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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Cor Leonis on Sept 20, 2024 11:38:21 GMT -6
WHEN THE DUST OF BATTLE SETTLES THE WAR STILL RAGES WITHIN
Watching the other man roll his neck around to loosen the vertebrae within, Cor felt his own eyebrows folding downward in subdued confusion as he listened to his acquaintance profess audible apathy over the idea of doing things at his discretion, even though the Marshal had done nothing except vocalize an implicit willingness to let him take charge and steer the course of their travels in whatever direction he wished. He had meant for it to be a simple turn of phrase, and nothing else.
But, in that same breath, his overly-muscular colleague-by-circumstance barked out an order to start moving along, practically traipsing his way into the forested wilderness that hugged the shorelines, clearly unaffected by the lack of additional clothing or protection apart from his peculiar trousers and that enormous iron plate acting as a sword.
In many ways, Cor felt as if he were looking upon a phantom echo of the King’s Shield, Gladiolus Amicitia, right down to their shared propensity for walking through nature both shirtless and barefoot. Even Gladio could throw caution to the wind and emerge having benefited from it somehow. Now that he’s thinking about it, they both have tattoos…
Still, the veteran soldier had to remind himself that, despite the similarities, this person was still, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger; not only did he subliminally admit to knowing the concept of discretion, his insouciant remark had all but expressed a conscientious disregard for it. Even that sounded a lot like how Gladio took to most problems, Cor surmised as he carefully pursued the impatient man with even strides, using Kotetsu’s scabbard and his other free arm to push away loose foliage while his footsteps were relegated to the driest portions of solid land.
As they explored, the Marshal took stock of the alien jungles that surrounded them on all sides, stifled by the humidity lingering in the air, not because it made his uniform uncomfortable to wear as one may like to speculate, but because of how heavy it felt with each breath he drew in and released. The buzzing of gnats and other insects filled his ears in tandem with the warbling calls of different birds, creating an ambient symphony of noises that Cor admittedly found…rather peaceful.
He’d almost forgotten what real nature sounded like.
Alas, the other man, clearly itching to listen to more than just the sound of silence, broke the climate of quietude with an important question that, truthfully, should have been fielded a while ago: He asked for his name. Fair enough. Better now than never, the Marshal figured, waiting for his new associate to lift a sizable-looking branch up and away from his path with hardly any effort.
“Cor Leonis,” he curtly introduced himself, ducking beneath the obstruction as he maneuvered his way past the muscular man, straightening out once he had sufficiently moved out of the way. Unless they were willing to ask about it, the Marshal saw no point in telling them about his Crownsguard affiliations. “I’m a soldier—” A short pause followed. “—I was, anyway,” He felt no shame admitting the facts whenever they proved relevant. “Although, I guess that no longer matters, now.”
Brushing past a voluminous-looking frond, Cor grunted softly as its enormous leaves gently slapped into the Marshal from various directions, to his mild annoyance. Using his swords to cut away the greenery was out of the question. “I suppose I should ask—” he spoke up, dodging another cluster of ferns as he brushed his jacket free of pollen dust, casting wary glances at their immediate surroundings before continuing on to say, “—about what they call you, then?” The Crownsguard commander wasn’t averse to small talk by any means, but expecting him to lower his guard for the sake of it was like trying to squeeze clam juice out of a Karlabos. It wasn’t going to happen.
Post by Cor Leonis on Sept 15, 2024 12:59:08 GMT -6
WHEN THE DUST OF BATTLE SETTLES THE WAR STILL RAGES WITHIN
As he patiently trudged his way across the bleached white sands of this unfamiliar landscape a second time, Cor’s hold on Kotetsu’s polished saya offered a degree of subliminal comfort to him, to say nothing of Kikuichimonji’s added presence; small tokens of safety in the face of a world he knew nothing about, and people who had yet to earn his full trust. For now, simply having them in his possession afforded the Marshal access to his full strength, which he could use to their combined advantage in case he and his new acquaintance happened to be set upon by wild creatures, or scoundrels, or…whatever else occupied this area, really.
From beyond the distant vaults of faded memory, Cor had recalled an old aphorism, often spoken by the venerable master who had trained him in the ways of the sword. ‘Always respect the gods, but never count on their help.’ His teacher’s words echo in the back of his mind, carrying that haggard and hoarse laughter with them as though his very spirit came back to taunt him from beyond the grave. A relevant maxim to consider here, if anything; the Marshal had to figure that if the Six were responsible for expatriating him to a world outside of Eos, then it also stood to reason that they weren’t liable to reverse course on this decision anytime soon.
Like it or not, he was here now, and that’s all there was to it. He would have to figure out the rest on his own, with or without aid.
Once he had finished shrinking the gap between themselves, Cor was immediately treated to a sample of the muscular man’s burgeoning impatience, which was expressed in the form of an annoyed question. Although the old Crownsguard veteran never liked to consider himself skilled at reading the emotions of other people, it didn’t take a seer to notice that the stranger was wanting to take charge of the situation; he had meant for his words to push the old soldier into action, like digging the spurs of one’s boots into a chocobo to make it sprint.
Without a word, Cor turned his face back to that dip in the sand, staring at it for several palpable seconds, as though he were genuinely considering going back over there for a third time. “Not from what I can see, no,” he would finally say in a reserved tone, like the Marshal had no intentions of acting on this thought whatsoever. He didn’t. “I have everything that I need with me.” He held onto Kotetsu with a firm and unyielding hand. It was the closest he was going to get to being ready. “We can start heading out at your discretion.”
WHEN THE DUST OF BATTLE SETTLES THE WAR STILL RAGES WITHIN
In times of uncertainty, Cor found it occasionally helpful to verbalize his thoughts before a third party, preferably to somebody without any emotional investment in the ongoing events. This way, whatever input he received from them would remain unbiased and free of preexisting prejudices, guaranteeing that the only decisions he made after the fact were also the most informed ones. This also allowed a wider degree of social participation, which came with its own merits.
Metaphorically, the Marshal had fully expected himself to be the only one stuck on this boat, as it were. He almost hoped it were the case, if he had to be transparent here. What he hadn’t counted on, was for the other man to get in and start casually rowing alongside him, so to speak; by his own admission, he also lacked any concrete answers regarding where they were, or how they managed to arrive here, or when they did, or why.
Unlike Cor, who grappled silently with his own inner turmoil, the other man seemed to care very little about their shared predicament, if at all. More telling than this, was how swiftly he was able to conclude what should have remained a very simple and most obvious truth: This wasn’t home. Even so, to hear it be spoken aloud, by someone else, felt…jarring, to say the least. Trying to reflect on it yielded nothing the Marshal could use to build so much as a raft back to Eos, let alone a working hypothesis that could sufficiently explain how they both came to be faced with this insoluble dilemma.
He figured that this, all of this, should have been impossible. For every intent and purpose, it was.
But what does a word like ‘impossible’ even mean to someone that the greater public refers to as Cor the Immortal?
