Post by Bixir on Apr 2, 2023 18:11:51 GMT
”Do you know what kind of creature waits for its own slaughter?
"Sheep.”
General Information
Name:
Unknown
Alias:
Apollyon
Age:
Fifty-two human years
Origin Game:
For Honor (2017)
Homeland:
The Kingdom
Faction:
Blackstone Legion (Demon of Strife)
Gender:
Female
History:
There was a peasant girl, forgettable as the passing wind, who lived in a village far removed from civilization. It was a peaceful village, situated in the wilds, left to itself and its simple life. It was a dutiful existence for the girl and her people, free from the world around her for many years. This came abruptly to an end when a horde of Orcs were fast approaching the girl’s village. She had never seen these creatures before, but she, her family, and the rest of the village knew them for what they were. The end. The answer to their plight came in the form of Dante, a lone Lawbringer who was passing through the region. He gazed upon the girl and her people, and found them… wanting. Unworthy of their time, the Lawbringer rode off, leaving the girl and her people to the orcs’ mercy, of which they had none. On that day, the girl learned the first of many lessons of honor and justice.
Needless to say, the girl was one of the only survivors, forced to move on from what had been her home. As she wandered the countryside, she saw more and more what the world demands of those who live in it. More importantly, she came to recognize that were predators, and there were prey. And she would not be prey. Hardening from each experience, the girl trained to fight. First, she did so as a vagabond, little different from errant raiders struggling to carve out a living for themselves in a land defined not by laws, but by the blade in one’s hand. By the time the girl was sixteen, she had resolved to repay her “savior” in kind. After hiring a mercenary to track down Dante, she ambushed the Lawbringer, single-handedly subduing him before dragging him out onto the streets of Cheydinhal, and brutally executed him. To complete her retribution, the girl removed Dante’s armor, taking it to a reclusive blacksmith and convinced him to reforge the armor to fit her as a Warden. He begrudgingly accepted the challenge, unaware of what she would become.
The girl, growing into a woman, spent the next many years of her life wandering the disparate lands of the Kingdom, at times fighting as a sellsword for the highest bidder, other times fighting as a seemingly loyal Warden to the presiding lord of the month. The one thing she was consistent in, however, was the pursuit of conflict, great or small. She had no interest, truly, in oaths of fealty or the chivalry that her fellow Wardens and other champions of virtue claimed to uphold. The woman became notorious, if not for her fiercely unique set of arms and armor, then for her reputation on the battlefield as a relentless warrior without peer. Many summons were sent to the warrior woman, clamoring for her support in one squabble or another. More common, however, were the pleas to recruit her into a given lord’s order. She rejected all of these, knowing these men and women for what they truly were: sheep, unfamiliar with war and what it demanded of those who called for it. The gravest of them all, however, was the likes of the Iron Legion.
An ancient order of warriors, made of many legions of knights that swear themselves to a greater cause. Noble in theory, though over the eras it had stagnated, too willing to embrace peace over keeping their sword arm sharp. It was for these reasons, among many others, that drove the woman to consider an alternative future for these peoples seeming so content with peace. Many other would-be lords and ladies shared this belief, and the woman came to know them each in kind. These warchiefs made an accord on a slab of obsidian they carved into a round table in a distant volcano. On that day, each of the warchiefs took the name of a demon, as a reminder of what you must become to change the world.
That woman became known as Apollyon.
Drive:
Aside from uniting the rest of the Blackstone Legion under her rule, Apollyon is solely interested in the perpetuation of war throughout the Kingdom, and further abroad, if it can be helped. She does not share the sensibilities for conquest as her peers do, so obsessed with amassing control for themselves to dictate war as they see fit. Apollyon sees herself as a force of nature unto itself, hell-bent solely on bringing out the “wolf” in everyone, and culling the sheep that she sees so blatantly abound.
Visuals
Image:
Visual Appearance: Unless you were looking closely, you would not think that Apollyon was a woman. She is a towering figure, her identity nearly entirely hidden behind her fearsome dark iron suit of armor. The only physical clues that Apollyon is indeed female is the design of her breastplate, and the braids of aged blonde hair protruding from the back of her helmet. Apollyon has made a point of never being seen outside of her armor, though one could assume that she is of Aryan descent, with bright blue eyes - if faded, now, settling into a sterling gray - to compliment her silvery hair. Her face would be old, though not overly so, defined by the experience that made her into Apollyon. She stands shoulder to shoulder with the tallest of warriors, easily over six feet tall and at least one-hundred eighty pounds, and boasts as much (if not more) strength than them.
Clothing/Armor:
Apollyon's armor is a unique design, made to represent the suit of armor of a Warden from the heavier, more durable design of that of a Lawbringer. No doubt considered heavy armor, Apollyon has been able to shrug off numerous grievous blows and continue to fight as if she had barely been wounded at all. The armor is a fearsome, near-black hue, enhancing the dominating presence that she exudes wherever she goes. Apollyon ensured that the secret to her armor was never discovered, an armor more durable than even many of the greatest smiths in the Kingdom could ever muster.
