I Fear all the Same for their Avarice and Ambition

[FORƎST 1312]

 

“I kneel to no man”

 

 

 

 

Those were Lucien’s words...

 

Even as he stole them Jon could not help but feel pride well up in his throat. He would not call any of the men in this hostile court ‘friend’, but he knew that they, by and large, respected him. Countless times since the orcish campaigns of John the Conqueror he had led them into battle, and from the quiet anticipation of the shield wall to humanity's uproarious charge, the Savoyard insisted to lead from the front. He knew it was deeds, but not words that inspire men.

 

Jon had left his stronghold in Aldersport, home, and rode for the imperial capital alone and under cover of night. Having left his titles and holdings to his cousin Visant, he deftly avoided his own men and slipped away, for he knew what fate awaited him in Johannesburg.

 

Litanies and verses ebbed and flowed from him like tides. For each one of Philip’s accusations, Jon would rattle off only a pious retort, steeped in righteousness.

“And who shall escape His sight? All things live and perish before Him, and even the mountains are but shifting dunes in His eye. What iniquity shalt thou hide?”

As he spoke, the prayers which he’d merely glanced over and forgotten in the past began to pour into his mind, as if it were merely a chalice to be filled with the waters of truth. Yet the Emperor was an Iron wall, and the lonely Duke was but one of the faithful flock, trailed by harm. He would later fruitlessly invoke his ancient right to trial by combat, but a traitor like him deserved no trails.

 

As cadre of northmen, whom he had lead in battle just a day before, and imperial footmen, lusting after praise fell upon him, the unarmed Duke was reduced to only his words.

“Verily, brother, the Lord GOD is the greatest power, and even all the many forces of the world marshalled against Him are as but a breeze before a mountain.”

But these men were no breeze, they were death’s grim razor, clattering for his blood. The first blow crashed into his great helm, and in his daze he realised he could not find his voice. The second aimed at his throat, and crushed his windpipe.

 

Soon after the August brother was no more but a pile of flesh and bone, disfigured and yet still trapped within the confines of his plate mail. Blood trickled from the gaps in his armor, and as he took his final breath he only wished he might find his childhood friend in the vast heavens, to tell him that his little brother had grown strong.

 

The world went black, and for once Jon of the Blackwald hoped beyond hope that his words might one day inspire the faithful, irregardless of his deeds.

 

 

[Suicidium 1295]

" Every drop of Ashford blood spilled is never forgotten" 

 

Amidst a land of snow and ice, a lone figure walked with an oversized coat. Sooner, Coming by a small trickle of a stream to place a flickering candle propped up by a single leaf from the marshes as a float. 

 

With a clenched fist, the figure looked northwards with a rolled up parchment in hand. 

[Heero 4092]

 

Trapped within a perpetual state of oblivion, Glewyas Crast, the Hexer of Dho'coram sits at the floor of an endless crag. With legs crossed, the mirage-shrouded spectre remains frozen, tethered by chains of an unholy nature. A creature of equal malice sits opposite, donning the attire of the Nauzican regime, strapped firmly to a wooden stake. Seething, the feral beast clammers away. Gnawing at his bindings in a blind rage.

"How long shall we fight?"

"Till the end of days, damned knight!"

 

"For all eternity then, vampyre?"

"Aye!"

 

"Continue with your wicked ways, creature. One day the righteous shall smite us both. We both yearn for a true death."

 

"Quit flapping that insatiable tongue of yours! You are a draconic fiend! A piece of trash that should not exist! It will be me who laughs at the end, standing tall over your remains! You shall taste death a second time in your undeath!"

 

"You and I both, brother. Our time comes. Dust to dust, ash to ash. That is all that awaits us. Fret not, our time comes, Nosferatu."

 

Silence befalls the pair of damned abominations. Sitting still and motionless. Both eyeing one another in the deepest pits of perdition. The black rays of the Sunless Sanction creeping from the horizon, bleeding into their hollowed abyss. Both awaiting their inevitable reformation. Both destined to cross paths once more.

