Alexei

Most of my characters are pretty much the same, with a few exceptions. Corvinus, both PVP and narratively. He is not a fighter, but a soldier. He fights to win, it doesn't matter how he achieves victory. His ability helps limit power using characters as well.

Corvinite Host The Corvinite Host is a collective term given to describe the Soulseeker armies of the Great Authority. They are the forces that guard the Sea of Ash and Ilios of the Great Authority from the daemonic incursions of the Sea of Corruption. They are comprised of the Faithful Dead, who upon entering Ilios are raised to an Ascended Soulseeker status. The armies are each lead by a Paragon Saint, the ruling body who act on the behalf of the Oversoul that is Corvinus within the realm of the Great Authority. They are a powerful force of warrior in the metaphysical planes, and possess both the experiences of the Faithful soldiers of the Corvinite Imperium in life, as well as the shared battle experiences of their brethren in the afterlife. They are disciplined fighters, and their unity allows them to defeat the sheer numbers of daemons. Each Paragon Saint, when present on the battlefield, fills their troops with the virtue they represent, strengthening them against the dark forces wielded by daemons of the Sea of Corruption. They serve as both of the defense of the Great Authority, and the inner sanctum known as Ilios. Yet they have another purpose, they are the vanguard of the Emperor's will against the Scourge of the Kraken. It is not unheard of that they have launched their own retaliatory invasions of the Sea of Corruption, often stopping incursions into the Great Authority, as well as the Waking World. They are the vanguard of Mankind, and its last defense. Composition The Corvinite Host is composed of many types of specialized warriors. So far the following types have been observed: Warriors are resilient, carry heavy white and golden armor, and usually carry massive Two-handed weapons. They mostly fight on foot, and may operate or repair siege weapons. Scouts are unarmored and unarmed, carrying light white and golden robes, but adept in the use of Soulseeker abilities, able to operate siege weaponry, expel demonic corruption and project shields of Authority to protect allies. Lancers bear light plate armor and long polearms, which they use to strike from above, soaring upon the enemy and using their ability of flight to outmaneuver and outflank foes.

Update: 10/18/2017, Soulseeker abilities.

Perhaps in her world of origin that was true. Here, things were far more different. Supposedly there was a multitude of deities here, either existing before man, or sacrificing themselves to create the world. These religions have existed for as long as man has, only becoming more refined. For him, all that he knew, that he had learned from his rise to power, spoke of man existing as long as creatures immortal have walked Valucre. Though primitive they were. Made playthings by those that were not human. Perhaps he was part of her God's plans, cursed to be reviled and hated, the price for being anathema to that which went against His laws. Perhaps his people were correct, that he was the manifestation of mankind's will. Given flesh and purpose to guide them and protect them, a God born for their survival. In truth neither mattered to the now-called God-Emperor. Save that there was truth to some of it. He was anathema to the unnatural, he did strive from some internal desire to raise up and protect mankind. “Yet you broke that oath.” He said mildly, his face passive and thoughtful. There was doubt in her words, and on her face. Though she knew she could confirm it with just a taste of his blood. He would not press it, he offered once, and out of dignity, would not offer it again. She would either accept it as truth or disregard it all together. It made small difference to him, in a way he was being selfish. Using this moment to set some shadows to rest in his own mind. To set aside the past before a new chapter began in earnest. It was unlike him, despite the way in which he had been painted. “Yes, regicide. Perhaps from jealousy, or love unreturned. The reasons are not even too clear to me.” He admitted with a self-depricating smile. “Regardless I brought my blade against you. Even attempted to rape you.” His voice darkened as he glowered inwardly to himself. “You kissed me back, oddly enough it caused me to regain control of myself. It also led to my capture.” He paused for a moment. “Then inevitably my execution and siring by your hand.” He finished finally, the proud emperor baring the dark truth in full. “If I had intended a trap, you and Raphael would be dead.” He stated matter-of-factly. He showed no insult at the speculation, as it had now proved to be untrue. “Stepping onto Kadia without an army, you two would have been at my mercy.” He stated blandly, for all of Raphael’s power, here Corvinus was absolute. “The child is not of Kadia, but she is human and therefore my responsibility. What guarantee do I have that she will grow up healthy and safe in your care? Given the dangerous and cruel men you keep company.” He leveled a gaze at her. He sighed then, shaking his head. “Perhaps we should talk of brighter, happier things. Come.” He gestured for her to follow him to the large windows overlooking Ravenspire. “Tell me, do you know how we first met?” He asked, black eyes reflecting the lights of the city below. He was genuinely curious, mostly about what others might have told her, of how much a monster he had been crafted into and placed into her mind. She no doubt believed him a genocidal maniac without rhyme or reason. He contemplated showing her the truth of Kadia, that he stood against something far darker than even Roen, Raphael, or Malice.

