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Hero_Prodigy

The End of The Line

9 posts in this topic

THE END OF THE LINE - DEATH OF MAXWELL REEVES

 

2 miles southwest of Johannesburg
14th of deep cold, 1628

 

 

The thanium fell to the ground in a storm, the winds howling around the city outskirts. Screeching almost at times, though whether that was the wind or something else was a mystery. Through the white winds, a man in thick, boiled leather armor trudged through the thanium, a gas mask upon his face. Ruins of villages and fiefs surrounded him, bones of the once great creature that was the Imperial Quintis. The man pressed onwards, putting a hand to the visor on his mask as he headed north towards Sennisten. His task - to hunt the mutants threatening his former King’s keep and land to the north of Johannesburg.

 

Maxwell reached a village close to the city, taking shelter in one of the small huts with broken beams. It was time to rest, getting get caught in the night was unwise. Not with those things patrolling the streets. As he made his way into the shack, he could see a ladder leading to a dark basement of sorts. The man climbed down the rusty rungs to find a bunker at the bottom. A big one… seems as if this ‘peasant’ family were not real peasants, simply merchants who built themselves a decent facility to escape Oren's collapse, something they saw way before the end. “Smart.” he thought to himself, settling in the basement, a dimly lit lantern at his side, sitting down on the concrete floor as he rests his against the wall, removing his mask to reveal a scarred face, a well maintained beard, and a head of messy hair.  

 

As the sun set, audible screeches from within the walls of Johannesburg could be heard… they kept him up all night. He awoke early, at dawn, heading north further, nearing his final destination. He walked down a desolate road, his cloak flapping in the wind, yet it was eerily quiet. Suddenly, multiple shrieks came from around the corner of a rotted out house. His heart thumped, his eyes widening. He tiptoed around the edge of the house, looking about the corner, the shack creaking as he put a hand around the corner and peaked around. A trio of freakish, humanoid creatures crouched tucking into a corpse of some sort, the body barely recognizable or distinguishable as human. These creatures possessed bulging eyes, and snubbed noses. Their bones jutted out from their bodies, short and stubby torsos with gangly limbs springing forth from them.

 

He quickly loaded a crossbow behind cover, his aurum blade at his side. Max walked, step by step, towards the next building, the creature’s attention still focused on their feast. As he neared cover, his movements caused the foundation of the building to shake, and one of the creatures rose its head, rotated it towards the man in the mask, and shrieked at him. The other two creatures grunted slightly, but continued feeding. The third snarled at him, approaching on all fours, it leaped, quite high at that, and he ducked, sending an upwards slash that cleaved the creature in two. Despite their speed, their flesh and bone was like paper. The man was in his forte, boiled leather armor and the longsword in his hand suiting him well. He darted backwards, stepping into a defensive stance. The other creatures began to change their attention to him upon the death of their kin, growling and shrieking. They charged him, a sidestep and a heavy strike quickly dispatching one. The other leapt upon him, snarling.

 

The former knight, still recovering from his earlier thrust, was knocked to the ground, raising his sword with both hands, the creature gnawing and biting at him, his blade forcefully pushing it back at the jaw. He saw only one escape from this. He shuffled his hand the center of the blade, the sharp edge digging into his glove and his hand therein, causing him to bleed, before unsheathing a dagger from his side and thrusting several times at the creature’s head, puncturing it’s left eye. It shrieked. Loud. Very loud. As it backpedaled and collapsed on the ground, a few meek barks came from it before the man rose and finished it off. As the blood drained from it’s corpse, more shrieks echoed throughout the gravelly streets and behind the houses. Max only had one choice, and that was to flee. Stay out any longer and he’d be surrounded and eaten alive. He bolted, rushing off to get to Sennisten as soon as possible. Suddenly, a mutant appeared out of the shadows. Then another. Then two more. He sliced through a duo of the smaller variety, which were about the size of dogs, before backpedaling, his footing slipping by a cliff side as rocks fall into the icy abyss. A barely audible buzz comes from his mask. Low filter. A final shriek from one of the creatures, before it lunges forward. Max rolls to one side, at the cost of losing his footing, sending the creature spiraling to its fate. The final one charges, this one being particularly large, just as he manages to regain his stance, his back to the cliff, the mutant lunges -

 

 

 

He falls.

 

 

 

The creature fell on a jagged piece of thanium that jutted out from the bottom of the moat, dying instantly. Maxwell groaned, clutching his side from the fall. Multiple broken ribs. A broken leg.. but the thing that sealed his fate wasn't a broken bone or joint. A web of cracks steadily expanded on his mask, the eye of which was a hole about a few millimeters in diameter. He dragged himself to the wall of the dried out moat, propping himself against it and clutching his side. He wheezes, his gaze locked on the walls of Johannesburg, towering and ruined. The thanium dug into his lungs. His life flashes before his eyes, a rather stereotypical reaction to nearing death but something he expected. Though, he was not typical. He’d lead an eventful life, of love, loss, war. A full one. Maxwell had nothing he could repair his mask with, thanium literally filling his organs by the second. He accepted the fate that was nearing him. He inhaled a final breath, then exhaled and closed his eyes. 

 

So ends the tale of Maxwell Reeves, former knight of Oren.

 

Ravens are dispatched following the man's death, the messages finding themselves in the possession of their intending recipients and those few alone. ((Do not meta these, if it wasnt for you you dont know!))

