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Tales from Asendavia; A collection of tales from everyone's favorite feudal monarchy
Topic Started: May 5 2017, 05:27:47 PM (588 Views)
Asendavia
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Outskirts of Skoggrund, Kingdom of Tungrad
Dawn, July 13th, 1381 AA (357 BC)

King Viktor III of Stromharad sat tall on top of his courser as the sun began to rise. He glanced impatiently to the left and saw his guard outlined against the rising sun. A glance to his right revealed the rest of his guard. A horse whickered nervously behind him and he sighed. He stared at the army of Tungrad from across the battlefield. While they were more numerous than his army, they were severely lacking in equipment. The archers he had placed on the hill to his left last night stood tall. His cavalry stood stock still, and the infantry behind him stood as still as stone. A lone horn blared across the battlefield and the enemy cavalry began to charge. Viktor calmed his courser and observed as the enemy cavalry approached. "Charge!" Viktor blared as he dug his heels into the courser's flank. He lowered his war lance as the courser galloped down the hill. Viktor's lance snapped as it went through the throat of a cavalryman as the armies collided.

Dropping his broken lance, Viktor drew his sword and slashed at the surrounding cavalry as the battle became a blur. Minutes passed like seconds as the battle brought him new enemies to face. He suddenly found himself on foot with his courser screaming behind him. He took his shield from his back and rejoined the battle. He found himself facing a charging cavalryman. Viktor rolled as the cavalryman swung his axe. Cursing, the cavalryman, reared. As the destrier reared, Viktor charged the cavalryman. Viktor slashed at the destrier's underside and watched as it's intestines spilled to the ground beneath it. Trapped beneath his dying horse, the cavalryman began to scream. Stomping on the cavalryman's throat, Viktor flicked open the visor, shouted "DIE!" and thrust his sword through. Pulling his sword back out, he whirled around and blocked a blow from a sword. The impact jarred his arm and he staggered. He blocked another blow just in time and rushed into his opponent. He tussled on the ground with him and pinned him down. Viktor flipped open the visor. It was the King of Tungrad, Torgeir Halvorsen. "I yield!" he shouted over the din of the battle.

"No. You die." Viktor took his dagger and drove it through Torgeir's eye. Torgeir jerked and went still. Sheathing his dagger, Viktor stood up and observed the battle around him. The battle still raged on with blood and guts everywhere. A lone knight started staggering towards him. Viktor pointed his sword at him, "Yield now and I won't kill you." "Never! You killed my father!" the swordsman screamed as he rushed towards Viktor. Viktor side-stepped the charge, kicked him in the back of his knees, and thrust his sword through his throat. As he cleaned his sword, a lone rider galloped towards him. The rider vaulted off of his horse, "Your majesty! Victory is ours! The enemy army has been annihilated!"

Viktor nodded wearily, "Now we march for Tungrad!" Viktor blared.


[edit_reason]Fixed topic title[/edit_reason]
Edited by Asendavia, Nov 17 2017, 10:43:07 PM.
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Stromharad, Asendavia
0600 Hours, May 6th, 3754 AA (2017 AD)

Terje woke up as his alarm clock began to blare in his ear. Groaning, Terje shut his alarm clock off and sat up. Getting out of bed, he shrugged into his clothes. Glancing behind him, Terje saw his wife Kristina still sleeping. Walking over to the bed, he shook her by the shoulder. "Kristy, it's time to get up."

Kristina groaned. "Five more minutes," she murmured.

Terje couldn't resist smiling. "If you don't get up, you'll miss going to the kyrka."

Kristina laughed, "I hear you. Give me a few minutes."

Terje nodded and made his way to the kitchen. He took four pieces of bread and put them into the toaster. Next, he got the milk from the fridge and poured two glasses. The toast had finished by the time that Kristina had made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed the butter and began to butter her toast while Terje drank his milk and ate his toast. After drinking her own milk and eating her toast, Kristina cleaned the two glasses. Terje stood up as she put the glasses away. "Ready to go, my love?"

