THE FALLEN ~
NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30+ SPECIES. Cubi FACTION. Astorian Royalty OCCUPATION. UTP
Before the One God in Astoria existed, there were the gods that the Vanguard would call pagan. Your father was a King, and his greatest mistake was failing to publicly dismiss the worship of anything but the One. Heretic. Devil Worshipper. You were still young when you heard what the devout had begun to say. The advisors told the King that these things happened from time to time, that the fad would pass and all he needed to do was find ways to distract the masses. Public executions, great games like the Lysarans, and their gladiatorial competitions. If the people were entertained and busy, they wouldn’t have the mind to revolt. You saw how things didn’t pan out that way, saw the coup and your father’s bloated corpse as blade after blade was jammed into him. They’d come for you next, but you were lucky; you were spirited away, and in the dead of night, you prayed to any God that would listen. You prayed that your father would come back, you prayed that he would walk again; you made your offerings, you’d do whatever you had to. In a miller’s farmhouse within Astorian plains there was a scratching at the door, you feared to answer it but still you did, cracking it open to see the loose skin hanging off of the man you’d called father. Back from the dead, a wright that could walk but do more than groan with hunger. A God of death had answered your call and set your own desire upon you to prove your devotion, you couldn’t kill him, but another did, and you were cursed for it. Incubus and prince of a nation that would kill you before they followed you.
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NOTES
ASTORIAN HEIR: Living under a false identity
this skeleton is currently taken.