Recent content by Marcus Aumont

The Throne of Ali Marcus sat upon the throne of Ali, fingers draped lazily over the armrests, the rich silks and opulent gold of the chamber stark against the cold, unyielding presence he exuded. The city, once a defiant bastion of human will, had long since bent its knee, its streets soaked in...

Approved. Great work!

Marcus watched as the hobgoblin envoys began their departure, his expression unreadable, save for the faintest glint of amusement in his crimson gaze. This ceasefire was not a surrender—only a shift in tactics. He had other lands to claim, other wars to wage. For now, Badazza would not burn, but...

Gregory had traveled the breadth of Sparnia, crossing its vast landscapes with unwavering purpose. The journey south had been long and grueling, but he pressed on, driven by duty and the weight of the message he bore. When he finally reached Ali, the newly claimed seat of Marcus Aumont’s rule...

Marcus sat back, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded Harsul with an expression of detached amusement. The hobgoblin spoke with confidence, conviction even—but Marcus saw through it. A plea, wrapped in the illusion of diplomacy. “You speak well, Harsul Bid-Ulza ibn-Alurmanat,”...

Marcus regarded Harsul Bid-Ulza ibn-Alurmanat with an unreadable expression, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim candlelight of the chamber. He allowed a moment of silence to stretch between them, letting the weight of the hobgoblin’s words settle. Victory had been his, yes—but he did not revel...

Seated upon his throne in Ali, Marcus leaned back, his crimson gaze unfocused as the voices of his red mages echoed through his mind. Their telepathic messages painted the picture of the war’s progress—the resounding victory at sea under Nepheli’s command, the Espadian navy shattering the...

Marcus sat upon his throne in Ali, his gaze fixed upon the grand war map before him, every movement of his armies unfolding like a carefully orchestrated game of death. A young human woman stood beside him, her body trembling ever so slightly as his fangs pierced her wrist, drawing deep from her...

In the heart of the capital, Marcus, the Vampire King, presided over his inner sanctum, the dimly lit chamber emanating an air of foreboding power. At his side were some of the Night Court’s most fearsome champions, a testament to the might he held in reserve. Towering above all was the massive...

Marcus strode into the grand hall of the palace, his crimson cloak billowing behind him, the echoes of his boots resonating against the marble floors. The air within the palace carried the faint scent of ash and blood, a lingering reminder of the battle that had raged outside. At the end of the...

Marcus loomed over Ahmad, his expression cold and unreadable. The city of Ali burned around them, the cacophony of battle now reduced to distant echoes. He let the silence linger, letting the weight of Ahmad’s submission hang in the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but commanding...

The moonlight bathed the dense forest in an ethereal glow, and the sound of merriment drew Marcus Aumont, the Vampire King, closer to the lively gathering hidden amidst the trees. The holiday festival was alive with laughter, music, and the warm glow of lanterns swaying in the crisp night air...

Marcus stood over Ahmad, his imposing figure illuminated by the flickering flames consuming the city. He watched the Ashirra leader struggle to rise, the warrior’s pride refusing to let him remain on the ground. Marcus’s crimson eyes glowed with cold fury, his lips curling into a cruel smile as...

The Defilement of Ali From the moment Marcus stepped into Ali, the battle had been inevitable. Ahmad’s fury had been palpable, his attacks relentless, but Marcus had weathered storms far greater than this one. Each strike from the Ashirra leader was a display of mastery, sand and shadow coiling...

Approved.