I promised you, father.

[mmat 7460]

 

 

 

Letting out an undeniably forlorn and tired sigh, the young Oscar vaults from atop a prideful looking black horse. Silent but for the sound of his lone breath, he rounds the horse swiftly with a soft palm atop its forehead, stroking it with a sad smile before handing the reigns to a dear friend so that he might bring the great destrier to safety. His pair of dim eyes immediately cast to the bicoloured black and white sails that whip loudly in the spring breeze.

 

A naturally cheery voice with a somewhat diluted tint to it strikes him from behind as he begins to climb the platform which leads to the large galleon. “..Stay safe Oz, okay?”  His twin’s tone gives off a feeling of hesitation, as if she still possesses that childish lie of ambivalence towards her brother’s potential fate. He saw through it in a moment. ‘Oz’ shuts his eyes for a moment and exudes a tired seeming demeanor. “I will” he returns briefly, returning the faintest of smiles as he lightly places a folded up piece of parchment into the lady’s hand. It’s clear he’s struggling with the occasion. He twists back and begins to climb further, only giving his sister a single solitary glance as he departs.

 

It is with a hesitant sigh and burdened steps that he boards the vessel. He does not want to leave his home, but he’d made a promise to his father. “Someday I won’t be here.. And you’ll need take care of your sisters and your mother, okay my boy?” The echo of one now long passed reverberates in his mind as he falters for a brief moment, a tear running down his cheek for an instant before he swats it away. He would not disregard those piercing words. But as the ship sets sail toward the burgeoning sunrise as his father’s once did, he finds his mind drifting to other places and other times. As it does, a single melancholy and barely audible whisper is uttered from his lips.

 

“I’m coming, Els.”

 

 

---

 

 

The rain and windswept balcony of the manor had an almost forewarning chill to it as the eager girl peered out onto the stormy seas ahead of her. The trees flanking the manor blew almost diagonally in salute at the gale’s whim, and the flashes of lightning seemed to illuminate mirages in the young lady’s vision. Elise had just turned ten and both her mother and father could be seen in her appearance. Happy, viridescent eyes with a mane of curled brown hair defined her appearance. She had found her birthday present somewhat lacking, to her great dissatisfaction. Though she would soon receive a far better one. Her mouth opened expectantly at each of the faux blinks of light, surprisingly uncowed by the crashing thunder that admittedly shook her each time it exploded in the sky. Though what truly plagued her innocent thoughts were the jagged stones that seemed to jut out of the water unsettlingly in the bay, concealing a deadly maze just beneath the water. As the worst possible thought momentarily crept into her nervous mind, an eerie sinking feeling came to her chest, prompting her to cover her heart instinctively with the palm of the hand.

 

“Come inside. You’ll catch a fever!” The all too familiar voice cried out in the disturbed night, snapping her out of the odd trance she’d been bewitched into. The voice was unusually elevated as to not be completely snuffed out by the present storm. “No!” was the immediate and inevitably predictable response that came. The tone obviously pervaded an air of stubbornness about the girl that was quite familiar to any that came into contact with her. The older girl, Ari, who was around sixteen at the time, contrasted her sister unbelievably. Their father’s features dominated her; deep brown hair, a noticeably pale complexion and haunting grey eyes that seemed to have an unexplainable light to them. A seriousness masked her hesitant excitement for what was to come, but she smiled to her sister nonetheless. A smile that betrayed the anticipation they both felt for a moment that was long since coming. They were going home, at last. Shaking her head, she sighed at her younger’s adamancy and shifted towards her, adjusting her skirts and kneeling down at Elsie’s side.

 

“Father will come..” She uttered in an almost comforting whisper to her worried sibling, voice soft spoken and calming to the ear. But Elsie’s eyes averted towards the floor at this, doubt inducing her gaze downwards in doubt. With another rumbling blast of thunder, the storm began to worsen as it passed overhead onto the ravenous watery expanse which they now faced.

 

 

---

 

 

Just as they had for the prior two moons, biting wind and rain storms savagely smashed the now flimsy looking ship that carried the patriarchal Lancefeld. A slow and nervous sigh escaped his mouth as his dull, silvery eyes narrowed in an attempt to view what lay ahead. Try as he might to wish land from nothing, to his frustration, all he saw was more ocean. The aging knight impatiently furrowed his brow and called the first mate of the ship to him, an involuntary tint of frustration in his tone.

 

“Lad, how long have we until landfall?” The tint of anger in the words immediately bit at Drake’s conscience once he’d finished, it wasn’t the boy’s fault he’d been forced onto this rotting carcass of a boat. But the loving parts of his mind dwelled elsewhere from that dingy, squalid cabin. On his son, on his wife and on his daughters. They’d soon all be one family again… His jubilant thoughts were suddenly cut short by the slightly surprised response of the boy in front of him “S-Shouldn’ be long now Ser, ah’d wager around quarter of a day.” The response immediately brought forth a genuinely grateful smile and a nod from Drake in return. “Thank you, my friend.” he uttered with a pang of relief briefly injected into him. As the boy shakily left his company, Drake peered out in the direction the ship was headed, his own mind drifting to thoughts that might occupy him until the destination was reached, the covers of his makeshift bed cradling him as he pondered.

