Ember Sovereign

Ember Sovereign

this is gospel for the fallen ones

Oh tortured soul, a heart once pure of gold ; Sorrow and grief have tarnished a once pure hope with the intoxicating bite of poisoned hate. Lethargic, the enigmatic presence bleeds through, corrupting, tearing asunder the perfected veil of purity and allowing the burning gire to seep within stalwart grace. It claws, digs to fester and bury deep under the skin, glissading skeletal fingers through malign carcass to permeate and destroy the innocence lost in cruel rapture. Though radiant and scorching upon first approach, malignant and vexing in a glance, there is still an unwavering kindness about her soul. Though she may try to be harsh, to be a thorough monstrosity for the simple sake of survival, she is unable, incapable within her programming to destroy so freely, to act so harshly to those who she seeks to protect even in her self imposed path to destroy herself.

The fearful souls...those with no weapons to wield and , she would so willingly become a martyr for, a sacrificial lamb to be lead to slaughter to save but a single face, a solitary name and save from the hardships in which she herself once faced. Loss was something that never truly heals, an instigating pain that is never satiated by the passing ripples of time as so many assure. Comforting lies are not sweetly fallen from her cherub lips, only bitter truths of the melodious affliction that slowly eats away at the spirit and weakens the body, the mind into numb paralysis. It was like a neuron-toxic, a deadly bite administered to her heaving breast from the moment she lay eyes upon the fresh corpses who still wreaked of singed hair and flesh. Slowly, surely, she shuts down, the dim flicker within her gaze dulling, dying with each passing day. A raging fire nothing more but smoldering embers.

No confidence, no self-preservation lingers within her, though her masquerade hides well what lay 'neath the surface where she furiously struggled to simply stay afloat. Sleep eludes her, staying just a single step, tauntingly out of her desperate grasp some nights. It leaves her thoughts raw, each one like raking nails over open flesh to claw at the nerves hidden just out of sight. Her mind is cruel, a sick repetition of the traumatic night playing without mercy in each dream she dares to seek. No longer does she yearn for the escape of reality, no longer does she wish to open her eyes to a new day, another wretched moment within this existence. A once pure and holy thing was stripped bare, ravaged ruthlessly by those that would see them all dead; her hope. The loyal optimism had been torn from her youthful frame, a far more devastating occurrence than that which marred her flesh. Her body had mended, healed and all that remained upon it was the thin, ropy scar. Childish wonder and bemusement, however, had been slain in cold blood, a murder most foul.

Her training, her teachings to lead had robbed her of her child-hood, leaving no time for other lessons to be learned within life, and while she portrays a serious demeanor to those whom require it without thought, it does without saying that others may see a different front. An act, a facade of happiness is always erect, sorrows, vexations hidden masterfully behind the porcelain of her mask as she interacts with the very few souls who may have the fortune or misfortune or coming into contact with the girl. She is no stranger to the children, to the women as she helps in every sense possible from numerous chores to simply playing and occupying those of younger nature. It is often wondered by many how a woman so cruel...so wrathful and destructive can display such unwavering kindness and charity...her disdain for authority and false order impulsing her to burn it to the ground and wake from the ashes. Protection over those who have placed their faith in her.

A Queen...protects her people. And a Queen she must become.

Malicious artistry, ephemeral strokes of magnificent alabaster upon the bleached surface of grinning bones. Malignant remnant of era past, primeval, elegant gore beneath the savage light of the swinging pendulum, ebony, ethereal within the bruised ombre of the gluttonous skies. Wisps of ash black and gray embellished in a grasp of silk, grasping, entangling languid paramour with the silent begging, the whispers of longing, moans of deceit. More, more, more! Elusive Madonna, Magdelina of avid affections, the immaculate tongues of angels doth traverse, wander over perfected flesh and flawless skin.

Red toned, dewy under the gaze of watchful, Golden colored lustful eyes spying havoc upon fair maiden. She bleeds, immortality; she sings, hymns of the divine. She, an idol of righteous purity and martyrdom, a solitary flaw. Spider veins wept, tears of malice, of sanguine wine upon the bare of fair porcelain back, china cracked and irrevocably repaired over the span of years. Still, the imperfection lies, nestled endearingly upon the slight dip betwixt lithe, girlish shoulders. Such a small and fragile thing...soft to the touch and softer to kiss. The Victorian Era wrapped within her from the white boots to her fashionable accessories. Thick thighs and ample chest speak volumes of the burning womans maturity as Femininity and sexuality ooze from her very being like a mist of desire, luring eyes like moths to a flame. Marks of gold decorate her sleeves and body, flaring eyes radiate like the sun. Behind plump sultry lips lie the muscle organ of a dragon...a foot long in length, smooth and direct. A tongue of many talents. But the tongue of a serpent nonetheless. And the scars splayed across her back once were graced with glorious wings that allowed her flight...ripped from her femme frame once chained and slaved. Forced to walk the earth among the lost. But her burning golden eyes still shine with the radiance of the sun...

