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Topics - Kyung Yi

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Heyasi Province / Fabrications
« on: September 26, 2020, 11:44:40 AM »

He longed for the sea. Kyung had never seen it. To him it was nothing but a story. Something explained he couldn't really fathom. But he dreamed about it. Imagined that it was like him. Vast. Turbulent. Empty.

He longed for the sea. For deep depths. For endless nothing. To escape himself and reality. Really, he longed for death. But death was too good for him. He deserved to live. To suffer. To exist in a state that was incomplete and completely broken.

He longed for the sea. Feet shuffling down the ruts in roads. Wings flaring when carriages and wagons raced by. Trembling at the stamp of hoof beats on the road. He cursed. He spat. Sometimes he cried. No one tried to stop him, whatever he did. His Purple Dusk had never been mighty. His Tiger Eye was half that.

But he was still a warlord prince. And even if half of him was Eyrien. Winged. Bedraggled. He was still a warlord prince. Broken. Queenless. More dangerous than he had been when he had been sane, whole, and full of rage. Now he was nothing but injustice and grief with nothing to tame him. No one to shush him and demand better.

He had never hated her more than he did now that she was dead.

"Why?" He shouted in some roadside tavern. Fingers digging into shoulders hidden beneath a rough spun shirt. He shook the phantom in his hands. Eyes not seeing the person he gripped, but all the horror he'd swallowed down and filled himself up on.

"I said, why?!"

Dhemlan Archives / Leashless
« on: August 24, 2017, 09:50:25 AM »

Kyung hadn't actually believed her. In all the ways and all the settings Nari had chosen to inform Kyung he would not be accompanying her, he'd never believed her. A bluff. A punishment. A test. Surely she would come to her senses. Surely regret, or guilt or something would not allow her to leave without him.

Good sense at least. Anything.

But Kyung had proven wrong. His queen had not lied to him. She had spoken truth upon truth. Chastised his behavior. Corrected his temper. And told him over and over again that he would not attend her on this trip. Issued no invitation, and then left without so much as an apology. She'd just been gone. Without him.

To say the warlord prince was irritated would be an understatement.

Kyung's usual foul temper only soured the longer Nari was gone. At first he was silent and brooding. A wounded animal, his feelings too raw for company or idle chit chat. But slowly he unfurled. Like a flower blooming, his rage extended one burning petal at a time. He became agitated and fretful. Snapping and snarling at anyone that came too near.

The already shallow pool of people willing to spar with him dwindled until there was no one left. No one willing to risk their life against his wrath. And it was fierce. Kyung left shattered bones in his wake. A staff was unlikely to open flesh, not unless you snapped someone's femur in half with it, forcing the jagged edge of bone through the skin. Your strike enhanced by Craft.

Your Craft fueled by emotion.

He didn't realize what it was as it crept over him. Insidious and all consuming. Kyung had only experienced the rut once before, many years ago. It had not been a pleasant experience. The too Eyrien warlord prince had found himself shackled and caged with no focus for his fury. He'd very nearly brought the building down around him before he'd run out of Jewel power.

But this time he had a whole palace at his disposal.

Dhemlan Archives / no escape
« on: April 28, 2017, 08:00:33 PM »

Kyung stormed down the garden path, his boot heels beating the trail into submission and his wings flared dangerously behind him. The dark leather wingsails twitched and his black braid slapped against his back. His knuckles were stark and pale, fingers grasping the hilt of the long, slender blade he wore at his waist. It was his right.

He had rights.

Kyung grabbed the guard who had been chosen to play escort for this garden jaunt, snatching him by the shoulder and shoving him away from Nari's side. As if this were the usual way one joined a Queen for escort, Kyung insinuated himself at her side. His jaw was tense, lips thin and a muscle in his cheek jumping from the pressure. He looked at her, eyes hot and angry.

"You're taking me with you." It was not a request, or even really a demand. Kyung was stating fact as he saw it. He would be going with her. The guard was behind them, catching his footing and falling in behind. He could do nothing else unless he wanted to go through the wall of Kyung's wings. The Eyrien cast a quick, mocking look over his shoulder.

"If you're going to Shuki, I'm going too." He wouldn't have even known she was going if he hadn't been an impolite, eavesdropping nosy bastard. But better that than let her escape him.


