ran in their blood. And so when the stranger threw the spear at her feet, there was no hesitation. Her prayer was answered, and fury would be rained upon the imbeciles that dare try to attack her and carriage. She was a Drakos with the blood of Kotas, not some weakling to be trifled with.
The bandits surged forward and the soldier did well to defend her. Guts spilled to the ground, the grass beneath them painted in scarlet. As one got closer to Tythra, she jabbed the spear in an upward, admittedly clumsy fashion, catching him underneath his chin. She leaned her weight into it, using the momentum of battle to break through his jawbone, sending the spear clear through to his brain. Tythra blinked, sickened for a moment as his blood spilled everywhere, the hot liquid splashing onto her face, and his corpse collapsed in a useless heap. Tythra felt bile began to rise in her throat. She was a princess, not a soldier.
But this was her life on the line.
With the spear now lost in the man’s skull, she picked up his discarded sword. This was something she was more used to, though Tythra would hesitate to call herself skilled. She stayed behind the man, trying to move as he did to not get in his way but to remain safe among his guard. It was as if it was a dance, foot moving to and fro, dodging out of the way as steel slashed towards them. Another bandit made his way to Tythra, but this time the sword was lodged into his stomach. She twisted the blade as she pulled it out, guts spilling onto the battlefield.
Idiots. Tythra thought to herself seething. Corpses outnumbered bandits now, and quickly they started backing up. No longer were they trying to advance on the Princess and her savior, but instead ran towards the mountains with their tail between their legs. Cowards.
These were not people of Colchis this much was evident. Their people had courage and honor. These men were scum, worse than slaves, deserving of their deaths. They’d suffer in Tartarus where no light could ever be found.
Tythra practically snarled at their retreating backs. Eyes flashed up to the man. Reward, compensation, and medical attention shall wait. “They do not deserve to live.” To go after the Princess in while war was impending was a slight greater than no other. These men deserved the joint wrath of Kotas and Drakos. But as her guards lay pathetically slayed on the ground, souls traveling across the River of Styx, it would be this stranger that would finish the deed. Death was deserved upon the weak that pray on innocents, that cause others to suffer for their selfish desires. They were not men but beasts, beasts that no longer have the privilege of breath, for it shall be taken to them as they dive into the abyss.
Tythra was no soldier. She never fought in any war, nor did she train like her brother did. What Tythra was, however, was a woman of Colchis. Strength and bravery ran in their blood. And so when the stranger threw the spear at her feet, there was no hesitation. Her prayer was answered, and fury would be rained upon the imbeciles that dare try to attack her and carriage. She was a Drakos with the blood of Kotas, not some weakling to be trifled with.
The bandits surged forward and the soldier did well to defend her. Guts spilled to the ground, the grass beneath them painted in scarlet. As one got closer to Tythra, she jabbed the spear in an upward, admittedly clumsy fashion, catching him underneath his chin. She leaned her weight into it, using the momentum of battle to break through his jawbone, sending the spear clear through to his brain. Tythra blinked, sickened for a moment as his blood spilled everywhere, the hot liquid splashing onto her face, and his corpse collapsed in a useless heap. Tythra felt bile began to rise in her throat. She was a princess, not a soldier.
But this was her life on the line.
With the spear now lost in the man’s skull, she picked up his discarded sword. This was something she was more used to, though Tythra would hesitate to call herself skilled. She stayed behind the man, trying to move as he did to not get in his way but to remain safe among his guard. It was as if it was a dance, foot moving to and fro, dodging out of the way as steel slashed towards them. Another bandit made his way to Tythra, but this time the sword was lodged into his stomach. She twisted the blade as she pulled it out, guts spilling onto the battlefield.
Idiots. Tythra thought to herself seething. Corpses outnumbered bandits now, and quickly they started backing up. No longer were they trying to advance on the Princess and her savior, but instead ran towards the mountains with their tail between their legs. Cowards.
These were not people of Colchis this much was evident. Their people had courage and honor. These men were scum, worse than slaves, deserving of their deaths. They’d suffer in Tartarus where no light could ever be found.
Tythra practically snarled at their retreating backs. Eyes flashed up to the man. Reward, compensation, and medical attention shall wait. “They do not deserve to live.” To go after the Princess in while war was impending was a slight greater than no other. These men deserved the joint wrath of Kotas and Drakos. But as her guards lay pathetically slayed on the ground, souls traveling across the River of Styx, it would be this stranger that would finish the deed. Death was deserved upon the weak that pray on innocents, that cause others to suffer for their selfish desires. They were not men but beasts, beasts that no longer have the privilege of breath, for it shall be taken to them as they dive into the abyss.