From the perspective of his Lucian allies and compatriots, the Crownsguard commander was the human embodiment of dedication and excellence in the line of duty; the picture definition of a perfect soldier. To his enemies, the Marshal might as well be the Astral of War incarnate, having never lost a single battle throughout his long and illustrious military career to the point he was openly acknowledged as one of the realm’s three best fighters. Frequent and repeated cooperation with the Hunters saw him widely recognized for his ability to complete any task given to him, no matter how difficult the challenge. Talk to the numberless scores of people that Cor has rescued over the course of his service to Crown and Kingdom, and even they will tell you of his ability to successfully overcome insurmountable odds for the sake of his liege and fellow countrymen. At fifteen years old, Cor was the youngest person to ever serve on the royal security detail; he was also this age when he faced the trials of the Blademaster, becoming the first person to emerge from the Tempering Grounds wholly unscathed by the experience. Attempting to run through his entire list of successes here, innumerable as they are, would be well and truly impossible.
But Cor saw it much differently. From his point of view, he thought it was ‘impossible’ to eke out an existence in a ruined world for five years, transformed into a slice of Hell itself. He also considered it ‘impossible’ for that same Hell to run him through the grinder for that long, chewing on every aspect of his whole being for half a decade merely just to spit him out somewhere else.
Anyone else would have called these feats ‘impossible’, too, yet here he was: a ‘legend in the flesh’, living proof of humanity’s limitless potential for greatness, and a royal celebrity through and through.
Well, until recently, anyway.
Fleeting as the thought had been, for all its simplicity, it served to pull Cor away from his listless reverie and into a state of sudden blinking cognition, the kind that generally came about in a moment of immediate epiphany. Not only did the other man seem to accept their mutual plight with casual indifference, he had almost come across as overly familiar with whatever phenomenon had deposited them here. That he called his fatigues a ‘spiffy outfit’ only highlighted his apparent ignorance of Lucian culture, although the Marshal couldn’t exactly hold this against him, seeing as he was equally as uneducated about the shirtless fellow’s nation of origin, wherever it was.
Staring out into the nameless blue ocean before him as he pondered these thoughts, Cor barely caught wind of the stranger’s suggestion to move along and obtain a lay of the land. It was a shrewd idea, and sensible to boot. It’s certainly better than trying to grasp for answers where there are none, just to slip against the proverbial wet stones for his troubles.
With an irenic sigh, Cor rolled his shoulders around to stretch out the tension in his upper back, feeling tiny beads of sweat roll down his temple. Tepid, sure, but what beach wasn’t? A swift glance back in the direction of where he rose from his nightmares caused him to let loose a quiet snort of disappointment, not for what he saw, but for what he allowed to occur in the wake of his own confusion.
Resting half-submerged in the pearly sands were his trusted weapons, Kotetsu and Kikuichimonji, only visible on account of the gleaming silver light reflecting off their gentle curved forms. A wave of relief washes over Cor. Finding new boots was one thing. He couldn’t even begin to imagine replacing his swords for a second time, especially due to careless negligence on his part, and the possibility of somebody unknowingly injuring themselves with one of them was enough to spur the Lucian soldier out of inertia.
Unwilling to pollute the serenity of these new environs with needless shouting, the Marshal gave the departing shirtless man another wave of acknowledgement before he suddenly started moving in the opposite direction. At a glance, it appeared as if he had simply chosen to walk away for reasons only Cor might have been able to understand, yet refused to (or could not) explain. Waiting for a few seconds eventually showed the well-dressed soldier stooping low to the beach so that he could reach for whatever lay in the sands, a telltale sign that he had actually gone back to retrieve his personal effects.
Kikuichimonji, the shorter of the two elegant weapons, would be what Cor picked up first, slipping the blade’s ornately embellished scabbard through a loop on the back of his trousers that connected to a pair of small leather straps, which he had retrofitted during the Long Night to function as an auxiliary frog for hanging appropriately-sized weapons at his waist. He would resolve to simply hold on to Kotetsu, the longer blade, as a matter of habit. Not like he could simply will them in and out of existence anymore, but it made them less vulnerable to petty thieves all the same.
He feels his fingers wrap around Kotetsu’s saya, the scabbard, mentalizing its inner strength returning to his body as though it had physically been drained away. The sword is an extension of his mind, a tool to enact his will upon the world, and the means with which he uses to protect those he loves and cherishes.
With a final mollifying breath, Cor Leonis straightened his posture out once he had returned to standing fully upright, then turned to start walking back in the direction of the other man. This time, he did so with reinvigorated composure, as he had narrowly avoided the crisis of being completely stranded somewhere unknown with no means of defending himself against danger.
It was valid to consider inaction the enemy of progress, given the circumstances, but the Crownsguard also has a saying that proves equally relevant here: “Discretion is the better side of valor”. A mantra that even reflects itself in the Marshal’s impassive and stoic expression.
WHEN THE DUST OF BATTLE SETTLES THE WAR STILL RAGES WITHIN
The sand was sufficiently dense enough to offer Cor some halfway decent footing, but still too loose to be walked over at a pace he could find comfortable, no thanks to the shape of his boots, which were better suited for flatter planes and surfaces. Worse yet, these were his oldest pair—rather, the only pair he had left—which also meant that, sooner or later, he was going to have to figure out a way to get them replaced. Somehow.
Like it wasn’t already hard enough in the middle of a damnedapocalypse…
Of all the problems he had to contend with now, finding new footwear held the lowest priority. Nevertheless, the more he allowed his mind to ruminate, the greater the volume of questions came in turn. What happens now? What would become of Noctis and his friends? What about their families? What of the people of Eos?
For five long-suffering years, Cor spent each and every waking moment helping the last remaining vestiges of humanity keep themselves mere inches away from complete and total destruction, delicately balancing on a knife’s edge as they waited for the King of Light’s prophesied return. All the fighting he’d done to keep them safe, all the waiting he needed to do until Noctis returned to reclaim his throne and kingdom, all the hoping and the praying…
To have his entire way of life, however bleak it must have seemed, just up and vanish, and so easily, at that…
Put simply, the Marshal felt overwhelmed; not only by the storm of emotions that raged within him, or by the increasing intensity of his recurring nightmares, but by his sudden and inexplicable upheaval from everything that he’d come to know and quietly cherish. Such inner turmoil made it very easy for the expression on his face to appear distant and melancholic, symptoms of a mind unable to comprehend what was happening yet powerless to discover the answers without being deprived of further context.
For better or worse, this also made it just as easy for the bronzed muscular man to offer a piece of unsolicited commentary about being more comfortable on the beach, especially with regards to his ‘stiff getup’, as he called it.
Against his better understanding, it worked to pull Cor back into a more active mindset, just long enough for him to consider letting old habits take their course; his first instinct (or reflex, rather) being to explain the significance of wearing the full Crownsguard uniform. In his own mind, the answer was obvious: the battle garments of the Crownsguard are a display of an officer’s pride in their responsibilities and duties, just as much as they are meant to represent their commitment to safeguarding the Kingdom of Lucis and her people, both a badge of office and a symbol of loyalty.
