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[PK] One Mistake

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Spoiler

 

One Mistake 

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One mistake is all it took. One lapse in judgement to cause your downfall, or so Rylan Swint found out. Walking into the swamp with his alchemist shears in hand, he saw a battle. A woman in armor fighting off two others. Dropping the shears for his sword, he quickly went into the fight, eager to do as he had done so many times before. “Save the day.” He had thought to himself. But that was his one mistake.

 

Lunging forward, he went to stab his sword into the stomach of the aggressor, but sadly they had something he had never experienced before - a blast potion. It was broken right on his mask, sending him into the dirt. He could not attempt to save himself any longer, as his body was weak and the world was spinning. Was this old age or simply a bad fall?

 

First, a strike to his side sent his mind into a pained state, fighting to control his body that would not listen. He thought back to everything that he had accomplished. Creating his brigade, ascending to major, creating and losing his family. The thoughts warmed him, though they could not help him. The next attack shattered his arm, and soon his leg. He was truly defenseless as he looked up at the aggressor. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. A final strike to his stomach ended him. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

Rest In Peace 


Sir Rylan Swint


1723 - 1784

 

Spoiler

I'd like to thank everyone who has contributed to the story of my first character. I started roleplaying Rylan some ten months ago and I could not have imagined what interesting things would happen and how he would develop. Through adventures with the ISA to mapping Athera and finally, to fighting the Inferni, this character has been something special. 


 

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A figure sits alone in the dark within the Pruvia Manor, shattered glass and overturned furniture scattered around randomly. A clearly drunken Philip sits alone on the balcony, a half-empty of whiskey at his side. First Peter, now Rylan. Why must the good die young? Why does GOD deem it fit to take those we love from us so soon?” He begins to cry, tossing the bottle into the bay. He’d stand up, his hands clutching the railing tightly. “My dearest brothers, I yearn for the day I am able to hug you both again, but until then I do hope you’ll continue to watch over us as we traverse aimlessly into the impending perils.” He’d sign the Lorraine twice before turning back into the house, the only light coming from the Moon as it glistens brightly in the night. 

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George Galbraith would rest in the chair of his office, seemingly enjoying his smoke break after a long day of work. A clerk would enter into his office, bringing him missive. He’d loft his brow at the missive adorned with the Swint label.

”Did Swint forget to collect tax money or something?” 
Upon reading the contents of the missive, his brows would drop, the cigar in his mouth falling to the floor in bewilderment. The Galbraith and the City Clerk worked simply professionally, but it pained him to see the death of a talented man, a man he considered his friend. He would sign the Lorraine.

“I doubt we’ll ever find someone as disciplined or proficient as Swint. May his soul rest in the Seven Skies."

Edited by MrChenn1

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Reserved 

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Deep in the gardens of Roussard a stray civil servant would bring missive of the Captain Swint’s passing. Haggard, tired after years of nothing but duty to Helena, the Dame Vimmark could do nothing but stare blankly at her roses- the third generation of that same breed she had brought back from Athera, so hard to tame and so beautiful to behold. 

 

In that moment, memories seemed to surge through her- battles fought at Rylan’s side, his breakdown before her at how much he missed his wife, their horseback rides where she assisted him in his great Atheran map, his determination to make her worthy of the Fourth- then followed by his proud smile when she had been inducted. His guiding hand in the depths of the basement of the Sons of Malin, his praise when she was knighted, his counsel when she became Secretary... 

 

There was only pain in her heart as she sunk to sit down, the clerk leaving her as she pulled her knees up to her chest- and thusly began to cry for the man who had been mentor, brother, and father all in one.

 

 


 

 

Off of the coast of old Warwick, a vengeful woman’s wail went out- a mournful howl for the one man who had never wanted anything from her but friendship.

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Sergeant Ledicort d’Azor would be at preparing a training site for the Recruits as the grim news would fall upon him. He would stand silently at a loss for words once he learned that Major Ryan Swift would of fallen. With a heavy heart, he would leave the site, dragging himself to the bastile. “May God watch over you in the seven skies comrade.” He would hold back raw tears from his filled eyes.