The bandit's tried to encircle them, but the soldier did his best to maneuver to keep them in front of him. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Battle is of the mind as much as it is physical. The bandits surged forth together at once. It was clear to him that these bandits had fought together before, though they had never had the displeasure of fighting a man like Daxos.
The first bandit's spear shot towards his head. With a nimbleness that betrayed his size, he shifted out of the way, grabbing the man's spear and swinging down his sword, cutting the man's arm off it one slice. The scarlet blood sprayed out as the man let out a womanly scream. He kicked the man over and spun to face another, only to get a slash across his arm. It wasn't too deep but it did cause him to drop his blade.
The soldier was angry now, he dove forward to slam into the bandit. His arms wrapped around the man's waist as he lifted the man over his shoulder and fell back, slamming the man on his head with a sickening crunch. He let out a whimper and his body squirmed, but the soldier knew he wouldn't get back up.
He turned to see the noblewoman dispatch a couple of bandits on her own and he smiled, "Remind me to not get on your bad side." He chuckled and turn to see the remaining bastards running away. He picked up a nearby spear and chucked it. He had hoped to hit the man, but he was never too good at long-ranged combat. It dropped short.
He turned to the woman, "Keep an eye out, I'll see if any of these corpses haven't met with Hades yet." The soldier then went to the corpses that littered the ground, the smell of blood filling his nostrils. He grabbed a sword and cautiously made his way to each of the bodies, check all of the vitals to see if any had survived. None did. The two of them had done quick and swift work. The soldier sighed, sometimes he was too good at killing.
He spun back around, "Are you good to walk? We're close to the capital, and I don't think we're gonna get your carriage back up and running anytime soon." He motioned to the damaged carriage. "We should leave now in case they come back with reinforcements. We won't win against a whole horde of them." Daxos retrieved his sword that he dropped and finally noticed the cut on his arm. He laughed, tearing off another piece from his chiton, exposing his bare muscular chest. He tried his best to wrap the cloth around the wound but was having issues doing it himself. He ended up using his teeth to hold it in place.
"I am Daxos of Eubocris, Man of the Heights. I'm glad to have been nearby to save you milady." Daxos bowed his head, "We should get moving." The soldier took a glance around, looking for any stragglers who might be waiting for an opportune moment to finish their mission. He began to walk in the direction of the capital, knowing that it wasn't too far he hoped they wouldn't dare try something so stupid again.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The bandit's tried to encircle them, but the soldier did his best to maneuver to keep them in front of him. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Battle is of the mind as much as it is physical. The bandits surged forth together at once. It was clear to him that these bandits had fought together before, though they had never had the displeasure of fighting a man like Daxos.
The first bandit's spear shot towards his head. With a nimbleness that betrayed his size, he shifted out of the way, grabbing the man's spear and swinging down his sword, cutting the man's arm off it one slice. The scarlet blood sprayed out as the man let out a womanly scream. He kicked the man over and spun to face another, only to get a slash across his arm. It wasn't too deep but it did cause him to drop his blade.
The soldier was angry now, he dove forward to slam into the bandit. His arms wrapped around the man's waist as he lifted the man over his shoulder and fell back, slamming the man on his head with a sickening crunch. He let out a whimper and his body squirmed, but the soldier knew he wouldn't get back up.
He turned to see the noblewoman dispatch a couple of bandits on her own and he smiled, "Remind me to not get on your bad side." He chuckled and turn to see the remaining bastards running away. He picked up a nearby spear and chucked it. He had hoped to hit the man, but he was never too good at long-ranged combat. It dropped short.
He turned to the woman, "Keep an eye out, I'll see if any of these corpses haven't met with Hades yet." The soldier then went to the corpses that littered the ground, the smell of blood filling his nostrils. He grabbed a sword and cautiously made his way to each of the bodies, check all of the vitals to see if any had survived. None did. The two of them had done quick and swift work. The soldier sighed, sometimes he was too good at killing.
He spun back around, "Are you good to walk? We're close to the capital, and I don't think we're gonna get your carriage back up and running anytime soon." He motioned to the damaged carriage. "We should leave now in case they come back with reinforcements. We won't win against a whole horde of them." Daxos retrieved his sword that he dropped and finally noticed the cut on his arm. He laughed, tearing off another piece from his chiton, exposing his bare muscular chest. He tried his best to wrap the cloth around the wound but was having issues doing it himself. He ended up using his teeth to hold it in place.
