Tiberius

[helldiving 5793]

 

 

 

Tiberius Tiber

 

Died 24th of Malin's Welcome 1727.

 

“It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

 

Born in the famed city of Pronce on the 15th of Owyn’s Flame, 1704, Tiberius Tiber was the very man in whose hands the fate of so many laid, the very man whom no prayer for mercy could ever have influenced, himself fell to the blade of the empire. To many men, it was an impossibility to swim against the stream of Tiberius Tiber.  A scion of the tutelage of Aurelius I and August I, his prodigal mastery of blade landed him the champion of choice of trials by combat. His diminutive character was complemented with a fierce demeanor, luring many Aeldnic and Arcasian ladies alike into his kind hold.

 

Tiberius was one of the band of old-fashioned leaders; he was born for warlike emotions, and was distinguished for his character. At this epoch the influence of a peace-time Imperium Renatum had already begun to make itself felt upon the Orenic nobility. Many had adopted the Harrenite customs of law-book and poem, and began to display open luxury in splendid staffs of servants, dinners, parties and palaces. This was not to Tiberius’s taste. He liked the simple life of the man at arms. Eschewing the silk and quill of the courtier life, he regarded himself as the finest Aeldnic and Arcasian swordsman - triumphing his first duel at the age of ten years, and winning every tournament he attended.

 

He executed his justice, and made it a rule that it was absolutely necessary to resort to the sword.

 

His propensity for justice - and his being the hand to deliver it, was to be the downfall of Tiberius, just as the man had dealt this to countless others. Whether it was the effect of the moonlight, which brought with it fantastic thoughts, and transformed even the most modest of men into strange and fearsome likenesses, or from some other cause, but it suddenly became terrible to Tiberius, to rest alone when two welpish mercenaries of the Black Hill sought to sow discord in the city of Curon. It was his duty as a man of dragon’s blood to uphold some semblance of natural justice beyond the amorphous mortal trappings of written law.

 

After defeating these men with his famed ease, soon on all sides resounded the tramp of horses’ hooves, the clank of swords, the screech of rolling wagons, talking, sharp cries and urging-on of stallions. Soon the force of the Caer Bann spread far over all the roads; and Tiberius would have held an impossible course if deeming it wiser to run than fight.

 

Tiberius soon gave himself up wholly to the enchanting music of blades. He knew what it was to consider, or calculate, and to measure his own as against the enemy’s strength. He gazed on battle with mad delight and intoxication: he found something festal in the moments when a man’s brain burns, when all things wave and flutter before his eyes, when heads are stricken off, horses fall to the earth with a sound of thunder, and he rides on like a drunken man, amid the flashing of swords, dealing blows to all, and heeding not those aimed at himself. 

 

More than once these men too did marvel at Tiberius, seeing him, stirred only by the flash of impulse, leap blade-in-hand towards something that which a sensible man of cold blood and foppish character would never have deemed worthy of attempt, and, by the overwhelming force of Tiberius’s mad attacks, accomplish grandiose wonders that could do nothing but amaze even those who had grown grey in the fields of battle.

 

These dozens of men beat their own justice, stated to be on the order of the boy-emperor Alexander, into the former favourite of the Orenic court. Even a man as prodigal with the blade as armored Tiberius could not resist the flurries of swords being dealt towards him.

 

Falling to one of the dozens of Caer Bann blades, young Tiberius’s thoughts were far away: before him passed his brief youth, his years—the swift-flying years, over which the man wept if but only to imagine that his whole life was as serene and stable as the lands of his youth. He wondered whom of his former comrades he should meet in the Seven Skies. He reckoned up how many men had died by his hand, friend or foe, how many were still alive in some freehold in lands distant. Tears did not form in his eyes as he accepted the fate he had dealt onto so many others, and his head bent sadly in the few moments before the knife meeting his neck.

[trinn 5128]

Adeline had once sat by Tiberius, the young girl smiling briefly within the towering halls of the Rubrummagnus. 

 

"You and I, Tiberius, we do not know peace." She had uttered, as they concluded a meeting with marnans upon the halls of the palace. "I doubt that we will ever know it."

 

Now, she greets him with a childish smile within the seven skies. 

