Awakened Theowyn

Awakened Theowyn is a Legendary Graveborn hero in AFK Arena. Awakened Theowyn's class is Support.

Other Graveborn heroes in AFK Arena: Awakened Baden, Awakened Fawkes, Awakened Shemira, Awakened Thoran, Baden, Bronn and 29 more.

Awakened Theowyn carries the title "Queen of Bound Souls". Awakened Theowyn is voiced by 東海林 亜祐 in Japanese.

Violet rose petals drifted down, just like the shower of flowers Edwin had scattered for her just days before. Yet Theowyn could not smell their rich fragrance; instead only the metallic stench of iron remained upon her breath. She coughed uncontrollably as blood surged up her throat and spilled from her lips. "Edwin... Brother..." She lifted her hand and reached for the hem of his overcoat. Before, a gentle tug like that would prompt him to lean down, but this time, her hand only left a smear of blood on the fabric. Theowyn remained dazed. Her political marriage had already been canceled because Thalonia had pled for peace, putting a halt to the war. She thought she could finally remain in the familiar palace, safeguarding the increasingly brittle affection between her two older brothers. But for the rebels lurking in the shadows, this bloody outcome was certainly the signal to strike, the firing shot to launch the rebellion in earnest. Still struggling through confusion, she lifted her head, only to be met with a pair of frigid, unfeeling eyes. Edwin slid his sword from her chest and said, "You shouldn't have stood in the way." He then flicked the blood off his blade as Theowyn collapsed onto the floor, not giving her another glance as he stepped over her body and swung his sword at Thoran once again. No. This couldn't be her dear elder brother. Just who was he? "He is your brother indeed, and he just sliced into your other brother's chest. Ah, it would seem that even he cannot escape the grasp of death." An eerie green eye appeared in the otherwise pitch-black field of Theowyn's consciousness, gazing down at her. "Have you regret? Anger? It's a pity that you're dead, unable to do anything about it." Dead? ... "Dead indeed. I can grant you new life, however, so you may ensure that your dear Bantus does not devolve into a mire of war and betrayal. The price? Only your useless, craven soul." Useless and craven. Theowyn lowered her eyes, refusing to contest the accusation. If this eye could really salvage the situation, then she would gladly give up her soul. Theowyn was plunged into total darkness, perceiving only a hint of floral fragrance amid the void. Edwin then pinned a violet rose into her hair. She held both of her brothers' hands, smiling as they celebrated the cancellation of the political marriage... Theowyn opened her eyes, just as countless hollow eyes also opened. Quaedam had deceived her. The evil Lord of Fear had long ago buried the roots of necromancy deep in the soil beneath Bantus, using Theowyn's royal blood as a prybar to unseal the realm of the dead. Gazing at all this before her, Theowyn burst into tears. She clutched at her chest, where her heart no longer beat, but where grief could still be felt. A sneering voice sounded in their mind, "Now go and gather all the resurrected undead and assemble a Graveborn Army." Quaedam shed his disguise, confident that Theowyn, bound by their covenant, could not resist him and had become nothing more than an obedient puppet. Theowyn felt the necromantic power in his voice, yet she seemed to retain her own consciousness. Deep inside, all she wanted to do was to step away, to flee from all of this and hide in a dark corner to weep. But then an oppressive sense of guilt swallowed her up. If she fled, she would descend deeper into the void, never to return. Before Quaedam lost his patience, Theowyn began walking toward the graveyard. If her brothers were also resurrected, she wouldn't have to bear all of this alone. But seeing her brothers lying cold and still in their coffins, the last shred of Theowyn's cowardly hope was broken. "Why haven't they resurrected yet?" While he found the question laughable, Quaedam answered out of mercy, "Their time has not yet come." The cunning Lord of Fear would never place all of his eggs in one basket. Indeed, Theowyn had always relied on her brothers, allowing her to run from things she did not wish to face. Be it the political marriage or the rift between her brothers, she'd hidden away in her tiny room, blinding herself to such worries. But she never should have acted that way. She was a member of the royal family, a princess meant to protect her nation, and the catalyst for all of these disasters. Obstinately, she took all the blame upon herself, as if the only thing that could keep her heart from collapsing was to punish herself. In any case, she knew that from then on, she'd have to bear it all herself. Having learned from her brothers, Theowyn gathered her people and began issuing decrees. The mindless undead lined up neatly before the palace hall, while those who retained their sanity stared up at her with fearful, bewildered eyes. Standing high, Theowyn felt as though she might plummet into the depths of the earth, where countless pairs of eyes would stare down at her. What to do next? No. Do not ask questions. Do not reach out for help. She must think for herself and decide what she really wanted. Theowyn pinched her eyes shut and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her confusion had