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[PK] A Demise of a Doctor

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Inside every man is life, and what he does with his, defines him.

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[!] A painting of an Alcade election in Curon’s prime days, circa 1729.

R  I P

Matthias Othan Rutledge

1689 - 1756

A good doctor, caring father,

and a loyal Curonian.

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        If someone had to describe Matthias in one word, it might be ‘merciful’. Many others would describe him as ‘friend’ and there were six people he held dear who describe him as ‘dad’, and one person he loved the most who called him ‘dear’. It depended on how you knew him, but how could one truly know the man if they saw him from across the aisle? Matthias was a short, Southeron man, aged in his years, and missing his right arm. No one wouldn’t know the years he studied to become a doctor, the babies he brought into the world, the people whose lives he touched. Doctor Rutledge unceasingly spent his waking days doing what he could to advance the health of his fellow descendants, his works forever in the circulation of healers and doctors alike; however, there would be no more advancements coming from him while he lived, nor would anyone close to him get to enjoy his presence. Six children no longer had a dad, and a wife no longer had her husband.

 

        It was late at night, Matthias was heading out of Curon when he came across a white cat. A pet lover from a young age, Matthias gently kneeled down, calling the cat over. “Hey little guy, I’m sorry I don’t have any fish for you.” The cat eventually came over, purring and rather seeming to enjoy the tender scratches against his head. The stray cat seemed domesticated, rolling onto its back to expose its belly to the old man in what seemed to be gratitude. Its slender tail curled slightly, denoting a playful mood. Matthias chuckled, knowing better than to pet a cat’s stomach. He gently clicked his tongue, averting his eyes to Clovis Farlander who limped up only a few seconds before. That was the last time Matthias saw a white cat. A demonic sound emanated from the cat before its fur and skin turned inside out and more than quadrupled in size, barbed spines latching onto Matt’s only hand and arm. It wasn’t a cat anymore, rather a tentacled monstrosity of various eyes and limbs. Clovis ran for a torch, unknowing that fire was effective against the beast; he never made it, as the crippled was paralyzed by the gaze of the Elder Doblock’s elder eye. As long as the eye stared at Clovis, then Clovis couldn’t move. Matthias knew he was going to die, so there was only one choice to make; was Matthias going to fight? Or was he going to give up? Knowing Matthias, giving up wasn’t an option, so his choice was already determined. With one painful and determined roar, the Southeron man pulled his barb-filled arm free of the monster’s clutches, moving back to pull a few items from his medical bag. This combat-medic bag was tattered, a relic from Matt’s days as a Vessian Lieutenant. From this bag, he pulled two vials; a vial of vodka, and a vial of aqua nymph oil. The beast prepped an attack, and speared towards Matthias; it missed, allowing the old man to pull the cork off with his teeth, and to then promptly throw the vodka vial at the beast

 

        It was a direct hit, the vodka and glass splattering against the monstrosity’s elder eye. The beast shrieked in agony as its eye retracted back into it fleshy hide. Clovis was able to move, but both of the men knew tonight was their last, and for once they agreed upon one thing: If they could not defeat this beast, then they needed to weaken it as much as possible so that whoever so was unfortunate to encounter this beast… that the monstrosity could be defeated and all who were lost could be avenged.

 

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“Don’t stop. One day, you could bring hope, and be someone’s hero.”

~ Matthias, in an autograph to two students.

