The Mighty Immortal *WARNING: Huuuge description!* Picture

And behold -- Another character from yet another crazy story (That will most likely never come across right in anyone's mind as I'm just spewing bits and pieces from it here and there)! I haven't really settled on her name yet; Might as well refer her as Kasjaa (KAA-zz-Yah) for now... And I drew armor...And it looks like nothing metallic at all, though I discovered that there isn't much lit detail on designed patterns/craving on armor...But anyways, I tried XC And my 'handwriting' is still shit and my 'signature' is undecided... I was hoping to put this on hold while I work on the other characters from this same story (To try and establish this story more fully, rather than just coming out of nowhere like most of my shit does), but since I finished this one first out of, I think, four or three of the images, I decided to submit it anyway, even though I wanted to save it for another time as there are just endless idea for this new story... This story is actually an old one, which I just recently resurrected when I was discussing with my other sister many many weeks ago about creating fantasy names, and I soon found myself writing anything that popped into my head. And thus, as I lay in bed, my mind was awake with many things, and it was there when I suddenly remembered a story I made when I was 15 or so: It chronicled the lives of elite, armored wolf-dogs that occupied fantasy-setting japan (I wanted to be a manga artist back then), and it was set to be a war story that was like that of the One Ring, except with a magical sword. The mighty blade is stolen and it's up to our three main wolf-dog heroes to stop the baddie wolves from getting their fangs on it to save the world, but before that we have to focus on other wolf-dog clans, which they encounter along the way...And THEN it's when they have to save the world! Blaaaa it sounded generic xP And by bringing it back now, I've now re-imagined it in a stronger, more substantial light, where creativity can shine forever the brightest... It became more Tolkien/Pullman/Elder Scrolls inspired for its setting, and the plain wolf-dogs evolved into its own species; The Navglov and it's enemy (Which used to just be the same breed as the goody wolfdogs) became monstrous, killing beasts of darkness; the lacynthna. And what was once medieval Japan with fantasy elements, it suddenly became more of its own with the creation of Amjalorre... The only thing that remains the same is the armored canine-like beings...

As for her character...It goes like this *I'll explain the story shortly*: She is a 200 year old navglov, and is the leader of the clan of half-breeds that reside in the ancient underground city of Duu-en-dwel (Dew-Enn-dwell – Dark Helm’s Reach). She is protective, calm and intelligent, but is also demanding and hateful of anyone and anything that would dare intent harm. She is the mightiest and wisest of the navglov, having fought in many great battles of the past and vanquished the monstrous of creatures in her lifetime. She is also the remaining navglov to have brought down the last of the Frynthglov into extinction, and she bares scars to prove her strength and valor. She understands the meaning of war, and the horror that it brings with it. She hates humans, and anything to do with them, for not long after the Empire of Loerythia (Lore-writhe-ee-Ah) fell into ruin, most of the humans that she and her clan once served had either died to protect the civilians of the city, or surrendered to the wrath of the Lacynthna, or betrayed them to allying themselves with the demons to save their own skins. Humans, to the navglov, were a symbol of hope and trust, but at the time of the humans’ betrayal, she no longer saw trust or valor, but dishonor to their faithful servants, to their gods; though she did nothing to stop them, for she now saw them as nothing but cowards and fools, and if anyone would choose the side of evil, than forever they shall be known as such creatures, for they are now part of them, the ones that brought destruction and terror into their midst. She didn’t see them as humans, and no longer were they worthy of her mercy. It wasn’t just the humans, but some of her kin, that joined the enemy following their defeat, the very act angering her. There weren’t many humans left by the time they left the city following their defeat, and the journey to Duuendwell was perilous. The weak perished first, then the rest died from disease and attacks from enemies they encountered along the way. She pitied them all, hating herself for letting her people and her city go down in flames. She had been given a choice by the head of the Lacynthna; Surrender, and become slaves for mining for iron and silver for the army, or exile. She chose the latter, deeming the idea of slavery or execution an act of weakness and the very thought of working with such creatures was defilement to their species and honor, and that she’d rather be dead than align herself with such monsters. She was not afraid to die, for she always felt ready to give her life for her people. But being granted immortality, she can’t see that happening anytime soon. She holds the blood of the Spirit Wolf, the Haringlov, one of the founders of the Navglov breed, whose blood beholds everlasting life, and the case of a navglov sharing such a gift is a rarity. And while there are many who wish to have her ‘power’, she dismisses it harshly, for she, unlike them, has witnessed so much horror in warfare, and that being given such a curse, that is immortality is a mistake in their bloodline; that they would never want to be like this. Many of her friends’ lives had been taken before her eyes with striking, horrendous brutality, and no matter how many wounds she had received, critical or otherwise; her lifeline was left uncut and all together untouched. She finds the idea of immortality to be cowardly and disgraceful to their name, and their mortal code, as it was written that the navglov serve their people unto death. She could not fulfill that promise. She would do anything to try and reclaim her place in her species’ nobility; the willingness to sacrifice for their homeland. Over time, she has become feared all across Amjalorre for her brutality and menace she has placed upon the hearts of many men, though she does not think herself as one of the Lacynthna. She is cold as well as murderous when she needs to be, though rare as the latter is. She never sees herself as becoming a beast of darkness like the ones of the East, though she does retain the same sort of power and hostility in her demeanor. But rather than sacrifice herself (which she cannot), she instead sends out her bravest of soldiers on missions to attack the Lacynthna that could be called suicidal, and she admires their dignity and loyalty to her. On a whole, she doesn’t really see them as family; she does respect them strongly however, though she knows what fate has in store for them, as she sees no point in fellowship. She has suffered enough in her early years on the battlefield, and she decided to isolate herself from bonding with the soldiers. She no longer cares much for humanity nor its fate, for she perceives the world being much richer and less brutal without them, as she has not forgotten the countless infidelity that they brought down upon her kin over centuries passed since she had left the city. And she shall keep that belief until the might of her army weakens and goes out like the ember light.

