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Bradshaw's Final Act


Thatpyrodude

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"With him gone I fear for our era of prosperity.. Rest in peace, friend. The Empire owes you a thousand thanks for your service." 

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Archimedes gave a heavy sigh upon hearing the news, and simply sipped his tea over his tome.

"Rest in peace, Bradshaw, may Aeriel guide your passage into the soulstream."

 

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Rothesay wrings his fingers "They fall one by one, FOR MY RETURN TO POWER." he yelled across the palace hugging a pillow in his room. 

 

 

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"Another loss." Rakim mumbles to himself as he heard the news. He was all out of tears now. He wheels Joseppi's coffin to the west.

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Mattington slams his fist on his desk, turning away from the messenger bearing the tragic news.  A lone tear would escape his eye.  Mattington would curse wildly, damning the man who did the act to the deepest corners of hell.  In his rage, he began barking orders to his officers, assembling the Imperial Legionaries to seek vengeance for Count Bradshaw. "This man shall not sleep at night so long as I live." he would declare, beginning the march on Axios to find the slime and exact justice.  

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Davius would welcome Bradshaw to the afterlife with a ghostly pat on the back.

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Avenel mourns the loss of Good Bradshaw, looking in the direction of Metz as he mumbles.

 

"Dark beings are going to run about there, I swear."

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Locke recalls seducing Bradshaw, but nothing else "A fine man of the empire" He'd state before heading on his way.

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Piero sheds a few tears as he learns of the death of his friend and former political ally.

 

"It seems those of us who dream of free cities find our numbers dwindling every day."

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Samuel stood at the stone steps of the hippodrome, lips parted with confusion and disbelief. Watching the men flood up the steps to the supposed disaster that occurred, he frowned. Cocking his head up to the tall figures passing by, he balled his fists and slowly made his ascent. Nearing the hippodrome pit, he exhaled shakily and tugged on his left glove. He wondered what spectacular beast had escaped. 

 

Eyes grew wet with tears as Samuel saw the sands bloodied and disturbed.

 

Turning away, Samuel Gray sauntered out of the hippodrome and into the fields of Johannesburg, moving fluidly through the seas of gold. He did not look back. He did not want to. He could not. His father was dead and he was alone. He was all alone. As he neared the mouth of a wide river, Samuel allowed his knees to weaken and his feet be swept from under him. Falling into the rich soil, he cried. 

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"All those guards roaming the streets... No use." An elf mutters while pacing through the streets of Johannesburg, his gaze flickering about.

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It was Lord Dimitri Ruthern, her guardian, that came to Therese Gray during her embroidery lesson, informing the youth of her father's passing. The whole world came to a stop, and the southern youth wailed aloud for all the North to hear. Her father, who had carried her upon his shoulders when she was no bigger than a cat and told her stories at night about knights and fair maidens. He wouldn't be there for anymore birthdays, or for her wedding day. He wouldn't be there for any of it.

 

She did not sleep for the days to follow, her dreams haunted by the image of her father's murder.

 

 

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John Godfrey would welcome Bradshaw into the Skies, grinning and setting him at a table in an all too familiar tavern with a busty angel wench or some **** for him

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