If he had been privy to her thoughts, he might have rebuked Gabriela for her arrogant assumptions. Indeed his words were picked with care, meticulously stated. None of it was a mere hollow attempt at manipulation. They were employed in such a way to express his sincerity, the truth of his heart. He could not truly blame her for such assumptions, given the petty viperous men in her life, constantly manipulating with words, or brutalizing with cruel hands when they could not. Indeed, he knew much of the harsh reality between her and Roen, even of Raphael’s more...unique tastes of brutality and torture. Whispers flowed from Umbra, where his own spies lurked, and even here where they resided in his domain. He was as near omniscient as a human could be, his skill at networking developed and refined from the tactics of Renovatian Ucissore. Knowledge is power. Power is victory. A tenant he instituted within the Kadian culture he had built with his own two hands. As distasteful as he found it, it was why his empire still stood and his family remained safe. Just as he knew of Raphael's own plans. He held no illusions that he was safe from Umbran spies. He would never openly speak that he knew. Loath to admit he even had an inkling of the distasteful acts of lust. Yet, pragmatically, what choice did he have? To be ignorant of Raphael would leave him severely unprepared for the inevitable conflict of Empires. The inevitable conflict between man and monster. Between the Emperor of Man and the Blood God. Though sure such a fact was a far off inevitability, where mutual death no doubt awaited. So there he stood, an utter contradiction to her own melancholy thoughts. Love had touched him, he had grown from it, it was perhaps the hopeless love for her that had forged the man whose dark eyes watched with great intensity. Perhaps that was the nature of man, where time was an inexorable instigator of death for his species. Perhaps it was simpler, the it was not love that Roen or Raphael felt, but lust and violent desire. Love was a concept first defined by man, felt by man. Love only had value when it was built in the knowledge that life could not last forever. That the body would inevitably wither and die. What could beings of longevity, who did not have to fear aging, truly understand of human love and emotion? “And I will not force you to.” He stated plainly, though the offer still stood. “I know, you once sired me, for the crime of attempted regicide.” He stated honestly, a momentary flash of shame showed in his eyes. “You could not bear to see me die for good, there is no eternity for Untouchables in death.” He explained, giving her the insight of the true reality of those born with the Pariah Gene. He saw it as the price paid for the greater benefit and safety of mankind. “You so coldly state that you do not care, that it is some useless attempt to dig up skeletons.” His tone was challenging. “I know well enough the mask you wear, the false detachment so that you can hide.” He stated, calling her bluff. “I once shared your blood, the instant of my siring you shared a great deal with me.” He admitted, once again pointing to the deep meaning of what they had once upon a time. “Much I learned from watching. At one time all my eyes could ever watch, was you.” He leveled a black gaze on her, this time she could see the full truth of his statement. That it was not some attempt to manipulate, but to gain, and perhaps give, a sense of closure and insight to a past she did not remember but was taunted by vague mentions with. “You are a guest, there will be no harm.” He stated as a matter of fact. “Not from me, my children, or my citizens. Despite what the rest of the arrogant lot think across valucre, we are not hateful savages. Our reasons are mire pragmatic.” He said, waving away the notions that they were illogical bigots. “The child is not Kadian. Nor a heathen for that matter.” His expression became pensive. “Unsanctioned magic was used to bring her here, which explains how she got past the guards.” His tone revealed no insult was taken. “My country is still developing measures against it, such things, unfortunately, take time.” He offered her a shrug, there was not much else to say on that matter. He watched her place a protective hand on her belly. She thought low of him, that mere words could spur him to bring her harm. If he had been consistently prone to such acts, he would not be standing here today. “You could not truly be cruel, even if you tried.” His words held a ring of amusement, but not in a mocking way. “I will not force you to stay any longer than necessary, you are no prisoner. I only suggest you stay the rest of today and travel tomorrow at dusk.”