And now...For the bloody story, which will waste even more space unnecessarily:

Two species of the province of Nazarith (Naa-ZA-Reeth) and beyond the entire continent of Amjalorre (Ah-MYA-Lore); the Navglov (Half Wolf – Naf-Gruul-FF) and the Miistnach – Lacynthna (Mighty Wretches - Lack-Kine-THRA) have worn scars of a fierce history of bloodshed upon depending territories. The Navlov’s history of domestication has angered the wretches, as humans are their own enemies, and have been since their two founding breeds (Haringlov – Spirit Wolf and Frynthglov – Fire Wolf, the most feared wolves out there, the latter believed to be brought to extinction) were intertwined to become something of the impossible – a human companion to serve in war, for their calm demeanor and willingness to serve impressed them greatly once the final breed was established in the Early Era in 1002. Since the first day of domestication, they were all assigned to a task; protect our home, or face the fangs (or blades) of the enemy. They were raised to hold great, strong resentment against these vicious marauders, and to never back down from their ground. But the Eastern Empire became corrupt by the idea of such a thing, and in turn, brought in a fierce breed of wolves into their city – The lacynthna , to use as indestructible weapons for future wars. The creature’s history in mythology, which featured the God Ojavuiin (O-YAH-Vu-ee-N), take the beasts down with his scorching blade in defense of the Kingdom of Krynlof (Kr-Eye-N-lov); the stories have portrayed these creatures as an animal of weakness and cowardice, and thus gave the Eastern Empire inspiration. Once brought inside in chains, they were given their own weapons, and armor, much like the half-breeds in the rest of Amjalorre. It all seemed to be working well, the creatures bowing before the very might of Man of the East, quivering in surrender to their iron clutches; exactly as the folklore had proven word for word. But the victory was all to be short-lived...It wasn’t until the first day of frost fall on the Second Era, when the wretches finally struck back in a fiery rage. It was all humanity’s greatest misstep; Greed for power had all come crashing down upon their once proud souls. They tried to stop them, but it was all for naught: These creatures, these monsters, could not be tamed like the other breed in the cold Northlands, though they had discovered too late their great downfall. Since that incident, the world has begun to crumble; raids from opposing armies strike cities, disease and plague poisons the countries. Plants die, the woods surrounding the land decay in unbearable toxins... The world as they once knew was becoming more like death each day that crossed over them. The moon, dipped with crimson, glared upon them at each stroke of nightfall, while the hot sun dried up the crop fields and water, and scorched their flesh ever slowly. The Three Great Empires of old have fallen into nothingness...

There are three empires, as you could see at the last paragraph; That's not a mistake, but as I'm currently working them out in their history I didn't include them in this description... So yeah, this is a fantasy/apocalyptic/war story... And while the older draft was pretty generic, this....Is still generic, too...But, this is actually the first one I have complete creative control over, as my other stories are historical in a way (Especially the WW2 dog story), where there are borders of which I can not cross without going beyond historical fact, and while they are set through a dog's eye, it's no mistake that it's clearly our own world that they inhabit. But here, I'm the creator of the world of Amjalorre -- I'm its God, and I can do whatever da hell I want with it >:J

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