been banished. "Bantus shall not perish, nor shall we become the slaves of death." Quaedam finally noticed Theowyn's capacity for independent thought. He assaulted her will with necromantic power, only for it to be neutralized again and again by some mysterious force. Channeling the necromantic power of the covenant, Theowyn placed seals on her unawakened brothers, preventing them from ever summoning armies again. Not long after, the brothers opened their eyes. Thoran awoke to find that half of his body had turned to bone, his mind wavering between sanity and madness. While Edwin had not lost his sanity, the affection in his eyes was now absent, leaving only a frigid and calculating vigilance. Theowyn turned her back and let her tears stream down, ignoring Thoran's roars and Edwin's curses. Beautiful memories of the past surged forth, each bursting like fragile bubbles upon contact with her unbeating heart. Mired in sorrow and struggle, Theowyn failed to notice the gaze cast upon Edwin. Theowyn donned the crown and established a new Code of the Dead in her name as queen: Eating the living and forced conscription are forbidden. Those who retain their sanity shall remain as before, and those who seek slumber shall be allowed to rest in peace. Theowyn permitted those who had not turned undead to choose whether to leave or remain, while allowing the undead to choose whether to accept her rule. Many left, but even more chose to remain. On the day the new Code was enacted, the haze in the long-overcast sky seemed to lighten slightly. An undead child carried a lantern before the throne, inquiring, "Must the dead still abide by a curfew?" Stepping down from her throne, Theowyn bent down and held the child's hand. "Yes. Not because death makes you unworthy, but because there are still people here who fear you. The Code must protect them just as it protects you. However, none shall treat you as a monster or a weapon." Understanding only part of what was said, the child nodded and carried their lantern back to the ranks of the dead. From then on, the dead of Bantus gained a new name: the Unfinished. "Laughable! So powerful, yet cowering like mortals. You are far too naive, young one." Edwin mocked her, "They need strength! They need to conquer! Yet you dare not let them leave the gates!" Gazing at her brother's face, so familiar yet so foreign, Theowyn lowered her eyes and simply whispered, "They've already died once for Bantus, my brother." Edwin finally left, perhaps rescued by his old military faction and necromancers, or perhaps by Quaedam's decree. Black flags reappeared along the border, attacking Lightbearer villages in the name of Bantus. Edwin sought to make the world believe that the undead brought only war. Every battle report sent back to the royal city only deepened the living's fear of the dead, making it harder for Theowyn to preserve the peace she sought. But Theowyn held fast to her Code, believing that order would eventually result in freedom. Bantus changed under Theowyn's leadership. She devoted herself entirely to her empire, sometimes going days without rest. On the night of the anniversary of the coup, a mist crept across the palace stairs. She knew this was no ordinary fog, but she did not turn away her eyes. Sitting in a carriage as it rolled away from Bantus, the violet petals fell from the flower in her hand. Distant marriage, solitude, affection, exploitation.... All merged into a river of blood and tears that streamed across the land. Theowyn knelt before a tombstone, weeping for a guilt she never should have had to bear. "This is the path that fate reserved for you," a hollow voice sounded from the depths of her dream. Gazing at her former self, still weeping, Theowyn said nothing, though her eyes did well with tears. "It was you who preserved my spirit." She spoke to the voice that had once blocked that evil eye. "Who are you? And what is your price?" "You need only to remember what you saw, and then make your decision." The weeping in the dream halted for a moment, then resumed, as if an invisible hand was attempting to return this fragmented fate to its predetermined tempo. Faint laughter echoed in the distance, stretching the dream into countless chaotic reverberations. A lightless curtain descended, shutting out the two opposing wills. Before the darkness fell completely, Theowyn walked up to her other self, attempting to embrace its soul. "You did nothing wrong," she whispered. The lonely undead did not hear her, but in that moment, the weeping stopped. Theowyn awoke upon her throne, a single tear streaming down her cheek. Necromantic flames reignited across the city, as if only the span of a single breath had passed. From then on, she organized the dead who decided to take up arms and defend the city, forming the Graveborn Army. While she still abhorred war, she also understood her duty to protect her people.

A masked cultist appeared at the Bantus gates, presenting a letter for the queen. "Undead?" Orthros gazed at the image floating in the void, and a quiet chuckle answered his question. Orthros turned to Zolrath. "You knew of her existence all along." "You accuse me falsely. I did not hide her away," Zolrath said with great satisfaction. When the cultist left Bantus, countless battle flags were raised atop the city walls. They chose to defend their budding nation, as well as the lives that now belonged only to themselves.