FA+
Shop
2848
Views
Views
58
Favorites
Favorites
Category
All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1001 x 1753
File Size 1.01 MB
Report this content
★
More from Benezia
Listed in Folders
Ignhaara Aul'Dirk - Overlord of the Dominion of Torment
(I know I've already done a doodle of her, but I just thought I'd bring her to life in color and do a bit of redesigning. :3)
Ignhara Aul'Dirk. Overlord of the Dominion of Torment.
Tasked with the defense of the three Dominions against the heavens, humanity and anything else that approaches with ill intent, she is the metaphorical anvil that their steel clashes against. Much like said anvil, she's also quite out of place at a party.
Born to a family of sentries, her early years were spent living atop the howling winds with little but soldiers for company. No sooner than she could walk she was given a wooden sword and had lead stitched into her clothes, a rather bleak childhood even by the standards of a military upbringing.
Fortunately, she found respite as soon as her family were relived, settling into education with a passion once she entered the comparatively luxurious academies in the lowlands. Years ahead of her classmates in the martial arts of swordplay, marksmanship and tactics, her harsh childhood taught her more than any instructor could.
Often skipping what she saw to be trivial physical tests to indulge herself in the written word, Ignhara's classmates rarely heard much from her. Ambition seemed to emanate from her, rising to the braggarts and bullies with little regard for the safety of either party. Breaking horns, bones and egos, she found herself seconded to the Polymath college. Under the tutelage of the then-Professor Nhyriza Runegrove, it was hoped Ignhara's defiance could be blunted. Or at very least turned to more useful outlets.
As her parents before her, the art of conflict caught her attention above all else, much to the distaste of her mentor. Nhyriza was not to take this single-mindedness without piling on the workload, however. Enrolling her indignant pupil in metallurgy, smithing and tactics classes, she sought to prove that even a dominion famed for its erudition could turn out a mind to match the blades it chose to wield.
Long conversations over the folding of a sword or the map of an ancient battle soon turned to a begrudging respect for one another, Ignhara rather admiring the lanky professor's sense of defiance. She would never have dreamed of attacking her tutor but the mere fact she was willing to dress her down as if a child had shown her humility. Those disapproving, almost maternal eyes could disarm here from even the most boiling fits of anger and lost tempers!
Leaving her studies with a newfound appreciation for the art of metal shaping and a tongue sharpened from hours of sparring with her classmates, Ignhara was to be tested on the field of battle. The Overlord at the time, Casimir the Oar-breaker had been conferring with Nhyriza about her troublesome student and had assigned her one of his own troublemakers.
Ignhara was given her own Imp mage to bolster her in battle. Such a burden required a degree of mental discipline and trust in her new-found partner.
Unfortunately, before any metal or spells had clashed, two considerable egos had squared off instead. Ignhara, hotheaded and certain of all she did had met her match: Ignis. On the way to the field of battle, the bickering was said to be vicious enough for even the dread-guards of the Overlord himself raised a brow in concern.
Their squabbles unfortunately caused Casimir to lose his temper, the vicious soldier striking a boulder with enough force to leave a considerable pile of dust at the point of impact. Dressing down the two in front of dozens of veterans had delayed them for a good twenty minutes as he let everyone in his company know his feelings towards lively conversations on a quick march.
Now, before we go on with this tale, I must give you a little bit of refresher on the Dominion of Torment's policy. Promotions are usually given when someone above you perishes in battle, or because you're in the right family.
When you're an Overlord? Any Moron with the gall to challenge you is considered.
With that in mind, showering two people with spittle for half an hour tends to redirect their animosity. Ignhara, having weighed up her options presented to her, was said to have simply looked at Ignis and nodded. Issuing Casimir with the standard symbol of challenge, she calmly removed her parrying dagger from her hip and set it to the ground, before her Overlord.
The notions of honour, dignified fighting and nobility are often used when it comes to dueling. Writers can romanticise until the sun sets, all this talk of shaking hands and pulling punches make for a dramatic read. It couldn't have been further from the truth.
Imp magic has an effect on the flow of combat. It is as if their blood flowers within their subject, a link of two bodies into this entity beyond the world. All they see is their target and how best to remove it from their path. Ignhara's indignation and Ignis' fury melded together to be a magnitude greater than the sum of their parts.
As the 'rules' dictated, no one was to intervene. Unless you're a loyal dread-guard to your adored Casimir and a challenger had just knocked him to the floor. Ignhara had lost herself in this new haze of dark magics. Unable to stop, she had broken Two dread-guard and Casimir before she could compose herself.
Casimir did not say a word for three months after the incident. His bones were mended, his armament and gear repaired. His pride however, had been burned by the reckless spirit of the new Warrior-Queen. Overlord Ignhara sat atop her throne behind a sealed door with only her new handmaiden Ignis to talk to.
This incident still weighs heavily on her mind, the one moment she surrendered to her malice had caused her to break someone valuable to her people. Ignis often said it had broken the demoness, too. Her anger seemed almost hollow in comparison in the years to follow.
Her new position among the great defenders of the homeland was not entirely welcomed. New policies placed soldiers, sailors and scouts beyond their comfort. Resistance was sporadic, eventually settling down into discontented murmurs as the changes in tactics eventually fell into place.
Nhyriza, while openly supporting her student and friend, had asked her spymaster Malin to keep an eye on the discontent among the dominion's people. Though this agent was eventually discovered and defenestrated from a rather tall tower, Ignhara's reign had been well cemented.
As for the present day?
Ignhara herself remains as headstrong as ever. Both a master smith and a tactician for the ages, her social graces outside her few close friends remain as blunt and outwardly dour as ever. May it never be said she does not sacrifice for her people, as the notch on her horn well proves.
She took an Axe blow to the head to save Ignis, holding off a mighty seraphim while she sealed a rift from the heaven-weavers. Ignis never left her bedside for the half month of rest the Overlord took after she finished the battle.
Ignis herself eventually moved on, joining the ranks of the intelligence gatherers of the three dominons. She now sits as the lover of the head of the Silencers and rumour has it, has the poor lad around her thumb. Ignhara and her still meet as often as they can, their friendship still expressed in casual insults and death threats behind playful grins.
The poor Silencer she threw from the tower back in the day now has a rather cushy assignment, protecting the twin consorts of Master Ignacio Ganz. Rather a more relaxing prospect than being thrown from a tower.
Nhyriza continues her tenure as the Benevolent Lady of the Dominion of Doubt, endeavoring her people to use their wits and wisdom for the betterment of all demon-kind. Well past her youth, she seems to hold great confidence in Ignhara to be that source of knowledge for the younger leaders after she leaves this world.
Casimir, the previous Overlord spent the rest of his days running a successful fishery. Both he and Ignhara had formally forgiven each other and in his will, he asked that he was allowed to be cremated atop the pyres of the great fort. His ashes were worn on the faces of dread-guard sent to battle, honoring his legacy with spilled blood.
Bio by Julian Okkeuron
Ignhara Aul'Dirk. Overlord of the Dominion of Torment.
Tasked with the defense of the three Dominions against the heavens, humanity and anything else that approaches with ill intent, she is the metaphorical anvil that their steel clashes against. Much like said anvil, she's also quite out of place at a party.
Born to a family of sentries, her early years were spent living atop the howling winds with little but soldiers for company. No sooner than she could walk she was given a wooden sword and had lead stitched into her clothes, a rather bleak childhood even by the standards of a military upbringing.
Fortunately, she found respite as soon as her family were relived, settling into education with a passion once she entered the comparatively luxurious academies in the lowlands. Years ahead of her classmates in the martial arts of swordplay, marksmanship and tactics, her harsh childhood taught her more than any instructor could.
Often skipping what she saw to be trivial physical tests to indulge herself in the written word, Ignhara's classmates rarely heard much from her. Ambition seemed to emanate from her, rising to the braggarts and bullies with little regard for the safety of either party. Breaking horns, bones and egos, she found herself seconded to the Polymath college. Under the tutelage of the then-Professor Nhyriza Runegrove, it was hoped Ignhara's defiance could be blunted. Or at very least turned to more useful outlets.
As her parents before her, the art of conflict caught her attention above all else, much to the distaste of her mentor. Nhyriza was not to take this single-mindedness without piling on the workload, however. Enrolling her indignant pupil in metallurgy, smithing and tactics classes, she sought to prove that even a dominion famed for its erudition could turn out a mind to match the blades it chose to wield.
Long conversations over the folding of a sword or the map of an ancient battle soon turned to a begrudging respect for one another, Ignhara rather admiring the lanky professor's sense of defiance. She would never have dreamed of attacking her tutor but the mere fact she was willing to dress her down as if a child had shown her humility. Those disapproving, almost maternal eyes could disarm here from even the most boiling fits of anger and lost tempers!
Leaving her studies with a newfound appreciation for the art of metal shaping and a tongue sharpened from hours of sparring with her classmates, Ignhara was to be tested on the field of battle. The Overlord at the time, Casimir the Oar-breaker had been conferring with Nhyriza about her troublesome student and had assigned her one of his own troublemakers.
