Fantasy Children of Villainy: The Villains

[Yatasal]

Here lies the records of the villains who scourged our land.
Their lives are over, as is their tyranny.
We, the Resistance, hereby decree freedom over this land!

These are the official stories of the lives of the so-called villains,
written by Resistance historians from personal accounts and writings from the Tyranny.

A word of warning: History written by the victors reveals only a part of the story...



The Main Thread
Please ask questions about the world in the OOC thread.
Any character questions not pertaining to the world but to your individual character may
be asked with a personal message to myself.​

 

[Yatasal]

Inina Falconspeare

• Details
• Children
• A Deal has Been Struck

• 
  Incredibly beautiful from the time she was a girl, Inina used her beauty to her every advantage. Eventually, she fell in love with a young prince who married her, despite her being a commoner. Later, she got bored with the prince who was never at home with her, and fell in love again with her arcane teacher. The arcane teacher, a woman Inina later had executed, just happened to delve into the dark arts once in awhile, and soon Inina became rather intrigued. So intrigued, that bit by bit she sold her soul to gain more power.
  
  As time went on, she surpassed her teacher. Her teacher argued against her continued interest in the dark arts, but by then it was too late. She had already lost the essence of her being, given it over to dark masters. In return, she was granted fantastical powers, and she decided it was time to put them to use. She wasn't queen yet, and her husband was constantly out of the city, on various travels. She needed him to come home and be king so that she could be queen. And so, a plan turned over in her mind. If there ever was a chance for her to turn back from her ways, it had long since been forgotten.
  
  The deaths of her parents-in-law, the wise and fair King Henrich and Queen Patil, was easy for her, and disguised as an accident. Her husband came home for the funeral, and Inina didn't wait. That very night of the funeral she cursed him, stripping away his mind, his passions, his very nature and destroying them. All that was left was an empty shell, a puppet for Inina to use and play with. To most people, it was him who was the cruel tyrant, while she portrayed herself as a helpless queen who didn't know how her dear husband turned evil. Very few knew her to be the actual evil one.
  
  
  
  From behind the scenes, Inina ruled the kingdom with an iron fist. Daveedi was her general, she had the Stoneknife assassins in her pocket, and she intended to rule for a very, very long time. However, she got too greedy and paranoid. She saw enemies in the shadows, and turned her sights on the leader of the Stoneknife assassins. Jaela Corsovo. Who, in return, started helping the resistance.
  
  The resistance destroyed her and her husband, and Inina was killed. Before she died, she killed the wife of the leader of the resistance, revealing very publicly her true evil nature.
  
  
  "All things truly wicked start from an innocence..." ~Ernest Hemingway​
• 
  Inina's children were taken by their nurses and nannies and given to the resistance, who distributed them to the villages among the orphans.
  
• 
  Inina twisted a jeweled ring on her finger. Three days, and no word from the Stoneknife Guild. The war was over, had been for a few weeks, and she stood victorious. Now she had her own nation to rule, and minor rebellions were dotting her map. She needed a way to deal with all of them without sending word to the rebellions that she was anything more than an innocent queen caught in the crossfire.
  
  Which was why she had sent for an assassin of the highest order.
  
  For years, the Stoneknife guild had been above the law and any ruling force other than their own. It was a dangerous move to trifle with that power, but Inina had enough power of her own to dwarf whatever influence the assassins had.
  
  Of course, to use their power, they had to answer her call. Inina stopped pacing, and frowned. She looked to the corner of her eye, and smiled. "I surmise you're here to answer my call."
  
  A thin figure sat cross-legged on the window bench. Their face was obscured, and they were completely covered in black and green clothes that shifted with the shadows. The figure cocked their head, and didn't say anything.
  
  Inina, not one to be disturbed, raised an eyebrow. "If you think I won't wait for you to respond, you're wrong. Tell your employer I expect nothing less than your guild's full cooperation or I'll wipe you and the rest of your little killing friends off our great nation's map. Starting with you."
  
  The figure straightened and sprung lightly off the window bench. They walked towards Inina, and the queen noted that they were two inches taller than her. They folded their arms and squared their shoulders. "Surely the merciful queen Inina has no such will or power over her husband."
  
  Finally, a response. A female voice, too. "Are you really fooled by that, assassin? Give my message to your employer--"
  
  "For a merciful queen, you're not very nice," The figure cut her off. "Where's the cowering young woman we've all grown to know and love?"
  