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        Clovis Farlander drew his mighty blade and advanced forward as fast as his crippled leg could take him. The man was close, until the beast attacked again, spearing its tentacles forth at the two defenders. It grazed past Matthias but struck Clovis Farlander in the stomach. This was the end of Clovis, but with the few seconds he had left, the brave man cut the tentacle with a swing and forever planted his sword into the beast’s center. The last thrust of his sword was in vain, for the demonic creature was not affected by this simple attack. At the time of the thrust, Matthias managed to get close enough to the temporarily paralyzed beast in order to pour the vial of Aqua Nymph down the creature’s mouth. From an earlier time in his life, Matthias brutally found out that when someone ingests Aqua Nymph Oil, they suffocate, and could die of asphyxiation. This did not affect the beast, and as it reared a spiked tentacle, a cry of hope came from an old friend. Osman Kharadeen rushed onto the scene to help, not only as a physical asset but also as a chance that Matthias might live through this ordeal. The Kharadeen managed to alert his fellow Qalasheen to the attack, and the current objective was updated; survive. The tentacle missed Matt’s body but shattered through his bad leg. It caused the man to fall back, taking heed of Osman’s calling to move into a shelter as the creature, in one fell swoop, swallowed the body and soul of Clovis Farlander. The doctor moved behind a set of durable doors, sealing his fate as soon as he entered the one building with one set of doors. The Southeron man taunted the beast so that it would be distracted from the approaching Qalasheen. It worked, the Elder Dobleck was focus on busting through that door to kill the one man. It was only moments until the doors began to creak under the pressure, prompting Matthias to grab the lit lantern and hold it close. “To Curonia, the lands of my family, I do hereby swear my life to thee.” The doors creaked harder, the hideous flesh beginning to squeeze through the holes in the iron doors. Matthias let out a soft and tired wheeze, his legs growing weak from the loss of blood. “From our ancient snow-capped mountains, to the coasts of our frozen seas.” The monster broke through, ominously landing in the narrow hallway of the structure. At this, the monster had nowhere to flee as Matthias immediately chucked the lantern at the Elder Dobleck, his expression unamused as the beast burst into flames. The beast shrieked in agony, unable to smother the flames which engulfed its hideous being. It gave up, and in last desperation, began to advance towards Matthias.

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        The old man moved, back grabbing ahold of the only torch within the structure. “For Curonia, for my homeland, for kin and friend, I shall heed the Bear’s call and stand till my last.” The beast lept towards Matthias with its remaining might, only to meet part of Matthias’ body and a flaming torch. The torch burnt through the beast and punctured its hide, remaining stuck within its acidic body. The beast attempted to smother the flames yet again, and with that diversion, Matthias grasped for a sword. Osman unceasingly pounded on the iron doors, trying to break through and get to his childhood friend. The Southeron man held the blade firmly and thrust it into the fleshy side of the Elder Dobleck. “In this, I do swear. Long Live Curonia. Long Live the Green Tide!  With one final breath, he slashed the blade upwards, intending to do more damage before he suddenly stopped. He stopped because the Dobleck finally managed to skewer Matthias with a tentacle, in the head. The old man expired, at age 67, outliving his father by 20 years. The beast lifted the deceased man, much to the enraged yells of the Kharadeen, and devoured him whole; body and soul. The Elder Dobleck looked to Osman Kharadeen, and was not willing to face off against the furious Qalasheen; thus, it burrowed underground. All it left behind was Matthias’ necklace which held a bear tooth, singed from the fires of battle.

 

        Matthias had one solace when it came to dying; that he would go to the Seven Skies, and see his family and friends. Yet, those who waited for him up there did not get to greet him; no, his own father Antanios didn’t get to greet him, neither did Matthias’ first wife, Madallaine, nor did his liege, King Wilhelm I. Matthias wanted to see everyone, and this was evident in his journal. You see, this man kept a journal, and in that journal was not notes, medicinal recipe, nor sketches; it was a list of names. The names were of people that were already dead, people that Matthias could see again in the Seven Skies. Unfortunately, would be a long time before Matthias could ever see these people; who knows? It might take until the end of time. Osman Kharadeen lived that day, and through him, news spread of the demise of Matthias Rutledge and Clovis Farlander.

 

Matthias didn’t get to go to the Seven Skies, because the monster who ate him, also ate his soul.

 

His soul was trapped there, and until someone could kill the Elder Dobleck, then his soul and the souls of every other victim would remain trapped in the monstrosity.

 

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After news came to light of the doctor’s demise, a will was found.

