RavenDaas
Member
I implore interested parties to read this piece of writing provided by myself. Whilst it is not necessary to share a piece of your own writing, it will be a major factor in determining whether I respond to your reply. For the piece; ignore the heels and Ancient Egyptian eyes.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJhNKSk232Ha7jL3V_FeS3Ajtq8s5tlQrQjc8/edit
I'd like to thank Obsidian Entertainment's Tyranny released in 2016 for inspiring this story of mine, particularly the lovely character of Kyros. Further inspiration is taken from the Nilfgaardians from Andrzej Spakowski's Witcher novels, which was the basis for Ilya's conduct during warfare. If there's anything that inspired me for Ilya herself: imagine if Sauron and Trotsky had a kid. This story is meant to be satirical of fantasy worldbuilding whilst still being a sensible, reasonable world with working laws and rules to it.
"Your life is the Overlord's to spend. Allow her to spend it wisely."
Though we take them for granted today, posters like these did not always grace our street corners, nor did the masses treat them with the respect they deserved. In the Occupied Territories many were ripped from the walls they were plastered on, or disfigured by would-be heroes and traitors. The Tyrant's ability to print and replace defaced pieces so readily was a testament, at its earliest point, what it meant when the first of Hell's portals were torn open.
Not to imply that Ilya's enemies did not take her seriously. Despite her lacking in humility, she, to this day, makes no effort to hide that from the very outset of her war the resistance given was stiff and worrying. Nigh immediately the efforts taken to deny her every scrap of food and roof above her soldier's heads were devastating, and many were left to weather the wilderness in unfamiliar, cold lands that were utterly alien to everyone serving beneath her. Every village they came across was desolate, devoid of life and burned to the ground as the retreating armies put as much distance between them as they could whilst still remaining close enough to harry them.
Despite not having fought a single pitched battle and only having weary, bothersome raiders to deal with, the loss of life was considerable. The tides only truly managed to shift once Ilya had cornered them, attempts to dissuade her invasion having failed due to the organization and readiness Ilya had taken prior to the invasion, allowing them to come to the final, glorious moment where she would pen them into their city and they would choose servitude or fire.
She recounts very few times when the enemy would choose servitude.
And so it goes. News spread quickly once the first set of proper walls fell. Most parties of demons were discouraged by palisades, whilst this one came of a great deal more insistent, more prepared. More importantly, it seemed almost behemoth in scope. Ilya's host was never quite as large as the first days of her conquests, as the defenders of the walls testified that they reached well past the horizon. These are not likely to be, in their entirety, exaggerations.
When news spread, so did horror. As did the defeatism. With the news that the typical actions taken of burning and running away until the demons took what they wanted and left failed, more conventions means of waging war were investigated, raising hosts in attempts to dispatch the demons in more glorious means- and met with horrific results. Each raised host of knights, men-at-arms, mercenaries, and levies would only meet death served to them at the ends of pikes. The depth of the situation would only grow further as, to their bemusement, non-demons began to appear on the front lines, once thought to be enslaved mortals forced to fight for Satan, and soon after learned to be willing volunteers, now serving on a salary, given training and equipment identical to their peers.
Invigorated by this new wave of enlisted men and women of their occupied peoples after months of occupation and convincing, the offensive began anew on all fronts, one realm collapsing after the next, the tide simply growing unendingly, banners of violet and red flying over castles and walls from what seemed to be one corner of the world to the other, steel-clad regiments of bright-faced individuals eager to slay their former masters marching out of cities seemed to happen each week. What they had initially thought to be a degenerate daemonette come to swallow their souls had proven herself to be, by all accounts, a degenerate daemonette come to tax them inside- but she also proved that she was a competent administrator whom introduced a wide array of wise welfare reforms and tax policies that improved the livelihood of many of those that chose to remain within her borders. Her dedication to the proliferation of reading and literacy was seen as the first sign of sorts. That, perhaps, this was not the end of the world- but the rebirth of a new one.
Such hopes were dashed against the rocks when news began to come in that Ilya had been banished back to Hell. Not through strength of arms, or assassination, but a betrayal. Cold-hearted deceit at the hands of those that the mortal realms had praised to be their saviors- a Fellowship of Heroines destined to defeat their Overlord, but had resorted to foul trickery under the banner of surrender.
