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Savonarola

[PK] Ascanius

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It was another night plagued by stalkers and demons, at some point in time no longer recent. Ascanius Dunlain, first and last of his name, was sitting at his desk. The cool breeze of the night rolled through the window, its gusts almost sounding like light whispers to the mad elf. The snow elf grabbed a quill, dipping its point into his inkwell and pressing it down against his parchment, writing for some time before departing him homestead.

 

    Ascanius wandered the wilds, far from the cavern he had called home. In search of what? Herbs. Yes, in specific the wonderful ganja that Cerridwen is said to have blessed upon this world eons ago. Perhaps this would soothe his mind and return him to his ambrosial bliss. He traveled far and wide throughout the earth and wilds, searching high and low for the prized ganja, but to no avail.

    He managed only to find hemp reggie, but that did not stop him. No, Ascanius continued his search.

Onward and onward, moon after moon, sun after sun. The cycle repeated, and his luck changed not for some time.

 It was only until Ascanius’ final day in the woods that he found his ganja. Hidden behind a length of the vines- there it was rooted. The most primal of Cerridwen’s gifts- Dark Star. 

But to much dismay, there was, of course, a guardian for such a sacred trove.  

 

A bear, the size of two men towered over Ascanius upon his approach. He readied himself, as any trained warrior would- but it was for naught. With one slash of its claw, Ascanius was knocked down into the jagged roots below. His face brutalized by the great beast. His reactions were off, certainly and truly because of his failing health. You see, being a blothr bhatti and buurz’zhomo truly does take something out of someone, especially just a frail Elven man. It began its onslaught, doing its duty to protect the green- or perhaps, truly it just had the munchies..

Its reasoning does not matter, for it did its deed. Ascanius Dunlain lies dead amongst the forest floor. His face, abdomen, arms, legs ravaged and brutalized. 
It was, as it was destined to be, the end of the false-Hound. The end of the Dreamer. 
The end of Ascanius Dunlain.

OOC:  Pretty much. Ascanius has been needing to put up his cloak for some time. Gug’ye. I’ll see you chads on the flip side.

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Faei waits in the homeland of her people for her partner in crime, unbeknownst to her that he wasn’t a real druid and won’t be joining her in the same afterlife.

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A mad Cackling can be heard in the distance, though it is clear...it originates from absolutely no one

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September’s Failure wonders what happened to Ascanius since there’s nobody at the Dragur Library to help him with books any longer.

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