“I—” Cor tried to speak, but could only chew on the words he wanted to say until the stranger took swift steps to apologize for their sudden forwardness, claiming that he wasn’t adept at starting conversation. It only took a cursory glance at his unusual apparel and the obliquely sword-shaped slab of metal in his grasp for the Marshal to simply let out both a sigh and a dismissive shake of his head, as he came to the bitter conclusion that trying to explain his predicament would only make him look unsound of mind.
Instead, he would return the other fellow’s lackadaisical expression with one of renewed awareness and straightened his posture out, feeling the pleats and seams of his uniform press against his skin in all the ways he’d found familiar and comfortable since fifteen years old. If nothing else, it would be a subtle reminder to himself to always put his best foot forward, even in a moment of uncertainty.
“It’s no trouble, really,” he spoke at last, in a tone of measured assurance for the other man’s display of humility. He then shifted his pale eyes to the sparkling blue oceans with a searching gaze. “As much as I hate to admit it, I haven’t the faintest idea of what this place is, or where it might be.” Or why he had awakened here, for that matter.
The True King was supposed to make his return and wield the Light of Providence to cast away the daemons and banish the shroud of eternal darkness. But now that the sun appeared to be fully restored, shining as if evil itself hadn’t blotted out its very presence, that its warmth and radiance beat down over a world he could not outwardly recognize left Cor wondering if he truly even deserved to experience this once-absent force of nature after five years of strife and struggle.
Post by Cor Leonis on Aug 31, 2024 15:46:27 GMT -6
WHEN THE DUST OF BATTLE SETTLES THE WAR STILL RAGES WITHIN
When the world went to hell, the nightmares never stopped.
They always begin the same way: with Cor Leonis in full prostration before the Lucii, the ancient spirits of the Old Kings. He dares not look upon their towering, armored forms — even as their own gaze upon him with cold, unfeeling judgment.
He cannot. He knows why. They know why.
Hands unconsciously clench into trembling fists. He silently bites his teeth into nothing. There were no excuses, no explanations, no possible way to shed light on his actions without further solidifying the crushing guilt that weighed his entire body down to the polished black tile floor, his own hollow face peering back at him from the haunted moors of his wretched past.
He had failed his duty to protect his King. Failed to protect the people of his homeland. Failed to protect the world.
He had failed his purpose in life.
He failed Regis—
Wrought with inviolable shame, Cor’s body sinks even lower to the floor. Every time, he always hopes they show him compassion, that they may be lenient in their assessment of him in all his visible weakness and piety.
Every time, they never do.
The Old Kings say nothing to him. There is no need. All of them share the same verdict. It reverberates inside of Cor’s mind with the sonorous fury of a thousand temple bells ringing all at once.
Guilty… Guilty… Guilty… Guilty… Guilty…
Always, without fail, the nightmare gets worse here. Cor dreads it every time it happens. Every aspect of himself wants to do nothing but cry and wail and scream and howl until nothing left of him remains—but, always, without fail, his body stays firmly rooted where it is, frozen in reverent fear of the ancient rulers of yore. He anticipates their righteous anger to rain down over his head, to end his pathetic life once and for all; after so many times repeating the same dream, a part of Cor even wanted to tell them to simply get it the fuck over with.
Instead, he simply remained put, like the stupid obedient mutt he was.
Only a single presence among the old Lucian rulers positions themselves before the despondent and helpless Marshal as a single blade of purest argent silver manifests from a glassy burst of reflected light, heralded by the sound of crystals tinkling in the wind like ethereal chimes.
It was all Cor needed to know what was about to happen next.
An invisible force would lift the Marshal into the air, then throw him backwards before he could allow himself to brace for the impact his body would feel afterward, as it slammed into a chair-shaped recess amidst the choking darkness of his own mind. It knocks the wind out of his lungs, every time.
Once it had settled, the blackness slowly dissolved away with a liquid-like suggestion, revealing a throne of peerless opulence and spectacle in its wake, cast in a pale blue light. Above it sits a hollowing where the Crystal ought to be, devoid of splendor and radiance, now but a decorative recess with nothing to show for it. It felt wrong for him to be on it, even against his will, but Cor can barely so much as sputter out a groan from the impact.
A choked gasp is what leaves his mouth next as a silver greatsword punctured through his abdomen with no resistance, pinning Cor securely to the Throne of Lucis. The pain that follows is unbearable.
One by one, the Lucii manifest their sacred weapons—the royal arms—and drive them into Cor’s body in quick succession, one after another. They give him no room to scream or cry as they pierce and skewer and impale his limbs, trapping them against the throne he failed to protect with his life, crucified for his role in bringing about the end of the world.
Shock sets in at this point. Agony ripples through every single wound on his body, leaving only his fingers to twitch on nervous reflex alone. His own breathing turns haggard and strained as blood and fluids pool into his lungs and trachea. Any capacity for speech had since begun to die along with the rest of himself here.
But none of this compared to the torment of what followed after.
The final specter of the Lucii, the one who had first summoned his royal arm, uses its tip to force Cor’s vision upward, even as it wavered in and out of focus. The lordly spirit had every intention of making sure he looked upon the face of the man Cor failed most of all, the one who he owed his entire existence to.
As he stared upon his hollow, mournful face, the Marshal could do nothing but weep.
He couldn’t even muster the strength to beg him for mercy.
His eyes watch the wraith lift his sword high, gleaming over its victim with looming finality.
Every time, just before the moment of termination, Cor would catch a glimpse of one more figure among the Old Kings, standing closely behind the shadow of the one that was to be his executioner, glaring back at him with vengeful contempt.
He knew why. It always cycled back to the reason he was here in the first place. This endless, repeating hell-within-hell.
Cor offers them both a pleading, sorrowful expression. “N...Noc—”
The sword comes flashing at him—
—————————————
—before he wakes up gasping, drenched in a cold sweat.
Searing, blinding light overwhelms his sense of sight. “Ngh—!” Bombarded by sensory stimuli, his initial thought was to presume he was under attack, but as soon as his hand slapped against something soft and granular, hoping to reach for his trusted swords, the Marshal found the rest of his body rapidly shuffling around, spurred by the rush of adrenaline, until he could at least get to his knees.
His vision still blurred and out of focus, Cor had fully expected to hear the sounds of fighting all around him; weapons skewering into daemon flesh or spells frying the circuits of abandoned magitek troops.
Instead, a gentle breeze was all that rolled past his ears, along with the distinctive call of seagulls on the horizon.
Wait…seagulls?
That shouldn’t be right; I was nowhere near the coastline when I fell asleep, Cor tried to rationalize, still straining himself to try and make sense of the blurred colors and shapes, or the lack thereof. More importantly, the atmosphere felt…warmer than it should. Almost as if…
As soon as he mustered the inner fortitude to open his eyes, Cor turned his head upward.
What he saw left him mystified. “...What…?”
