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-= When I'm Gone. =-


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A moment of mourning…

 

“To those who have lost their lives...”

 

...An unnaturally sombre tone.

 

“...in our quest to reach this point…”

 

The day pulls towards its midpoint though a thick layer of cloud dampens the light and heat provided by the sun. Despite the desertous expanse of Haria nearby, a large brazier has been dragged out to the gravestone of the late Lord  Marshal Jacques de Felsen to keep the small host of knights, nobles and royals of the Kingdom of Courland warm.

 

“...in our quest to forge a future for our sons…”

 

    The wind whips down from the mountains to the south, across the plain and into the fungal woods, drumming up a frightful howling.

 

“..and our daughters.”

 

    The young King’s words spurred a few stifled sniffles from the widows present, though notably too the Staunton princesses, in memory of Prince Meric Staunton. Joining the Stauntons were the de Castros, de Savins, Merentels and the solitary von Curon and de Felsen men.

 

“It is in the memory of men like these,” he continues, casting a thistle down to commemorate the loss of their greatest Lord Marshal to date, “that we continue to fight. Men like these that watch over Courland through the highs and lows, men like these that make Courland great.”

 

Little did the host know that they had received an elevated audience during the time they had been out on the plain. A glance up followed by a hushed gasp caused more eyes to turn up from the grave. At first just a sole man donning orange and blue, then a second, a third, a fourth!

 

The first mask was peeled back; a few would recognise the face quite quickly, a few more a little later; the crowd remain silent, some in anticipation, others in confusion.

 

“Found ‘um,” the unmasked man remarks, “only took me a few years. What’ve I missed?” he asks as the horse leads gently down towards the group, being welcomed by the younger members of the Staunton family, though with a cold glance from the Queen Mother, all the while more men emerge from the oak and mushroom forest bordering the plains.

 

    The King’s men remain silent, before from the back, the words “war’s on the horizon,” are called out.

 

    The three mounted figures de-mask themselves, the first replying “just lucky we decided to return, eh Drake?” the man turns to his side, wearing an oddly familiar smirk.

 

    “S’ppose it is Joshua, they’d ‘ave been screwed without us,” the second replies, his visage too adopting the expression of the former blue-and-orange clad man.

 

    “Come on boys,” the third and final rider calls, a feminine voice erupting from the disguising armour, “can’t you see half of ‘um’re confused. The de Felsens return!” she yells, throwing her arms in the air before her horse, a little rowdier than the others, surges towards the side of the crowd at a canter.

 

    The ever growing force of grizzled, scarred veteran men step down into the plains too, most wearing smiles of contentment at returning to their home, all donning the de Felsen blue and orange. “And so it is,” King Joseph mutters, fighting back a smirk, “Jacque’s always watching over us, even when he isn’t here.”

 

j2hqoDs.png

 

11th of Snow's Maiden, 1612, a quick painting of Jacque's two sons, Drake and Josh de Felsen.

 

Written by Func_Soap

 

 

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"oh no it is the angel of war, he has come to save courland once more" says megan de Felsen as she frantically signs her gang signs to signal to her brothers on the street the beginning of a long bloodied gang war

 

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Rotger bursts out into tears at the prospect of the army being able to meet its disability quota.

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*Lord Alexander of Merentel would welcome back the Angel of War that has returned to Courland, once more, to change the future of Axios for ever. "Welcome back, old friend."

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"This guy's back?" asks Siegmeyer upon hearing the news of this Marshal of the past.

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9 minutes ago, Nathan_Barnett36 said:

puppet

"Oh yes, those people who have hand a presence in Courland since its inception as a Kingdom are such puppets for the kingdom."

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A heavy tear would roll down Nikolas' face at the sight of the blue and orange, his thoughts going to the great Martyr Jacques.

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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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