"Of course I am," Kristina teased.

Terje took her hand and opened the front door. "What a lovely day," he remarked.

"It's always a fine day when I'm with you," she said. Terje locked the front door behind them and they set off towards the nearest kyrka. Kristina gazed at the various buildings as they passed by while Terje kept his eyes ahead. Halfway there, Terje saw a car drift too close to the other side of the road and watched in horror as another car collided into it. Hearing the calamity, Kristina whipped her head towards the road. More cars smashed into the ones who had originally crashed as they couldn't slow down in time. Kristina heard as a woman began to shriek. Terje began to walk faster and practically began to drag Kristina from the sight. With the wreck out of sight, Terje slowed down. "You didn't have to walk so fast, you know," Kristina commented.

Terje sighed, "I know, I know." Just to show that she wasn't mad at him, Kristina embraced Terje and lightly kissed him.

"Let's move on, we don't want to be late." Kristina said. Kristina took his hand again and began to walk. As they approached the kyrka, shouting could be heard in the distance.

"Sounds like a pretty large argument," Terje commented.

"Let's just ignore it," Kristina replied. Near the front steps of the kyrka, a man approached them.

"Get ready to say goodbye," the main said.

Puzzled, Terje began to reply but was cut short when the man shot him. Terje, slumped to his knees and fell over. "No! Noo! NOOOOOOOO!" Kristina screamed as she began to rapidly shake Terje. The man turned the gun on her, and the last thing she heard was the scream of a woman.





Edited by Asendavia, May 12 2017, 03:10:43 PM.
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A hill outside of Stromharad, Asendavia
2000 Hours, September 13th, 3726 AA (1989 AD)


Outside of Stromharad, the stars burned brightly in the night sky. On the hill laid Agnar Kaas and Amanda Rinde. "Don't you just love the stars?" Agnar asked.


"Of course, I do, they're just so beautiful. They shine and they shine, and they do nothing else. For us at least," Amanda replied.


"Wouldn't it be amazing if we could reach out and just touch the stars?" Agnar turned his head towards Amanda.


She nodded. "Imagine all of the stars in the sky. Somewhere out there, there has to be intelligent life. Even if there is life though, I doubt we'll be able to meet them in our lifetimes. It makes me feel sad."


"Yeah. In the grand scheme of things, we're just so small and useless." Agnar said.


"I agree that we may be small, but I don't think we're useless. Sure, it may take hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years, but we'll be important one day. One day..." Amanda's voice trailed off.


Agnar took her hand in his. "Don't worry. Sure, it may be all out of our reach, but let's enjoy what we have in life now."


Amanda nodded. "Good point. As long as we enjoy what we have in life now, we can live a good life. We should probably go home now. I want to be well rested for work tomorrow." Amanda and Agnar stood up. Agnar took her hand and led her down the hill. At the bottom, Agnar opened the passenger side car door for Amanda and got into the driver's seat.


Upon reaching Amanda's house, Agnar pulled into her driveway and stopped the car. Getting out, he helped Amanda out of the car and walked her to her front door. "I had a really fun night," Amanda sighed.


Agnar grinned. "I'm glad you had a good night." Amanda turned to open her door. "Before you go in," Agnar got something out of his coat. He dropped to one knee and opened the small box. "Amanda Rinde, will you be my wife?"


She gasped and hid her mouth behind her hands. Beneath it, she was grinning. "Of course I will!" she managed. She dragged Agnar to his feet and drew him in for a long kiss.


Agnar was flushed when she let go. "We'll have to get everything ready! I'll call my family in Yoria. You should call your's too."


Amanda hushed him. "Shhhhh. We can deal with all of that later. Right now, let's live life to the fullest and enjoy ourselves." Amanda dragged him inside and locked the door.
Edited by Asendavia, May 12 2017, 03:11:30 PM.
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Stromharad, Asendavia
1251 Hours, May 12th, 3754 (2017 AD)


At the front of a history classroom in Stromharad Middle School stood Sakarias Marklund. "Now, who remembers which King united Asendavia and in which year?"