The Great Authority The Great Authority is the metaphysical representation of the collective will, souls, and virtues of Mankind and Mankind alone. It exists as anathema to Non-humans, unfaithful Psions, mages, and of course daemons from the Sea of Corruption and the forces they wield. It is here that the souls of faithful humans are drawn and safeguarded, adding themselves to it. It exists outside the worship of man, yet ultimately can grow from the souls and wills of the faithful. It is the from the subconscious of the species that it is born when Mankind first came into existence, ever undeniably connected to them as a species. No matter their nation of origin. Corvinus, the God-Emperor of man, is the physical representation of the Great Authority. Mankind’s will made flesh. It is through Him that the Great Authority may manifest itself in the physical world and exert the subconcious will of man over it. It is through Him, and the worship of Him, that Mankind connects directly with the Great Authority. For the two are one and the same. Two beings one essence. The grounding of being for Mankind. The truly faithful and pure, those deemed truly worthy, become touched directly by the Great Authority and become Soulseekers. Those who are not deemed worthy die, reduced to ash for their failure of purity. The Great Authority exists as a pure bright crystal sphere of light above a desert of ash to human souls who have found their way into it's embrace. The light represents the purity of Mankind's will and virtue. Beneath it is the ash of countless men and women who were tested to be Soulseekers and found wanting. To the Non-human, the unrepentant mage, the psion, and the daemon, it is a black and foreboding light above a desert of black ash. It represents the wrath of Mankind, the black ash all that is left of its enemies. The desert of ash is known only a Purgatory, and is patrolled restlessly by the Corvinite Host, who fight back daemon incursions as well as seek out and guide those who have reached absolution. It is here that those deemed unworthy, yet not impure, wander until they have obtained the revelation of absolution. It is then that they are drawn back to His light and admitted into the world within the sphere called Ilios, Throne World of the God-Emperor, Ilios is said to be an Golden city of eternal peace, happiness, and understanding, bathed in the light of the ever watchful Oversoul. It is the resting place of Corvinite heroes, martyrs, prophets, saints, and the Faithful.

His features softened when she decided to come down the stairs. Graceful, head held high, it brought back distant memories. He could tell by her posture, despite how regal, showed she did not trust him. Indeed, she might have thought some plan for her death was in play. Only she did not consider what exactly he would gain from such a thing, or did the Black Queen think bloodshed was payment enough? He might have been insulted if he had been privy to her thoughts, yet Corvin knew how he had been portrayed the world over. No matter how hard Gabriela portrayed human characteristics, their movements, she could never fool others. She was distinctly inhuman. Her graceful movements, her balance, even her beauty could not be hidden. The effort was respected, he could appreciate it, despite her reasons. She had always taken such care, an effort to relate to the humans though she could never truly understand them. An oddity of her kind. He watched as she walked past him, and in the long silence toyed with the glove upon the fireplace mantle. Firelight reflected in his dark eyes, lonely flames in dark worlds. He was patient, there was no need to rush a conversation, and he thought she might need some time to collect herself. To find herself abandoned in a foreign nation, with a man she no doubt thought a murderer. His clasped gloved hands behind his back and waited. Finally her words came from full and pouty lips, a welcome break from the silence that had stretched between them. “No, I cannot say I do.” He said honestly. “Lord Bartolome did not deign to disclose his reasons, only that he was leaving without you.” His tone was thoughtful. He wished she would look him in the eye, he knew despite her uncaring tone that she did not want to show hurt or confusion. He knew this act, he had seen it many times in years past. “We both know, it is hardly ever business.” He said bluntly. “Think nothing of it, you are my guest.” She had ignored his words concerning discussing their past. He woukd not be forceful or demanding, and allow her own curiosity to bring her to it. For Corvin it was an open chapter, where his exile had never allowed him to explain why he had cleansed himself of her siring. Why he did what he had that brought about the siring. His gaze softened for a time. “I deduced such when we met in the hall.” He said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “The lack of recognition in your eyes was more than enough to realize that.” He said, walking up behind her, just to her right. She seemed so lonely and small. “I remember you. The first time we met in the dark streets of Patia.” He said, his tone wistful. “I remember the night I tore tge Roanist surcoat from my breast, tossed it at Roen’s feet and pledged myself to you.” There was some amusement there, the memory of the little devil’s expression that night often brought such a feeling. “I even remember the moments we shared in private, simply talking.” He looked out towards the large windows, a thoughtful expression on his dark and handsome features. “Aye, I was yourknight.” He confirmed. “I loved you then, a part of me always will.” He said, turning away and facing the windows fully, presenting her with his broad back and shoulders. Still strong. “It would take more than a night to tell the tale.” He admitted, turning to face her once more. “I would suggest offering my blood, to sate your hunger and so that you may see what happened in truth, albeit from my point of view.” He suggested, his head tilting like the creature of his namesake.

