I was born on the Twelfth day of the tenth month in the year three-kay, one-twenty-six. I had been told of an early blizzard that scoured the crown of Ispar, the howling winds rivaled by my newborn cries. As I grew, my days were balanced between the decadence of a responsibility that I was to assume; dancing, vernacular, scribework, singing, those forks which hell's dregs praise, and warfare. There was much more in those simpler times, but these days, the stresses of daily toil distract me from elegant tendencies intended to be etched into my persona. Though my means to do so are somewhat limited, I still serve the kingdom that raised me...the kingdom that fell for me.
The Kingdom of Isparia...Now some joke that the world mocks with its new name of 'Fellmore' while Neridian roosts in The Crown and orcs ravage the land. It cannot be permitted for such crimes to persist, though as capable as my arms are and determined as each of my heart's beats, I am a single blade. While I may count as three or four of our finest, I'm sure the monster from distant lands would relish the opportunity to give company to his prisoner, Princess Prim of Drakengard...and this is work to be done with more than a single soul.
If anywhere were to know my plight, it would be this wronged land of Drakengard, and I will see to its completion, myself, for there is no king without a kingdom, and no kingdom without a king.
No, the irony of the situation is
not lost to me, and I hope to have recountings of my exploits be written in the format of a comedy.
Princess Kaitra Jatherine Elzbrn;
Heir to Isparia
(Art by Alexandre Chaudret)
- Relationships
- I am the true heir to Isparia...such as it is. My family stretches back six generations to the conception of uniting the land under our flag. There was likely more before that, but busts and portraits aren't made of barbarians. I hear, for a time, my great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother had her likeness preserved in the figurehead of a longship that our people sailed up The Fingers on to settle the land. It is probably gone now, likely busted apart for fireword by less noble savages.
- I absconded with my grandfather's armor, my father's sword and my rapier. I...do not think they will be needing them. I will give them purpose, once more.
- Darvus David Dragan...A boy, from when I knew him, yet there was supposedly talk behind closed doors of an arranged marriage being proposed to contextualize the alliance between Isparia and Drakengard. Such a morose lad, and unfortunately tough to get a read on. Losing his sister must not have helped his disposition, but it has been years since we last met...such rumors do not entirely matter anymore, I suppose, all things considered.
- I have heard of Sir Nebel Mesanychta. I have heard many more things. Unsettling rumors of consortation with dark forces. Murder; insanity spurred by dissolution and errant contempt for the oaths they swore to. I am remiss to consider him a counting in my court. What misfortunes lead them down their path, I care not, but the creature that wears their skin, I have been told, is one most deplorable, indeed. A jealous and sad creature that, perhaps in another time, it would be my responsibility to put down. However, for now, my enemies are of a more simple sort. I do not have time to be chasing ghosts, powerful as they may be.
- Blurb: Out of their element and being forced into a role in a fantasy story not too unlike the ones she once adored. The story I have planned for them is a process of slaying both literal and metaphorical dragons while coming to terms with what it means to hold responsibility. Knowing how to act and having the opportunity to act are different beasts that very well may take more than physical prowess to overcome, and knowing when to ask for help can very easily make the difference in sink-or-swim situations I know maybe a bit too well. Change is a funny thing, especially unexpected change. Sometimes, you're not sure how to deal with getting what you want...most things aren't for free.