  Inina scowled at the interruption. The figure turned and sat back on the window bench. "You ask for the guild's cooperation. In exchange for what? We don't take payments in gold."
  
  "No, you don't. What payment would suffice?"
  
  "What would you use us for?"
  
  Inina turned her hand palm up, and without speaking a map made of dust and light formed above her fingers. On it were several red blemishes, marking the rebellion's influence. "All I ask is that you wipe our nation clean of its rebellious factions. Keep them from uprising."
  
  "In exchange for?"
  
  "A payment I'll discuss with your employer."
  
  The assassin leaned forward. "Discuss it with me or I'll kill you now."
  
  "Don't make me laugh," Inina warned. "My payment is for her and her alone."
  
  "She serves the guild. She'd never be so selfish as to take a payment that wouldn't help the guild." The assassin shot back. Inina smiled slightly, knowing she'd hit a nerve. The queen had heard of the cult-like loyalty the Stoneknife assassins had for each other and their leader, and here was evidence of it.
  
  Inina gave a delicate shrug. "Give her my message. I think you might just be surprised. Leaders are rarely as good as they appear to be."
  
  "Not everyone's like you, your highness," the assassin taunted. "She would never--"
  
  "Interesting."
  
  A new voice joined the room. Inina jumped, as the voice came from behind her. A new figure, dressed in the same shadowy green cloth as the assassin, was standing in the corner of the room. Inina gathered herself, and stared hard at this newcomer. "You brought a friend. I thought assassins worked alone."
  
  The figure didn't respond to the comment. "Your payment?"
  
  "You're Jaela Corsovo?" Inina asked, somewhat in disbelief. The figure was small, barely five feet tall. Her voice also sounded like that of a young girl. She was leaning against the wall, and didn't respond to the comment. Inina looked back at the window seat, and noted the assassin hadn't moved. "This is the infamous Corsovo? You can't be."
  
  The figure, Corsovo, didn't move or speak. Inina frowned. "Ask your associate to leave, then. We have matters to discuss."
  
  "I'm staying, your mightiness," the assassin spat. "And I wouldn't keep her waiting."
  
  Inina frowned, but knew she had to work with these people. "Stoneknife guild assassins are untouchable by my soldiers, and so any legal payment towards your guild would be useless. And so I offer you, and only you, a chance to cheat death. I am skilled in necromancy and healing, and should you come to some sort of death, I would be able to reverse it."
  
  "Save us all or no deal." Was Corsovo's response, said in finality. Inina scowled even further, and pursed her lips.
  
  "That isn't what I'm offering."
  
  Corsovo didn't move. "Save us all or no deal."
  
  The two stared at each other, and Inina weighed her options. She needed the guild to quash any threats to her reign, and no other way would be as effective. But she wasn't one to be trifled with, and she wouldn't be their personal nurse. And yet, use of the Stoneknife guild would solve all of her problems...
  
  "Fine," Inina answered. "Your guild has my word that none of you shall die while I live."
  
  Corsovo nodded, and walked past Inina and towards the window seat. Inina saw that the other assassin had left already, without a sound. Corsovo stood on the window sill, preparing to jump. "And Corsovo?"
  
  The assassin paused.
  
  "Don't try to double-cross me. It will be your doom."
  
  Corsovo turned her head towards Inina. "My Queen. Never forget where your power truly lies."
  
  And with that, Jaela Corsovo jumped out the window.
  

 

[Yatasal]

Roger Daveedi

• Details
• His Children
• Welcome Home

• 
  When he was a lad, all Roger wanted to be was a knight in the army. Daring adventures, great with the ladies, who wouldn't want to be a knight?
  
  Except for one problem. Roger could barely walk. He had to use crutches, or a horse to get anywhere. Still, his family was rich, and they got him to be a soldier in the king's army. However, the army didn't want him, except for target practice. So every night, he went to his bunk, told he was useless, nothing but a servant boy, nothing but a moving target. He would never be a soldier.
  
  Alone, he cried, wishing he had never been born. One day though, a girl started to show pity on him. He grew to be in love with her, and she loved his gentle attitude. She was his whole world, and she fell in love with him. Both of them were the barrack rejects; she was deaf. Perfect for each other, the other soldiers joked.
  
  The war came with another country. Roger was shoved to the front lines, where the other soldiers assumed he'd be an easy target. Roger left his wife, and dutifully went to the front lines. There he was captured by the enemy.
  
