The Lone Crow.

[Knox213 10]

The Lone Crow.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ygcff7xaZfk

 

The Keep was quiet. No inhabitant of the fortress, whether cook, servant, or guard could be heard, not even to breathe. Alone, Roy Carrion sat slumped in his throne, looking out over the empty great hall of the Pravets Keep. The only sound was of Roy’s quiet, steady breathing, and the flames of torches as they churned and flickered in the breeze that made its way into the Keep. The young lord’s gaze was aimless as he chewed on his lower lip, his mind filled with both the average thoughts of a noble, and of the paranormal: of the Undead.  An eerie darkness slithered it’s way under the large oak doors that shut the hall off from the rest of the Keep, and travelled steadily around the edges of the room, making for Roy. He only noticed it when the shadows rose up in front of him, forming into a cloudy figure. The Crow jumped to his feet, his blade already nearly out of his sheathe before pausing. He’d had this happen to him before, when his first cousin, Yakov—corrupted by the Undead—came to visit him. Roy knew that somewhere in that black, corrupted soul, was the cousin that he had once had high hopes for. He knew that this soul still survived because the figure had not harmed him in the past; It had instead shown him visions; Visions that had slowly blackened his mind over time. Letting his sword drop back into his sheathe, Roy took a step back from the figure, nearly bumping into the seat behind him. His eyes scanned the black mass, searching for something, anything he could use to identify the creature. All he saw was a seamless black mass. “Who are you?” He asks, his voice echoing throughout the barren hall. Silence was the Lord’s answer. The Undead minion surged forward before Roy could react, the shadowy substance rushing into Roy’s mouth, nose and ears:

Godfrey Horen V stood in his vast Imperial courtroom, the halls empty. The banners swayed ever so slightly. A thin veil of shadow covered the lower edges of the throne which Godfrey stood in front of. Behind him, a shadowy figure stood, whispering unheard words into his ears. Footsteps echoed through the hall as a group of Knights approached their liege. The shadowed figures mouth twisted and churned, seen to none other but the Ruler. Unsheathing his mighty blade, the Emperor thrusted it into the sky. The scene lightened and changed until Godfrey V is seen, sat upon his golden throne, a small pile of crowns at his feet; Crowns that used to belong to ‘Independent Kings’. Roy bent double, shocked by the vision that had abruptly taken over his conscious. He struggled to stand straight, only to be assaulted by more streams of black smoke.

Ostromir and Siegmund Carrion sat side-by-side at a small, humble table in the back of a small tavern. Music, laughter and the sound cutlery on plates masked their words to anyone who was not directly beside them. Visible only to the duo was a shadowed figure, slightly apart from the two Crows. It occasionally leaned in, whispering it’s vile opinions and thoughts into the two future Emperor’s ears. Roy jerked forward, knocking several candles and mugs off of the table in front of him. Rage coursed through his veins as he turned and struck out wildly. “Niet! Enough of these lies, Spook! Begone, begone!” He screamed in rage, turning this way and that as a maniacal laughter bounced around the room. His back arched as more visions assaulted him.

Roy Carrion, a young boy, stood in front of a large, burning funeral pyre. Ranks of the infamous Decterum flanked the young lord as the elf screamed in agony, the flames slithering their way up the elf’s body, crisping and cracking the skin and boiling the very blood within the elf. A small smile was fixed upon the young Lord’s face.

Roy trudged through the muddied fields. Muck, blood and gore soaked the land around him. Fallen soldiers, weapons and banners lay scattered amongst the filth, the same filth that blanketed Roy. The scene shifted, and suddenly Roy thrusted forward, driving his father’s long sword through the heart of Farley Stafyr. The nobleman, held up only by the blade protruding from his chest, collapsed into a dead heap as Roy yanked the bloodied sword from the man’s body. It takes off, disappearing into the horizon.