Five years. It had been five years since the world became cloaked in endless darkness, since the daemons took over and turned Eos into a living hellscape for humanity. But the longer Cor tried to stare upon the view in front of him, the longer he tried to process all that he could see, the less he was able to understand. But what he could not comprehend, above all the other details that lay before him, was one that directly contradicted everything that he had been led to believe, up until this very moment—
The sun was out. Light shone upon the world.
He wanted to ask the obvious question first: ‘Had Noctis succeeded?’ Maybe it was that part of him that still clung on to the prophecy. Maybe it was him simply trying to hold out for the sake of his friends.
But the more his senses began to adjust, the more it became apparent to Cor that something was gravely amiss with what he was now seeing, which made his theory less plausible in turn.
Which begs the question: Where exactly is he?
Immediately looking around gave Cor enough information to discern that this area was some kind of a beach or shoreline, not entirely dissimilar to the resorts at Galdin Quay, although the sand was a paler hue and seemed coarser to the touch, along with covering a noticeably larger stretch of space as white tongues of foam lapped at the edges from a crystal blue ocean.
For lack of a better word to describe it, the scenery was…peaceful. Almost unnervingly so.
In his endeavors to lift to a standing position and brush the sand off his clothes, Cor’s sense of hearing could pick up a soft laugh in the distance. Someone else was here, as well? He wasn’t entirely certain if this was an act of divine intervention or sheer luck, but either way, the sound of another person could only mean he hadn’t been surreptitiously killed, or worse. At least, he could only presume, anyway.
It didn’t take Cor much scanning for his eyes to fall upon another presence standing approximately a few dozen meters from where he was. Even from a distance, the Marshal could observe the figure’s bronzed complexion and well-muscled physique, but his clothing—what little he wore of it, at least—resembled nothing he’d ever seen before. Close to him was some kind of large black object that vaguely resembled a large sword, or perhaps a great iron paddle.
Feeling a headache threatening to develop, Cor rubbed his neck with a sigh. It was better than nothing, at least.
Taking a single deep breath to collect himself, the Marshal soon began making his way in the direction of the only other person visible within a mile of this place. He didn’t need to call for his attention. Simply lifting his hand up in a half-wave once he was close enough to stand out would be sufficient.
[attr="class","ion-heart"] You are only as good as your last battle.
The Marshal of the Crownsguard, the illustrious reputation of Cor Leonis has long since preceded even his own name. Hailed as one of the Kingdom's best fighters, it is his unfailing ability to complete any assignment handed to him, along with his uncanny capacity for escaping the jaws of death unscathed, that earned him global recognition as "The Immortal", an epithet he considers distasteful.[break][break]
Cor's service to the royal family goes as far back as the reign of Mors Lucis Caelum, yet his unwavering loyalty to both crown and country is born from a sense of lasting gratitude for the King's son, Regis, whom Cor traveled and fought alongside with over thirty years ago. He extends this loyalty to the Regis's own son, Noctis, as well as the personal retinue he calls his friends.[break][break]
Most ironically, Cor's life is best defined by failure: his loss against the Blademaster played a fundamental role in the creation of his military career, and his inability to protect Regis on the night that Niflheim attacked Insomnia continues to gnaw at his conscience, even though he followed orders and evacuated innumerable citizens away from the advancing Imperial invasion; he would relive this pain again upon learning that Noctis had been swallowed by the Crystal at Zegnautus Keep.[break][break]
When the Long Night descended over Eos, Cor was among a small handful of individuals who helped rally the remaining vestiges of humanity together against the daemonic tides. Catching forty winks in the middle of an apocalypse was practically a pipe dream.[break][break]
So, imagine Cor's surprise when he wakes up to discover the world is no longer collapsing around him.[break][break]
More worrying than this, however, is the fact that it is clearly not his own.
ALLIES SOME DAYS, SOME NIGHTS; SOME LIVE, SOME DIE
Growing up in impoverished conditions without the support of his parents or peers, Cor quickly learned to become self-reliant at an early age, and his enlistment into the Crownsguard at thirteen years old further molded this sense of independence into the distinctive arrogance that came to underscore the start of his career. Overzealous commitment to the military lifestyle encouraged Cor to be resistant to ideas like camaraderie and trust until he began traveling with Regis Lucis Caelum and his entourage, which gradually softened his attitude towards friendship long and well into his adulthood.[break][break]
More to be elaborated on soon.[break][break]
ADVERSARIES IN THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI
It is often lonely at the top, or so the old saying goes.[break][break]
Being possessed of outstanding martial caliber leaves very little room for sporting rivalries or competition to blossom. Hailed as a prodigy above prodigies since the day he first started fighting, Cor's skill for combat is so unprecedented, it isn't entirely certain whether his official performance evaluation records are either grossly exaggerated or alarmingly understated.[break][break]
Needless to say, such a highly prolific reputation is practically guaranteed to attract unwanted attention now and again. Much to his perpetual chagrin, Cor seems to collect enemies like how a dumpster collects garbage.[break][break]
Once upon a time, he used to antagonize others, and rather frequently, as he was driven by a need to prove his strength in the fires of battle. Having since put great distance between himself and the hubris of his youth, Cor no longer seeks to cause problems with people, and would rather solve disputes diplomatically so as to prevent such trouble from springing up in the first place.[break][break]
But heaven help whoever wants to be get hostile with him, because he shows no tolerance for thoughtless aggression anymore, and will waste no time in subduing a violent personality if he is forced to defend himself, or someone less able.[break][break]
ATTACHMENTS SOME FIGHT, SOME BLEED, SUN UP TO SUN DOWN
Will be added soon.
COMBAT DOSSIER THE SONS OF A BATTLECRY
SPELLS[break] During the rule of King Regis, Cor once had the privilege of being able to make use of the royal magic, and demonstrated these powers with incredible mastery. When Regis was killed in the attack on Insomnia, Cor gradually lost his ability to wield magic until his capacity for it had vanished entirely when Noctis later disappeared inside the Crystal.[break][break]
Rather than impair his prowess, however, the absence of magic merely highlights Cor's prodigious gift for swordsmanship.[break][break]
As usual, he regards the loss of these powers with casual indifference.[break][break]
ABILITIES[break] Might: Not officially named such, but rather a tongue-in-cheek allusion to the effects this ability confers. Cor will surround himself in a sinister aura of red energy that not only empowers the strength and force of his attacks, but also renders them unblockable for a temporary period. It is currently unknown if this is a magic spell granted by his link to the royal family or a skill learned through intensive training. He still has yet to elaborate. [break][break]
WEAPONS[break] Kotetsu: Cor's trusted katana. Although it harbors no special enhancements, its razor-sharp edge has been the agent of many a legendary feat.[break] Kikuichimonji: Traditionally a melee weapon, this compact blade flies true, making it deadly from a distance, as well. [break][break]
ACCESSORIES[break] Carbon Bangle: A bangle forged in carbon steel. Offers a nominal increase to maximum HP.[break] Niella Bracelet: A bracelet made of polished black stone with exquisite gold marbling.[break] Protective Amulet: A nondescript pendant cast in pewter, its corners rounded from years of handling. [break][break]
ATTIRE[break] Crownsguard Fatigues: The battle garb of the Crownsguard. Designed to protect the wearer and increase their health. Removing the jacket offers an increase to strength, instead. [break][break]
TECHNIQUE: LION'S ROAR[break] Cor lunges forward a short distance before unleashing a mighty drawing slash with Kotetsu, sending forth a wide vertical shockwave that strikes any enemy it connects with in a straight line. When performing a critical hit, Cor instead rises upward before returning to the earth with a downward slice. Under ideal conditions, this Technique could potentially cleave even the toughest of enemies in two, although Cor is just as likely to tell you that it isn't normally capable of causing such damage.[break][break]
FULL NAME:: Cor Leonis NICKNAMES:: Marshal, "The Immortal" GENDER:: Male AGE:: 50 ORIENTATION:: Homosexual, but committed to his work. GAME OF ORIGIN:: Crown City of Insomnia, Kingdom of Lucis, Final Fantasy XV ALIGNMENT:: Neutral EQUIPMENT:: Cor’s most trusted weapon is the Kotetsu, a katana of exquisite craftsmanship with a razor-sharp edge he has dutifully maintained since the day he first obtained it. Notable for being absent of any special enchantments or fortifications, it has been the agent of many a legendary feat all the same. He also possesses the Kikuichimonji, a companion weapon to his primary arm; traditionally a melee implement, this compact sword has been tempered and weighted to fly true when thrown, making it deadly at close range and from a distance.