Personality
The Warlord Apollyon exhibits all of the traits that you would expect to find in a warmonger. She is relentless in combat, harbors no mercy for those who gets in her way, and indulges strategies that would most certainly be considered atrocities by the morally sensitive. By that same token, however, Apollyon holds to an abstract code of honor, in spite of frowning upon conventional honor and chivalry so otherwise common among knights and warriors. She values strength, and the sincerity in it, above all else. She harbors no grudges towards her enemies, so long as they are earnest in their opposition towards her, or, better yet, their hatred. Apollyon has a certain fixation with the inherent conflict within people, seeking to stoke those flames for her grand agenda. Often she will refrain from recruiting powerful opponents after she has bested them, allowing them to fight another day, with more anger, more passion, so that the conflict they spread in their wake will be all the sweeter.
Among the Obsidian Circle of the Legion, Apollyon is by far one of its more outspoken members. She loathes the deception and intrigue that the likes of Swain and Loghain indulge, preferring instead to make the war as explicit and total as possible. This is not to say that Apollyon is not simple-minded; she has proven herself to be one of the shrewdest tacticians of the eight, stooping to gruesome levels in order to bring out the worst in people. Though Apollyon would never be so brazen to say so, she is most certainly a connoisseur of suffering and preying on the basest urges of people.
Weapons/Items
Apollyon’s sole weapon is a greatsword of terrible make. While not forged in the same manner as her armor, Apollyon’s weapon is an unnerving thing, bearing forging techniques from lands that can only be described as evil. Apollyon insists that there is nothing overly “evil” about the blade, owed entirely to the legends that have come to surround the Third Demon of the Blackstone Legion. Whatever the case may be, it is almost as durable as her magma-forged armor, capable of holding ground against the finest weapons in the Kingdom. It bears no name, though more than sufficiently speaks its power through its wielder.
Abilities/Powers
Warchief
Though Apollyon - nor any of the other seven, for that matter - is not recognized as the Warchief of the Blackstone Legion, she is most certainly among those most frequently rumored to ascend to that title. She is an incredibly accomplished leader, and a starkly charismatic one at that. What Apollyon does not possess a silver tongue as Loghain does, nor power over the mystic arts like Julith or Sylvanas, she more than makes up for in her command in battle and her sense of others. As much of a warrior as Apollyon appears to be , she has an underhanded skill in manipulating in orders to best perpetuate the war that the Legion (and by extension, Apollyon) longs to have.
Master Swordsman
Apollyon is a swordsman made over decades of some of the worst wars that the Kingdom has faced in its history, complemented by a determination that is matched only by a handful of warriors. She is more than a match for even the finest of Hyrule’s Royal Guard, and has slain hundreds of warriors of peerless skill over her storied career in war. Be it against a single opponent or several, Apollyon is the last thing many enemies of the Legion see before she adds more sheep to the slaughter.
Roleplay Sample
(This scene is canon to the roleplay.)
The fog was beginning to clear. What uncertainty there had been in what had happened was swept away. Bodies littered the winter road, some in several pieces. It was a grisly sight, even for the more hardened of the warriors that had triumphed. This was a messy business, often rife with uncomfortable savagery visited upon the enemy. This was one such occasion, among many that they had enacted over the past couple of weeks. This time, the target had been civilians. Defenseless. Meek. As far as Apollyon was concerned, it was these people that deserved death the most.
Apollyon stepped over a mother, who had been struck down from where she had been standing. It was likely that she hadn't even felt anything in her final moments. She was already half-buried in the snow. At this rate, she would be one with the earth by next morning. Beneath her helmet, Apollyon focused on what this woman had been holding in her arms. A child.
It was not the only one that had paid the price. Her captain, some twenty yards from her, was investigating bodies as she was. When he realized just who they had killed, his reaction was more provoked than hers, to say the least. He marched over to her, gripping his halberd like he was ready to swing it at Apollyon's neck. Sadly, that was not to be. She knew he lacked the nerve. Holden Cross was many things, but he was not willful. Indignation would have to do.
"What is the meaning of this?! You said that we were going after Temerians! That this was important!"
"Both of those statements are correct, Captain."
The coldness came from Apollyon's as naturally as the snow falling around them. He didn't see it, did he? It was so tedious to explain these things. Did the other Warlords bother to educate their warriors like this? She pointed to the remains of the caravan, then to the crests stitched into the clothing of some of the more recognizable dead. "These are Temerians. Merchants. Novigrad has much need of their supplies this time of year."
It was an unacceptable answer. Holden shook his head. His tone became more irate. "This is slaughter, Apollyon! We did not even engage them in combat. We just, used that devil's powder! Traps, guile. This is not how Blackstone does battle. How will they even know who was responsible?"
At this, Apollyon waved over a Roegadyn woman. Iron Lilly was bold, enterprising. It was she who had convinced Apollyon of this idea. A proper wolf. Lilly hefted a standard in her arms, near thick as briarwood. Apollyon pointed down at the mother, at which Lilly nodded. Holden stepped away, still struggling to grasp the purpose of all of this. He did not have to. Lilly's arms seized in a downward motion, impaling the standard into the body of the Temerian mother. Apollyon looked up at the banner, fluttering faintly in the wind.
"We will leave them a message."