 

 

A massive army, the size of which has never seen before, clashes with the forces of Iblees himself. Humans, Orcs, Elves and Dwarfs fought side-by-side, but are no match for the dark lord. The endless forces of the Undead smash relentlessly against the forces of freedom, wearing them down and obliterating them as a dark, red moon rises over the battle. Those that flee the battle, flee towards the burnt and torn banners of House Carrion, which had been destroyed by these “Forces of Freedom”. One man is seen kneeling before one of the banners sobbing, as he looks past the banners to the bolt-filled bodies of the Crows.

Images of various cities and capitals appeared. The inhabitants of these cities were all shrouded in darkness, the only light visible a purple blow from their eyes. The only sound is of a lone crow, flying out over the world, mourning for what the ignorant and power-hungry have brought upon the world.

Roy was hunched over on the ground, face down in the dirt. Above him stood Maric Varodyr, the Storm King. The Lone Crow raised his head and looked up at Maric as he rose to his feet, scowling intensely. “Bring on your storm, King Maric, and recall the words of my House." As the scene vanishes and appears behind him, simple words of "We come as crows."

Roy is slumped over, his body trembling with rage and despair. His eyes open painfully wide, the young lord gets to his feet, using his throne as support. The shadows swirl around the feet of Roy and the Undead, tumbling and rolling as if they were made of water. “This…can’t be true. Will not believe. My House will lead Humanity to victory. I will lead them to victory. My House will never fall!” He screams adamantly, gripping his father’s long sword in his hand. A low chuckle emanated from the shadow figure. It twisted and turned, it’s black mass quickly gaining patches of colour across it’s body until it looked human. Maric Varodyr floated towards Roy, placing his hand on the Lone Crow’s shoulder. “No, Roy. Son of Heinrik, never will I allow the offspring of that cur interupt in the dark lords plans.” The dagger cut deeply into Roy’s neck, blood spurting from the open gash, all over the Crow’s tunic. The shadow of Maric shoved Roy backwards into his throne and disappeared in a vorex of smoke, creeping out and under the oak doors. Roy helplessly pawed at the gash in his throat, frothy blood spilling from the edges of his mouth. So this is how I die, He thought to himself as his vision began to fade. A rumbling echoed throughout the hall as Roy brought the long sword up, and lay it across his knees. The sword that had once belonged to his father, Heinrik, and then to him. But who would own it now? He found himself wondering as the Lone Crow went limp, around him, the world went dark, the castle walls and supports fall inwards, eventually all that remained of the keep was small sections of the outer wall, half a tower and a ruined Carrion banner.

 

“Hello, Cousin.”

Roy opened his eyes. Tall stalks of wheat rose up around him. He lifted his gaze and looked up into the soft, uncorrupted eyes of his cousin, Yakov. Grinning, he lifted himself to his feet and shaked his cousins hand tightly. The other Crow laughed, patting the Lone Crow’s hand. “Good to see you, too, cousin.” They broke the handshake and instead put an arm around each other’s shoulders, going to walk through the seemingly endless golden fields of wheat. It is silent for a while, before Yakov speaks up. “Do you remember, cousin, the siege of Mount Augustus?”

“Of course I do!” Roy scoffs, grinning a bit. “Am remembering that not even forces of Zion could defeat Carrion. I remember bringing sword to vile Luciens and Stouts and all those who opposed us.”

“Do you remember what Heinrik did?”

“I do.” Roy answers, a bit quieter this time. “My father was a great King, one of best Carrion has ever had.”

“And do you remember what Siegmund did?”

“Of course.” Roy repeated, frowning a bit. “Why are you asking me this, cousin?” Yakov stayed silent for a while, the only sound to be heard was the wheat brushing up against the duo’s pant legs. He finally answers: “You must always remember the great things that Carrion has done. You must always be remembering how Carrion has done nothing but good for humanity, how we have fought for Unity, for Peace, and for a better world for all.” Roy simply nodded. “This needs to continue. Carrion needs to continue to do great things, or Humanity and all the other descendants of the Original Four will perish. It will take a Carrion to lead us into victory.” The Lone Crow nodded once more, taking this in.