A little girl rose her hand. "King Jon Harstad II in 1434?"


Sakarias wrote King Jon Harstad II on the whiteboard. "You're close, but you're off by a few years. Does anyone else remember what year?"


A boy raised his hand. "1432 AA?"


"Very good!" Sakarias wrote 1432 AA on the board. "If you can tell me what year that is in BC or AD then you'll get bonus points.


The boy pondered for a few moments. "305 BC?"


Sakarias shook his head. "You're off by just a year. Since you were so close though, I'll still give you the bonus points. If anyone doesn't remember how to convert between AA or BA to AD or BC I'll show you how to," He began to write on the board. "You take the year, 3754 AA for example, and subtract it by 1737. When you do this, you get 2017, which is the current year in the countries that use the AD/BC system," Sakarias paused. "When it comes to BC however, you have to add an extra step. Let's use the bonus problem from earlier. 1432 minus 1737 would normally equal -305. However, 1737 AA minus 1737 equals 1 BC instead of 0 because there was no year zero. Therefore, 1736 minus 1737 actually equals 2 BC. In order to get the correct answer, you have to add one. 1432 minus 1737 equals -305. Then, you add -1 to the answer and remove the negative sign. That equals 306 BC, which is the correct answer. Now, onto the next question. Who remembers which King split Tungrad between himself and the King of Zhelelovka?"


Another girl raised her hand. "King Viktor Harstad III of Stromharad."


"Good!" Sakarias erased the answers from earlier and wrote King Viktor Harstad III of Stromharad on the board. "Do you remember which battle didn't officially end the war but effectively ended it?"


"The Battle of Skoggrund!" the girl grinned from ear to ear.


Sakarias chuckled. "Smart girl," He checked his watch. "Alright kids! Look's like it's time to go. Class dismissed!"
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Stromharad, Asendavia
1438 Hours, May 8th, 1432 AA (306 BC)


In the throne room in Castle Stromharad stood King Jon Harstad II. Below him, stood a crowd of nobles so large that moving around became difficult. As the doors opened, the crowd began to quiet. As the High Patriarch of Ademarite entered the throne room, people cleared a path and knelt. With a clear path to walk towards the throne, High Patriarch Agnar III began to walk towards Jon Harstad II. As the High Patriarch stopped in front of him, Jon knelt. "Do you, King Jon Harstad II, swear to protect your vassals?"

"I do." Jon replied

"Do you swear to protect your kingdom for as long as you live?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to protect the Church of Ademar?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to uphold the honor of your people, your family, and your kingdom?"

"I do."

"Then you shall be crowned," the High Patriarch placed the crowns of the Kingdom of Stromharad, Tungrad, and Zhelelovka on King Jon Harstad II's head. Jon stood and firmly clasped the High Patriarch’s hand. Letting go of his hand, he walked up the steps and sat on his throne. Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer. Looking at the crowd, Jon began to smile. He relaxed in his seat and let the applause wash over him.
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Yoria, Asendavia
1517 Hours, October 27th, 2684 AA (947 AD)


Outside of the kyrka, a plague was ravaging the island of Yoria. Inside of the kyrka, the air was heavy with smoke as hundreds of candles burned. Further within the building, a covey of monks were being overseen by a patriarch as they circled an altar while chanting. Strapped to the altar was a thin man of a middling height. Fear could be seen in his bright blue eyes as he thrashed around wildly, his screams muffled by a gag.

The patriarch nodded with approval as the monks chanted, ignoring the man strapped to the altar. After chanting for an indeterminate amount of time, the patriarch signaled for the monks to stop. As the monks came to a stop, the patriarch stepped toward the altar. After stripping down to his smallclothes, he was handed an ornate dagger by one of the monks. The patriarch accepted the dagger with a nod and prepared to speak. "We beseech thee o great Ademar, king of kings, heir of the God-On-Urth, to accept this sacrifice. We beg thee that this accursed pestilence be lifted from the land. We, your humble servants on Urth, present thee with this sacrifice. This man has done many terrible things, so we beseech thee that this man be judged justly and be sent to Iphelaris or Rekiru, whatever thou desires."