Tho be careful...sweet tempter. For this fire shines brightly.














Primary Formal: Ember has ashen-black hair and bright amber eyes, while her fingernails are painted dark red. she wears lipstick and violet eyeshadow. She wears a dark-red, off-the-shoulders, v-neck minidress with golden designs. There is a blue feather-like accessory on her right hip, at the top of an open portion of her dress. The dress ends in an upside-down triangular tail in the back, ending just above the knees.

There is a baseball diamond-shaped keyhole on the dress' upper back at the same height as her chest. The sleeves end in a triangle shape, which are wrapped or tied around her middle finger, with the gold designs of the sleeve taking over at the wrists. She wears black shorts underneath her dress, as well as a black choker on her neck. She wears a gold loop earring with a black gem dangling from it on her right ear. She has dark, glass, high-heeled shoes and a jeweled anklet on her right leg. On her upper back, in the keyhole of her dress, she has a black tattoo of what appears to be a pair of high heel shoes placed sole to sole, forming a heart shape inside.

Civilian Casual: When finding herself in less respectable locations, or knowing she may need to get dirty she wears gray pants and boots; a beige leather, sleeveless jacket with light-beige details; brown gloves, a sarashi tied around her chest and another around her hips, and a pauldron on her left shoulder. She also wears a belt around her waist, which has multiple brown pouches attached to it for whatever tools she may need to carry.

Parents
Mother: Summer Sovereign
Father: Scorch Sovereign

Siblings
Sister: Cinder Sovereign

Extended N/A



Phoenix Rises From The Ashes: - Born from Ashes Oh Queen of Nowhere; What tragedies lay fleshed out with sin and malice, painted in ethereal shame - eternal glory and sultry lust. grandeur schemes of malignant, ill minds that simper with the very thought of commitment, of adulterated famish of the throne. A perilous game, a damning vexation that draws man, woman, and beasts alive to their grim fates. A cutthroat world of unimaginable malice through the fair looking glass.

A soul once oppressed by the heavy weight of loneliness and suffering crawls out from the darkness into blinding light. Born from the blood of the dragon and oppressed by the virtuous one beast shook off the chains of the humans slavery to reach to the skies. This being took on the mantle of responsibility to become a shepherd among the lost and downtrodden. Shining down upon the licentious they scattered the sinful like maggots and took on the burden that became the rebirth of a worthless clan

That being was known as Ember and with her glorious fortitude she banished the false order to make way for cleansing fire, carving out a place among traitorous garbage for her precious children. Pride shattered for glory, but above all beyond the thick and towering canopy of the trees and city walls that protect and seal nations from the outside one might say The Phoenix has bred a vicious collection of disciplined and well-mannered monsters.

Evil is not born...evil does not exist. Naught by the suffering, isolation and sense of abandonment exist within her damaged heart. Love? Simply a word to her with no meaning or context. Peace? How could one know peace when all they've known is discord. And happiness? The woman has only felt agony. She has become a product of her suffering and now only seeks to take what has been taken from her. Despite the darkness in her heart she radiates beauty and light...an opposite of what she feels within herself. Whispering sin throughout her being.

Act I - Born To a Broken Crown: I was born, a fleeting glimpse of happiness, and of untold, bitter sorry left unquenchable to my father's pure and noble heart. My mother perished beneath the stars that night, a beautiful nova in her own right, I am always told. She was a virtuous maiden, a heavy heart and mind resting upon her judged both a gift and a curse, a flaw and perfection in the same breath. Our father raised us, small children, remaining connection with the woman he had loved so endearingly, so tenderly that she was unsure of how such a thing was possible. Despite my birthing, I was raised a normal child, running, racing the wind and challenging the grave dunes outside of our immaculate hole within the bosom of the earth. Deep within the mountains of which we dwelled, we carved ourselves anew in destiny. Blithe, untarnished faerie tale met an abrupt, horrifying ending. The smoggy trails of acrid smoke stroked the skies, the scent of burning, of death crept within my nostrils, burning my lungs until I spat it out in fervid acrimony and disgruntled dismissal. I was trained, a warrior within my own right, but lacking the heart - the will - to carry out the lingering blow of demise to any who befell my blade. In memoirs past, perhaps it truly was my doing, my wretched fault for having such an affliction as conscious. Mayhaps my mercy to another had forsaken my tribe to the ruination we now face. Our elders they stole from us, the women they reaped from us, and the children they buried within the hovel, shadows of their deepest nightmares. Their piercing screams rend me from the insides out, twisting gluttonous innards into a squirming mess of putrid snakes that claw their ways out with malignant torment.

In the blink of an eye, the flutter of sultry lashes, we are a dying people.