  
  
  For eight months, twenty-one days and four hours, Roger was tortured mentally, physically and emotionally. It changed him so much so that he recovered from his limp, and was bent on one thought: revenge on anyone who had ever called him useless. Starting with his captors.
  
  No one knew quite what made Roger so strong after having been weak for so long. Some said it was the torture. Others said it was his anger alone. Whatever it was, Roger became supremely strong and cold. He returned to his wife, who loved him still, and thought she could bring back her old husband. He became the general of the army, and didn't stand for any weaklings in his army.
  
  He was killed in the last battle, weakened by poison he had ingested earlier that day... Poison given to him by his wife. She was killed as well by pillaging soldiers.
  
  "Live fueled by your rage and the world will see a monster. Perhaps we need a monster to cleanse the world from its imperfections." ~Roger Daveedi
  
• 
  Roger had become vicious and cruel. If anyone showed any sign of weakness, they were killed or beaten. His wife started secretly looking for ways to hide her children, and herself. The Resistance were more than happy to hide her children, provided that she kill her husband. While she wasn't happy about that, she agreed. Her husband died, and so did she.
  
• 
  Gretta wrung the cloth out, and hung it to dry. Her tears had kept her cheeks red and puffy for days, and just when she thought she had none left, something else would set her off and then she'd be a fountain once again. She grabbed another piece of laundry and hung it on the line. Her chin quivered, and she sucked in a shaky breath before reaching down for a pair of pants.
  
  A hand touched her shoulder, and Gretta swung around, the pants still in her hand and whipping the person who had touched her. He took off the wet pants from his face, and his lips moved. Gretta's eyes widened. Her hands moved, signing his name. "Roger!"
  
  He couldn't sign fast enough before she jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He smelled awful, he was filthy, and he was squeezing her too tight. But he was home.
  
  She let go, and signed quickly, "They told me you died."
  
  He nodded, and signed back. "I managed to escape. My limp's gone, Gretta. And I'm stronger than ever. They gave me a promotion."
  
  "That's wonderful Roger! How did... How did you escape?" Gretta asked, dropping the pants back into the basket at her feet.
  
  He smiled. "What matters is I'm home."
  
  Gretta nodded, and wrapped her arms around his chest. She could feel that there was muscle to it now, different than the skinny chest she was used to. His limp was gone too... What else about him had changed?
  
  She took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Roger was home, and safe.
  

 

[Yatasal]

Jaela Corsovo

• Details
• Her Children
• Don't Kill the Messenger

• 
  From the time she was nine years old, Jaela had been raised in an assassin's guild called Stoneknife. She started to become an assassin at ten, and rose to be Stoneknife's guildmaster at nineteen. Her method of killing was simple. No one suspected or even remembered the orphaned child in the alley. She was small for her age, and crawling into mansions and hiding in cupboards was fairly simple. Even at ten years old, she became quite skilled. As she ascended the ranks, she gained the trust of nearly every assassin in the guild. When she became the guildmaster, she used that trust to build a cult-like sense of loyalty among her ranks. They were her family, and she treated them as such.
  
  Though she never massacred any cities, or really wreaked havoc in the kingdom, Jaela and her guild are the reason the villains succeeded for so long. Her assassins were allowed free range in the villain's kingdom, and they killed the resistance leaders every time they tried to rise. No, she never raised her own daggers against the common people, but she did undermine any efforts to better the people's lives. Being an assassin was all Jaela knew. In her mind, there were some people who would die so that Jaela would become a little richer, and be protected under Inina's rule.
  
  Of course, that was until Inina decided that Jaela had too much power, and tried to hire a Stoneknife assassin to kill Jaela. This did not go well; the assassin took the job and immediately went to Jaela, telling her everything. No attempt was made on Jaela's life. The loyalty of the Stoneknife assassins was too strong. But the insult was clear. Jaela decided that Inina's reign was about to come to an end. Her assassins were given new orders: help the resistance in whatever way they could to destroy Inina. Jaela wasn't dumb enough to send assassins after Inina herself, but she knew that even the queen with all of her powers wouldn't be able to stop the combined forces of the people and the Stoneknife guild.
  
  Unfortunately, nothing can last forever. Soon after the Resistance won, Jaela died. The assassin's guild fell to the shoulders of an older but nonetheless revered assassin in the guild and kingdom. It still survives in the new kingdom, if only because the resistance members couldn't get rid of it.
  