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Derik receives news of another one of his friends falling as night fell he stayed awake looking back at the fond memories of their group Sir Adrian, Elene and Rylan, then himself...and now realizing his the only one left stays awake with his thoughts through out the night until morning, where he would go to see Simon Basrid the man who brought them all together....he simply utters "...may you all enjoy the sleep you've all earned"

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Spoiler

 

”Rest well.” The words were simple, as she had been. ”If you are able to rest, that is.” She’d add after some time. 

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Sir Alaric DeNurem sat at the same bench as the prior withering of Peter Sigismund, a leg crossed atop the other, his hands folded neatly upon his lap as he watched the flower hills ahead, the red ball of fire fading over the distant horizon gradually below the grassy landscape. As the realm's light dimmed, the Knight produced his Swint pocketwatch aiming to take a look before darkness took hold of the sky. Though, to his dismay, the mechanism had ceased...

 

A few hours passed, and soon the rift left by the former glow was permeated with the spacial void, save the tiny white particles across the sky. Till – As midnight came about, the frozen clock ticked one last time. Perhaps there was still something out there left, alas, such was his hope...

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Lorena Helvets sighed as she received the news of Sir Rylan’s death from her uncle Robert, aboard the deck of his galley. The memory of the man who had stood stalwart watch over the numerous children of the Novellen Palace stood prevalent in her mind.

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The Bishop of Ves, Guy de Soissons had of course heard of the sudden disappearance and later the death of Rylan Swint, especially being situated in Kaedrin.  He said a solemn prayer and hoped the knight would be given a proper Canonist burial, whatever condition his body was in.

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Thea, upon hearing the news, takes a deep breath. The woman slowly moved towards a chair, sitting down. Her lips were pursed into a thin line as she formed the Lorraine on herself. A sniffle escaped her as she thought back to the Swint’s quick passing. She shakes her head, uttering a quiet prayer.
Every now and then, her mind shifted to the Swint family, a wave of sadness washing over her every time.

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Lieutenant Viktoriya DeNurem was situated within the swamp, a large cavern looming ahead of her, covered in runes & dried blood. The Fourth Brigadier herself seemed tired, and weary – as if about to drop the floor for a long, long rest. After receiving the news of the Major’s death, she’d gone out in search of the culprit – never to find them, nor, what could have caused Rylan’s sudden disappearance.

 

A new desire blazed within her heart – 

 . . .

The want for Revenge.

 

Amidst her sulking, she’d find herself beginning to slump toward the ground – thoroughly exhausted by her travels. Her face twisted into a look of pain as she’d sign the Lorraine upon the crest of her cuirass – peering out toward the starless void above with a grimace. 

 

”Mother –   .   .   .    Ensign Peter – Major Rylan. When will et end? When will tae pain subside?”

. . . 

”Wot’s tae purpose of continuing ‘ere? En t’es living ‘ellscape  .  .  .”

 

Looking down toward her breastplate, her trembling hand would grasp the locket that sat upon her chest – slowly opening the lid that sat atop it. There, inside, sat a picture – her Purpose.  Of herself, and a white-haired Imperial Captain: Alaric. Her life’s will – what kept the blaze within her heart aflame. And, in the moments before she’d faint, her gaze would catch alight: a fresh hope developing in her soul. 

 

”My brethren – My comrades. Ye will be avenged. Rest easy . . .” 

the Leftenant murmured, sleep finally claiming her. For the next several months – the woman remained unseen.

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When John Charles hears the news his eyes grow hot with tears. He’d known Sir Rylan since he was a boy, when Rylan would watch him in the absence of his parents. Lately it felt like all his childhood friends were disappearing. He moves to the Novellen Chapel, and bows his head in prayer. After a few moments in that position, the young man rises. “Thank you, Sir Rylan Swint, for watching over me.”

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