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Burning of a Branch

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Burning of a Branch

 

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Exander Ruric sat up at his desk in thought as the sounds of his wife, and childrens steady breaths broke the nights silence. A pale candlelight cast dancing shadows across the aged man's weathered and worn features. The lonely breaths only being joined by the light clank of a feathered pens insertion into an inkwell as the man was finally ready to put his thoughts, and final decision to paper.

 

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Writ of Disownment

 

With the tragic, and much too soon passing of my son Thoromir I wished to keep in good relation with my grandchildren. However I cannot simply look past the actions of the House of Mournstone who currently hold custody of my grandchildren. Knowing that the caretakers, and family of my grandchildren activity fought against, and went under those who sought to destroy my people saddens me. I cannot rest easy knowing my blood will be raised by enemies of our people, and possibly used against me.

 

With a heavy heart I, Exander Edvardsson Ruric, Chieftan of the Edvardsson bloodline and the House of Ruric declare the children of my son Thoromir II Ruric, and Valencia Mournstone be stripped of the name of Ruric. They are to be cast from the blood of Edvard and their connection to the herald severed.  

 

Writ en Namen De

Exander Edvardsson Ruric, Chieftain of the Edvardssons, Keeper of the Faith, Bearer of the Herald's Blood

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Exander let out a light sigh, sitting back in his chair as his eyes bore holes through the parchment before him. He felt his chest tighten as he overread it once more, his fingertips brushing over Thoromirs name on the parchment as his calm eyes were filled with dread.

“My dear boy…” he’d say to himself, his head lowering to the table as he remembered years past. His vision clouding as he remembered his once youngest, how he smiled, how he played, and the greatness he had grown into.

“I wished so much more for you… you deserved better…” he would say in a hushed tone, recollecting himself as he prepared to write more copies.

Much of what the tired man had wanted to write was withheld, it was easier to keep it simple and to the point. Standing from his chair he’d slowly walk to the door, opening it slowly to not disturb those who slept. In the cover of night Exander would nail the papers on the posts that lined the roads of Atlas from Nordengrad to Haense. The man would return to his home with his new family just as dawn broke, returning to his place in the bed, his tired body welcoming a good rest.

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Spoiler

 

Astrid Kasodnik reclines in her chair as she reads the disownment writ. A laugh escapes her, remembering the frail, old man. She turns as her cousin enters the room, as though curious as to why Astrid was laughing. In a callous tone Astrid speaks.

 

“I know he’s old and senile but my my. Wonder where he’s hiding. A darn shame we didn’t execute all of the traitors during the war. Like rats they escaped though.”

 

With this she shrugs, then continues.

 

“I know you cared about him, but I believe it's the time to declare all Rurics and those of any bloodline except Thoromir’s direct children disowned. I’ll speak to Demetrius on what a good course of action is though. As for now.” She pauses, rubbing her forehead momentarily. “This has no bearing, those of Rosik, Ruric, and Rorik betrayed the empire. They have no sway, no power, nor right to write a disownment.” She laughs at the foolishness of it all.

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Demetrius wonders how a man who fled on boat was able to return to post meaningless missives in Nordengrad, walk to Markev without anyone stopping him along the way and then return to the rest of the cowardice flock that claim to of fled but clearly were at the battle.

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3 hours ago, Sky said:

Demetrius wonders how a man who fled on boat was able to return to post meaningless missives in Nordengrad, walk to Markev without anyone stopping him along the way and then return to the rest of the cowardice flock that claim to of fled but clearly were at the battle.

Exander didn’t leave. A few men stayed behind to continue the fight.

 

 

“Kenswey my boy, we’ve got a job to do.” says Albrecht.

 

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25 minutes ago, Knox said:

Exander didn’t leave. A few men stayed behind to continue the fight.

 

 

“Kenswey my boy, we’ve got a job to do.” says Albrecht.

 

Astrid turns to Demetrius, a thought popping into her head as they have a lesson on politics. 

 

"Demetrius, what would happen to the city that hosts any of the traitorous Nordengraders who stayed behind?"

 

She tilts her head to the left, a curious expression on her face. 

 

"I can't be positive, but with this writ which means nothing...surely that implies some stayed behind and live somewhere, right?" 

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55 minutes ago, argle-bargle said:

"I can't be positive, but with this writ which means nothing...surely that implies some stayed behind and live somewhere, right?"

 

 

 Exander Ruric would let out a sigh as he sat on his bed, his feet keeping him rooted to the floor. “I just don’t want my families name drug through the dirt anymore... I have watched the downfall of this house with my own eyes over my many years, playing a part in it admittedly...” the old man would say, his voice catching.

”This is for young Thalens sake... you cannot raise him a Ruric as you nay lived as a Ruric. Raise the lad a Mournstone and spare him the hatred that comes with the name of Ruric.”

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Ryon Errmark finds one such missive, and nods proudly at the action. “Atleast some people still revile the black heart of the Mournstones, just a shame they could not have come to this realisation when it mattered. Whatever happens now, we must keep fighting. In the name of who Thoromir was, and not the shameful rallying point that the Mournstones use him as.”

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