  "We know."
  
• 
  Jaela's twins were taken by the midwife, who thought that being raised by assassins would be a poor childhood. She gave them to the Resistance, who gave them to farmers. Separate families, of course. They were twins, but they wouldn't ever know each other... right?
  
• 
  Jaela chipped her knife at the wooden stick, filing it down to a sharp point. She had found that it helped the arrows pierce deeper, not to mention the notches she was also carving into the arrow's point would help the metal have something to attach to. That was the hope. Jaela designed weapons whenever she had a particularly troubling issue on her mind, and she had lately been focusing on improving her guild's arrows. Too much, in her mind. But it was a deeply challenging issue, and so Jaela carved away at the arrow.
  
  A knock at the door, and then a figure slipped in. Tall, two braids down his back, and a big grin on his face. Bereling. Jaela set her knife and arrow down, and turned her head slightly downward in a way that said, "Yes?"
  
  Bereling spoke her language well. "The Queen's sent her messenger. Oh boy, I'm excited. Never even heard of him before! You probably have, though. But maybe you haven't! No, I don't think you have, because you'd've told me, sure as rain. He's important, too. You can smell it on 'em. He's got, like, a tiny dagger that could maybe hurt a cat if it was sharp. And he's not from around here, either. Probably why we've never heard of him before. But he's trained in magic, judging by his hands and jaw line. Always the jaw line with the magicky people, I don't know why. You wanna send him up or have him gutted with his dumb little dagger? I'd be happy to show him how to properly use it. Y'know, before he passed out from blood loss. It's never as much fun when they do that."
  
  Jaela cocked her head to the other side, a knowing, small smile on her lips. Bereling nodded and said, "Yeah yeah yeah I'll go get him."
  
  He left, closing the door securely behind him. Jaela hopped off the cabinet she had been perched on, and landed silently on the floor. Her office had walls of cabinets, and that was it. No other furniture was in the room, and that's how Jaela preferred it. If her guest thought he was going to sit down somewhere, he was mistaken. Maybe, if she was feeling generous, she'd fetch him a chair.
  
  Nah.
  
  Jaela retrieved her Shadowcloak from a cabinet, and whipped it around her shoulders. The only light in the room came from the window--and the afternoon light was receding. Jaela was just as comfortable with the dark as she was the light though--this too didn't bother her, and again she shrugged the idea off at making her guest, and the source of her current problem, comfortable.
  
  The shadow cloak obscured her figure, her face, and nearly everything about her, except for the fact that she was still short and small. That had turned out to be an advantage in many cases though. A disadvantage, though, in just as many. Jaela then climbed atop one of her cabinets, and waited for the messenger to arrive.
  
  Bereling knocked on the door, letting the man in. He stepped into the room, and Jaela studied him. The tiny dagger wasn't visible, but as soon as the man took another tentative step forward she saw him shift his weight off his left side. The dagger was likely placed incorrectly, which was why he moved awkwardly with it on. Despite the dagger's placement, the man seemed to be used to being the smartest in the room, but not in a narcissistic way--more in a seeking knowledge way. She watched him look around the room, not seeing her in the corner of the cabinets. He was nervous, she could see that, but he was also strangely confident. He knew what he believed, and he was willing to fight for it. Interesting. But perhaps most interesting of all was that he was a good man. The way he didn't immediately assume that she was somehow lying in wait for him, that he assumed that she simply wasn't in the room--in fact, he actually sat down on the floor, patiently waiting for her to arrive. Something in his demeanor spoke to her... He was no simple agent of the queen.
  
  Jaela twisted, leaping off the cabinet and landing in a whirl of fabric and into a crouched position. She mirrored him, also sitting on the floor. He seemed surprised, and Bereling called it; his first reaction was to cast a magical shield with one hand and a fire spell in the other. When she made no other move, he extinguished both and cleared his throat. "You are Ms Corsovo, yes?"
  
  An accent. From Tatalis, perhaps. Jaela nodded, and the man cleared his throat.
  
  "I'm--My name iz Bihaal Dyrone. The queen sent me."
  
  Another nod from Jaela. Bihaal cleared his throat and continued. "She's contacted the resistance leaders, and she's found the main players. She wants them... dead."
  