The Dark Years came not long after. Years of strife and misery that would not end until her return, hoped for by millions, and feared by thousands. And she did. In a shabby, rundown room thick with the smell of sulfur and sacrifice.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lqyAAPIJhNKSk232Ha7jL3V_FeS3Ajtq8s5tlQrQjc8/edit
I'd like to thank Obsidian Entertainment's Tyranny released in 2016 for inspiring this story of mine, particularly the lovely character of Kyros. Further inspiration is taken from the Nilfgaardians from Andrzej Spakowski's Witcher novels, which was the basis for Ilya's conduct during warfare. If there's anything that inspired me for Ilya herself: imagine if Sauron and Trotsky had a kid. This story is meant to be satirical of fantasy worldbuilding whilst still being a sensible, reasonable world with working laws and rules to it.
"Your life is the Overlord's to spend. Allow her to spend it wisely."
Though we take them for granted today, posters like these did not always grace our street corners, nor did the masses treat them with the respect they deserved. In the Occupied Territories many were ripped from the walls they were plastered on, or disfigured by would-be heroes and traitors. The Tyrant's ability to print and replace defaced pieces so readily was a testament, at its earliest point, what it meant when the first of Hell's portals were torn open.
Not to imply that Ilya's enemies did not take her seriously. Despite her lacking in humility, she, to this day, makes no effort to hide that from the very outset of her war the resistance given was stiff and worrying. Nigh immediately the efforts taken to deny her every scrap of food and roof above her soldier's heads were devastating, and many were left to weather the wilderness in unfamiliar, cold lands that were utterly alien to everyone serving beneath her. Every village they came across was desolate, devoid of life and burned to the ground as the retreating armies put as much distance between them as they could whilst still remaining close enough to harry them.
Despite not having fought a single pitched battle and only having weary, bothersome raiders to deal with, the loss of life was considerable. The tides only truly managed to shift once Ilya had cornered them, attempts to dissuade her invasion having failed due to the organization and readiness Ilya had taken prior to the invasion, allowing them to come to the final, glorious moment where she would pen them into their city and they would choose servitude or fire.
She recounts very few times when the enemy would choose servitude.
And so it goes. News spread quickly once the first set of proper walls fell. Most parties of demons were discouraged by palisades, whilst this one came of a great deal more insistent, more prepared. More importantly, it seemed almost behemoth in scope. Ilya's host was never quite as large as the first days of her conquests, as the defenders of the walls testified that they reached well past the horizon. These are not likely to be, in their entirety, exaggerations.
When news spread, so did horror. As did the defeatism. With the news that the typical actions taken of burning and running away until the demons took what they wanted and left failed, more conventions means of waging war were investigated, raising hosts in attempts to dispatch the demons in more glorious means- and met with horrific results. Each raised host of knights, men-at-arms, mercenaries, and levies would only meet death served to them at the ends of pikes. The depth of the situation would only grow further as, to their bemusement, non-demons began to appear on the front lines, once thought to be enslaved mortals forced to fight for Satan, and soon after learned to be willing volunteers, now serving on a salary, given training and equipment identical to their peers.
Invigorated by this new wave of enlisted men and women of their occupied peoples after months of occupation and convincing, the offensive began anew on all fronts, one realm collapsing after the next, the tide simply growing unendingly, banners of violet and red flying over castles and walls from what seemed to be one corner of the world to the other, steel-clad regiments of bright-faced individuals eager to slay their former masters marching out of cities seemed to happen each week. What they had initially thought to be a degenerate daemonette come to swallow their souls had proven herself to be, by all accounts, a degenerate daemonette come to tax them inside- but she also proved that she was a competent administrator whom introduced a wide array of wise welfare reforms and tax policies that improved the livelihood of many of those that chose to remain within her borders. Her dedication to the proliferation of reading and literacy was seen as the first sign of sorts. That, perhaps, this was not the end of the world- but the rebirth of a new one.
Such hopes were dashed against the rocks when news began to come in that Ilya had been banished back to Hell. Not through strength of arms, or assassination, but a betrayal. Cold-hearted deceit at the hands of those that the mortal realms had praised to be their saviors- a Fellowship of Heroines destined to defeat their Overlord, but had resorted to foul trickery under the banner of surrender.
The Dark Years came not long after. Years of strife and misery that would not end until her return, hoped for by millions, and feared by thousands. And she did. In a shabby, rundown room thick with the smell of sulfur and sacrifice.
Last edited:
