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monkhbat · 7 years

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werewritingafuckingnovel:

Atva'ju, the Holy Land

An aging empire steeped in sand and burning desert sun, ruled by a fierce warrior woman-king with Trna to the northwest.

Atva'ju is a strictly regimented and orderly empire with its emphasis lying very strongly on its military prowess and the honor due to the soldiers of the country’s crown.

Surrounded on all sides by leagues of arid desert, Atva'ju has very little in the way of natural resources, relying heavily on slave-run caravans from its conquered suzerains and protectorates to provide her with her needs.

20 years previous, the country underwent a coup of its royal regime with its current Şasazet, Şebnem Koç, as its leader. Having overthrown the former monarchs, Şebnem Koç put herself on the Atvene throne and put a new policy on Royal Succession: the Crown could not be inherited, but only passed on through combat. At any time could an individual challenge the current Şasazet for the Crown, and the result would be decided through coliseum-style combat of the non-fatal variety.

The title of Şasazet is ungendered and unclassed, meaning a person of any gender or lack thereof can challenge for the Crown and rule.

The title of Kraliçe goes to a candidate selected by the Atvene Council (usually a politically expedient choice from one of Atva’ju’s allies) and is viewed as a subordinate, less powerful position in the monarchy, as it is one that deals primarily with smaller-scale domestic issues within the realm. Although espoused to the Şasazet, the Kraliçe rules in their own right and is not displaced if or when a Şasazet is overthrown; the marriage is transferred from Şasazet to Şasazet. A Kraliçe can only be displaced by democratic impeachment by the people and can hold their position indefinitely.

Within the Atvene court, Balatazis (eunuchs) hold a highly respected position, both for their roles as advisors to the monarchs and for surviving the Atvene procedure for castration. Balatazis are primarily assigned as counsel and companions for the Kraliçe, but it is not unheard of for the Şasazet to have one or two trusted Balatazi advisors or, conversely, a Balatazi that serves both monarchs.

#Atvaju

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monkhbat · 7 years

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#character: Radoje

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monkhbat · 7 years

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Fantasy Universe -- Southern Clan Leader, Dilai "The Lioness of the South"

“I think you misunderstand me, ambassador.” Her eyes were rimmed with kohl which only made her look all the more feral as she gazed at him. “I will not be dictated to, I will not be threatened, and I will not be governed. You stand alive here solely by my continued goodwill and the moment that changes, I will have your lovely head on a pike to send home to your clan. This country is my country and I will do as I damn well please.”

#character: Dilai

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monkhbat · 7 years

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It was well past high noon when Dilai’s riders from the south appeared on the horizon line.

“Late,” the men grumbled amongst themselves derisively, perspiring in their leathers and heavy furs as the sun beat down on them, unseasonably hot.

The land here was flat for leagues, the tall grass still brown and beaten down with the weight and fury of the slowly-passing winter frosts. It had been agreed upon between the three clans as an acceptable meeting place for Dilai’s men to come and escort Radoje, in his capacity as an ambassador, south to their clan leader; the meeting place itself lie almost in the direct center between all of their holdings. And it made sense, tactically, Radoje thought to himself, as the geography made it nigh impossible for an ambush of any sort.

“Don’t look so dour!” Vasilije called out cheerfully. His words rang out among the men, but the tightening of his hand placed very suddenly on Radoje’s shoulder informed him that the words were really meant for him to heed.

“Hard to hold away from it, my lord, when we’re roasting alive in our own skins,” someone called back, traces of good humor in his voice. Vasilije smiled his wolf grin at his men, his grip on Radoje’s shoulder turning them both to step just outside the ring where they had all laid their packs and bedrolls out the night before.

“You’re ready,” Vasilije said, not as a question but as a confirmation of a fact he already knew to be true. Radoje said nothing, his eyes fixed on the horizon over Vasilije’s shoulder as the southern riders spurred their horses into a gallop, drawing near enough that the two of them could hear the hoofbeats on the matted turf.

“Radoje,” he spat.

“Ready enough,” Radoje replied sharply, moving to shake off Vasilije’s hand. His irritation was ignored as Vasilije took a swift step closer, crowding in with both his hands fisted in the fur draped over Radoje’s shoulders.

“This is important,” Vasilije said in a wrathful undertone, shaking Radoje slightly. The taller man exhaled furiously through his nose, staring down at Vasilije with narrowed eyes.

“Radoje,” he hissed urgently.

“I never forget what my duty is,” Radoje thundered back quietly, fixing Vasilije with fierce, burning eyes. Vasilije paused, frowning, searching Radoje’s face before letting go, his hands sliding slowly down from Radoje’s shoulders to rest on his chest as the riders arrived, slowing their horses to a brisk trot to warily approach. Vasilije watched them circle in closer like buzzards with a snap of apprehension in his eyes before he turned his back to them, gazing hard at Radoje.

“I believe you,” he said softly before reaching up with one hand to seize a handful of Radoje’s braids and yank him down to savage his mouth with a brutal and relentless kiss.

“She won’t be like anything you’re used to,” Vasilije murmured against Radoje’s lips in a surreptitious undertone. “She’ll tell you half-truths inside her lies, seduce you with her smiles, and deceive you with naked facts.”

“She sounds like a terror,” Radoje replied, bottom lip still half-captured between Vasilije’s teeth. He could feel Vasilije smirk as he took a step closer, pressing himself lewdly against the taller man.

“That’s shit of you, falling for her right in front of me,” Vasilije whispered mischievously before pulling away and turning Radoje to the side, pushing him back towards the circle of assembled men with a sharp slap to the rear.

“Reassurances for my blushing bride,” he announced, grinning as the men howled with laughter and Radoje threw him a cold look.

A few moments later found him standing by Radoje’s horse, staring fixedly at the cinches and stirrups, tightening them compulsive before looking up and catching Radoje’s eyes with his own, their silent but shared worries naked between them.

“Remember what I said,” Vasilije murmured quietly, too low for Dilai’s horsemen to hear him.

“I never forget what my duty is,” Radoje repeated, “even if it is to go somewhere and die for you.”

A muscle in Vasilije’s jaw tightened as he gazed expressionlessly up at Radoje, the hand that had been adjusting the stirrup sliding up to rest against Radoje’s thigh. He stepped away as the group of riders wheeled and turned for the south, something unsettled in his eyes and the set of his mouth profoundly unhappy as they cantered away before breaking into a gallop at the ridge.

Radoje did not look back, but the sensation of the heat he had felt from Vasilije’s palm remained.

#writing: excerpt #character: Vasilije #character: Radoje #character: Dilai

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monkhbat · 7 years

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At some point in the night (or perhaps the daylight hours had already come; it was impossible to know in this dark, sightless place), Vasilije fell into a restless, fitful doze hours after the noise behind the door had ceased. The skin around his abused wrists was battered and rubbed raw by rough metal manacles.

He half-woke at the sound of a door scraping open down the far hall, rough-hewn wood struggling over newly-cracked stone. He was dimly aware of the sound of long strides, quiet cursing in a bastard tongue, and something that sounded like wet sacks being dragged across the floor. Before he could fully rouse himself into wakefulness, a heavy weight leaned against his side, comforting in its familiarity. He sighed and let him head fall back against the wall, taking solace in a brief moment of reassurance.

“Rado,” he felt himself mumble, the name dropping from his chilled, nerveless lips. “Rado.”

His eyes fell shut at the familiar sensation of slow fingertips searching their way up his forearm to find the thready pulse at his wrist. The fingers paused and pressed against Vasilije’s abraded skin, just enough to make him hiss and stir awake just as the pressure lightened and fell away entirely.

The weight against his side was suddenly far too heavy, and far too still.

He closed his eyes for one long moment and then spent the next long hours staring at the ceiling, unblinking.

#writing: excerpt #character: Vasilije #character: Radoje

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monkhbat · 7 years

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Fantasy Universe -- Warrior Queen of Atva’ju, Şasazet Şebnem Koç "The Unconquerable"

“It is my dearest desire to bring Atva'ju back to her former glory as the mother empire of the world’s greatest warriors.“ Şebnem gazed down at the assembled dissenters; she was distant, she was regal, she was their King. “She is in shambles,” she said coldly, bringing the butt of her spear down against the tiles to punctuate her words with a sharp ringing echo, “she is in shame. Her noble heart breaks for how impugned her honour be.”

#character: Şebnem

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monkhbat · 10 years

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