An Ocean Man

[Vanir 693]

 

 

 

23rd of the Amber Cold, 1560

 

Pain. That’s all that the ocean man’s life seemed to be filled with, these days. As the wagon to Riga jolted over yet another pothole, the old man’s joints and muscles shrieked out in protest. Gritting his teeth he rubbed at his knees bitterly, cursing the pathetic sack of bones and muscle he called his body. It had been so long since he had been able to stand without the use of his cane, let alone walk. Despite this, he couldn’t stop himself from acting younger than he actually was; he still found himself chasing both women and glory, as he had under King Vydra and Savoie’s rule, yet for some reason he found himself with neither.

 

“Almost there, sire.” The driver called out from up front. The ocean man felt the cart begin to slow, the horses up front decreasing their speed from a steady trot to a slow walk. The ocean man’s sword banged against his him with every movement, worsening the already severe pain in his legs. He often found himself wanting to toss the sword to the ground and never deal with it again, but he could never bring himself to do it. ‘What if I have need of it?’ he would ask himself. ‘Oh, please,’ he’d argue, ‘If the situation ever arises where you /do/ need it, you’ll be long dead before you can remove it from it’s sheathe.’ He shook his head and shuffled towards the wagon’s steps as it slowed to a halt.

 

Gripping onto the wagon with one hand, and his cane with the other, the old man lowered himself out of the cart. It was only until he took his first few steps away from the cart that he noticed what was going on in front of him. Five men stood before him; four of them fully armoured, and one man on his knees in between them. The kneeling man bore a ragged golden tabard that the ocean man recognized to belong to the Golden Corps. He saw that same tabard amongst the “rescue team” that had come to his aid, immediately following his brother Arik’s murder. One of the armoured men stepped up behind the Golden soldier, leveling his longsword with the boy’s neck.

 

 

“What’s goin’ on, here?” the ocean man asked, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword with his free hand. His other hand gripped the cane, keeping him upright. The soldiers turned to face him, but no response came. In the dim light, the ocean man could make out the colours of House Staunton upon their chest plates; no doubt the same soldiers who butchered his brother a mere month prior. Grinding his teeth, the ocean man slowly unsheathed his blade and leveled it at the men.

“Stop this, I say. You are breaching the Emperor’s peace. Are you tryin’ to start a war?”

One of the soldiers sneered, rearing back his blade to lop of the kneeling boy’s head. ‘****. What’ve you gotten yourself into now, old man?’ The ocean man reared back his own sword, as two of the soldiers moved their way around to his rear. ‘No goin’ back now, it seems…’

“If this is how I am to die, defending an innocent boy from the likes of you..” Gritting his teeth, he turned and swung his sword wildly. “Then so be it!”

 

 

The battle ended before it had hardly begun. The ocean man’s blade cut naught but air, and before he knew it the steel clattered away from his hand. He stumbled backwards, cursing his own foolishness. One of the men, in a particularly regal set of armour, approached him. In one swift movement he plunged his steel through the ocean man’s gut. All of his strength left him at this moment, and he seemed to float; the only thing that kept him upright was the three-foot long piece of metal protruding from his chest. In what felt like a single breath and a thousand years, he found himself slumped backwards against the wagon, his body seemingly searing with shock and pain. Despite his efforts, Vasili found himself unable to move. The world before him seemed to blur, and he found himself surrounded by blobs of all sorts of colours; blobs of gold and blue, of brown and of red. The orchestra of voices that washed over him all melted together to form one, incoherent wave of sound.

“Vasili! What th’ **** happened?” One blob asked. ‘Sounds like Wem. Good ol’ Wem.’

“Alexander...Staunton.” He found himself saying, in between his bouts of bloody coughing. “W-where is my family? Take me home..”

 

Vasili found himself sprawled out on something hard. Blurred lights hung far above him and the smell of cooking fish filled the air. ‘Home..’ he thought. A smile crept up onto his lips. Another bout of coughing overtook his body, spraying a fine mist of blood over his chin and neck. He heard a whimper off to the side. Turning his head, he saw the blurry form of his grand niece, Emma. Smiling once more, he held a shaking hand out to her.

“M-my dear…” He winced, feeling his hand being gripped tightly. A bit too tightly, but he didn’t complain. Something in his head told him that it would be one of the last things he’d ever feel.

“I’m so proud of y-you..” He murmured. “I am sorry that I--that I will not be able tell you more stories about our f-family..”

“It’s o-okay, Uncle,” He heard her say. “Y-you can tell me some more w-when you are all better.” Vasili smiled a small, sad smile up at her and turned his head away, blinking back tears. He felt a strong pressure on both his hand and forearm, and looked up to see two shadowy figures; his nephew Fiske and his son Dagr, no doubt.