As soon as he finished speaking, the patriarch plunged the dagger into the man's chest and began to cut his heart out. The man's screams grew even louder, though still muffled by the gag. The man began thrashing so wildly that one of the monks had to knock him unconscious. With the man no longer thrashing wildly, the patriarch continued cutting his heart out. Handing the bloody dagger to one of the monks, the patriarch plunged his hand into the man's chest and ripped his heart out. He held the faintly beating heart above his head for a few moments, before proceeding to cast it into the fire that the monks had prepared earlier. Two of the monks untied the corpse from the altar and took him into another room, where a pyre was waiting to be lit.

Satisfied with how the sacrifice went, the patriarch nodded to the remaining monks and strode from the room.
Edited by Asendavia, Nov 26 2017, 01:26:51 PM.
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????, ????
???? Hours, December 31st, 3754 AA (2017 AD)


Jon opened his eyes to a sky of grey. Confused, he sat up. All around him was a field of grey. Grey clouds, grey grass, grey everything. Bringing his hand to his face, he noticed his clothing. He was wearing a simple grey robe with nothing underneath. As he stood up, a cruel wind began to blow from the west, causing him to face the east so that the wind wouldn't be blowing in his face. That was when he noticed the mountain.

Far off in the distance the lone mountain stood. How far, Jon couldn't tell. For some reason though, he felt drawn to the mountain, so he began the long walk there. As he drew closer to the mountain, the cruel wind began to blow even stronger, causing him to stagger more than a few times, and even causing him to fall over once. As he stood back up, he noticed that the mountain was suddenly closer than it was before. "How...?" he began to ask, but stopped short. It was then that he noticed the castle.

The castle stood at the base of the mountain, and like everything else, it was grey. Drawing his robe closer to him, he continued walking. Strangely, the cruel wind that had been blowing the whole time had now stopped. As he looked behind him, he noticed strange figures in the distance that were drawing closer. Turning his head back to the castle, he began to quicken his pace. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the gates of the castle, but they were closed. As he looked back towards the figures, he noticed that they were much closer than they were before. Too close. He could now hear the terrible sounds that they were making. It seemed to him that the screams sounded strangely human. This worried him so much that he began to pound on the gates.

"Let me in!" he screamed. "Let me in, let me in, LET ME IN!" he began to panic. Looking back, the figures were even closer than before. "Please! I beg you, let me in! I am the Kaiser of Asendavia! I am Jon VII of the House of Harstad and I demand that you let me in!"

The world went silent. He looked behind him and the figures weren't there anymore. He looked back at the gates and noticed that they were slowly opening, but they weren't making any noise. Hesitantly, as the gates opened wide to let him through, he entered the castle. As he went in, the door closed behind him just as quietly and slowly as they opened. In front of him was a scene that frightened him just as much as it filled him with awe. A statue of every single ruler of the city-state of Stromharad, the Kingdom of Stromharad, the Kingdom of Asendavia, and the Empire of Asendavia were to his left. To his right was every single ruler of Gliat Shea, from where the Asendavians originally came. At the very end of the long hall stood two statues. The smaller of the two, but still larger than any of the other statues to his left or right, was a statue of Ademar himself. The one behind the statue of Ademar and the larger of the two was a statue of the God-on-Urth.

Slowly, he began to walk forward. As Jon walked forward, he admired the statues to his left and to his right, but as he went forward though, he couldn't help but feel as if the statues were following him with their eyes, and when he approached the front of the hall, he started seeing people he recognized. He saw his grandfather, Ademar XII, Jon’s uncle, Adelar XVI, who was the older brother of his father but had no children to succeed him, and his father himself, Ademar XIII. He stopped when he reached the statue of his father. His father had died when he was only 14, but Jon, now 48, still remembered his father's face. His father's faced looked too young though. He didn't look how he did when he died. "These statues must be how they looked when they were coronated," he decided. He took one last look at his father's statue and then tore himself away.