Cor is also known to wear three different accessories as an added safety precaution, these being a Carbon Bangle, a Niella Bracelet, and a Protective Amulet. The Carbon Bangle, cast from polished carbon steel, issues a nominal increase to the wearer’s health. It is unknown what benefits the other two accessories provide him, and Cor’s deliberate (and constant) refusal to speak of either trinket has led to the formation of many unusual rumors surrounding their alleged functions.
HEIGHT:: 191cm (6'3") HAIR/EYES/SKIN:: Brown/Light Blue/Fair DISTINGUISHING MARKS:: Shows signs of a beard beginning to emerge on his face, in addition to nearly five years worth of visible stress from his experiences during the Long Night.
II. PERSONA
Best described as a stubborn, taciturn, and no-nonsense military man, Cor Leonis stands as a glittering exemplar of loyalty and devotion to the royal family, the Crown City of Insomnia, and the realm of Lucis. He is clean, methodical, punctilious, and organized across every aspect of his daily life—from his morning routines, to his personal training schedule, to weapon maintenance, to the food he prepares for every meal, even to the art of combat itself—placing aesthetics on the same level as discipline. Even his own opinions on current events and political happenings are tempered by a rational mind and a conscious consideration for the minor details that affect the lives of everyday people.
As Marshal of the Crownsguard, Cor is bound through honor and duty to instruct those under his wing in the ways of the soldier, and he is as strict with his subordinates as he is with himself. Not even the likes of Noctis Lucis Caelum or his royal entourage will earn exemption from living up to Cor’s seemingly lofty standards, especially in the wake of Niflheim’s assault on the Crown City and the subsequent death of the late King Regis, to whom he was deeply indebted. Having promised to watch over Noctis and his friends, Cor has made peace with the fact that he will not always see eye-to-eye with them on everything, and he will patiently level any pertinent advice, or opinions, their way before permitting them to act in their own best interests as they see fit thereafter.
Unbeknownst to nearly everyone, save but an extremely small number of those he implicitly trusts, his cool-headed demeanor and intensively rigid temperament is a far cry from how Cor used to be in his youth: irascible, arrogant, overconfident in his opinion of himself and the problems of the world, swaggering about like his life meant something back then. Worst of all, he had been boastful of these flaws, and proved himself reckless because of this until he lost his encounter against the Blademaster and fled the Tempering Grounds.
Against any that would see themselves like he did as a boy, Cor has only solemn advice to offer, and only pity for those who might turn away from him: never seek glory in death, because there is no glory in death. Such behavior is the primary reason that Cor has grown to detest the various apocryphal testimonies and tall tales surrounding his “countless legendary exploits”, but nothing brings him greater shame than to be called “the Immortal”, an appellation he earned for being the only known living survivor of the Blademaster’s trial, and a constant reminder that he once lacked both respect for other people and a sense of appreciation for his own life.
III. BACKGROUND
An accomplished and highly decorated soldier, Cor is widely celebrated as one of the best fighters throughout the Kingdom of Lucis, and also holds the prestigious distinction of having served three separate monarchs: Mors, Regis, and Noctis. His talents in the arts of swordsmanship are as prodigious as they are peerless; that he specializes in the use of katanas, a weapon entirely foreign to Lucis wielded by a vanishingly small number of individuals, serves as a further testament to his dedication and commitment to his role as a protector of the realm.
As a testament to his training, he can perform synchronized link-strikes and fluid blindside attacks with his companions. Outside his use of swords, Cor is a competent hand with throwing blades and also demonstrates considerable skill in the martial arts if he must fight unarmed. His signature Technique is Lion’s Roar, a mighty upward drawing slash performed that splits a wide vertical shockwave through the air with such intensity that it cleaves even the deadliest foes in two.
Cor is a trusted leader and a capable mentor to those in his command, issuing orders and providing instructions with a sound mind, a calm heart, and a clear focus on the objectives at hand. No longer keen to shoulder his burdens or responsibilities alone, he has learned the importance of teamwork and stresses this value whenever he can, as it is just as crucial to express diligent care for the people one loves as much as it is to diligently care for one’s own self.
Before the Long Night descended over Eos and filled the world with daemons, Cor once demonstrated the ability to use magic, although that power was lost when Regis died and his magic faded away. Despite this, he remained unmatched in melee combat, although he committed the majority of his efforts toward teaching new recruits as opposed to fighting on the front lines. Cor was able to manifest his weapons out of thin air, and also had the ability to cloak himself in a red energy field that momentarily strengthened the power of his attacks, although it is unknown if these powers were obtained through intensive training or given to him by virtue of esoteric connection to the royal bloodline.
In the time Cor spent serving as a retainer and bodyguard to Regis, he acted as the late King’s personal chauffeur by driving him around in the Regalia, and also cooked meals for him and his retinue, his personal specialty being an exquisite samurai-style seafood honzen-ryōri. Both his culinary talents and driving skills remain perfectly intact, and only continue to improve with regular practice.
IV. HISTORY
The son of a less-than-affluent household, the childhood of Cor Leonis is underscored by a once-prominent conviction to rise above his meager circumstances and be recognized as a man of worth. Having accumulated unprecedented volumes of fighting experience going as far back as his early youth, Cor sought even greater prospects and attracted the interest of a retired swordsman from a foreign land beyond Lucis, who saw enormous potential in the boy and trained him in the use of katanas for an unknown period of time. His mastery of the weapon was as relentless as it was swift, and would mark him both a prodigy among his peers and a prime candidate for military service.