“Am…recalling this. It is sounding like Stran’s prophecy.” Roy said, looking up towards his cousin.

“Da, it is. You are the one who will be reincarnated, cousin, to save Humanity, and to save Athera, from a great Evil.”

Roy was quiet for a long time. Thoughts of his kinsmen being slaughtered upset him, and he nodded, his eyes burning with both passion and hatred. His arm slid from Yakov’s shoulder as the field became dark, and his brother dissipated. Black clouds filled the sky and darkness descended.

“In the beginning, there was two.” Roy says, looking straight ahead. “And now, there is one.”

 

Soldiers and servants sworn to the Lone Crow wept as they looked upon the ruined castle of Pravets, Somewhere in there was their former liege, as dead as the castle that they now looked upon. Up on one of the ruined towers, a Crow cried. One may recognize it as Roy’s old crow, Godferik. Its cries join the Raevirs’ and echoes throughout the town. As the clouds part, letting rays of sunshine fall onto the ruins, Godferik’s cries stop.  The old crow, now without an owner, launches itself off of the tower and up towards the sky, disappearing in the sunlight.

 

((Now. For the OOC part.))

 

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

Music? Yeah, **** it. Why not.

 

Anyway, after a glorious year and four months. I have decided to take a nice long break from LOTC. No real reason why. I guess we all grow up eventually.

Anyway, to my homies in Oren, new and old. I bid you farewell. No doubt you'll all harass the **** out of my on skype regardless.

I 'aint going to bother writing some huge jihad post regarding a few specific people.

I owe a lot of stuff to a lot of people, from my days as a simple wardboy to the king of oren, from the king of Oren to just some person you'd see on the side roads ruling some independent town idfk.

Anyway, 

You're all alright people, I dislike some of you more than others though. Some people whine others bite the bullet and move on. Some are simple players simply trying to make a name for themselves whilst others are content with who they are.

I like to think I made some impact on the premium fanasty roleplay server of LOTC. For example developing some peoples leadership skills and general other characteristics. But at the end of the day as a former leader of a nation, I owe it to the players who put me there and supported my decisions through thick and thin. 

Not going to blab on because that shits boring. 

 

Though, I'm just going to say thanks to all and like.

Friendos, please stop fighting like children, your all grown ups now. Kinda getting sick of this competition over who has the bigger cock.

 

THAT IS ALL.

PEACE.

 

PS: May still comment stuff for occasionally for top class banter.

 

 

 

[Vanir 693]

Abner Rahl stands infront of the smoldering ruins, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Another Crow dead, while he himself still lived. He shouldn't have outlived any of the Carrion lords. He should have died long ago on some battlefield, defending them from the forces of evil. He mourned for the young Roy, remembering when he had first met him in Vekaro. Despite him being much older than the Carrion, he always looked up to the lad's leadership skills. "May ye find peace, Lord Roy. Mayhaps I'll be joinin' you one day up in the Seven Skies, forever a faithful servant of Carrion..." With that, the aging Abner Rahl made his way sadly out of the town to him humble home.

 

OOC:

 

It was truly a great time serving under you man. Anthos under your rule was definitely one of the funnest times I've had on the server, especially the Trench Warfare that you orchestrated. I'll definitely be talking to you on Skype whenever you're around, man.

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

Konrad smiles as he greets Roy in the Seven Skies, standing with Heinrik and a few others "Home at last. We all die sometime, friend." 

[Knox213 10]

Konrad smiles as he greets Roy in the Seven Skies, standing with Heinrik and a few others "Home at last. We all die sometime, friend." 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHzHHb9SNrQ

 

"Not quite home."

