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The high walls of Leo Catria once bore a reputation for being nigh impenetrable. An unwavering shield wrapped over an equally strong heart that served as the core of a powerful empire who had never known defeat and a people whose prosperity seemed without end if the legends spoke true. Attesting to a golden age that had long since passed the ancient city. Its gates swing in the breeze. Flanked by abandoned guard posts and barracks that were just as barren as the rest of the walled city was. Painting a grim image on the road towards the opulent spires of the resilient citadel standing tall over the surrounding landscape to this day…a mystery that left scholars far and wide pondering just what could have brought such an immovable force to its knees overnight, the breaking of an empire so devoted to knightly valor that even the nobility would never be caught without ornate armor to go with the usual ensemble of dresses and robes.
True, the city had been built to last, its defenders chosen from the very best of the best. But nothing could have prepared the inhabitants for an attack on the inside; an unwitting trojan horse lifted from long forgotten depths in far off places known only to the Catrian knights and scholars that had taken the cursed trove straight to the heart of their society. A cursed artifact of arcane origin that had long since awoken to the touch of the oblivious hands that lifted it out of the very ruins that served as its prison. Biding it’s time until the clueless souls had delivered it into the heart of Leo Catria; upon the wrist of the Catrian Princess herself after her closest companion and the very same knightess in charge of ensuring the cursed cargo’s delivery had saw fit to gift it to her charge as a fitting gift. None the wiser to its malignant essence until the pure hearted noblewoman had the misfortune of becoming the first to fall to its malforming embrace on the night where Leo Catria would utter its first and final cry of distress…
None could say for sure how the events had played out for only a handful of Catrians had escaped the city's fall. But eyewitness accounts and reports of the curse still lingering over the dead city were enough to fill in the blanks. Fuelling the warnings uttered by those near the vicinity of Leo Catria's pristine cadaver that spoke of the Princess and her forbidden love, warding away would be travelers and knights errant with the tale of misfortune describing their terrible fate at the hands of the foul magics holding strong to this day. Perverting the structure from a bastion for the people to an inescapable prison for the many puppets gathered within the heart of the ruins; the cursed forms of the unfortunate Catrians that had no idea of the terrible entity’s release as a wicked pulse of purple light engulfed the city on that fateful night. Turning all within its circumference into nothing more than inanimate silhouettes of wood and string in the blink of an eye as knights became standardized toy soldiers bearing the same armor while women were blinked into faceless, nondescript mannequins to match their peers above. With only their clothes to distinguish from each other, none could tell peasant from nobility otherwise as the wooden masses were forcibly marched into the depths of the citadel. Pulled along by invisible strings until every single house was empty. The roads, laden with footprints to mark the citywide parade.
Unlike other contemporary tales of maidens in distress. There was no treasure to be found in the echoing depths of Leo Catria. Nor would there be a beautiful Princess awaiting a knight’s rescue for those who were foolish enough to enter the desolate city would soon be joined with the faceless mass lurking within, their individuality worn away by time and the sinister force eager to add more to its collection. Just like the Princess and her Knight, supposedly left to collect dust in the throne room where they stood as the two women collapsed to their knees with a clatter of wood and clacking joints. Forced to look upon the other’s featureless visage for the rest of eternity while flanked on both sides by attendants that had all been worn down to simplified caricatures of their former selves. Confused and terrified beyond measure. Desperately willing lifeless limbs to crawl toward the other. Self hatred and regret giving way to anger and grief. Left to flounder and spurn their fates for millennia…until there was nothing left but two like minded entities trapped in twin vessels yearning for the day they would be reunited once more.
If one was lucky enough to make it that far without succumbing to the curse’s effects. They would see for themselves how the Knight’s stoic self and the Princess’ divine aura had long since faded. Meshed together by eternity’s passage and unholy influence until there were only two identical mannequins. One dressed in battle proven armor forged by Leo Catria’s finest while the other, wreathed in royal garments and form fitting plate knelt with her arms bound behind her back.
And around the length of a tiny ball joint that connected the puppet’s waifish hand to its forearms, a golden bangle remains. Its intricately carved surface traced with pulsing veins of purple energy, brimming with power drawn from the collective torment of an entire people the unseen force lurking within had infused itself with…
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Olde time caption I've finally gotten around to posting (3 of 7) A kingdom falls under the spell of a powerful, mannequin loving entity
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