The next statue was of himself. He was young when he became King, only 14. He walked up to the statue of himself and slowly raised his arm. He hesitantly walked close to his statue, close enough to touch it. He took his outstretched arm, and touched his statue's cheek. It was warm, warmer than any statue had a right to be. He backed off and ran. He ran as far away from his statue he could get. What frightened him, he could not say. As he ran though, he drew closer and closer to the statues of Ademar and the God-on-Urth. Finally, he stopped running and fell to his knees as he came close to the statue of Ademar. He was sobbing at this point, only a small thread still connected him to his sanity.

As his tears began to dissipate, he looked up at Ademar's statue. Ademar's face was stern, but it frightened him less than his own statue did. In fact, it almost comforted him. Jon allowed himself a small smile. The statue behind Ademar, however, had no face. The God-on-Urth's lack of a face always discomforted Jon. Why he had no face, Jon couldn't quite remember, but he was sure that the holy men knew. Ever so slowly, Jon stood back up. As he looked back towards the gates, he chuckled. The statues were just that, statues. They had no reason to scare him, they could do him no harm. It was then that the fatigue from his journey hit him like a truck. He nearly collapsed then and there, but he held himself up by leaning on Ademar's statue. As his legs grew steady again, he stopped leaning on the statue and offered up a quick prayer to apologize for leaning on him. Looking at the ground, he decided that he needed to sleep, and that the stone floor inside the castle was better than sleeping outside. As soon as he laid down on the ground, the world went black.
Edited by Asendavia, Dec 31 2017, 08:15:45 PM.
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Steinkjer, Asendavia
0400 Hours, January 8th, 2571 AA (834 AD)


The night was alive with the screams of men who were about to die. Of course, they weren't really men, not truly. They were Vulpines, and the King had ordered their deaths. Ademar IX was not a kind man. He was quite the opposite. Whenever someone displeased him or rebelled, he loved to flay and torture them himself. In the case of these Vulpines, they were rumored to not be faithful to Ademar, so the King wanted them dead. He would have gone himself, but the King, quite reluctantly, listened to his advisors and decided not to go.

The small group of soldiers that had come with Adelar, the King's brother, had managed to reach the village completely unnoticed in the pre-dawn darkness. Their orders were to round up every single Vulpine and anyone who had a Vulpine in their home. While many went meekly, many tried resisting the soldiers and were killed as a result. As the soldiers herded all of the Vulpines and a few humans that had been found harboring a Vulpine in their home, Adelar saw many crying children quieted by their mothers. The thought that he would have to kill all of them, men, women, and children, sickened him. However, the Patriarch next to him looked almost pleased.

The Patriarch, whose name was Terje, told the soldiers to move so that the group of Vulpines and Humans would be able to see him. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "All of you have betrayed the trust of Ademar and the God-on-Urth. By practicing false faiths, you hurt Ademar and the God-on-Urth. What is the punishment for hurting them, you may ask? Death is the punishment. May Ademar and the God-on-Urth be merciful to you in the afterlife, for we will not. Your punishment will be death by hanging. Ready the trees."

Wordlessly, the group of soldiers took the nooses from the cart that they had brought with them and attached them to branches high off the ground. After the nooses were attached, the soldiers herded the group of Vulpines towards the trees, much to the dismay of the Vulpines. Adelar saw fully grown men breaking down and weeping. He turned away and let the Patriarch oversee the hangings. By the time the sun began peeking over the horizon, the last of the Vulpines were being hanged.

When the last of the Vulpines stopped struggling, the Patriarch approached Adelar. "We have pleased Ademar and the God-on-Urth. Just look at the sun and see how brilliantly it shines! It pleases me to see that these filthy heathens are dead. I understand why the King wanted them dead now. These creatures are nothing more than filthy animals, and men were made to hunt these animals," Terje spat in the direction of the hanging Vulpines. Adelar nodded reluctantly. Taking one last look at the swinging corpses, he then ordered everyone to start marching back to Stromharad.