  His voice caught on dead, and Jaela thought this interesting. He was important enough, not to mention trusted enough, to be sent here as the Queen's voice. And he didn't believe in her plan? Could his loyalty be challenged? She had a few spellcasters in her ranks, but magic was generally far too loud and bright for use as an assassin. Jaela studied him, and he stared right into her cloak. He couldn't know where her eyes were, but somehow he was staring right into them.
  
  "Please speak to me, I am... I am not fond in dealing with ze clandestine part of zis. Please."
  
  The please amused her, and Jaela couldn't help but smile. "What is your role in this?"
  
  "I... Well, I help ze Queen improve her mageek," Bihaal told her. "We are working on very important things."
  
  "Why are you the messenger?"
  
  "I am unknown in ze court," Bihaal said softly. "I will never be recognized."
  
  That struck a different cord. An emotional one. Jaela got to her feet, and didn't fail to notice that Bihaal instantly rose to his feet as well. She went to one of her cabinets, and retrieved a charcoal pencil and a notebook. "Write what Inina would like us to do."
  
  She handed him the notebook, and he quickly jotted down a few things. He handed the notebook back to her, and Jaela quickly scanned it. As she studied it, forming plans in her mind, Bihaal asked another question. One she'd never forget.
  
  "When will you kill her?"
  
  Jaela paused in the middle of her musings. She was never startled or surprised, but this question surprised her. She supposed, eventually, that she'd kill the queen. Even come up with a few daydream strategies to do it. But no one, not even her assassins or Bereling, had asked if she would kill the queen. This young man had already drawn that conclusion and wasn't asking "if", but "when".
  
  She closed the book in one hand. "I haven't decided. Would it bother you?"
  
  "I... haven't decided," he told her. They stood in the silence that followed, before Bihaal nodded to himself. "Have a good evening, Mz Corsovo."
  
  Jaela nodded in reply, and he turned, his robes swishing as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. What a strange man... I wonder when I'll kill him. Don't shoot the messenger, they say... I'll probably stab him instead.
  
  And with that thought, she retrieved her arrow and knife and reclimbed her cabinets, setting to work on the arrow once again. Bihaal Dyrone would be of no consequence in the coming war. She'd probably kill him next time he came.
  
  Probably.
  

 

[Yatasal]

Bihaal Dyrone

• Details
• Children

• 
  
  
  Raised in privilege, Bihaal was a lesser lord in the kingdom. With no claim on the throne, he decided to go on the road, learning all he can. Through many adventures, and many enemies, Bihaal finally settled down on a farm, rich and tired of adventure.
  
  But he didn't stay there long. Soon a young girl wandered to his farm. Barely alive, she collapsed in his arms. He took her inside, and nursed the girl to health. Over the next few months, the girl and Bihaal grew close. But though her injuries had healed, she still needed a rare medicine. So he left her there under the supervision of his trusted companion, Tordy the dog. Tordy was no ordinary dog though, and the girl was well protected at the farm.
  
  He went through many trials, but he finally got the medicine from an old woman with the assurance it would work. He returned home to the farm, but he returned to a burning pile of rubble. Tordy was dead, and the girl nowhere to be found. Assuming that she had been taken, Bihaal followed leads, eventually giving away everything except the clothes on his back and the medicine. All in an effort to find the girl.
  
  
  
  A group of bandits had taken her. He killed them all, but he couldn't stop the last one from killing her. Stabbed to the chest, probably mere minutes before he arrived. She was still warm when he found her. He was too late.
  
  
  But he determined never to be too late again. Her captors he massacred with his famous whip, a cruel weapon with glass shards braided into the cords, and went on a rampage, trying to make sense of it all. The more he killed, the less his heart hurt. With every life he took, the less he wanted her life back.
  
  
  Finally he was stopped, and by then he had exhausted himself. While not a villain that terrorized the kingdom, his massive death list caused grief and pain. The Resistance started to hunt him down. But they didn't hunt him for long; He surrendered, the only villain to do so, and was executed the next day.
  
  "Death isn't an end, it's a tool. I use it to drown out the death of the one I loved. And it worked." ~Bihaal Dyrone
  
• 
  Bihaal had many adventures, many partners, and didn't keep track of them. And so whether or not he had children he never knew. The only child he cared about was the girl that the bandits killed. As such, the Resistance didn't deal with Bihaal's children as they didn't know who they were.
  
  If you are one of Bihaal's children, your mother might be your real mother. However, she probably won't know much about your father, as he wasn't the type to settle down or fall in love.