[dank 413]

Corbett stands motionless as he stares at the ruined castle of Pravets. The crow flying off truly showing the meaning of the picture before him and with a heavy heart the man lets out a quiet sigh, his eyes glisten with moisture but nay a single drop falls. "Dravo.." he mutters out, the quietness of his voice expressing his true feelings all too well, "Until we meet once more... In the seven skies, my good friend." Visions of the past creep into Corbett's mind, when Roy was a young boy in Vekaro, the two being friends, along with the good and bad memories all seemingly flash in an instant. "Roy's our boy." He states clearly and audibly, turning his head to look out to the rest of the world before him. With a solemn nod of his head he continues on his path, the weight he carries now one person heavier.

OOC:
I'll miss you my mentor, leader, and friend. Keep in touch.

[ThumperJack 927]

Demagol Doomforge, somewhere in the very fringes of Athera, hears of the Crow's death.

 

"T'e few w'o can stop t'e unded are diminishin', un boi un..."

 

He lights a small fire, remembering when a certain human came to Dak'ir while Demagol was visiting. The human spoke of Carrion, though, Demagol forgets what side he was trying to sway Dak'ir over to.

 

"May yer gods give ye peace. Fer t'ose ov t'e livin', will nae 'ave peace fer oi lon', lon' tiome..."

 

Demagol packs his things, and prepares to move again.

 

((I never rp'd with you, but you seem like a pretty cool guy. Good luck, and LotC will miss you.))

[Porko 397]

Evios shakes his head. " Roy... though I support tha' downfall o' Carrion rule, ye never were corrupt as the others are. An unfair death for a good man."

 

((I've never gotten to know you, and I think I RP'd with you only once. But from one member of the community to another, good luck and good bye man.))

[yopplwasupxxx 5946]

((I'll see ya man, always remember the Siege of Schattenburg and the Battle of Thoringrad :) ))

[Jachnun 566]

Branaford shakes his head in sadness frowning hearing of his late friend Roy. 

 

 

OOC:

 

((Where to begin, had so many good memories from you man. From your drunken fits randomly punching people and then getting banned by Koto 2 seconds later to tearing down the atrocious elf tree house near Vekaro. You are by far chillest king ive ever experienced to have on this server, and undoubtedly had the best time on this server when you were king. You kept on proving me wrong when I said you didn't have a talent to lead anymore when Pravets first started and now I feel I should have never said that. Thank you 4 the great rp.))

[Zezimus 1523]

Whilst leaning over a large map of the territories of the Holy Empire of Oren, a messenger hurries frantically into the room, in his hands gripped a small letter. Viktor leans his head up towards the figure, bringing out his arm to grasp hold of it. As he tears open the envelope and begins to read its words, a faint darkness descends over his face. He offers a hesitant nod towards the messenger, before gesturing him to leave the room. Standing in silence for a few moments, he arches his back upright, taking in a deep breath of air. Though he had not known much of his cousin personally, he had heard of the boy's ambition from the moment he had learned of his father's death in the Battle of Crow's Field. He knew for a fact that he would be greatly missed among the Raevir and his Carrion brothers.

 

((Peace Knox, it's a shame we couldn't have been able to RP more. Best of luck to you in life man.))

[susitsu 871]

((Defender of the Bro-Code...we will never forget you.))

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

 

Frederick knelt in the chapel, head bowed in quiet prayer having heard the news come to him. Roy was a fine man, one he respected and often times he had wondered if things could have been better with him in charge. Perhaps the whole war avoided and the lives of fathers and sons would have not been lost.

 

He lifted his head to the cross upon the wall, the sun coming through the glass. Perhaps it was the sign, when a soul passed to the Skies of a true and pure soul, a little bit of light was left in this hell of a world they suffered through. He turned to his right, Ser Corbett sat at a pew, eyes shut as a single tear fell down his cheek, he stood and rested a hand on his comrade's shoulder.

 

"One day, we will shed this body and reap the reward of the test we have overcome."