[dandan1350 479]

"As those before me spoke, always will a lord fall when a Marwood is in service." Alton huffed out, shaking his head. Recalling to the words he had not heard spoken for many years. "Blood for Ashford, such a strange phrase. With this lord gone, I best pledge my service to the new one and pray he does not fall so quickly."

[CelestialMochi 580]

Katherine had only doubted her brother once. That one time, everything fell apart and she was dying. Though in her light slumber she had heard he would search for the cure, no matter what cost. From this, she knew that he had a heart. A heart of a man who places family in front of himself. A man who fought endlessly for the Empire, for the Emperor. A man who came home, would eat, then leave just to go around the capital and make sure the streets were safe for everyone to dwell.  The Amber Cold of 1591 was the month that Katherine had married and gained a great man into her life, but also had lost another man. A man who she loved dearly, her brother. He will never be forgotten, not to her or her children and will be placed as an inspiration of what a man should be during times of war, glory, and justice for Humanity. 

[Guest]

"To the darkness I bring fire. To the ignorant I bring faith. Those who welcome this gift may live, but I shall visit naught but damnation should they refuse them." Alistair's sullen gaze setted on the horizon. His final tether to humanity was unbound and he was free to escape this raging beast, this viper that took the place of his beloved race. Despite his initial acceptance, however, it was not something that settled well with his troubled soul, so again he trudges along the beaten roads on his continued journey for salvation.

[Swgrclan 2682]

"All men become same once they fall to the grave. God damn you, Philip Frederick Horen; the sun does not shine over your Empire, only a spectre of clouds."

 

Old Raide of Ashford muttered to himself as he rested in isolation, mulling over this perpetuated tragedy which befalls his brothers and sisters with no relent.

[Taketheshot 3834]

Ser Walter looked on at the bloodshed that appeared before him. He took this time to reflect on the encounters he shared with the Duke, Although he may have been the Imperial Marshall and could lead. Jon Renault's skills with people were lacking. Ser Walter remembered the time the Duke threatened to have his command removed if he did not demote an officer. A Duke with no sense of formality or decency. Walter glanced to the side watching the Emperor and other men looking on as Jon was slain. Walter did remember the battle of the mountains where Jon lead men into battle. If only he showed the skills of leadership off the battlefield and conversed civilly with his fellow soldiers whilst breeding esprit de corps. Notwithstanding the Emperor made his resolution with the matter Jon Renault was to die. As the last blow fell and the Duke lay still, blood pooling on the marble floor Walter pondered on what a man Jon Renault could've been. Walter muttered quietly to himself "It is not titles that honour men, but men that honour titles." 

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

"Jon was a cool cat. Wish he had nine lives." Ser Rakim mumbles from Kaer'Kharyll. Today was a little too eventful for his liking, especially with undead at the Company's doorstep.

[Lechian Lord 1027]

Augustus continues to eat his bread

[lev 627]

"You'd have thought that from the initial return of the Black Dragon to these shores, that they feel naught but hostility towards the House of de Savoie."

A man of some notable age would say thinking up the first Oren coup of Savoy back in Vailor. 

[Rammer 388]

"Blood has been spilt, only more blood can repay it. It is how the world works" Ian's mind thinks back to the words of his grandfather echoing in his ears as he hears about the Duke "There is a storm coming.." he finally mutters 

[Ambduscias 1028]

"Blood for Ashford?" 

 

An old man mutters to no one in particular, staring into the vast expanse of the night sky. Nor, in fact, had he even heard word of Jon Renault's death; one may only wonder how long he'd been pondering the coming conflict, as if this were set in motion a great deal of time ago.

 

"Blood for Ashford."

[AGP 3169]

"I liked him," comments Constantine.

[seannie 7443]

"A sad state of an Empire, should have just left lunatic I killed on the throne at this point." sighs the steamy Andrik