Assassin's Pledge: Revolution

Cre' Est


a part of Assassin's Pledge: Revolution, by KumoriRyuu.

The Mother Nation

KumoriRyuu holds sovereignty over Cre' Est, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
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The Mother Nation of the continent sharing her name, centralized on the continent, and West of the Central Mountain Range
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Cre' Est

The Mother Nation


Cre' Est is a part of Assassin's Pledge: Revolution.

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Kyero [1] The infamous Red-Eyed Demon

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Character Portrait: Kyero

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North Road, Veilbrand

Amidst the rolling waves of greenery beneath a gray and cloud-filled sky, a soft, yet chilled breeze, flowed over the landscape. And as the flowers and grasses swayed lazily too and fro accompanied by the sounds of the wind coursing through and between them, a heavy boot step broke the zen-like tranquility of this late-Fall day. Another black boot fell to the unforgiving dirt, accompanied by the tap of a stick helping support the weight of its carrier. Hunched slightly forward and hidden beneath a light brown cloak, the figure leaned on the stick with every other step to balance a slight limp in the right side. Gripping the stick's innately carved handle were a pair of rough, calloused hands framed by a pair of black sleeves partially obscured by the cloak. And with each breath, a thin plume of steam billowed out in front of his mouth and nose.

As he reached the top of a hill, he spied a traveling caravan further along the path to the right heading his way. As he observed the condition and numbers of the caravan, he stood up straight and grunted through clenched teeth as his right hand slithered down to his side just below the rib cage. Upon removing it, fresh blood smeared his hand and dripped to the ground below. His dark gray shirt split at the site of a knife entry wound, stained black with his blood as it seeped from the wound. Taking in a deep breath, he leaned on the stick again and reached up with his cleaner left hand to pull a white headband down over his eyes feigning the universal mark of a blind man. Trudging slowly down the road holding his side, he headed down the road towards the approaching caravan.

Several minutes later, the caravan's leader spotted him turning along their route and called for his companions to halt their progress. And as the man trudged closer, the sight of red between his fingers caught the merchant's attention. He set his horse's reins around a spike on the front of the carriage, and hopped out on approach towards the wounded stranger.

"Hoi there, my good man. Do you require medical assistance?" He called.

The limping blind man came to a halt and lifted his head.

"Hoi, stranger. I do."

The merchant shifted on his heel.

"Julianne! Grab your bag, quickly!" He called.

A woman in her mid-30's peeked out from a cart further back along the caravan, and disappeared back inside. A moment later, the fair woman with athleticism and serene grace belying her age hopped out of the cart and jogged towards them with a large bag slung over her shoulder.

"By Lemnia's grace!" She exclaimed. "Please, come this way. There's an old tree stump just over here you can sit on." She said, gently taking his arm with one hand and his stick with the other, allowing him to lean on her for support as she walked him over and sat him down.

"Please, lift your shirt, sir." She asked calmly.

The stranger did as asked, lifting his shirt along the right side as she sat on her knees and opened her bag. And when she looked up again, her breath caught in her throat as her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the stranger's remarkable musculature. Each muscle group looked like it was chizzled by the Gods themselves, all in perfect condition and pressing against his skin as if not to be contained by his mortal coil. Julianne's face flushed pink as she swallowed a lump in her throat and fanned herself a moment before remembering why she was there.

"Pardon my asking, stranger. But where on Lemnia's green Earth did that wound come from?" The merchant asked.

"Geralt, that's hardly a question you need ask. I need him to keep still." Julianne quickly interjected.

"Mmph." Geralt grunted in response.

"Don't mind Geralt, good sir. Pray, keep still please. Your wound is infected and needs to be cleaned. And this..." She began, removing a bottled concoction from her bag with freshly gloved hands, and removing the cap. "... Is going to sting." She continued, pouring it into a clean cloth pulled from a box and gently dabbing it against the bruised and green flesh around the cut.

The stranger's mouth twitched, and his body jerked ever so slightly away from Julianne's hand. But not a moment later he settled into a slow, deep breath routine as she carefully cleaned the infected area and removed the puss which had gathered around it. Gently, she pried the flesh apart and cleaned inside as well which earned a clenched-tooth hiss as his core flexed causing his musculature to pop that much more. Julianne felt her face flush again as her eyes strayed for an instant, but she recovered quickly and focused on her work while Geralt sat down nearby.

"You don't need to speak. A nod or shake of the head will do. So. Was it bandits?" Geralt asked.

The stranger shook his head.


Another shake.

"Maybe it was a rogue? Or a berserk homeless man?"

Again, a shake.

"Geralt, patience please. He'll speak to you in a minute. Just let me stitch this wound and wrap his stomach and you can finish your conversation." Julianne remarked.

Geralt grunted in frustration once again, but Julianne paid him no mind. She set about her stitch work with expert skill, finishing in less than two minutes and wrapping him up in fifteen seconds.

"There. Now you can enjoy Geralt's bombardment of unnecessary questions." She joked with a laugh.

"'Unnecessary' indeed. Hmph. Oh, by the way. I didn't ask your name."

The stranger lowered his shirt and turned his head towards Geralt.


"Kyero'? That's a new one on me. What nationality is it?"

"It's just a weird name. Don't worry about where it came from."

"Fair enough. So what did this to you?"

"May I ask why you're inquiring?"

"You have a Cre' Itian accent. And a strong one, at that. It would seem your wound wasn't caused by anything I know of in these parts... I'm concerned that my caravan might be in danger of falling prey to whatever did this to you. So please, enlighten me as to how this happened."

"... Very well."

The stranger shifted his weight, feeling out Julianne's work as he slowly stood up and grabbed his walking stick.

"It was a soldier."

"Bah. I should have known. More of that tyrant's forces, no doubt. Where did you encounter them?"


"Hi-wait. What? Just one?"


"That's... Not right. Those cowards never travel alone. Not when they know the entire nation is against them."

"This one did. Or at least he claimed he was a soldier, so perhaps I'm wrong and he was something else."

"That must be it. Anyway, where was this?"

"Two and a half days ago. Northeast, within the Cre' Itian border."

"Definitely wasn't really a soldier then. They never cross the border. Too far from their 'protection'."

"Whatever he was, he's dead. So I wouldn't worry about it."

"Mm. Good. Well then, where are you headed?"

"Orktusk, to see a friend."

The stranger began walking away.

"I... Wouldn't go there if I were you."


"Why not?" He asked, turning his head slightly.

"Because it was attacked right about the same time you were, two days ago. It... Well... If you're intent on seeing a friend, you may as well go. But I can't guarantee your friend will still be there."

Geralt hopped into his cart and picked up the reins.

"Safe travels to you, Kyero. Hyaa!"

The horses began trotting away with the rest of the caravan close behind. Kyero waited for them all to pass before turning down the road from whence they came towards Orktusk and started walking. Once he was over the hill and clearly out of sight he lifted his white headband revealing a pair of glowing red eyes which flashed brightly as a menacing snarl crossed his face. He picked up his walking stick and immediately threw himself into a sprint.

"If any of you so-called Gods exist, you'd better pray you saw fit to spare them from whatever happened!!" He yelled.

Kyero raced down the road as fast as his legs would carry him, with the sun setting slowly below the horizon to the West.