 

The two turned and left the chapel, their boots making sharp clicks on the cold stone floor.

 

[Rivk Zavadsky 700]

((Man, 2 Days before Christmas last year I was bored so i decided to get on Lotc, I knew Knox before that day but not that much, at the time I was playing Rick Felder, a Oren Legend at the time and still is. I became a friend of Knox during the war against the dwarves, truly the war that made pvp on this server seem like a pvp server, it is my favorite war because of the many fun fights that happend. I climed up in Oren was finally known, I was basically 2nd Inc of the Lucienist and was known for helping Heinrik with killing off The Black Scourge, omg TBS, how i yelled at you for being op, boy boy do i miss your nest, the north. 

 

Knox plz com back and rule the world agin.))

[Cracker 4570]

The High Pontiff breathes deeply. He remembered the death of Roy's father; an affair of great fanfare and mourning, a country bloodied by war and despondent with grief at the lost of their beloved monarch. The death of Roy was not as sharp and poignant, as expected given the solitude the son chose to take in his latter years. But that had arguably made the pain sharper for Daniel, who had to bear the burden of grief without a country to weep alongside him.

 

The boy, nay, man had capabilities far beyond his own in certain respects, and he felt rotten that he nor his closer kindred had made peace with the distant lord before his fateful demise. In fact, he had felt for a moment, wroth with the flaxen-haired whelp, whose pride led him to abandon his kindred in self-imposed exile. Yet, as the adage goes, blood runs thicker than water, and Daniel could not help but be overwhelmed with a nostalgic wave of remorse, remembering the boylord of Vekaro and his peculiar ways.

 

Taking his inkwell and quill, he writes slowly in the old Carrion legend, a single teardrop staining the page in grief due to the nature of Roy's death;

 

"On the 18th of Snow's Maiden, 1481, Lord Roy Rikovic Karovic of Pravets, born of King Roy "the Bold" Karovic and Queen Katherine Winter has passed unto the Skies. A stalwart soldier in his youth and stubborn lord in his later years, Roy had taken after his father deeply, though trading the King's graces for a bitter tongue and violent temperament.

 

I know from legend old that the King Heinrik had signs of Roy's belligerence in his youth, but this err in character was swiftly corrected by my predecessor Diedrik, who had instilled the boy a fierce sense of civility, diligence, and patience. Knowing this, I feel amiss, for mayhaps it was my duty to do the same, a duty I neglected.

 

 Roy had many a talent, from for his fierce display of martial skill in various pitched battles, Mount Augustus, Vekaro, Fenn, to his renown in the governance over the towns of Vekaro and Pravets. Despite Roy's strained relationship with his kindred, he held to the creeds of Karos and Barbov, a Carrion proper. He passed in the rubble of his Pravetsian fortress, with wounds indicating combat prior his death. He leaves no legal issue."

 

(Considering I'll catch up with you at some point, there's no need for a sentimental goodbye. Hope to see you come back sooner rather than later. It was interesting to leave CivRP four-five years ago with a strong dislike of another and manage to connect over LotC to the point of becoming brothers in arms and peer schemers. Funny how games work like that. Thanks for taking up the mantle of Oren and bearing the burden that nation-leading causes, and I should apologize for leaving you high and dry your first few months as King instead of cautioning you in. You've inspired a lot of people on this server, even myself at times, and accomplished more than most, so I don't blame you for taking off. It was good working with you and I hope you feel the same way!)

[cruzazul 2815]

Boris cries as his best friend and cousin departs from the realm.

 

((look im not good at the ic sadness thing but I want you to know Knox you were one of the chillest people I have met on the server. I am blessed to be able to call you a friend and I am going to miss shilling with you. I never got to thank you for putting up with me and my schemes and I just want you to know you hold a large place in my heart and you will not be forgotten. Keep it real in the real world man. If you ever need anything I'll always be here.))