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0800 Hours, March 16th, 2897 AA (1160 AD)


King Hjalmar X sat on his throne as he awaited the representatives of many of the Princedoms along Asendavia's western border. A few weeks ago he had letters sent out requesting that the Princedoms send representatives to Stromharad to discuss political matters that would surely interest them. He expected that some of the Princedoms that were more friendly towards Asendavia would send their rulers, while some of the ones that had less than favorable relations with Asendavia wouldn't attend at all. That didn't concern him though. What he was wondering was how they would react to his proposal.

Some of them might be fine with his proposal, but he expected the majority of them, even the ones friendly with Asendavia, to respond negatively. They were also expected to arrive very soon. Hjalmar had sent soldiers to escort the representatives once they crossed the Ademars. That was one of the reasons that the Princedoms hadn't been conquered much earlier by Asendavia. While there were passes that could let armies go through them, it wasn't worth the trouble. Another reason was Asendavia's instability. For the last few centuries, Asendavia had been plagued with rebellions lead by nobles, revolts led by peasants, and outside raids from the north, south, and even from the west sometimes.

However, much of Asendavia's previous instability from centuries before had disappeared in the current century, which Hjalmar was grateful for. Hjalmar was snapped back to the present when Archmagister Terje, Hjalmar's youngest brother, tapped him on the arm. "What is it Terje?" Hjalmar asked, slightly annoyed. It was a rainy day and he hated rainy days.

Terje, ignoring Hjalmar's annoyance, said "The first group of representatives have arrived in the city and will be here soon."

"Good, good. Who specifically?" Hjalmar asked.

"The Prince of Ibrintis, Adelar, the Prince of Khekantis, Hauksteinn, and representatives from Khesal, Krimaesha, Ikelon, Galomakor, amd Halitha. I expect that more will also be arriving soon."

"Good, see to it that they won't want for food or drink when they arrive, and make sure that their chambers are ready. I don't want anything going wrong.

Terje nodded and quickly scurried off. After he scurried off, Hjalmar sighed. "This is going to be a long couple of weeks."
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Stromharad, Asendavia
0230 Hours, February 9th, 2574 AA (837 AD)


King Ademar IX of Asendavia was standing in a cell in one of the lower levels of the dungeons underneath the castle. He was examining the most recent specimen that had been brought to him. His specimen was a Vulpine of the northern variety, completely white in all regards. The specimen was strapped to a wooden frame that rendered him completely immobile, save his head. A gag had also been placed in the vulpine's mouth to lessen the noise that he would make.

Ademar IX closely observed his specimen for some time while standing still, occasionally moving to get a better look at his toy from different angles. The King, wearing only a pair of simple trousers, smirked to himself as he watched his plaything, who was nude, turn their head to look at him as he walked around the vulpine. Finally, Ademar IX came to a standstill in front of his specimen.

"I think that I'm going to enjoy playing with you quite a bit," the King announced to the vulpine, who made no attempt to respond.

Ademar IX made his way to a table in the corner of the cell. On the table was a wide variety of tools that the King enjoyed using. After a few moments in thought, Ademar IX chose one of his favorite tools, a flaying knife. As the King turned around, his plaything instantly saw the knife in his hand. The vulpine's eyes widened and he began to thrash his head around wildly. Ademar quickly ended his toy's thrashing with a quick and hard slap to the face.

"I want no struggling from you. The last time one of my specimens struggled as fiercely as you did there, well... it didn't go well for them. Let's keep it at that," Ademar scolded.

The vulpine quickly ceased its thrashing, but its eyes were still wide open. Ademar idly tossed the knife from hand to hand, trying to decide what to do. After a minute of this, Ademar sheathed his knife.

