An Old Bear's Cholesterol Problems

[osumanduas 1442]

 

 

    Within the bowels of Woldzmir much was quiet. The meetings, councils, and endless training exercises had begun to be wrapped up. Servants scrambled through the tight halls like mice through a dimly lit maze. All was as it should, thought Stanimir to himself as he made his way back to his room briskly walking the halls. He passed a hectic group of craftsmen who’d probably been at work for most of the Saints day for a substantial amount of time, by his estimate anyway. He also made sure to pay his thanks to the maids and servant girls as well. Then continued merrily on his way. Finally Stanimir stopped for a moment to catch his breath, standing beside the spiral staircase that would ascend up to his quarters.

 

    Before braving said stairs, a light, and almost annoying pain softly jolted from his chest. He stood by for a moment, letting it settle before continuing to his quarters, his mind on other things he considered to be of more importance.

 

    Stanimir was heartened as he entered his quarters, the familiarity giving him a warm sense of home. A fireplace cut out from the wall to his right blazed away, illuminating most of the stone-cut chamber. His bed chamber to the left also revealed, along with a fairly large oaken desk that solidly hugged the center wall with numerous lines of stacked books to the sides along with a framed addition of limited edition Dark Elven erotica from Asulonian times. He had paid a decent price for them as he recalled. “Now really, the work begins..” Stanimir muttered to himself, slipping off his deeply toned jacket and moving over to his desk for to make ready some of the letters and messages that would have to be sent to his nephew Franz in the morn. An abnormally cold sweat forming on his brow.

 

    The night went on and Stanimir’s sweaty brow and chest pains grew, but there was only one letter left from the pile. Stanimir slowly traced his quill to parchment, the orange illumination helping to hide his now sickly pale complexion. He felt his breath shorten and his shoulders slump forward. His condition worsened and he fell over unto the stone floor whilst trying to move quickly for assistance. Stanimir’s thoughts raced as he lay there, slowly losing his grip on life. He thought to his brothers, Rurik and Johaness whom had helped and supported the union of Vladovic so long ago. A flash of his nephews and nieces flew by as well, Viktorya's hairdoo, Franz's determination, Rhoslyn's faith and Avard's valor. Then the Creator took him, all that now non-existent. His vision faded, his thoughts silenced.

 

----

*A will written months before Stanimir's death would be revealed to all those of close relation.* (I.E, The Council of Adria, and the House of Vladovic itself.)

 

    I. The Barony of Woldzmir along with all other worldly possessions will be given over to the Patriarch of House Vladovic, and my nephew, Count Franz Vladov.

 

​    II. The translated book of Vladovic genealogy, containing the majority of Vladimir's bastards and and descendants is passed on to my nephew Arkov of Vladovic.

 

    III. A donation of a thousand mina shall be made to the Church of the Cannon.

 

 

[Porko 397]

As news of Stanimir's death spreads through the kingdom, the chattering and discussion reaches Werdenberg and Evios Hall's ears. Evios returns to his home, pacing, recalling the Renatian civil war. "That man..." Evios mumbles "An old foe... but now another lost human, a comrade... no less. I... I hope he is blessed in his journey."

[wolfdwg 2677]

Markus The Mad simply stares out at the vast ocean near Woldzmir, gazing at the Starlit sky. He feels a touch of sadness, he'd just lost his Fatherly Figure...

[Fireheart 2777]

Franz cries

[Areon 947]

Viktoriya cries, hoping her Cousin doesn't do anything out of anger at the loss of her father

 

[Zezimus 1523]

As Victor de Montfort is making his way down the road towards the city of Petrus, a young courier boy rushes up to him, bearing within his hands a small letter. Upon unfolding the envelope, and reading over the words scrawled across the parchment, Victor lowers his head slightly, a solemn expression crossing his face.

 

"Stanimir Vladov was a good a man as any. A true and just man who served his kin well. May Godani guide him to the seven skies, where he deserves his peace."

[Norman 492]

 

    Adrian de Bar sits in his quarters, mulling over an assortment of battle plans on the small council's table, scowling deeply in concentration. Looking up from his work at a knock on his door, the young lord watches with a furrowed brow as a timid servant presents himself at the foot of the chamber. Inquiring with scathing sarcasm the reason for the steward's interruption, Adrian pauses for a moment in bewilderment at the somber and unexpected news his visitor replies with. Opening his mouth to speak, but finding himself baffled, the stoic nobleman dismisses the courtier with a wave of his hand, leaving him alone in his quarters. Leaning forward in his seat and resting his cheek on his fist, Adrian de Bar sits morose and slack-jawed for a long time as he reflects on his cameraderie with Stanimir, a man he respected greatly.

 

[DragoonCrow 346]

HE actually had aids, says old teuton. 

[Fireheart 2777]

HE actually had aids, says old teuton. 

 

Franz frowns at the rumors as he remarks "And I am related to him.." he then cries again once more.

[Tirenas 677]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.