        “Upon my death, I realize some things need to be arranged, and parted. First off, I have set aside a lump sum of money for Curon; and the rest of my monetary resources are to be divided among my children.

         To Valerie, my darling firstborn: A Red Bokolo Feather, to be kept for your eventual wedding day. Your grandmother was raised in a Warhawke culture, which denoted that, in place of rings, a bokolo feather would do. To have a RED bokolo feather is a luxury that even some nobles nor royalty do not have, as the beast that it came from was the most powerful and violent of the species.

         To Silas, the adventurous child: A Bokolo Claw. You were an ambitious child, full of dreams of knighthood and glory; however, you must still remember from where you came. To you, I have left something that was probably foolish of me to do. Please, do not cause trouble with this claw, as it can draw blood at just a tap. I wouldn't put it past you to get the claw made into a dagger by putting a handle on it, but you might have to sand it down or make it safe if you were to wear it around your neck.

         To Seth, my bookaholic scholar: A special ring. This ring is a unique one. Should any blood fall on this ring, it will begin to glow. It is strong enough to light your path, or perhaps provide you light as you read your next book. You were rather an introverted child, and it is my fault alone that I did not get you outside to socialize more. If I had gotten you to open up more to society, then maybe you would have had more fun.

         To Vivaca, my very exuberant daughter: A Bokolo feather. You are the child that literally looks the most like me, it's almost kind of ironic that the child that looks the most like me would act the least like me at such a young age. Someone once told me that one day you'd made the most badass guard, but now I see you have become the most independent woman I have known, next only to your grandmother. You fight for equality, a noble and worthy cause.

         To Wilheim, the quietest child: A bokolo feather. You were the spitting image of your mother, literally. I leave a bokolo feather for you so that you might give it to your possible wife when the time comes. You have taken after my research, so I leave it up to you and your sister Valerie to organize and publish any of my unfinished work.

         To Abiah, the miracle child: A special potion. This special potion is one that I hesitated to use. It is called a Whisperking Tears potion, and it lets the drinker clearly remember their loved ones for twenty-four saint hours. If I have died while you were young, then you would not remember much of me. This would let you remember even memories you had as a babe.

         To Arthos Devereux, one bear-tooth necklace that you gave to me as a token to get through rough times. I think you’ll need it now, more than ever.

         As for other things, instructions have already been set out.”

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And thus was the end of Matthias Rutledge on 18th of the First Seed, 1756.


 

Spoiler
 
 
 
🤓
2
Spoiler

[OOC]

Atrex, you are an absolute nerd.

 

To everyone who knew Matthias? Guess what...

He died at 67, but survived 63 ig-years of gameplay.

Talk about a durable good! Please don’t cry.

I know some of you guys tend to cry when reading stuff like this.

You know who you are.

 

 

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Honour sat quietly in her quarters aboard the Howl of the North, watching a guttering candle with watering eyes.

She reached forward with an aged hand, poured a shot of her finest whiskey, and raised it to the empty room.

”Matthias. My trade associate. My friend. Give ‘em hell on the way down, hey?” With that, the old woman knocked back the shot with a fluid, natural motion. 

She eyed her family crest, and the slogan beneath. She uttered the words to herself. “From the waves we rise, and to the waves we return.”  

The old captain continued her night, taking comfort in the memories of one of the very few whom she considered an equal. 

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Aerilith had traveled through the Wildlands for several days with on his person nothing but his sword and two black arrows with red feathers.

 

One of these was placed at the roots of a tree where many others were put to rest. all engraved with the names of  fallen friends, the one named Matthias had joined the display and remained there.

 

The other Arrow was planted near the door of his oldest child, nearly identical to the other one in the Wildlands only this one had another insription. 

 

“Matthias deserved a better fate.”

 

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The news came as quite the surprise to Glargill, to say the very least.

 

As the sun fell in the sky, and night came to cover the streets, the shadows seemed a bit darker, the colors of the sunset a bit more dull.