"I am Daxos of Eubocris, Man of the Heights. I'm glad to have been nearby to save you milady." Daxos bowed his head, "We should get moving." The soldier took a glance around, looking for any stragglers who might be waiting for an opportune moment to finish their mission. He began to walk in the direction of the capital, knowing that it wasn't too far he hoped they wouldn't dare try something so stupid again.
The bandit's tried to encircle them, but the soldier did his best to maneuver to keep them in front of him. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Battle is of the mind as much as it is physical. The bandits surged forth together at once. It was clear to him that these bandits had fought together before, though they had never had the displeasure of fighting a man like Daxos.
The first bandit's spear shot towards his head. With a nimbleness that betrayed his size, he shifted out of the way, grabbing the man's spear and swinging down his sword, cutting the man's arm off it one slice. The scarlet blood sprayed out as the man let out a womanly scream. He kicked the man over and spun to face another, only to get a slash across his arm. It wasn't too deep but it did cause him to drop his blade.
The soldier was angry now, he dove forward to slam into the bandit. His arms wrapped around the man's waist as he lifted the man over his shoulder and fell back, slamming the man on his head with a sickening crunch. He let out a whimper and his body squirmed, but the soldier knew he wouldn't get back up.
He turned to see the noblewoman dispatch a couple of bandits on her own and he smiled, "Remind me to not get on your bad side." He chuckled and turn to see the remaining bastards running away. He picked up a nearby spear and chucked it. He had hoped to hit the man, but he was never too good at long-ranged combat. It dropped short.
He turned to the woman, "Keep an eye out, I'll see if any of these corpses haven't met with Hades yet." The soldier then went to the corpses that littered the ground, the smell of blood filling his nostrils. He grabbed a sword and cautiously made his way to each of the bodies, check all of the vitals to see if any had survived. None did. The two of them had done quick and swift work. The soldier sighed, sometimes he was too good at killing.
He spun back around, "Are you good to walk? We're close to the capital, and I don't think we're gonna get your carriage back up and running anytime soon." He motioned to the damaged carriage. "We should leave now in case they come back with reinforcements. We won't win against a whole horde of them." Daxos retrieved his sword that he dropped and finally noticed the cut on his arm. He laughed, tearing off another piece from his chiton, exposing his bare muscular chest. He tried his best to wrap the cloth around the wound but was having issues doing it himself. He ended up using his teeth to hold it in place.
"I am Daxos of Eubocris, Man of the Heights. I'm glad to have been nearby to save you milady." Daxos bowed his head, "We should get moving." The soldier took a glance around, looking for any stragglers who might be waiting for an opportune moment to finish their mission. He began to walk in the direction of the capital, knowing that it wasn't too far he hoped they wouldn't dare try something so stupid again.
It would be later when Tythra would be disgusted by the day. But at the moment she was as strong as she could be, with years of practice keeping her emotions in, and the blood of the Kotas in her veins. Her mind was still racing, and adrenaline pumping quickly. He was right, being on Tythra’s bad side was never a good place to be. But typically she just would politically ruin a person, not kill them. She never once had blood on her hands. But these weren’t humans, they were beasts that turned to killing and stealing instead of being honest men working honest jobs. Tythra doubted anyone would mourn them, not when they likely ruined innocent lives and were drenched in blood.
It was funny how propriety was completely gone on a battlefield. Typically Tythra would correct the man. Princess she would say through a polite smile but stern eyes. But none of that mattered, not when they were still surrounded by corpses. He was right, they should get moving.
“Princess Tythra of Drakos,” Tythra introduced herself, moving now to keep his pace. Her hand gripped the wound on her arm, feeling the sticky warm blood continue to ooze. It was going to scar, certainly, but it wouldn’t be too bad once they got to the capital and seek medical attention. She was more worried about the man’s gash. He was a soldier, clearly. The strength in his arms is important. Where for Tythra, her gash was on a non-dominate arm, and most of her strength anymore went to writing and normal day to day activities. The two could be no different.
It was perhaps unusual for Tythra to have so much care for a soldier. It was not as if Tythra was inherently selfish, but her being who she was meant that she was much more important. Yet, maybe it was the fact that he reminded her of a younger Thesus or the fact that he just saved her life (To be honest, it was probably the latter) but Tythra could not help but look at how he tied the wound with a worried glance. They should move quickly, not just because of the danger, but so he can see a medic. No matter the cost, Tythra would see that he got the best care.
