Undoubtable Damnation

[TinyBiceps 569]

 

 

 

With the protagonist and antagonist at each other’s throats the chaos in Johannesburg felt oddly tame. It all seemed practiced. Like somehow this situation was all a play on a stage with props and actors and an audience. The flowers still grew, the sun still shone, and the Earth still spun. It felt… isolated. It’s how you would imagine watching the world go by from behind a glass wall that only works one way.

 

‘How dare the world not stop for an event of this size. Damn it to the Nether.’

 

 

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ACT I

 

His brown hardened leather shoes ‘click-clacked’ along the cobblestone as he hastily made his way across the square to the ministry warehouse. Upon reaching the locked door a small sigh escaped his lips because he knew he had forgotten the key in his apartment. Jester swivelled on his heels and started to head back but trudging a slower pace than before. The view was very nice during the seed of Sun’s Smile. Everything seemed to bloom. Pausing in front of The Viridian, the curious brown haired man peeked his head inside the tavern only to make eye contact with the owner, Delo. A friendly grin grew on both their faces. At the bar sat a young woman enjoying a baked potato and having a friendly chat. Delo shot Jester one of his signature charming smiles as he turned his attention back to the woman. Jester scoffed and shook his head as he continued on his way. The Exposition.

 

The shabby wooden door slammed behind him. Not in rage, but in laziness to secure it’s safe and quiet closing. “Keep it down, Jester!”, yelled the angry old man living in 4 Baston. ‘Sano, right on cue as always.’, he thought as he took a dramatic fall on top of his bed. Thoughts of going back to the warehouse crossed his mind but exhaustion took a hold of his body. Between being forced back into the guard and his stressful administration job he didn't get much free time. Whenever he could, Jester walked the around the city. If anything, Johannesburg is a loud place. He could have sworn that the constant shouting of “Lowes’ proice in ahll o’ Axios!”, and “Rally in the square, rally in the square!” shook the poor cobblestone walls. Jester lied on his back and had a staring contest with his ceiling. A habitual scene to be played when his ears were being pierced with a succession of white noise. A swift knock on the door interrupted his blank mind. The half-broken door swung open to reveal a young man in thick Haensetic clothing, shoving a parchment into the mailbox and running off without a word. Jester, not phased by the man's odd behaviour, reached into the mailbox and once again slammed the door behind him. The parchment opened to reveal some upsetting news. The Rising Action.

 

((

 

‘If only I ‘ad hope in somethin’. If only I ‘ad atleas’ one comfortin’ thought in these times. If only I ‘ad thought at all.’

 

 

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ACT II

 

An oblivious steward walked past 3 Baston and saw that the door was cracked ever so slightly open, but it appeared as if no one were home. They called out and when no answer was heard they wearily decided to investigate. Upon entering, all the chests would be opened and seemingly trashed. Through closer inspection it would show nothing to be missing or broken. Paper is discarded all along the floor and black ink stained the spruce planks at the edge of a well-made bed. Above the dust covered bed scratched into the wall would be the phrase “R.I.P Davius C.” The steward raised a brow and inwardly clicked their tongue at the blatant property damage and made a mental note to remove it later. They eyed the ladder leading to the second floor. 'Leave. Turn back. This place was robbed, that's all.', and though those thoughts were ignored, a pool of anxiety sat within the unsettled steward. The ladder creaked almost eerily as they made their ascendance. A rush of sudden unexpected adrenaline and dread ran through them. Once up the ladder fully and turned around the steward let out an audible gasp. Wide eyes took in strung up man swaying gently in the middle of the room. The Climax.

 

 

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ACT III

 

A torn piece of paper lay beneath his suspended brown shoes.

 

“Bell, Mattington, Davius, Bradshaw, Markese, Sylvestre, Oliver, anyone and everyone. I apologize for what may seem like cowardice. I can not give you any one reason. I have not much to say except my apology and my gratitude. I could never express in words what ye taught me. I know you will achieve what you’re all striving for. May you all live, or fight, for peace in these times of war.”

 

A messenger would be sent to tell close friends. The Denouement.

 

JESTER 1546 - 1594
Aspiring Scholar, Experienced Guard

[Vetren54 368]

"Rest in peace old friend." Mattington would remark solemnly as he laid a rose by Jester's doorstep. 

[wealthypiano 394]

Markese de Rolle, whether damned to eternity in the nether for the collateral damage he caused in his uprising, or sent to paradise in the seven skies for his dedication to helping the people of Felsen, sends his best wishes to Jester, hoping to see him in the afterlife.

[SpodoKaiba 612]

Steven rammed his shovel into the ground as he heard of the news, letting a slew of swears repeatedly pass through his lips, tears stinging at his eyes. "Why Jester? He was the only good one." 

He proceeded to make a Jester memorial in his mind. 

[Papa Liam 960]

 

 

Bell sat on the edge of his bed, grasping onto note that the courier had delivered. His son still resided downstairs, packing away their belongings, preparing to abide by the evacuation notice issued within Johannesburg. Books, food, weapons, old medals and the sort, all tucked into an assortment of boxes and bags, prepared to be shoved out the door. The grumpy old man sighed, resting his bearded chin on the palm of his hand, contemplating the contents of the note.

 

"What're you reading, father?" the man's son inquired, still packing the pair's belongings away.

 

"Nothing much," Bell sighed in return, distraught as he shoved the notice aside, moving to assist the teenager.

 

[Chorale__ 2147]

"Thanks for the mention, ye'h ole' clown," said Fitonor, distraught as he tossed the note into his furnace.

[Thatpyrodude 2008]

Bradshaw welcomes his friend to the Seven with a wide smile

[Silverstatik 218]

Davius would welcome his friend to the seven alongside Bradshaw.

[Dohvi 622]

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