A Flay Falls

[youlovesocks 652]

A Flay Falls

 

(read with music)

 

27th of Sun’s Smile, 1469      

 

The sun was low on the horizon, and thick grey clouds hung over the valley of Alras, pitting it into darkness. Thunder boomed in the distance, and crackling lightning illuminated the black evening skies periodically. A heavy downpour of rain fell upon the city, and the gravel paths snaking around the valley were quickly washed away in the torrential deluge. A storm brewed on the grim day, and in Alras’ centre, many of the citizens were gathered in a tight mob to watch as two guardsmen hauled a man in a red bandana, tightly shackled and head held low, to a hastily constructed chopping block …

 

Han Flay half-trudged along as the pair of rough Alrasians tugged him through the parted crowd to the executioner ahead, his eyes full of fortitude and grit. A bloody gash weeped blood over one side of his temple, and his head spun and stung, mind muddled and racing, as he passed countless sneering and snarling faces in the crowd. They glared daggers at the captured old man, and he faintly heard shouts and curses. He gave a groan as the ringing in his ears subsided, and their shouts of hatred were made clear.

 

“Death!”

 

Han grinned through bloodied teeth at the Alrasian pig-dogs, his mouth full of shattered teeth obscured by his crimson bandana, one of the last surviving artifacts of the once-great House Flay. Objects and saliva were hurled at Han as he was dragged along, his sopping wet hair hanging limp over his face, and he forced himself to raise his head in indignation. Looking up, he saw a timid Elven creature gripping a fierce axe and looming over a chopping block before him, slowly getting closer as he was hauled along.

 

End of the line, *****’, he thought to himself bleakly. He squinted, struggling to remain conscious as his memory raced back to how he had found himself in such a predicament. Then, images flooded his mind at once, too many to take in. Fleeting memories crossed his consciousness -

 

… a young Han, petty thief living in Salvus, was came across and taken in by none other than Drelik Letholdus. Proving his loyalty, he was inducted into House Flay - not knowing his father of birth, Han was honored to be part of a family, and began his intrepid service ...

 

… the Battle of the Dreadfort. Defending his keep and home, Han fought alongside his longtime brothers and comrades as they repelled the Teutonic pig-dogs from their mount, ensuring a glorious victory. Han reveled with his friends in the grandeur of the success ...

 

… the death of Augustus Blackmont. Han stood at the solemn procession of remembrance to the great leader, feeling as though he had lost a brother, a father, and a friend. This fierce blow changed the young warrior Han into a man of contempt and mettle, a man who would not back down from a fight ...

 

            … Han aided his Raevir and Amyasian brothers in arms as they ambushed the Alrasian pig-dogs after baiting them into the swamplands, routing them back to the walls of their den of sin. As a rallied force of the Alrasians sallied forth, pushing back the attackers, Han was ensnared in a swamp root, but fought valiantly before his capture, ensuring the safe retreat of his friends. Wounded severely from a blow to the skull, he was dragged by two of the Alrasians towards -

 

- Yanked back to reality, Han was shaken roughly by a sour-faced guard. He found himself face-down in the muddy ground of the dank Alras square, and he heard hoots and hollers of glee at his stumble. Forcing himself to his feet with a pained grunt, Han’s eyes shone with passion as he continued his hopeless march towards the block, his thighs criss-crossing as he staggered.

 

Stepping forth onto the elevated pedestal on which the chopping block was mounted, Han’s blurry vision cleared as he gazed blearily forth on the gathered Alrasians, eager for the bloodshed of their enemy. His form broken and bruised, his pain miserable, Han struggled with the last of his strength to rise to stand at his full height. His muscles aching, he regarded most of the crowd with a steely gaze, watching some of their shouts catch in their throats in shock at the condemned man’s last act of bravery and boldness.

 

Within the crowd, Han recognized familiar faces. His friends, allies, those he had fought alongside for years … wearing robes and garbs as disguises to blend in with the flamboyant, colorful Alrasians. They cast him solemn nods and honorable gazes, in respect for their brother. Nothing could be done to save Han, try as his friends might, it was certain death, and he accepted it. Han was no longer afraid of death, he was tired, old, and battered, and had no fear of the end.

 

Roughly pushed to his knees, Han let a gasp escape his blood-stained teeth beneath his bandana, and he let his head rest against the wood of the chopping block. There were no previous axe marks or dried bloodspots on the chopping block, there were no announcements, prayers, or words spoken, and the ‘executioner’ looked likelier to be reading and stroking his neckbeard rather than wielding a wicked weapon of death.

 

Han opened his fluttering eyes one last time, and watched as the stormy skies opened in the distance, and a ray of light appeared from the horizon, the last regard of the Sun. Han’s lips curled in a smile hidden by his facemask, and he peacefully closed his eyes as the axeman’s halberd descended, knowing he would be greeted with open arms in the Seven Skies …

 

The people of Alras cheered with disgusting contempt and pleasure as the legendary Flay’s head rolled. The frail axeman stepped away with wobbling arms, and the crowd soon parted, their pleasantries and cheeky quips dissolved. A man wearing taped-on elf ears steps forth, looking down at the dismembered head of the departed Han. Tears well up in the man’s eyes, and he gives a shaky nod of farewell to his friend.