Dhemlan / Yi, Kyung
« on: April 24, 2017, 11:00:28 AM »
Kyung Yi

The Basics

Full Name: Kyung Yi
Age: 555
Gender/Pronouns: male/he/him

Ethnicity: Dhemlanese & Eyrien
Birthplace: Heyasi, Dhemlan
Current Location: Heyasi, Dhemlan
Profession: The Lost Circle

Caste: Warlord Prince
Birthright Jewel: Tiger Eye (CUT 99)
Offering Jewel: Purple Dusk (CUT 65)

Face Claim: Remy Hii

The Body

Height: 5'9"
Body Type: Agile
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Gold

Kyung has broad, bony shoulders and narrow hips. He is lean muscle over bone, with little to no excess flesh. His strength is surprising. He so often appears small, lost in whatever he is wearing. Too lithe to be a danger. He wears his hair long, usually in a queue at the base of his skull. Or at times double tied, pulling the top half into a tail and then the lower beneath that. On occasion he also wears it in braids, either double or singly.

While mostly Dhemlanese in appearance, Kyung possesses the same large, black wings as his Eyrien mother.

The Mind

Craft Strengths: 15pts
Telekinetic Hold
Psychic Shields
Physical Shields
Craft Weaknesses: Edge Walking; Kyung has trouble controlling his rages. Passing Through Objects; nothing like catching a staff to the stomach when you mean to pass through it.

Kyung is.. Bitter. And belligerent. If the outrage of an entire people could be held within one man, Kyung would possess it. If the heartache and pain of a thousand broken families, shattered Jewels, and bloodless bodies could be stored in one place, Kyung is certain his soul was the place they stored it. He is angry. The righteous anger of a man who has seen his mother subjugated, humiliated, and murdered. He is the two halves of an ugly whole. The poster child of the rot within Dhemlan and the bitter truth of what has become of a once great people. And he makes no apologies for it.

He takes no pride in his Dhemlan blood. Why should he? What is there to be proud of in Dhemlan? Nothing. The glory of Dhemlan is dust, turned to ashes by the Queen they let loose on the world. Destroyed by their inability to put to right the things they have broken. Yet his Queen is Dhemlanese. And Kyung would not hesitate to step between her and all comers. Even if he might berate her in secret.

Kyung tries to be fair-minded, but he is admittedly prejudiced. Injustice chafes at him especially, but he has trouble seeing beyond his own, personal hurts. He must always be right. Bullheaded and stubborn enough to carry out an idiot's path just to prove a point. Unafraid of censure. Always, always he speaks out. His tongue more troublesome than a pit of vipers. Kyung never fails to voice his opinion.

These days his opinions are more confused. His words more jumbled. Half lost in a world he can't really see. Half existing in a world he can no longer tolerate. He failed. In all things, in the most important things, he has failed. But still he is alive. Living with in failure. In failure. A Warlord Prince who could not save his Queen.

The Backstory

    Avanian | Mother | Yellow to Rose Healer
    U-Jin | Father | Summer-sky to Green Prince
    Iseul | Sister | White to Rose Healer

Kyung was born on the outskirts of Dhemlan's capital. His mother was a Healer of little repute, she was skilled in her Craft, which she had learned from her own mother (back generations), but she was Eyrien, the dark mantle of her wings marking her as an outcast. Unfortunately she had caught the eye of one of Dhemlan's Princes and had been removed from her home village and set up in small house for keeping.

She continued to practice her Craft, hiding the money away in hopes of buying passage back to her homeland. However her hopes were never realized. Unable to get the proper ingredients for her brews, Avanian found herself with child. Worse yet that child was born a son, who bore the same dark mantle as she. U-Jin was highly displeased, while he would not allow his name to be written down for paternity, he forced Avanian into giving her son a proper Dhemlanese name.

His sister, Iseul fared better, being born without the tell tale wings of the Eyriens. U-Jin allowed his name to be written down by the Priestesses. And then he took Iseul from them to be raised by his family as a proper Dhemlanese lady.

After his Birthright, Kyung's training was taken over by his mother. The money she earned from her Craft was used to pay for his tutors (no public school would accept him). Protocol he learned at her knee. Funds grew thin as U-Jin moved on to other pastimes and decided to no longer pay for their small house. His mother took in renters as needed, and she and Kyung squeezed into her room for the added income.