“When we return to the capital I will call the medic to see to it that your arm is well cared for. A soldier should have his full strength. In the meantime, I will prepare some sort of reward.” Tythra hated owing anything to anyone. And this was a life debt, one Tythra would try to pay in kind- well, pay in what is an appropriate manner. “You will be sailing to Egypt, will you not?” An even more important reason to make sure the man is well cared for so he was fully healed by the time he would need it most. But it would make rewarding him properly a bit difficult. He could die after all. Though with the way he fought… she hardly believed that.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It would be later when Tythra would be disgusted by the day. But at the moment she was as strong as she could be, with years of practice keeping her emotions in, and the blood of the Kotas in her veins. Her mind was still racing, and adrenaline pumping quickly. He was right, being on Tythra’s bad side was never a good place to be. But typically she just would politically ruin a person, not kill them. She never once had blood on her hands. But these weren’t humans, they were beasts that turned to killing and stealing instead of being honest men working honest jobs. Tythra doubted anyone would mourn them, not when they likely ruined innocent lives and were drenched in blood.
It was funny how propriety was completely gone on a battlefield. Typically Tythra would correct the man. Princess she would say through a polite smile but stern eyes. But none of that mattered, not when they were still surrounded by corpses. He was right, they should get moving.
“Princess Tythra of Drakos,” Tythra introduced herself, moving now to keep his pace. Her hand gripped the wound on her arm, feeling the sticky warm blood continue to ooze. It was going to scar, certainly, but it wouldn’t be too bad once they got to the capital and seek medical attention. She was more worried about the man’s gash. He was a soldier, clearly. The strength in his arms is important. Where for Tythra, her gash was on a non-dominate arm, and most of her strength anymore went to writing and normal day to day activities. The two could be no different.
It was perhaps unusual for Tythra to have so much care for a soldier. It was not as if Tythra was inherently selfish, but her being who she was meant that she was much more important. Yet, maybe it was the fact that he reminded her of a younger Thesus or the fact that he just saved her life (To be honest, it was probably the latter) but Tythra could not help but look at how he tied the wound with a worried glance. They should move quickly, not just because of the danger, but so he can see a medic. No matter the cost, Tythra would see that he got the best care.
“When we return to the capital I will call the medic to see to it that your arm is well cared for. A soldier should have his full strength. In the meantime, I will prepare some sort of reward.” Tythra hated owing anything to anyone. And this was a life debt, one Tythra would try to pay in kind- well, pay in what is an appropriate manner. “You will be sailing to Egypt, will you not?” An even more important reason to make sure the man is well cared for so he was fully healed by the time he would need it most. But it would make rewarding him properly a bit difficult. He could die after all. Though with the way he fought… she hardly believed that.
It would be later when Tythra would be disgusted by the day. But at the moment she was as strong as she could be, with years of practice keeping her emotions in, and the blood of the Kotas in her veins. Her mind was still racing, and adrenaline pumping quickly. He was right, being on Tythra’s bad side was never a good place to be. But typically she just would politically ruin a person, not kill them. She never once had blood on her hands. But these weren’t humans, they were beasts that turned to killing and stealing instead of being honest men working honest jobs. Tythra doubted anyone would mourn them, not when they likely ruined innocent lives and were drenched in blood.
It was funny how propriety was completely gone on a battlefield. Typically Tythra would correct the man. Princess she would say through a polite smile but stern eyes. But none of that mattered, not when they were still surrounded by corpses. He was right, they should get moving.
“Princess Tythra of Drakos,” Tythra introduced herself, moving now to keep his pace. Her hand gripped the wound on her arm, feeling the sticky warm blood continue to ooze. It was going to scar, certainly, but it wouldn’t be too bad once they got to the capital and seek medical attention. She was more worried about the man’s gash. He was a soldier, clearly. The strength in his arms is important. Where for Tythra, her gash was on a non-dominate arm, and most of her strength anymore went to writing and normal day to day activities. The two could be no different.
It was perhaps unusual for Tythra to have so much care for a soldier. It was not as if Tythra was inherently selfish, but her being who she was meant that she was much more important. Yet, maybe it was the fact that he reminded her of a younger Thesus or the fact that he just saved her life (To be honest, it was probably the latter) but Tythra could not help but look at how he tied the wound with a worried glance. They should move quickly, not just because of the danger, but so he can see a medic. No matter the cost, Tythra would see that he got the best care.
“When we return to the capital I will call the medic to see to it that your arm is well cared for. A soldier should have his full strength. In the meantime, I will prepare some sort of reward.” Tythra hated owing anything to anyone. And this was a life debt, one Tythra would try to pay in kind- well, pay in what is an appropriate manner. “You will be sailing to Egypt, will you not?” An even more important reason to make sure the man is well cared for so he was fully healed by the time he would need it most. But it would make rewarding him properly a bit difficult. He could die after all. Though with the way he fought… she hardly believed that.