 

His Imperial Majesty, Peter Sigismund II -

Spoiler

Your Imperial Majesty. If you are reading this, then my life is at an end. From a dagger in the neck, poison, or on the field, I would not know at the time of writing this. Not only were you a true leader, but a friend as well. I may not be a knight as I write this, but I always knew you thought of me as a valiant man and a good fighter when I was. I've a son now of squiring age. He’ll be heading to the capital soon. I'd ask you, as a final favor of a dead man you take him under your wing, give him an opportunity. My final wish to assure my house lives on. - Maxwell Reeves

 

Her Imperial Majesty, Elizabeth-Anne of Alba -

Spoiler

Your Imperial Majesty, I must thank you for everything you did. Helping me try and get my knighthood back was a truly compassionate and kind thing to do. Though, I don't know at the time I write this if I ended up getting it back or not. Nonetheless, I may be dead now, but I will not forget what you did for me. - Reeves

 

Caius I -

Spoiler

If you're reading this, then I've met my end, old friend. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more for you to benefit the west in the end. I'm sorry we never spoke more, drank together, and stood alongside each other in the fight against the muties. I shall never forget you in the seven skies. - Max

 

Reimond Walden -

Spoiler

Reimond Walden, the super soldier. You were always a friend to me, and someone I looked up to. Your complete and utter devotion to humanity is a valuable trait, and I hope it gets you farther in life. If you're reading this, then I've died. Wherever it was, I don't know, though perhaps I knew keeping these notes updated that my end was soon. - Max

 

Adam Reeves -

Spoiler

 

Adam. My heir. I would leave you our family's land, though by law it is to be seized by the crown I hope you or your brother go to the emperor and find a way to allow us to keep it. Your ambition is a dangerous force but I hope you bring our house to power. Make me proud from the seven. - Your Father

 

Petyr Reeves -

Spoiler

 

The youngest. My last son. The fallback. The safety for your brothers ambitious attitude. Little did you know my son, these are not the plans I had in mind for you after I died. You are to become a knight of Oren as I was. An epitome of justice and honor. Succeed where I failed. - Your Father

 

Collette Reeves -

Spoiler

Daughter, we hadn't spoken for a while since you've come of age. Something I regret now, and can only watch from the seven. Yes, I'm dead. I finally met my end, but at what means I do not know at the time of writing these. I wish you succeed with alchemy and all your other endeavors, and stay strong and resolute. - Your Father

 

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"Who?" Wonders Anton, not remembering the knight he had easily disemboweled long ago.

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Joren Baruch would bow his head. "May his soul rest in peace."

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Marie would hear of the news, sighing lightly. 

 

"Farewell my friend, may we meet again"

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"Wuz ah fun pinkie tu klomp wun wi kud. Latz ruzt euzi nuw."

Gave a nod and grunt at the news. Before trudging along to cut down some more trees.

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Ernst lowers his head solemnly in respect for the deceased. 

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1 mile southwest of Johannesburg
19th of deep cold, 1628

 


Mercer groaned, stirring out of his wooden seating as the winds just outside transformed from mere drafts to gusts. He'd slowly go about his ramshackle dwelling he repaired naught a year prior, making sure the wooden boards he hammered onto the window frames were adequate for the coming blizzard of haphazard Thanhium; not that it mattered much anyhow for the archaic Decanus, his lungs long immune to the horrid dust that coated the veterans once beloved countryside. For some reason the old Legionnaire felt compelled to reside therein this twisted wasteland of memories long past, just a small trek from whence he served as one of Philip's last Nauzicans, some three decades ago. 

 

Deeming the shoddy barricades capable, his soles padded back, sitting onto the rotted seat that nearly gave way every time he sat. Nightfall ushering not only an abrasive climate but ungodly fiends that seemingly originated from the withered masonry of Johannesburg. Rampant screeches and howls erupted after the sun fell, muffled by dense winds, yet nonetheless frighteningly audible.

 

Mercer fell to an unnerved silence as this cacophony of weather and mutants resounded, the singular candle within his abode burned, providing dim radiance to the olden man, he dared not light more, lest the warped abominations about took note. He couldn't stave off the thoughts, however, of the handful of slain mutants he accounted over but a day or two ago. This defied all his previous ruminations and conclusions, another defiant man must remain out here, in the cesspool where the veteran decided to live or worse, a new breed of monstrosity, able to easily dispatch the lesser abominations that roamed upon the night's blackened domain, maybe a combination of both, either or - this unnerved him.

 

Disgruntled and perpetually restless the senior Legionnaire kitted himself in brigandine and other bits of defensive armaments such as gauntlets and greaves. With a grunt, he swiped up his Slayer Steel longsword propped with the remainder of Mercer's belongings, the bronze hued blade a stark contrast to the everlasting white right out of his meager shelter.

 

He begrudgingly set out from the flimsy protection of his hovel, being buffeted instantly with a strenuous shroud of Thanic dust. Maddened screams and outbursts broke through the thickened shroud about the atmosphere, taking note of his transgression. He was to fight another long and arduous night, ever fervent in defending the fallen glory of Johannesburg as he did in life.

 

33gmteN.png

 

The Darkstalker trudged forth, he would not wait for the fiends to fall onto him.

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Peter Sigismund ushers a prayer for the late Maxwell Reeves.

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On 9/12/2017 at 6:45 PM, Hero_ said:

If you're reading this, then I've met my end, old friend. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more for you to benefit the west in the end. I'm sorry we never spoke more, drank together, and stood alongside each other in the fight against the muties. I shall never forget you in the seven skies. - Max

"ahyes" responds caius, praying that eblon takes the soul of max reeves to the perpetual shadow realm.

 

fc01620e8789bb0e84133a065ee730a6.png <-- caius real face

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