 

“You were the best o’ us, Han. I’ll nae forget you, or let anyone do the same, brother.” Sascha de Saltpans drops to a knee, quickly collecting the fallen hero’s signature bandana. Sascha looked over the now-artifact, it’s faded crimson color seeming bright and hauntingly vivid. Sascha quickly pockets the bandana, and hustles away, casting a glance over his shoulder and pausing with great sorrow before leaving Alras.

 

            A great man had died, and through his death impassioned many of his comrades. Han, “The Bitchfit”, Flay, did not die in vain. That would be assured.

 

Special thanks to Niceguynorman for writing this beauty.

[DrakeHaze. 2524]

((Wtf why))

[Norman 492]

The remaining remnants of the Flays and former banditos, including Oslo Thurgar and Varon Kovachev, row a small craft out to sea off of the coast of the Ankulos Peninsula, Sascha standing at the bow of the boat, a large Cross of Lorraine gripped tightly under the crook of his arm. On the floor of the boat, a cask lies, carrying the retrieved remains of their dutiful comrade Han. Muttering a prayer silently for his departed friend, that he may indulge in the paradise of the Seven Skies, Sascha gives a scornful nod, and the coffin is pitched overboard, sinking beneath the waves.

 

 

Watching the coffin submerge beneath the ocean, the procession grumbles with sorrow as they row back to shore, yet another of their jolly band dead and gone.

[Knox213 10]

Roy Carrion receives word of the recent death of an old friend.

 

"He died a martyr, and for a good cause. Godan Jest Wielk." He then preforms the raevir sign of the cross. Kissing his index finger and middle finger pointing to the sky.

 

In the seven skies...

 

"Ej Han, did niet expect you to live as long as this. Is good to have an old friend, niet brother for company." Heinrik then embraces Han, as is raevir tradition.

[Avacyn 1712]

"Han..................................................."

[oblivionsbane 714]

Mark is walking along the path in Alras checking the usual state of affairs. He glances to the recently used block and furrows his brow. He grabbed some random passerby and asked him if there was an execution, and the man just so happened to have witnessed it. He explained to Mark what had happened and on realization of who it was Mark's head drooped. The random citizen simply continued blabbing on about random things until Mark simply turned and stepped away. He walked over to the block and stared at it sorrowfully.

 

"You weren't my best friend, but you certainly weren't my least favorite person either. I will miss the knowledge of your presence in this world. Although, short of dying on a battlefield, I think you knew this is how you would go out. To be honest, I think you honestly wouldn't have had it any other way. You lived a good long life, much longer than most humans, so now be at peace." He muttered.

 

He frowns as he adjusts his hood to be farther down on his head as he goes to take a walk around to clear his head.

[leave me alone 995]

((rip))

[D A N N Y 966]

(( Rest in peace, Han ))

[Jachnun 566]

Branaford salutes and says "Good night sweet prince, you will never be forgotten.."

 

((Enjoy the real world m8))
 

[Tsuyose 3285]

Red casts his gaze about, peering down from the hills that loom over the city state of Alras, a faint frown curling over his lips as he grips his dirk tightly, a crimson bandanna in his spare hand, also tightly gripped. He drew in a deep breath, giving his head a little shake as he watched the scene unfold. A faint sigh rumbled from his arid lips as it dragged on.. Only for his eyes to widen; his body freezing up for a few, brief moments, watching Han's head fall. He grit his teeth, turning upon the heel of his sole and sluggishly departing.

 

"Rest in peace, Han."

 

 

((RIP))

[IevIr4d 29]

Weeps sad tears of sadness as he mourns the loss of his mentor and dear friendo

[Kanrath 190]

*Hears the news of another death that stuck, but is saddened by the fact they chose to blame Alras for it.*

[JVQ 1719]

From the crowd Mordechai raises his hand, another great hath fallen...

 

[Esterlen 4499]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGLteEaPTgw

[Vanir 693]

Nestled away in his small cabin in the empty town of Siegrad, Abner stood staring out at the ocean, a sad expression on his face. In his hands, he clutched a crimson bandana which showed signs of wear and tear. It had been a long time since he last wore it. His gaze finally lowered, until it rested on the bandana. He stared at it for a long moment, remembering his times in House Blackmont, alongside Han. "It's been so long since I last saw you, Han.." He said to the bandana, sighing. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there t' fight alongside you, one last time.." Gently folding the garment, Abner tucked it away, and made his way out of Siegrad and into the swamplands.

"I won't ferget you, friend."

 

((was a good read man, gonna miss Han. RIP in peace))