 

As the cold of night set in, a somber melody cut through the air;

The sound of a gentlemanly frog croaking out a mournful lament to honor the good doctor, a friend recently made and quickly lost.

 

“You will be missed, old chap.”

 

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     An aging elf downs pours out a glass of wine then sets it on her desk. She pours another then lifts it up, “Peace to my last apprentice... Now may my children survive me and create a better world, to whatever deity is listening” , the elfess spoke with a somber tone before taking a sip from her own glass.

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A Long Old Farfolk would Grieve his Friend, one of the only to survive that battle. Still wishing he had been there sooner. “I will miss you Rafiqi” Osman would say “And I will make sure the Creature that killed you, is ended before my death.”

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Xavis leans back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling as he things of his old child- Matthias. Memories of Belvitz and the child flood his mind and tears start to fall from his single eye

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Aaliyah Abbas lies on her bed, her body racking with tiny wails interrupted only by hiccups. A copy of her favorite book, one of the volumes of ‘A Compilation of Medical Herbs’, lies on the bed next to her, the pages soaked with tears as the small elfess, unable to read any longer, simply collapses into the bed with grief. On the desk nearby, a message would lay, letting her know that her hero and idol is truly dead.

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Sergeant Tovelm would bow his head in respect

 

“Matthias Rutledge was someone who I first met when I was a boy in Curon, he will always hold a place in my heart despite our differences”

 

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“Matthias deserved much more, Although Curon betrayed me. I will not blame him” Rickard, Curons best ex-marshal would comment

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https://youtu.be/ngOnaG0Fk08

Monsters


[RP] Stray Cat would rest soundly nice and plump from its recent meal, the body count would have reached four hundred dead in two months from the creature's onslaught but it would not pay the lambs cries no thought. Sitting there in the lap of its pet shade it would let its mind wander to the battle it just survived thinking to itself how the elderly man came the closest to killing him yet. After awhile the evening would grow late and the residents of the Shade House turned in Stray Cat would sit in a corner softly speaking to itself "You were a worthy opponent Old Man be happy for you have come the closest to killing me, know though that your Green Tide will fall to my Red Wave though" Stray Cat would say in a gurgling voice.

 

[RP] Calmly sitting on the wall of Helena three emaciated figures would share their thoughts on the fight they just witnessed amongst each other, "Khaa theenks horde haws beat uss here" the figure in red would say. The figure in dark blue would tap its long index finger against the hard clay walls, "Asim theenks eet dawes nawt matter world weell be Telemars either way." it would say almost cockily. The final hooded figure clad in back would speak softer than rest their voice silky smooth"Mesi nawt worreed Hertar weell fawll." the black-robed one would pause shortly before raising its hand and pointing its large index finger "Telemar sssawyss to release the Rooksie upawn the ceetie soon.". The group would begin to prep the materials to call forth the Rooksie upon the city readying themselves to watch the slaughter of the great game.

 

[RP] Sitting in a place of great oddity the eighth-page holder Distoro would be informed of the attack by one of its strange imp-like minions, it would sit rocking back in forth before deciding to speak in its sing-songy voice "Ho ho ho It SeEmS HeRtAr BeAt Us To ThE pUnCh LiNe, GuEsS i BeTeR gO gEt ThE lAsT lAuGh.". The creature would remark all this before compressing like an accordion and belting out a brutal gut filled laugh letting out a honking sound with each burst.

 

[RP] A summit would be called by the Waman bringing all the Wabbajock clans and followers together in one place, deep within a twisted forest the meeting would begin bizarre chanting and dancing would start around a fire as plumes of colored smoke rise into the air. Tree folk and the Goatmen known as the Wabbajock would all grow silent suddenly as the Waman would slam it's large hand down on a drum signaling for the festivities to halt. All eyes would turn to the Waman as the meeting began the language would be incomprehensible for any of those not from these creatures lands. Though it may be incomprehensible the purpose would be meeting would be obvious it was a war meeting calling for the invasion to begin and soon the Wabbajocks would appear in Arcas and Athera ready to bring their brothers and sister to this world to conquer.