[sergisala 3451]

"One of the best warriors this Realm has ever had. Rest in peace." Sergius would mutter as he hears the news

[koanda 620]

Arriving to the palace in Avalain, Ester received the news of her cousins passing. For some time, she failed to comprehend it. A flurry of thoughts clouding her mind left behind by the young King. Locking herself away in her chambers, she’d finally break. As her tears stained her lilac sheets, a heavy guilt permeated her fragile mind. She had been warned, but was blinded by naivety. The memories of him standing before her, cautioning his young cousin of the dangers, yet she had disregarded them. She would be left alone, riddled with regret.

 

Through her sobs she would utter “I should have believed; I should have trusted you.”

[Ivoreyy 2303]

Mariya recalls a man that showed her the underwater tunnels of Sutica. One whomst could find beauty in small things, despite a presence of seemingly only violence. She mourned for someone who would know not of what more life could entail.

 

And with that, she added his name to an ever growing list of the people she’d greet fondly in the Seven Skies.

[Zhikarta 4064]

”Put down like the rabid dog he was, a traitor’s end. Tiberius deserved nothing less.” A sigh of relief escaped Aleksandr, smiling lightly upon hearing the news. ”He made a family fall apart, and he paid for it with his blood.”

[giambro 612]

Ser Ulric Vyronov smiled from the Seven Skies, awaiting at the gates. “Welcome to the Skies brother, I have been waiting for you.”

[Icarnus 1669]

“A good friend of mine, yet life has permit me to put many friends to the sword. So be it.” Adrian quipped, dipping his quill in its respective position of ease. He lofted the parchment to the candlelight, a discernible frown adorning his windswept features, “Yet it only begins."

[sophiaa 778]

Theodosia simply sighs as the news was whispered into her ear by a dear friend. Words had long gone unused by the old Dragonblooded Tiber. The woman turns slowly on her heel to pace back to the bakery rarely seen outside of, pushing the doors open with a delicate touch only to close them just as softly. She steps forward, delicately resting her head against the wooden doorframe as she took in a trembling breath, tears beginning to cloud eyes that she’d promptly squeeze shut.

“You were supposed to live forever!” She hisses out, the glass window of the door cracking and crumbling as the Tiber sent her fist through it, now bloody as she pulled it away once again to whirl around and face the rest of her tea hall. A calculating gaze scanned the room as she stood there, bringing her hands together so as to brush shards of glass from her right. After a sniffle, the woman allowed out a few harsh sobs, turning towards the counter where she reached for a bottle of red wine. As she lifted it, she paused, staring down into its contents instead as she fell silent. A moment later, Theodosia’s expression contorted into sheer anger, and with another pivot, she sent the bottle flying towards one of the stone walls of the bakery, watching shards of glass and drops of red explode in every which direction. “Idiot!” 

 

After that, the Tiber moved only with the intent of destruction. Every piece of glass or ceramic within the tea hall would find itself broken on the floor, alongside tipped chairs and baked goods. Smoke billowed from the fireplace as she threw plenty of things within that didn’t belong. Knives made contact with paintings and tapestries, ripping all to shreds except for the only painting of her dear brother. When she finally settled, she glanced around in content, tears and blood from her own fingertips staining her face. Theodosia tiptoed around the floor to make her way behind the counter, ducking down to reach underneath it to remove an old blade she kept hidden there. 

”I’ll be with you soon, brother, I promise.” She’d mumble, having stepped back out of the now wrecked bakery so her gaze could turn to the grey skies, “As I wouldn’t wish to live in a world without you in it.”

[Imperium 3495]

Archbishop Siguard signs the cross of Lorriane for the man he baptized, “He lived by the sword, and died by it. I pray GOD can forgive him.”

[Dyl 2088]

Mars would have a saddened look on his face, “Another has fallen...”

[Jentos 9422]

A certain man garbed in red let out a wretched howl at the very thoughts of a certain king in yellow robes... 

For the world was indeed comic, yet the joke was on mankind. 

[Enlightenment 2295]

“Farewell, Cousin, may we meet again in the seven skies,” A sullen John remarked after hearing of Tiberius’ unfortunate passing

[KosherZombie 1772]

Hugo lays down his pen, the death of the self proclaimed king terminating their short correspondence. He takes a sip from the glass of water sitting on his desk. “Well,” he murmurs. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

[Chase 3793]

An aging knight and Draughtsman of Renatus raises a brow at the news, adjusting his stained scarf idly. "Interesting developments. I suppose."