user: benjeep
name: Benedict Enríquez-Savoy
title: King Benedict VI of Saxonney
gender: male
world: The Divided Kingdoms
....
An icy blast of wind tore at the heavy fur of his cape. With heavily armoured gloves gripping the marble rails, the king surveyed the preparations bellow. Ant sized men scurried about, gathering supplies and saddling the mounts. Hundreds of tiny ice crystals buffeted and stung his eyes as he changed his focus and gazed up into the foggy snow covered mountains. Somewhere in the distance, far from these hellish snowdrifts lay the enemy; lavish castle perched upon the edge of a treacherous cliff. A sneer pulled at his lips.
"Alas it has come to this dear Jethro. The war to settle it all. The traitor must meet his rightful death."
A hurried set of footsteps from behind attracted the king's attention. He turned to see that a foot soldier had presented himself and stood, saluting. "King Benedict, Sir. Thy mount is ready. The marshals await thy royal presence."
"Very well then." Benedict strode inside, the soldier at his heels. He walked up to a wooden chest. From it, he extracted his crown, a beautifully intricate copper-black masterpiece that had been passed down from ruler to ruler. He lowered the dark crown atop his thick brown locks. Turning to the window he spoke:
"We embark at dawn. Our fate lies in the hands of Beta now."
name: Benedict Enríquez-Savoy
title: King Benedict VI of Saxonney
gender: male
world: The Divided Kingdoms
....
An icy blast of wind tore at the heavy fur of his cape. With heavily armoured gloves gripping the marble rails, the king surveyed the preparations bellow. Ant sized men scurried about, gathering supplies and saddling the mounts. Hundreds of tiny ice crystals buffeted and stung his eyes as he changed his focus and gazed up into the foggy snow covered mountains. Somewhere in the distance, far from these hellish snowdrifts lay the enemy; lavish castle perched upon the edge of a treacherous cliff. A sneer pulled at his lips.
"Alas it has come to this dear Jethro. The war to settle it all. The traitor must meet his rightful death."
A hurried set of footsteps from behind attracted the king's attention. He turned to see that a foot soldier had presented himself and stood, saluting. "King Benedict, Sir. Thy mount is ready. The marshals await thy royal presence."
"Very well then." Benedict strode inside, the soldier at his heels. He walked up to a wooden chest. From it, he extracted his crown, a beautifully intricate copper-black masterpiece that had been passed down from ruler to ruler. He lowered the dark crown atop his thick brown locks. Turning to the window he spoke:
"We embark at dawn. Our fate lies in the hands of Beta now."