At the impressionable age of 13, Cor enlisted with the Lucian Crownsguard, hungry for the acknowledgement he so ravenously craved. His incredible prowess for battle earned Cor the unyielding respect of his superiors and enabled him to carry out two illustrious years of distinguished service to the royal family until the Great War broke out between Lucis and the Empire of Niflheim.
Over those two months, he accompanied the son of King Mors Lucis Caelum, the once-Crown Prince Regis, alongside his retinue of royal retainers on a journey to Accordo with the aims of seeking the restoration of an allied force, while the Imperial army’s newly fabricated magitek infantry swept through and established bases inside the regions of Leide, Cleigne, and Duscae. During his travels, Cor made the acquaintance of Ezma Auburnbrie, promising to her that he would slay the monsters sealed deep inside the secret dungeons scattered across Eos once the war had properly ended.
Lucis dispatches its armies to challenge Niflheim, but sustain heavy casualties and are pushed back, forcing Prince Regis to withdraw from Accordo and return to the Crown City before he could establish terms of alliance. In the arrogance of his youth, an incensed Cor publicly criticized Regis for retreating, calling him and his men “a bunch of cowards”. His show of impertinence fanned the flames of hostility among his Crownsguard colleagues, as well as the others that traveled alongside him, but, against all expectations that he would be imprisoned for his show of disrespect, Cor somehow managed to impress Regis with his willingness to speak truth to power, and was immediately hired as an escort and bodyguard on that very spot.
This single act of lordly grace deeply moved Cor, enough for him to swear his life in servitude to Regis from that moment onward.
Niflheim’s siege against the protective Wall surrounding Insomnia caused a part of it to be destroyed, compelling King Mors to scale its boundaries back towards the Crown City’s ramparts so that he may fortify the capital’s defenses and halt the advancing Imperial armies. Countless civilians were displaced by Niflheim’s oppressive campaign, forming outposts or fleeing to Insomnia for sanctuary, although many were turned away due to the monarchy’s strict entry requirements. The royal mechanic Cid Sophiar would cut ties with the royal family in protest over King Mors’ unwillingness to make concessions in a time of crisis, whereas the Prince’s royal steward Weskham Armaugh made for Accordo and fostered a friendship with the first secretary, Camelia Claustra, which would later prove crucial to reestablishing conciliatory relations between Lucis and the Protectorate. Cor was among the men who stood by Prince Regis and his father out of obligate duty, along with the King’s Sworn Shield Clarus Amicitia, although this would mark the beginning of a gradual shift in the young officer’s attitude towards authority.
A small period of peace followed this conflict. During this time, a group of Hunters accidentally discover a sprawling complex of ancient ruins deep within Taelpar Crag, only to be mercilessly slaughtered by the ancient lingering will of the Blademaster, Gilgamesh, who once served as the legendary Shield of the Founder King. Numerous expeditions into the so-called “Tempering Grounds” yield no meaningful information, save for the knowledge that any who dared to step foot inside the ruins with the intent to challenge the Blademaster in single combat would never return alive, and that their weapons would be claimed as trophies of his victory over them.
At 15 years old, drunk on his own hubris, Cor Leonis proudly faced the trials of the Tempering Grounds. Standing before the Blademaster, he draws the Genji Blade—the weapon that served as his badge of office, his mark of mastery, the symbol of his peerless swordsmanship, the manifestation of ideals and beliefs as a warrior of Lucis—and levels its tip at the entity that was to be his prey. The fight is long and protracted, and pushes all of Cor’s abilities to the absolute brink of their limits and further beyond, yet still it is not enough to protect himself against over two-thousand years of fighting experience accumulated through countless battles against innumerable people, jesters and fools alike, who all saw themselves mighty warriors, merely to be reduced to bones and dust in the end.
For the first time in his life, Cor feels genuine fear take hold in his heart. Sensing this weakness, Gilgamesh lunged for a killing blow.
It is often claimed that, prior to the moment of death, a person essentially observes the entire length of their life play out instantaneously and with great autobiographical detail. Some call it a “life review”. Others refer to it as “having it flash before their eyes”. Whatever the case may be, Cor was never allowed nor permitted the luxury of relating to those who have experienced this well-documented phenomenon, because in the moment he saw the Blademaster’s weapon close in toward his heart, he saw only a still emptiness.
Adrenaline gives way to primal instinct. His weapon swings upward against his better reasoning. Miraculously, against odds that should have resulted in his own demise, the Genji Blade carves effortlessly through Gilgamesh’s left arm. In that same breath, Cor allows himself to relinquish hold of the sword responsible for the deed, and does what no man could ever hope to achieve before the Blademaster, who so ruthlessly destroyed all that crossed his path; at 15 years old, he did what any boy still wet behind the ears would resort to doing when faced with an opponent more powerful than themselves—
—Cor fled.
But the world saw it differently. Official records stated, with no shortage of bureaucratic confidence, that Cor Leonis was the only known living survivor to emerge from the Tempering Grounds, and the Blademaster’s trials by extension, completely unscathed. News of his “victory” spread throughout Lucis like all-consuming wildfire, and soon, people from all over Eos would take to calling him “Cor the Immortal” in homage to his “legendary achievements”, even going as far as to fabricate completely fictional tales of his exploits in an attempt to embellish the ordinary career of an otherwise simple military man. At 15 years old, King Mors would promote him to the role of personal bodyguard in recognition for exemplary service to the monarchy, making him the youngest individual in Lucian history to ever serve the royal security detail. It is both his greatest accomplishment, and his greatest failure.
His loss against Gilgamesh deeply humbled Cor, who became disgusted by his own willingness to throw away his life in return for nothing, and swore to walk the path of modesty and self-cultivation until the day he allowed himself to draw his final breath. Never again would he devote himself recklessly to chasing glory in death—there was none to be found there. He deemed the Genji Blade forever lost, marred by the stains of his youthful pride, and replaced it with the twin blades Kotetsu and Kikuichimonji, etching cherry blossoms into both weapons as a reminder of life’s transient nature and the ease at which it drifts away. From that moment onward, Cor radically transformed himself, internally and externally, until he no longer resembled the man he once used to be, and became much closer to the one he is today.
At 18 years old, Cor was among but a handful of people present at the bedside of King Mors on the night of his passing, there to comfort the grieving heart of Prince Regis before he was to ascend the throne of Lucis and receive coronation as its 113th ruler. When Regis gave his speech before the citizens of Insomnia, Cor was there to witness the newly-crowned King of Lucis express his true feelings to the people he swore to protect, which further strengthened his own resolve to do the same for Regis in kind.
At 21, Cor would be present for the King’s wedding to his childhood sweetheart, Aulea Lucis Caelum. For many people throughout Eos, it is a pivotal moment in history worthy of spectacular celebration, but for Cor, it would be a vivid and personal reminder that he could never pursue that kind of life for himself, no matter how much he might want it.