 

Personas


[RP] Arthur Sterling would soothe himself by playing his Silversteed Lute losing himself to the sway of the music drowning out his sorrow as he thinks of his old friends Matthias Rutledge and Clovis Farlander who both died tragic deaths.

 

[RP] Noel Crozier would be happy knowing a filthy Farfolk in Curon died as he never really liked their kind but he would return to resting in his random hole in the wall as he was a grumpy homeless bigot. 

 

[RP] Dingo Dave would hear of his "friend's" brutal death his unkept beard would keep his face warm from the brutal cold of the northlands as tears slowly freeze on his face, Dingo Dave would choose to continue onward through hunting for Bobo the Dancing Bear.

 

My words on this OOCly


Honestly, this death makes me upset I realize I am the one who caused it but it pains me every time someone PKs and so I hope someone will put a stop to me soon.

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The doctor clenches her fist at her desk, whiskey in her free hand- features twisting into a grimace amongst the drunken stupor. ”May Tahariae love you, Matthias- and may you run now.” She whispers. Her head leaning back as she downs a second glass of whiskey.. first Alvahnia, now Matthias- who next?

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Grun would be walking down a road to somewhere as a crow swoops down and lands on his shoulder. His attention to the road switches to the crow on his shoulder, he tilts his head as he spots the spiffy parchment letter in the crows mouth. Grun sighs as he stops by a nearby tree and takes a breather, sliding down the tree into a sitting position slowly so that the crow may remain on his shoulder as he sat down. Grun reaches his hand towards the crows beak gently pinching the parchment and slowly removing the letter from the crows mouth. Before holding up his index finger towards the crow, letting her hop onto the finger. He gently brings the finger towards the ground letting the crow jump about, preferably looking for seeds to eat... Grun watches the crow look for seeds for a little while smiling gently before turning to the parchment. From his robe he takes out a small letter opener where he then surgically removes the unsigned seal from the letter before putting the letter opener down next to his hip. Grun opens the parchment slowly as there would be only a few words on said parchment...

 

R I P

Matthias Othan Rutledge

1689 - 1756

The words would be in cursive and in the center of the parchment Grun had opened...

Grun reads the words over and over and over in disbelief but than realized he was somewhat old. His mouth begins the tremble when he read these few unsettling words as tears start to form in his eyelids before trickling down his cheeks. The four of the people out of seven who meant most to him in his life has all past away, Emmeline Grunwalder, Tak, Runa, and now Matthias Rutledge have now passed away to ascend to their afterlives. Grun sat there sobbing quietly as memories start to flood his head in a surprising matter now also realizing that the time in the hospital with Matt was the last time Grun would ever see him again...

 

Time passed as the crow keeps looking for food and Grun still is sobbing away but his eyes opened as he starts to smile gently before mumbling, ”I know you hate this a-and don’t haunt me if your listening b-but, all hail the last true Prince of Ves and hope you make it t-to wherever your afterlife may be, my only true Father Figure.” Grun gives a Vessian salute to the sky before slowly getting back up. He stretches, He wipes his tears, He looks to the crow with a smile before walking off to his next adventure in Arcas. Hoping that he would never forget Matt but he knows its going to happen someday...

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Koryn froze as he lay in the silent fields of Brandybrook. He clenched his fists, and beat them onto the ground, leaving little holes in their wake. The sound of melancholy arose from his voice, but he tried to hold it in.

 

“Yo.. you...”

He stumbled around with his words.

“You be e’erythin’ ta’ me, Ru’ledge. Why ye need ta’ go and dye?!”

Tears gushed from Koryn’s eyes, creating a fountain of sorrow as he walked back to town, grieving his secret soulmate.

Quietly, he whispered. “I loved ye.”

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Ameen Al-Nabeel would be seated in his study as he is informed of his friend's unfortunate passing "Ya rabb, an honest man, kind even to those who are deemed his enemies, may he rest in peace, very few deserve it as he does."

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