"I think that I want a good feel of you first before I ruin you," the King said quite nonchalantly.

Ademar quickly moved to the back of the vulpine, with the vulpine trying to crane its head to see what Ademar would do. The King put his hands on his toy's shoulders and gently began running his hands up and down the vulpine's arms. Ademar chuckled as he saw his specimen’s ears prick up in surprise.

"What luxurious fur you have. It is just so soft and long. Yes, I think you are my best specimen yet. I must prolong my enjoyment for as long as I can before I have to destroy you," the King's hands kept moving his hands up and down the vulpine's arms as he stated this. After a few moments of silence, Ademar continued "I know that I said this earlier, but you really just are so magnificent. You are the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. You. Are. Perfect," Ademar whispered.

Suddenly, the King drew away from his plaything and grabbed its tail. The fur on its tail was even longer and even softer than the fur on the rest of its body. The King started stroking his toy's tail and smirked.

"I so badly want to play with you, but I just can't bring myself to ruin you, not like that at least. No, you must die pure."

Ademar let go of his toy's tail and stood there for a few moments, watching it sway idly back and forth. Finally, Ademar made his way back to the front of his specimen. In one fluid motion, the King drew a hammer from his belt and smashed the vulpine’s right hand with it. He laughed as he heard a satisfying crunch and the specimen’s muffled screams of pain.

"The things that happened earlier were only a warmup. Now the game has truly begun."

Tossing the hammer to his other hand, he quickly smashed the vulpine’s other hand. Tossing his hammer away and drawing his flaying knife, he kept his toy's right hand completely still with his left hand as he began to flay his plaything's fingers, first its pinky, then its ring finger, and then finally its fore finger.

After he flayed those three fingers, he took a step back and admired his work. He had removed all skin from the three fingers and he also managed to remove the claws from those fingers too. Satisfied with his work, he repeated the same process on the vulpine's left hand.

“Now that both of your hands have been flayed, I believe it’s time to begin the true process of flaying you. Hold still, this won’t hurt much,” Ademar laughed “I lied, this will hurt like hell, but scum like you doesn’t belong in Asendavia, no matter how magnificent you are.”

Before beginning to properly flay the specimen, Ademar slapped the vulpine again. The vulpine’s ears drooped low as it seemed to accept its fate, and a trickle of blood ran from its nose, slightly ruining the vulpine’s beautiful white fur.

Ademar laughed as he saw the vulpine seemingly accept its fate and quickly began cutting its skin open, starting from the wrist of the right hand and working his way down the middle of the arm. By the time the skin of the right arm was fully removed, the Vulpine was thrashing around wildly again. When Ademar began the process all over again on the left arm, the specimen passed out.

After several hours of torture, flaying, and then medical attention, the vulpine was struggling to stay alive. Both arms were gone and the stumps bandaged, both feet were gone with the stumps bandaged, and various other parts of the body had skin removed and were bandaged as a result. However, Ademar IX was still not satisfied.

A few days later, after the vulpine had recovered some minimal amounts of strength and was able to stay conscious consistently, Ademar IX had his favorite specimen brought down to the wolf pit.

“You see, this will be your end, my furry friend. Guard, release the wolves so that the specimen can see them.”

The guard quickly complied and pulled a lever which opened a door. Not a moment later, the wolves began bounding out of the door into the pit. The guard that had been carrying the ruined vulpine quickly handed him to Ademar IX, who smiled sadly at his favorite specimen.

“It was fun while it lasted, old friend, but we all eventually must grow up and stop playing with our toys. Good bye.”

With that, he heaved the vulpine into the pit. In an instant after hitting the ground, the wolves were upon him, quickly tearing into his flesh and ripping chunks of flesh off of the vulpine, who was now uttering a final loud scream of pain. As the wolves tore into the vulpine while he was screaming, Ademar IX was watching from above with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.
The Flags of My Nations:
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My Nations:
Asendavia
Kaeliv
Kostoria-Obertonia
Talusi
Hausberg
Aseveth
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