Foreword: Ravoria is a land that is the landscape of the soon to be republished Isabel: The Portals of Hellion. Duchess Erzebetha does not appear in the book, so what I am doing here is creating her character, using free-verse poetry to render her into some sort of existence. See the notes below for more. Beware: The duchess is evil, bloody, and evil beyond redemption.
—
I am the duchess of S’ghithu, a kingdom in
Eastern Ravoria known for its rare minerals
Like Ebon Geld, Scarlet Ylrlis, and Azure Geisten,
A kingdom that yet endures Duchess Erzebetha.
Tall is my dagger-like spire on my keep, and war-
Bitten are the swords that serve me unquestionably.
Forever cast in shadows, S’ghithu is warded by
Ancient sorcerers rendered by the priests of Yitha.
As legend tells, Yitha herself appeared from Hellion
To aid the priests in constructing this keep from
Darkest Ebon Geld from the pit itself. But I fear not,
For the peaks that house my keep are slick as glass.
No army on foot can scale the slick faces of Mt. Gieshuldorf,
No navy can find purchase on the seaward shores where
Water dark as midnight churn and gnash ships to bits.
And when I go out hunting in Hammerglen Forest, I do
So by ensorcelled powers atop trusted, unscable S’githu.
In the Hammerglen, which brushes up against many towns,
I often find mushroom hunters scouring the bushes for
Amanita, or Hag O’ the Woods, and so posing as a local,
I lead them deep into the forest under the promise of
Leading them to a mother lode of either mushroom.
But as always, they are ported within S’githu as my guests.
Past ancestors used village slaves to dig out a great basement
In my keep’s black depths, a basement six stories deep, a
Basement filled with fel implements I use to extract livers, kidneys,
And other sundry glands from my guests–let’s face it, my guests
live a brutal, simple life, and so why not remove them from suffering?
Down in the deepest cellars where midnight rules, I kneel nude
Before unknown gods, offering up my collection of warm tribute.
And I feel the exhilarating power from my patrons flow up my
Backbone, trickling down to my fingers, the power of ancient
Sorcery that is the antique heirloom of my elders who are eternal.
—
Notes: This is of course a big salute to the writings of H.P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard, Lin Carter, and Brahm Stoker. The list goes on without an end most likely. I have also borrowed from the legend of Countess Elizabeth Bathory here as an archetype for my duchess. I stand on the shoulders of giants, but I embrace that mode.