There is no returning to the blissful peace we had known.

War. War was upon us.


Act II - Dethroned: The trees are alight, and my people are dying. All around me, I hear them, screams, malignant remnants of past occurrences that refuse to leave my mind unhindered. The memories burn, and yet I cannot stop them from running my mind in unstoppable trek over and over again. I can still almost taste the smoke of the fires, I can feel the heat, the warmth of my blood as it drips across my pale skin. My back burns, but my whimpers, my cries of pain, have long since been silenced by the numbing slash of realization, of anguished knowing. Without even the slightest of news, the sorrowed looks of those who came to retrieve me spelled to my already grieving heart all that I need know. 'How- how many? How many are gone?' My voice caught within my throat, trapped bird wings helplessly beating against the cage of my ribs to escape past my lips in fluttering, fluctuating volume. They look between them again, only silence is my answer. They bring me to the covered bodies, bestowed by rosaries of grandeur where already shamans and priestesses are giving out funeral wrights to those departed to the great afterlife. Among them, I recognize their frames, the broken, mangled corpses seared by fire and the glistening raze of tempestuous titania steel. Blood and burns. Pain and fear. They warped them, they perverted them. They were destroyed.

And I was alone.

They would never come back to me.


Act III - Aftermath: I was left to the throne, to inherit the crumbling kingdom that was self-destructing all around me. I was combed, groomed as the newest heir when I had had none of the tedious lessons of my eldest sister. She was supposed to be in my shoes, a proud, strong woman of composure and grace. She followed in the steps of our father, a benevolent king with an iron fist and a heart of fire. He was impassioned, compassionate, driven - as was she. She deserved to be here, and I deserved to be with them, deep within the gaping maw of the starving earth. I can feel it even now, eager to consume me, to bury me within its embrace until I smother in a whole as I was with this now almost But instead...i was dethroned. Taken by a species unfamiliar to me...shackled and chained, used as an object and shuffled into a camp consisting of my people...

Fire burned within my aching heart...i would not subjugated to such insolence...i would not remain on my knees and bow to false sovereignty...i was born from the dragon and my mothers flame rested in my soul.

Now...they would feel...my...WRATH! I alone started a revolt...began rebellion as chaos ensued the camp. The gates fell and the wretched humans who dared turn on me perished beneath my flame. Escaped, freed from their clutches my people scattered like roaches to a light...hiding away in fear.

But me? ...well. I knew what needed to be done.

Act IV - The Phoenix: I now lead, a kind-hearted Queen to my followers, but a foe to be reckoned with in my own right. No longer am I the naive child whom believed in the cherished stories of faerie tales woven and spun by my father to keep the wool placed fresh and tender over my innocent eyes. No. I am very well aware of the vicious world that lay before me, under me with merciless, gnashing maw, oh so eager to have me torn and strewn in bloody ruin upon the earth. A once soft femme had been warped, portrayed by the huntress moon as little more than nameless Artemis wrapped in the mirth of phantom shadows. A nameless, faceless fiend who prays upon those solitaire watch. No one stays safe from the blade of rapture and vengeance, a cruel fate that I have been condemned to. Within the shadows my Blades of Mercy sing, a hymn of purest redemption, a sinister aria of tasted sanguine wine followed by the peaceful strum of delicate, damaged vocal chords. My empire may of changed. No longer do i sit on a fancy throne in some cobblestone castle...no now i sit under the sun. I operate in the world of secrets and chaos...crime and turmoil. No such thing as a private bank about anymore, their all mine. No such thing as secrecy, i 'own' secrecy. For years I've put myself through hell to be where i am today...now organizations consult me... I am a spider, a spider at weaving a very large web...a web with thousands of threads and i know how each and every one of them dances. To long have i lived in the shadow of my older sister...perfect big sister. I was the weak one...i was the one with the weakest flame. Now I want to be strong. I want to be feared. I want to be powerful. One would do well not to underestimate my reach...nor my influence. A Magi I may be, but a slave? A prisoner? Death will kiss my lips before-hand.

Watch yourselves...dishonored souls. This is the beginning of the end...and i cant wait, to watch you burn.

Flame I Just as most Magi Magic, the flames must already exist. So be prepared to carry around matches and lighters with you. You are able to grow fire from your immediate person to double your arms length.

Smoke You are capable of producing smoke at a quick rate. Because this is a continuous process the user will be winded afterwards. Note: Just as a fire needs oxygen to live, so do you. A wise magi would be wary to not knock themselves out.

Archery I Can accomplish fundamental and basic feats with weapon.
Example of weapons allowed at this stage: Recurve Bow, Compound Bow, Longbow, Crossbow, etc
Specialized arrows now unlocked:
Downer: Arrow can inject target with a Downer once purchased

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[b]RWBY, Cinder Fall[/b] as [i]Ember Sovereign[/i]