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Heads Will Roll


Birdnerdy

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Ruthern crest.png

 

[!] Letters can be found in all places of note  [!]


 

To start, kinsman, I thank you for the moniker you have adorned me with. Such an epithet will truly be fitting when I have put this matter to rest, and your heads are mounted above the battlements of Alriczan.

 

Seldom can figures as servile and niggardly as Viktor and Adelwen Ruthern be recalled in the long memory of Man. Where else in our annals of history have two men been so cowardly? Selling out your own family for a scrap of property, I’m sure you’ll fit well in Courland.

 

I will begin where your mind seems to be fixed, my own home of Metterden, nestled between the shoulders of the impassable Greyspine. You speak highly of your “birthright” as an agnatic successor to the County you so ardently covet. Greed seems to have clouded your memory, coz, it seems that I must educate you.

 

It was not the Late King Peter who first conceived the County, rather, it was John II who wrote Metterden into existence, the Imperial Letters are dated in 1548. His motives were plain, he wished for his newly appointed Lord Steward, Eirik Colborn to hold some legitimacy before assuming one of the highest offices of the Imperial State.

 

 

My cocksure kin, if obession with agnatic succession were to hold true, it ought to be the young Cassian Colborn pestering me for my lands. It was not until Osgod Colborn gifted Alric Ruthern with the land for use as a base of operations for his own Southern Chapter of the Gold Corps that a Ruthern even set foot in the Metterden swamp. Upon King Peter's coronation, he allowed Maric Ruthern and his successors to remain his vassals in recognition of the late Alric Ruthern’s services. Soon after, the County cell into decline, Maric’s ineptitude and sloth impeded his House from flourishing in the same fashion as his neighbors the Vanirs and the Kovachevs.

 

And so the County fell into ruin, the meek fortunes of Ruthern quietly dissipating into other bustling centers of Haeseni power. Maric’s passing saw the young Dmitri Ruthern assume the title Count. Despite the initial promise of Dmitri’s Orenian Workers Guild and the funds it raised, in a true stroke of incompetence, Dmitri managed to gamble away his entire fortune before his death, leaving his successor Boris penniless. Count Dmitri’s saving grace was his loyalty, his vocality as the Diet of Serpentstone contributed to the capitulation of the petulant King Andrik’s Deep Cold Uprising. Boris Ruthern’s successes were just as scant, his mildly successful diplomatic career was marred by frequent quarrels with his cousin, Owyn Amador, and any chance of redemption he might have had was cut short at his murder by Staunton lackeys.

 

Boris’ death manages to magnify the despicability of your actions even further. You lie in the bed of your brother’s murderers, praying for the death of your kin in the North, all for the futile hope of the collapse of the Haeseni realm. You might as well pray to Yemekar, for your hopes are pinned on nothing more than a dwarven puppet state.

 

 


 

 

Titles are awarded by monarchs to those worthy to hold them, for it is they who give them their gravity, and it was the reigning King of Haense who enfeoffed me to your precious county. If I were a born a halfwit commoner with farfolk for parents, and the King saw fit to award me the County, my claim would still supercede yours.

 

Herein lies the difference between you and I, kinsmen. I do not tug at the skirts of my liege lord, demanding titles and stylings that do not become me. I have earned every stone, every terrace, every scrap of mortar that composes my home of Metterden by the sweat of my brow and by the soundness of my mettle. You, Viktor, have proven to be the very model of decadence, desperately clinging to a mantle meant for better man than you. Pray to Yemekar, St Alexander Staunton, or whatever false idol you abide by, that you do not fall into my grasp, Viktor. Trueborn Rutherns have their own methods of dealing with oath breakers.

 

Furthermore, your dated claim that Ailred’s line remains banished is also a falsehood. When I swore myself into the service of Marius Barbanov, reigning King of Ruska, Prince of all Raev, and wearer of the Boyar’s Cap, he pardoned me and my own descendants in light of the expedience in which I’ve performed my duties, and my enduring loyalty to the Crown.

 

Let the bitter irony of your betrayal be my parting to you, coz. The only prestige accorded Dmitri’s line lay in its unwavering loyalty to its liege lord, yet you abandon it. You have thrown away the cheap copout employed by your predecessors to excuse their sloth, stripped bare, you are nothing more than beggars, who grovel so piteously at the feet of the men who slew your own brother.

 

Now, perhaps, is your line a worthy peer to Courland’s prestigious nobility, the de Savins and the Palailogos.


 

Iv Joveo Maan,


Arik Ruthern, Count of Metterden

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Boris sheds a small tear upon reading the rightful count's letter "Ave..."

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Jon scratched at his light stubble, his coif around his shoulders and his mask yet in place.  "The boy has got guts," he murmured to a brother, received by a slight nod.

 

His eyes brightened slightly, "Reminds me of me when I was young."  He walked away smiling, who's smiling now, Josef?

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"Well spoken, by the true Count of Metterden." Utters a random Raev commoner, discussing the letter's contents with two comrades.

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"Thanks." a simple note would be returned to sender.

 

they deleted my post o k

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1 hour ago, Countpapi, said:

'uh, okay sea smuggler' says viktor

"Uh, okay boy who sided with the people who killed his own brother barely a saint week ago." Says Viktor 

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Leofrik would read the letter "Sorry Viktor, my father was your friend. But i wont bow my head to Courland, and neither would've my dad. The Farsights shall never support your claim while Courland is backing you"

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8 hours ago, Aenarion said:

"Thanks." a simple note would be returned to sender.

 

they deleted my post o k

 

8 hours ago, Countpapi, said:

'uh, okay sea smuggler' says viktor

 

((Glad you guys are taking the rp seriously! 

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A hunched figure smiles in the distant snow fields "I do miss Osgod." The old man flexes his fingers, signing in his ever so dull voice "The heads will roll and the mountains will fall, 'lo! The arrows will fly and the undead will rise, hark! The swords will sing and the bells will ring! For on the morrow the traitors dance! Wait no, they'll just die."

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14 hours ago, Birdnerdy said:

Despite the initial promise of Dmitri’s Orenian Workers Guild and the funds it raised,

A former worker at the Oren worker's guild sees the letter in Alexandria and would read that sentence and raise an eyebrow" If I remembere correctly Godric var Ruthern led the worker's guild and I don't remember raising funds ? " he would then shrug and walk away getting back to work 

14 hours ago, Birdnerdy said:

Despite the initial promise of Dmitri’s Orenian Workers Guild and the funds it raised,

A former worker at the Oren worker's guild sees the letter in Alexandria and would read that sentence and raise an eyebrow" If I remembere correctly Godric var Ruthern led the worker's guild and I don't remember raising funds ? " he would then shrug and walk away getting back to work 

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The Dwarves can be heard playing a popular tune near the Dwarven mountains.....

 

Spoiler

 

 

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Alex Aureon simply skims through the letter before carrying on with his business.

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Ser Markus Lothston nods to his new Count Arik Ruthern

"Ave Arik. It is a shame that Viktor who says he is the true heir which he was yet he decided with Courland which all of us shall not support his stupidity."

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Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it. 

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