Ignhara was given her own Imp mage to bolster her in battle. Such a burden required a degree of mental discipline and trust in her new-found partner.
Unfortunately, before any metal or spells had clashed, two considerable egos had squared off instead. Ignhara, hotheaded and certain of all she did had met her match: Ignis. On the way to the field of battle, the bickering was said to be vicious enough for even the dread-guards of the Overlord himself raised a brow in concern.
Their squabbles unfortunately caused Casimir to lose his temper, the vicious soldier striking a boulder with enough force to leave a considerable pile of dust at the point of impact. Dressing down the two in front of dozens of veterans had delayed them for a good twenty minutes as he let everyone in his company know his feelings towards lively conversations on a quick march.
Now, before we go on with this tale, I must give you a little bit of refresher on the Dominion of Torment's policy. Promotions are usually given when someone above you perishes in battle, or because you're in the right family.
When you're an Overlord? Any Moron with the gall to challenge you is considered.
With that in mind, showering two people with spittle for half an hour tends to redirect their animosity. Ignhara, having weighed up her options presented to her, was said to have simply looked at Ignis and nodded. Issuing Casimir with the standard symbol of challenge, she calmly removed her parrying dagger from her hip and set it to the ground, before her Overlord.
The notions of honour, dignified fighting and nobility are often used when it comes to dueling. Writers can romanticise until the sun sets, all this talk of shaking hands and pulling punches make for a dramatic read. It couldn't have been further from the truth.
Imp magic has an effect on the flow of combat. It is as if their blood flowers within their subject, a link of two bodies into this entity beyond the world. All they see is their target and how best to remove it from their path. Ignhara's indignation and Ignis' fury melded together to be a magnitude greater than the sum of their parts.
As the 'rules' dictated, no one was to intervene. Unless you're a loyal dread-guard to your adored Casimir and a challenger had just knocked him to the floor. Ignhara had lost herself in this new haze of dark magics. Unable to stop, she had broken Two dread-guard and Casimir before she could compose herself.
Casimir did not say a word for three months after the incident. His bones were mended, his armament and gear repaired. His pride however, had been burned by the reckless spirit of the new Warrior-Queen. Overlord Ignhara sat atop her throne behind a sealed door with only her new handmaiden Ignis to talk to.
This incident still weighs heavily on her mind, the one moment she surrendered to her malice had caused her to break someone valuable to her people. Ignis often said it had broken the demoness, too. Her anger seemed almost hollow in comparison in the years to follow.
Her new position among the great defenders of the homeland was not entirely welcomed. New policies placed soldiers, sailors and scouts beyond their comfort. Resistance was sporadic, eventually settling down into discontented murmurs as the changes in tactics eventually fell into place.
Nhyriza, while openly supporting her student and friend, had asked her spymaster Malin to keep an eye on the discontent among the dominion's people. Though this agent was eventually discovered and defenestrated from a rather tall tower, Ignhara's reign had been well cemented.
As for the present day?
Ignhara herself remains as headstrong as ever. Both a master smith and a tactician for the ages, her social graces outside her few close friends remain as blunt and outwardly dour as ever. May it never be said she does not sacrifice for her people, as the notch on her horn well proves.
She took an Axe blow to the head to save Ignis, holding off a mighty seraphim while she sealed a rift from the heaven-weavers. Ignis never left her bedside for the half month of rest the Overlord took after she finished the battle.
Ignis herself eventually moved on, joining the ranks of the intelligence gatherers of the three dominons. She now sits as the lover of the head of the Silencers and rumour has it, has the poor lad around her thumb. Ignhara and her still meet as often as they can, their friendship still expressed in casual insults and death threats behind playful grins.
The poor Silencer she threw from the tower back in the day now has a rather cushy assignment, protecting the twin consorts of Master Ignacio Ganz. Rather a more relaxing prospect than being thrown from a tower.
Nhyriza continues her tenure as the Benevolent Lady of the Dominion of Doubt, endeavoring her people to use their wits and wisdom for the betterment of all demon-kind. Well past her youth, she seems to hold great confidence in Ignhara to be that source of knowledge for the younger leaders after she leaves this world.
Casimir, the previous Overlord spent the rest of his days running a successful fishery. Both he and Ignhara had formally forgiven each other and in his will, he asked that he was allowed to be cremated atop the pyres of the great fort. His ashes were worn on the faces of dread-guard sent to battle, honoring his legacy with spilled blood.
Bio by Julian Okkeuron
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1001 x 1753px
File Size 1.01 MB
Comments