At the age of 23, Cor Leonis bravely fulfilled his duties to the royal family when the fabled “Adagium” of Lucian legend emerged without warning during the apex of the festivities being held in honor of Founder’s Day and summoned the Astral Ifrit to raze Insomnia to the ground. He was among the surviving Royal Guards and Crownsguard officers to coordinate evacuation efforts with Sworn Shield Clarus Amicitia while King Regis personally contended with the ancient criminal himself, being forced to evade Ifrit’s rampage and cut down scores of his own siblings-in-arms as they transformed into daemons before his very eyes; even the former commander of the Crownsguard, himself a seasoned veteran of battle, fell victim to this strange and horrible process, requiring Cor to slay the creature he had become in self-defense.
Through some accursed stroke of serendipity or by will of divine intervention, Regis survived his encounter with the Kingdom’s most sworn enemy and was soundly rescued by special forces. In the wake of the attack, Cor was elevated to the status of Crownsguard commander for outstanding service to the royal family and Kingdom of Lucis. Over time, the title of “Marshal” evolved into something of an unofficial term for Cor’s seat of office, yet it also served as a reference to his disciplinarian methods as well as the unbreakable courage and dedication he showed when rescuing the civilians of Insomnia during the Founder’s Day catastrophe. If nothing else, it was better than being called “the Immortal”, though this never stopped, either, to Cor’s perpetual chagrin.
At 25, upon learning that Queen Aulea had gone into labor, both King Regis and Cor dropped everything they had been doing prior to receiving the phone call, and the latter drove to the hospital with such alarming speed that he completely damaged the Regalia from front to back. By the time they had arrived, she had finished giving birth to her child, a healthy boy, but fell victim to a deadly postpartum illness from which she ultimately never recovered. That same night, Cor would meet the newborn Crown Prince, Noctis Lucis Caelum, for the first time.
Like most people, Cor had familiarized himself with the Cosmogony in some form or another, and thus understood the importance of the Lucian royal bloodline to the people of Eos, their mythical connection to the Astrals, as well as the sacred Crystal that blessed them with the power of magic. Likewise, he expressed awareness of the prophecy that surrounded the Caelum Dynasty regarding the Crystal’s anointment of a “Chosen King” who would appear when eternal night fell upon the world and unleash the light of Providence to banish the darkness at the cost of their own life. Given how long-lived the bloodline was, Cor had plenty of reason to believe he would never come to witness the fulfillment of a thousand-year-old prediction during his lifetime, and gladly made peace with this reality.
But on the night of the Crown Prince’s fifth birthday, a 30-year-old Cor received a phone call from a solemn King Regis, issuing news that the spirits of the Old Kings had declared Noctis to be the One that the prophecy spoke of: the True King who will one day give his life to save the world from everlasting darkness. The announcement causes the Marshal to drop both his composure and his phone in silent grief for his best friend and King, for everyone that would ever be involved in the young Prince’s life, and for Noctis himself most of all.
Following this enormous revelation, Regis forms the elite Kingsglaive unit to serve as the royal family’s best line of defense, imbuing the most talented among them with the ability to cast magic. This would also mark the beginning of a dramatic change in the King’s treatment of the Prince, permitting Noctis all the concessions and privileges that Regis either never got to enjoy himself, or took for granted when he had the power to indulge in them, yet Cor knew, as much as anybody else, that he simply wanted to be a father to his own son, while he still had time.
For the next fifteen years, Cor Leonis unflinchingly served as leader of the Crownsguard and personally saw to the training of its most skilled members, as well as the induction of several others, across the course of his tenure. 15-year-old Ignis Scientia would be the first among Prince Noctis’s friends and royal retainers to begin his mentorship under the Crownsguard’s tutelage, and his need for total clarity in all aspects of his life seamlessly translates into a perfectionism matched only by the Marshal himself. The Prince’s personal trainer and Sworn Shield, Gladiolus Amicitia, becomes registered as an enlisted officer of the Crownsguard at 20 years old, followed closely by an 18-year-old Ignis one year later. Prompto Argentum, common-born like Cor and a close friend of Prince Noctis from his time in school, is given official recognition among the Crownsguard ranks and provided training in firearms to account for his lack of military experience.
The four young men, Prince and his entourage, are a reflective echo of King Regis and his retinue from thirty years ago, and a perpetual reminder of much simpler times.
In a political move that stuns the people of Eos, Chancellor Ardyn Izunia of Niflheim, at the behest of Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt, comes forward with terms of peace for King Regis and the people of Insomnia: in exchange for Imperial annexation of all territories outside the Crown City and marriage between the Crown Prince Noctis and Princess Lunafreya of the province of Tenebrae, Niflheim would cease all hostilities against Lucis. Only Regis expresses concern over the fact that the chancellor had been sent to act the part of envoy without an escort, and begins to sense that the arrangement was actually a most nefarious trap. Weakened from sustaining the Wall over Insomnia for years with his own life’s essence, the King of Lucis shrewdly accepts Niflheim’s terms.
Before the treaty-signing was to occur, the Crownsguard unit were abruptly reassigned from protecting the royal family and Citadel to the broader role of public peacekeepers, while the Kingsglaive were given their former duties as part of enhanced security measures. The King’s Sworn Shield, Clarus Amicitia, is unbothered by these changes, as protecting the people also means it keeps their support for Regis alive and strong. Having been tasked with external patrol that day with only a skeleton crew to keep watch, however, Cor voices his displeasure to Clarus at the thought of him and his men being virtually excluded from the ceremony itself, but is calmly reminded of the necessity that comes with safeguarding the civilians of Lucis, and that only the Kingsglaive and their ability to use the royal magic could properly fight the Empire in case the worst should come to pass. Sensing that he was being intentionally kept in the dark, Cor had eventually come to the bitter realization that Regis himself knew what was at stake, and that he would want his implicit trust in seeing his wishes through. He would never get the chance to look upon his liege one last time.
On May 16th, in the year M.E. 756, after they had received the blessings of King Regis, a 45-year-old Cor escorts Prince Noctis and his retainers to the Regalia, where they were then free to take the royal car outside of Insomnia and drive their way to Galdin Quay to be ferried off to Altissia on the false pretense of securing the marriage between the Crown Prince and the Oracle of Tenebrae.
That same night, all hell broke loose upon Insomnia. Unbeknownst to Cor entirely, it was through a carefully coordinated act of treachery that enabled Niflheim agents to infiltrate the Crystal’s sanctuary and disable the apparatus that powered the city’s shield, allowing Imperial dropships to descend from above and unleash their latest magitek monstrosities: the Diamond Weapons. Unable to rush to the defense of his King in the midst of the chaos, Cor turned all of his efforts to evacuating as much of the population as he could, even as the bulk of the Crownsguard forces were ruthlessly cut down by Imperial magitek troops. It is through the coordination of fellow officers Monica Elshett and Dustin Ackers that Cor is able to rescue numerous lives, including Gladiolus Amicitia’s little sister Iris, but they are forced to flee the Crown City proper as catastrophe engulfs it almost completely.