 

His first memory came as an unwelcome one. His mind tried to block out the squalor of the craft he travelled in by revelling in fire, swords and death that clouded his mind with a nauseating fog of horror that had eons since past. With a solemn sigh and a solitary display of emotion he recalled the event that had shaped and molded him into the man he was; that day at the dreadfort all those years ago. His godfather Alexander was first to leave him. He lay on the ground, speared by some peasant farmers with a dozen pitchforks and no sense of mercy or quarter, a tricoloured banner stuck through his belly as Drake had held in a flood of tears. Then, his father had abandoned him in much the same way, peppered with dozens of arrows and his life snuffed away in an instant. He’d not been allowed peace after that small mercy, after the battle the monsters strung his lifeless corpse up by his neck on a fence post with a sickening cheer. He’d never forget that sight, those sounds. The memory faded and blinked in forgetfulness, his mind telling him to stop torturing himself with the images. He didn’t listen. Crawling quietly in an attempt to escape the battle, he’d finally come upon the mutilated corpse of his mother, Winter, who had been missing for six tormenting months, her brown hair and loving smile broken and ravaged. At this he snapped out of his trance involuntary, realising he’d brought himself to tears, sniffling feebly as though for a moment, he’d become that vulnerable child again.

 

Through all of this, a malicious looking smirk crossed his face as he thought of his symbolic revenge for that day. The ever more vivid memories flooded back into his mind, ruthlessly drowning out the sorrow of his loss. He saw Barrowyk on fire, its defenders leaping from its walls only to die in the water or skewered by arrows as they poked their doomed heads over the ramparts. Each one seeming like the greatest victory to him. He saw his late friend, Guy de Bar as the two of them led the final charge to the keep’s spire together, the remnants of his hated enemy scattered at last. At this, Drake seemed to realise what he was doing and clashed his palm on the side of the wooden cabin in frustration. Vengeance wouldn’t end the cycle of violence that had shaped his life, and he would not have his son become what he had. He smirked again and inhaled a calm breath, though this smirk was one of pride and benevolence. He’d soon see his Ari and Elsie again. He’d soon see his boy, Oscar, that he was so proud of. He would soon see his wife that he loved so much and sacrificed so much for.

 

There were so many thoughts that shot to the  in that moment, so many people that he had met, so many things that he had done. Herun came to him as Drake smiled at the memory, however broken and beaten he was at the time. A hand had reached down for his when it was least expected; a bright light lifting him out of the pitch darkness he’d fallen into. He recalled how he’d offered to join the Paladins so that he might pay back the debt that he owed, and how that had lead him to that manor in the north in which he’d spent so many days. And strangely enough, in which his life had truly begun. It felt like a strange feeling a closure swept over him as tiredness swarmed him suddenly. He’d sleep until the ship made port, and then he’d bring his daughters home at last. As his eyes closed, his last thought were of his wife lying next to him and blessing him with the singular warmth he thought was impossible, and a smile came across his face as he fell finally into the blackness.

 

“Goodnight, my love.”

 

 

---

 

 

“Arwi, Arwi, Arwi, is that papa?!” The preteen had begun to tug irritatingly on her sister’s garments as the affectionate still toddler-esque rendition of her sister’s name echoed from her with an excitement that had barely been heard in her voice for years since they had been sent away. Ari’s cloudy eyes mirrored the intense storm perfectly as they peered laboriously towards the spot at which her sister had been pointing on the horizon… There is was. At the edge of the bay struggled a ship in the stormy and precarious seas. At the sight, Ari’s more mature head immediately became unsettled, through Elsie remained too elated to sight the danger.

 

It happened in a mere moment. Suddenly, a particularly brutal gust of wind seemed to rip the stone from the walls as it would grass from a field. The two siblings watched in abject horror as a windborn tidal wave sliced across the sea and effortlessly picked up the boat, tossing it carelessly into the cruel stones and cliffs that coated the walls of the bay, its structure seeming to collapse in an instant as it was almost flipped upside down. It took Elsie a few more moments to realise what had just happened. When she did, all seemed to go quiet. Ari’s face was simply painted with disbelief whereas her younger sister suddenly burst into tears at the imminent realisation the severity what they had seen. The elder sister simply embraced Elsie tightly as she cried lightly, pushing her head into the fabric of Ari’s dress and moistening the arm slightly. Without all of the glory or valour that had brought him what he had, without closure or finality. That is how Drake’s life ended that day.

 

“Papa..?”

 

 

Tl;dr I got banned like a ******* arse and felt inspired to do a little post to RP why ill be gone because I don't really 'write' very often. part of the credit goes to halsey for sparking the idea in my head and starryy for giving it a bit of critique. Also a death post for my most long lived character. RIP. Hope it gives at least a decent read

 

[lawnmowerman 3040]

Ser Athirius Roke the Fourth embraces Drake as he ascends to the seven skies, mumbling.

 

"We played ourselves."

[Tsuyose 3285]

Herun would pray to the Maker that Drake has a safe arrival to the Seven Skies; head cocked down with a solemn tear greeting the deck below.

"You did good, Drake. Rest easy, your wife is in safe hands."

[mmat 7460]

2 minutes ago, Tsuyose said:

"You did good, Drake. Rest easy, your wife is in safe hands."

 

((dirty bastard

[Pureimp10 5691]

At one time, the Vanir would have felt sympathy and sorrow at the old knight's death, but those times were gone.

 

Upon hearing of the man's death, Britannus would simply nod, returning to drilling the order men of Carnatia. 

[big narstie 1701]

tl;dr

 

Benjicot feels sad for the event

[Nathan_Barnett36 1564]

An old man would walk over the tomb of Drake, simply muttering

"Traitor".

 

Ivan would however, shed a tear of such news.

[Guest]

5 hours ago, Guck said:

"We played ourselves."

"Like a goddamn fiddle" says a dead de Sola

[Elad™ 560]

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