 

“You can’t die, Vasili.” The first said, anguish in his voice.”We need you.”

“I-I’ll kill them all,” the second said through gritted teeth. “Every last one of ‘em; I’ll burn their fuckin’ city to th’ ground.”

The old sailor closed his eyes. He felt his muscles starting to relax, despite the dreadful situation he found himself in. All he felt was an an intense, nagging exhaustion; was this what death felt like? ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad, after all”.

“Fiske,” He began, his voice no louder than a whisper. “After Brit, you are next in line to lead our House.” He squeezed Fiske’s hand. “Do not give up. Take the fight to th’ enemy. And you, Dagr, you must stand by your cousin in this… I’m so proud of you, son.” Tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes. “Always remember, we are the sons of the sea.” He rasped. “And the sea bows to none.”

“The sea bows to none.” The three Vanirs repeated their patriarch’s body sagged, letting loose one last breath.

 

The small, limp form of what once was Vasili Vanir was carried slowly out of Kraken’s Watch to the large crowd gathered outside; soldiers from all across the realm could be seen, huddled together in various groups. Hetmanate riders, Golden Corps infantrymen, Horen bannermen; even mercenary groups, whose leaders Vasili had known at one point. Silence fell over their ranks, as they looked upon the old man’s corpse. Dagr Vanir, son of Vasili, proclaimed with a heavy heart, an even heavier voice.

 

“The Sea Snake has been slain.”

 

[Heff 2460]

Svatobor Ivanovich fills a bottle with sand from the shores of Kraken's Watch, praying for his companion's safe rise to the Seven Skies.

[Juli 1341]

Emma stands on the docks in  Luciensport,  the fresh and crisp air of the ocean blowing against her skin, listening to the soothing sound of the waves crash against walls of the city as she gazes out at the endless sea. A small, sad smile forms on her lips, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks as she reminisced on the few moments she shared with her now deceased uncle. “Do-Do not worry, Uncle,” She chokes out,  “We will avenge you.”

 

[Pureimp10 5691]

From within Gryphon's Hold, Britannus would be alone in his quarters, resting Fiske Vanir's Javelin in his lap.

 

The weapon invoked many memories from his past. Waiting in Erstavik while his father and uncle went off to fight the dwarves, him praying that they would return unscathed.

 

He remembered all the stories, especially one about his great great grandfather, old Artyom. Reminiscing over it now, Britannus would smile. The old man certainly had lived for ages.

 

"I'll see you in a few, uncle." he'd say, before leaving his quarters to make his way to the war room. The Stauntons had murdered his family, and there would be no quarter.

 

After all, the sea bows to none.

[d0ntc4r3 104]

Theodora's feelings are locked in combat: the poor guy was killed so quickly and without hesitation, but the Vanirs had also killed her father right in front of her when she was a child. She always wanted vengeance, but is unsure if this is the kind she wants.

 

As she breathes fresh air, in solitude, she comes to the conclusion he had it coming. Both he and his family have always been savages to her and her family. Whether its destroying her sister-in-law's crypt, Emma threatening and mocking her then-homeless family, Dagr spitting on her near-death form, or what other atrocities were committed, she felt nothing but a rage against the family.

 

Sitting in her room, she could not help but wish Vasili Vanir well in the afterlife. Despite her feelings, she could not deny his prestigious life.

 

"May this war end quickly," she said to herself, hoping for the best.

[Mj. 697]

From within the keep in Laria, Wem drinks a heavy bottle, gazing into the fire. He slowly takes another swig, thinking of all the good times he had with Vasili and the rest of the Vanirs. He couldn't let this happen. He wouldn't. He picked up a leather mask that sat on the table beside him. He gazed at it for a few moments before throwing a dark cloak over his plate armor, and attaching the mask to his face. He knew what had to be done.

 

After all, the sea bows to none.

[Nathan_Barnett36 1564]

Ivan would help push the boat away into the water with Ser Fiske and another fellow goldcorps soldier. He'd she'd a tear when pushing him however once after he'd unsheath his sword and prepare for the battle to come.

[Jachnun 566]

 

 

Harald Vanir II welcomes his estranged uncle to the seven skies giving him a kiss on the forehead.

[Legoboy7984 3155]

Rodrik hears about the murder of his beloved Lord Vasili.

"We will murder every last one of those Staunton scum, and I mean all of them we will even burn their city with them if we have to"

[seannie 7443]

 

[Elad™ 560]

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