In the aftermath of the invasion, Cor is aggrieved to learn of all that had transpired at the Citadel, including Niflheim’s abduction of the Crystal that gives the Lucian monarchs their power, but nothing angers and upsets him more than to discover that King Regis had been killed, along with Clarus and the entire Lucian delegation party, although it would put his spirit at ease to be told that their murderer, General Glauca of Niflheim, met his end at the blades of a Kingsglaive who ultimately died protecting the future of his homeland and people. The press coverage on the attack even claimed that Prince Noctis and Lady Lunafreya had also perished during the siege, but Cor had personally seen to his departure to Galdin Quay and was eventually informed that Lunafreya had also escaped, along with the sacred Ring of the Lucii, due to the active involvement of another Kingsglaive.
Cor eventually establishes contact with the Prince himself, pained as he was to confirm his worst fears by stating that King Regis had died in the assault, and instructs him and his friends to make way for Hammerhead so that Cid could relay them a message to meet him at the Tomb of the Wise near the ruins of Keycatrich. Once they had arrived, Cor explained to Noctis that, as the incumbent King of Lucis, it was now his responsibility to seek out the various royal tombs scattered across Eos and inherit the powers of the past kings so that he may reclaim the throne. Noctis expresses grief over being lied to about the true reasons for being sent away from Insomnia, as well as anger over the burdens he must now inherit, but Cor tells him with no shortage of confidence that Regis wanted his son to remember him not as a King, but as a father, and that he sincerely believed in him until the very end.
After Noctis resolved to accept the Power of Kings, Cor leads the Prince to the location of another royal tomb nearby, illuminating the purpose of the royal arms to Noctis so that he may better understand their nature as weapons connected to the Crystal’s magic, but he would need the Ring of the Lucii to bring out the full strength of his forebears, which had been entrusted to Lunafreya by Regis prior to his death. At the entrance into Keycatrich Trench, Cor hands Noctis a special key to unlock the royal tombs before departing his company to investigate rumors of travel into Duscae being restricted by Imperial checkpoints.
By the time Noctis acquires his second royal arm, Cor informs him and his group of Niflheim’s presence and guides them to rendezvous with him at the Norduscaean Blockade. With a diversion from Noctis’s friends, Cor and the Prince take out the magitek troops stationed at the blockade, only to be confronted by Brigadier General Loqi Tummelt. Growing up hearing stories of the Marshal’s numerous exploits, Cor’s self-professed “rival” swoons at the prospect of defeating his heroic nemesis in combat, but he is soundly beaten by the Crownsguard commander with assistance from Noctis and his friends; yet another footnote among his many “countless exploits”. He parted ways with the royal company after clearing the path to Duscae, expressing trust in their ability to continue their mission without further guidance from him.
Motivated by his enduring promise to Regis, Cor continued to follow the orders of the late King by assisting the people of Lucis, collaborating with the local Hunters of the region and enlisting their help in locating several of the lost royal tombs, however, he would eventually be required to put his search on hold in order to aid Hunters in thwarting troublesome monsters around Eos.
Then, one day, Cor receives a phone call from Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis’s Sworn Shield, who boldly declares his plan to take on the Blademaster’s trial. Over a hot meal and a drink, the Marshal tells Gladio he is willing to accompany him and offer support as they navigate their way through the Tempering Grounds, but that he must face Gilgamesh’s trials alone. During their excursion into the Blademaster’s lair, Cor recalled the story of the Tempering Grounds and their discovery thirty years prior, how numerous attempts were made to explore the ruins, and how all of these endeavors collapsed in failure and led to the slaughter of everyone that sought to complete the trials, save but one man: himself. Cor confides in Gladio that he had only survived against Gilgamesh because he fled, and that he had almost died in return for nothing.
Against the Blademaster himself, Gladio confronts his only true fear—that of being unable to protect the Chosen King—and earns the favor of Gilgamesh in valorous combat, winning Cor’s old Genji Blade as a trophy of his victory and proof of his conviction as Shield of the True King. Simply looking upon his former sword was enough evidence for Cor to recognize Gladio had succeeded in completing the trials, and is a moment of deep personal catharsis for the Crownsguard commander, who could now make peace with the mistakes of his past and serve both Crown and Kingdom with nothing less than his signature brand of peerless excellence.
Cor makes his way to Cape Caem after hearing news of the Prince’s endeavors to repair his father’s old sailing vessel, and takes it upon his shoulders to personally apologize to Noctis for being unable to protect Regis when Niflheim attacked Insomnia, but is gracefully absolved of any wrongdoing on the basis that it was something no one could have possibly anticipated, much less prevented on their own. He is among the people to bid the royal party farewell as they set off for Altissia, and one of countless others tuning in to the radio broadcast of Lady Lunafreya’s first public address since the Imperial invasion.
Then, things went to hell. Again. Niflheim launched a siege on Altissia to disrupt Lunafreya’s communion with Leviathan, leaving the Oracle dead; trying to protect Noctis, Ignis Scientia sustained irreparable damage to his eyes and lost the ability to see; and Noctis himself, having defeated Leviathan with Lunafreya’s aid, had fallen into a near-comatose slumber that lasted for several days. Without an Oracle to heal the afflicted populations of Starscourge, nights were doomed to grow noticeably longer and longer, which meant the presence of daemons was certain to intensify in turn. Cor’s last known correspondence with Noctis and his friends involved an anonymous tip regarding the location of a lost royal tomb hidden deep inside Imperial territory.
Sure enough, eternal night descended over Eos, with Noctis nowhere to be seen. Unable to control the daemons that thrived in darkness, the Niflheim Empire disintegrates. Cor played an instrumental role in banding together the former Crownsguard with the Hunters, the surviving remnants of the Kingsglaive, and other rebel soldiers to stand as humanity’s last line of defense against the daemon hordes that quickly took over the world. Although he initially devoted resources towards locating and rescuing Noctis, Cor would later reassign his search parties to defending outposts, a decision that was met with many misgivings from those who still held faith in the gospel of the True King.
Cor gradually lost the ability to use magic over time, but remained unmatched in melee combat otherwise, even as he committed the majority of his time into training new fighters over battling on the front lines himself. He is even called upon to exterminate a mutant iron giant lurking on the outskirts of Lestallum. As they waited for the Chosen One, Cor invested special attention towards Noctis’s friends, and played a pivotal role of inspiration to Iris Amicitia’s steady development into a daemon huntress of exceptional talent, helping her evacuate the citizens of Insomnia following the collapse of Niflheim’s “recovery assistance efforts” once the daemons had fully infested the city.
But five years into the Long Night—five years before the King of Light’s return—Cor Leonis was never seen, nor heard from, again.
V. AUTHOR
PLAYER ALIAS:: Ensō OTHER CHARACTERS:: Gilgamesh ROLE-PLAYING EXPERIENCE:: *hysterical laughter* HOW YOU FOUND US:: I watched a curse video tape. After seven days, you're trapped here forever. NOTES FOR CONSIDERATION:: Cor is going to be VERY CONFUSED why the world is no longer an apocalyptic nightmare hellscape anymore. ROLE-PLAY SAMPLE:: anime_sword_slash.mov