Corvin watched her as she continued to hesitate, head tilting in curiosity and mild expectation. Woukd she stay? Would she leave as though she had not seen or heard him, though they both knew the truth. He found himself oddly expectant, in fact he had been sure she would simply run from him, no doubt Raphael and many other had painted the picture of a monster over him, some blood thirsty maniac no doubt. He had, for an instant, thought Raphael had sent her to kill him, though the lack of intent made it obvious it was not so. He may not have been as physically strong, or fast as her, but he was skilled in combating such beings. If he could not out right kill, he would only have to wait till sunrise. All thoughts that lasted brief seconds in the interlude. A soft smile touched his features for a mere instant when she turned back to the railing, then the calm mask was returned. She was undoubtedly beautiful, desire of course burned, but it subsided. He was a man, after all. Her species had evolved to be desired, to lead their prey into being fed upon. None of it showed on his face or in his eyes, in his youth, inexperience, and ignorance it might have. It may even have bubbled to the surface. He saw the fear more in her stance, than on her face, in the way she leaned away, despite the distance already between them. It seemed she thought he hated her kind, that his reasons were not more pragmatic. “Perhaps,” He conceeded. “but I doubt we will have such privacy next time.” He said, humor touching his deep voice. He noticed the shake in her voice, it mingled sweetly with her accent. While fear may have been an attractive feature to many of the other men in her life, such was not the case for him. “I believe that is why we must talk.” He gestured again. “Please?” His tone was not what one could call pleading, his own accent, a mixture of Greek and Latin, did not give it that quality. It was a beautiful accent, one he had crafted over the years as he built the language that would help define his people, their culture. “It is about Raphael and your situation, but I would wish to discuss our past. I only ask you indulge me for this evening.” He gestured again for her to come join him.

Suddenly he felt eyes watching him, though he had been sure his guard had been dismissed, and his wife sleep the satisfied sleep brought on by lovemaking. For a brief instant he considered the eyes belonged to those of an assassin, it would not be the first time a blade had sought him in the dark. He dismissed it, there was no malevolence in the prying eyes he felt on his back. He finished his thought, pen moving quickly and elegantly across the paper. A scent reached him as he considered turning around, he had almost decided to wait for whoever it had been to simply leave. It was familiar, bringing back old, and at times bitter, memories. Orange blossoms, for a moment he thought itca trick of the mind, brought on by her having attended the wedding and the fact Raphael had left her in the palace. Certainly she must still be sleeping, whispers traveled quickly through the palace and he had heard them all. At one time he might have found himself jealous, even angry, yet time and Leoa's love had deeply changed him. He knew now that his feelings for the Black Queen were unrequited back then. That his inexperience in expressing himself had ultimately led to the dark affair that led to his exile, he didn't begrudge it. In fact, though he learned a hard lesson, he could only be thankful to the fickle and capricious whims of fate. It had led him to the Lion that taught him how to love. He set the pen down and stood, drawing himself to his full height. He was an impressive man, towering over the likes if the devil, even Raphael. Dark of hair and darker of eye. He was, for all intents, the perfect specimen of mankind as a species. Despite the inexorable effects of time he still exuded strength, though now faint lines framed those eyes. He turned, settling night black hues on the woman who hesitated at the banister, her hair a mess and dressed in only a bathrobe. A brow quirked at her, though he did not seem irritated that she had entered his private abode unannounced and without permission. “Hello, Lady DuGrace.” He said with formality baritone caressing the name, leaving noble titles such as queen or your majesty out of his words. By the whimsy of fate he was no longer a knight in servitude, but a ruler of equal status. He carried it well. Though she could not remember, the distance he often held was no longer there. He existed in the present, as though the dar off thing he had always looked towards was not within his strong hands, at last. There waa a weight to his gaze, it spoke of authority and a stentorian nobility. He had noticed tge lack of recognition in her eyes at the wedding, had Raphael wiped away memories of him? Had it been Roen? The High Lords perhaps? He could only guess, the nature id beings who wield magic would ultimately be a mystery to him. “It seems chance has led you before me.” He said, though more to himself. A tone of amusement tinging his voice. “I had been considering how I should talk to you, indeed I believe we have much to discuss, current events not withstanding.” He said, gesturing she come to join him. “I think first we need to discuss your current situation, and perhaps that coming dressed in such a manner before a married man might start rumours.” More amusement, he did not seem overly bothered by her choice appearance. He had always been a man of restraint.