When he'd outgrown his youth, U-Jin allowed Kyung to come and work for his family as a laborer. He was strong for a lad in his twenties, able to move crates on his own with some help from his Tiger Eye. His life was a series of crates and boxes. Shifting stock from one place to another. Loading, unloading. He never knew what was inside the wooden walls of the freight he moved, he merely knew where to move it.

His life was nothing but one shuffle after another for many years. Long years in which resentment grew. His sister, the princess of the family. Never seen by the one who had given her life. Never so much as seeking out the brother who lived covered in dust and splinters and sweat. He saw her sometimes, laughing on the arm of the their father or some other escort. A girl with no cares and no worries, ignorant and selfish.

Yet Kyung did nothing. He and his mother would talk of returning to Askavi. But would it be any better than Dhemlan, under the boot heel of Witch as it was? Empty words. Kyung did nothing but grow more and more resentful. And his mother more tired and worn. Avanian also did not want to move farther away from the daughter she never saw or heard from. When the Yi family business moved its productions to Shuki, Kyung went. (He'd taken his father's name out of spite, to hell with the Priestesses ledger).

Life continued. Kyung made his Offering without fanfare, walking away with a Purple Dusk. He talked loud and often. Rings of disgruntled young men that were broken up by overseerers. He talked a lot, but managed to accomplish very little. Years and years and still more building resentment. He was a man grown. His full strength achieved and settled into, his body as familiar as a mother's song.

And then something changed. The shower shifted in Shuki, a district queen rising up to take over for the previous province queen. They were all made to go. Production was stopped for the day and all deliveries delayed. Nari Choe, was her name, and though Kyung was no where near her - who was he to stand at any nearness to a queen? - he felt a stirring. A calling to kneel. To protect. To serve.

He hated her. Kyung didn't have to know her to hate her. She was a Dhemlanese Queen. He could do nothing but hate her as he hated them all. For Kyung all queens were Witch and all of Dhemlan were U-Jin and Iseul who had so destroyed his mother's heart.

But this hate was different. It was more personal, and it finally goaded Kyung to action. He quit his menial, thankless job for his "father" and left Dhemlan all together. There was some scuffling at the border. They didn't want him in Dhemlan but they weren't too sure they wanted him loose in Askavi either.

He drifted for a while before finding a place. Another band of disgruntled young men. And like the Eyrien's of legend, he raided. Becoming more than just a hardened laborer. By the time Witch was toppled, he had become a hardened warrior.

The destruction of Witch should have been a time for rejoicing. Askavi was free from her oppression, or so they assumed. But Kyung did not stay to see how Askavi fared without Witch ruling from the mountain. He'd had word. His mother had been killed in riots in Chusati. There was nothing to go back to, but Kyung went. He packed up his mother's thing from her tiny house and took them with him. All the way back to Shuki, where, Kyung felt, everything had truly started.

He showed up to the province seat half starved and bleeding from the road (and the fighting) and refused to leave until Nari Choe saw him and admitted she was his. He made her take his mother's things. A good woman who healed anyone who needed it. A good woman killed needlessly. He wanted her to accept the burden (and the blame) of his mother's death. And then he wanted to stay.

But a man can't serve without passing his exams. And no school was going to take an Eyrien Warlord Prince. Especially one who had been living in Askavi when Witch had been destroyed. It didn't matter how much, or how honestly, Kyung defended himself - he'd had nothing to do with Witch! - he was still guilty by association and birth.

He became more desperate when the Territory Queen died and there was talk of Nari taking her place. They'd managed to find some who would tutor him, and Nari had talked a small school into taking him on as a lesson to other Eyrien's on how to serve properly in Dhemlan. He worked and studied hard. And ranted at Nari about the subjects and the falsities in relation to Dhemlan's glory.

But he passed, a fierce, triumphant smile on his face. Now she had to keep him. Keep him and take him to the territory court. He would serve, just to spite her and all of Dhemlan. He would serve and he would talk. Loud and often.

Kyung's service was tumultuous. But it was service. He gave every bitter inch of himself to Nari Choe. In the end, he even gave his Purple Dusk, and tried to surrender his life. But he lived and she died. The truth of her ending lost in the fracture of his inner webs. Now he wanders. Heart like a split stone. Mind like a sink hole of vipers.

The Writer

Player Name: dergon/cole
Player Pronouns: she/her
Timezone: -6
Contact: PM or discord
How did you find us?: I was in the closet

Inactivity Instructions: Archive and murder.

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