@The Alexandrian Corvinus could always use a disposable group to destabilize other areas.

Have any of you all heard of Corvinus?

@Pasion Pasiva The study was elegant in its simplicity, shelves stood silent on the first floor, surrounding a small reading area in which a small fireplace that crackled softly in the quiet. The room was softly lit, bright enough to read in, but dim enough to create an air of comforting solitude. A love-seat sat in front of the fire, and a bearskin rug lay on the valsee wood floor, imported from Genesaris. Two chairs sat on either side of the rug, angled towards the fire. Corvinus had often sat with his youngest daughter Olympia, reading to her or even making up his own stories much to her delight. Across the circular room wide windows stretched from in a halfcircle, and reached high up to the second floor. They were made of reinforced glass, but held a crystal clear quality. The view they offered of Ravenspire and the eastern coast was magnificent. The city glowed with light and the sky showed Kadian airships floating gracefully in and out of the city. A testament to the devotion of the Kadian Emperor and Empress to their people, and to Leoa’s unfathomable love for her husband. Corvinus sat at a blackwood desk, his broad back visible from the doorway, in which the door stood ajar. His coat lay across the back of his chair, revealing the white shirt he wore. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, buttoned so that they remained that way, and revealed attractively defined forearms, marred only by the scars of past battles. The front of his shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing a broad chest that looked as if it had been carved from marble, the skin too was equally scarred. His large hands were covered in black gloves, his left holding a massive tome as his right held a pen the scratched elegantly on a blank page. He wrote in High Kadic, a language that mirrored the elegant beauty of Latin and the philosophical focus of Greek. He was an undeniably handsome man, in his dark way. His black hair was groomed and kept reasonably short, falling only to his high cheekbones. His eyes were darker than his hair, black as a moonless night, accentuated by masculine and nicely shaped eyebrows. He had a strong jaw, that spoke of determination, and drew attention to full lips that spoke of stoicism, and hinted at a lover hidden beneath that exterior. Despite the the technology at his disposal, he preferred to take pen to paper, finding other methods too impersonal. He felt that the effort of creating a language that would be the foundation of Kadian culture and people required a personal touch, only that could provide the necessary nurturing love. He was focused, all but oblivious to his surroundings as his black eyes followed the graceful dance of the characters his hand and pen produced. He was alone now, preferring not to be hovered over by Ucissore or TEMPLARs. He wanted solitude so he could focus on the task at hand, and to consider his thoughts over the current events of the wedding and those that happened after. For the first time in years he saw Gabriela, the woman he had loved for what seemed centuries ago. He had hidden his surprise well, maintaining a calm expression during the short moment they had met eye to eye. There had been no recognition. Had he been so easily forgotten? He set down his pen and closed his eyes, trying to clear the pervasive thoughts. He had been visited often by them since Raphael has informed him of his departure without his fiancé. It was strange to have the Orisian Queen in his palace. It was a strange tapestry fate had weaved, he had been a knight in her service, beneath her in rank and following her decrees, until his betrayal of reversing her siring of him. Now he was her equal. He shook his head, calming his mind before he returned pen to paper.