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The Mad Man of Otistadt


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The Mad Man of Otistadt

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As the bloodied, Disformed old man lied on the ground of Karosgrad’s square. He’d look into his Daughter’s eyes, they were just like his green but this thought would be cut short as she plunged her sword into his stomach.

 

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That was it, the Monster known as Stefan Otto Ludovar was dead at the hands of his own daughter. Ironic isn’t it, that the one he beloved was the very one to kill him

 

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“He didn’t need to die,” said his Grandson, Stefan B Vyronov

 

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I wasn’t always like this, he wasn’t always a monster, but what exactly makes a monster? I was a farmer, a baker a good man. I was a handsome lad who came to live with his younger cousins in New Reza.

 

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Stefan Ludovar, Age 16, C.1759

 

I joined the HRA to serve my kingdom like my great grandfather did hoping to one day become a knight. Little did I know what fate had in store for me. I was a handsome young nobleman, the world was my oyster or so I thought.

 

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At 20 I found the love of my life, my sweet Odette it was like we were meant to be. That was until our daughter was born, all three stillborn and 3 years later Odette took her own life. That was only the beginning of my troubles

 

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Stefan Ludovar, Age 29 , C.1773

During the War of the Scyflings, I serve honorable along with my brothers in arms or so I thought...During the Finally siege of Vasiland. I pushed both the king and the lord marshal out of the way of boiling tar which leads to the amputation of my left arm and blindness in my eye along with the lifetime scarring of burns upon my face.

 

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As the years went I slowly begun to lose time, I must have been the Carrion or the Vodka, I guess I’ll never know. The only remember the golden plains of Johnstown in autumn, then the large ship whisking me away to Josefberg away from my family all because that bastard Sigmar hated me, I then returned only to find that the nation that I loved, Sacrificed, almost died for to have forgotten me. That lead me to this moment in a minute of anger I was struck down by my own kin whose loyalty was something I once had



 

The Will of Stefan Otto Ludovar

 

Dear, my eldest grandson, @Wolfey34

To whoever you are, whatever your name is I leave you with my most prized position. The Sword I won off a Scyfling Shamen who I killed during the War. This has great power and is a respectable blade, I hope that you will put it to go used.

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To my Children,

I have not done much good in this world, but all of you are the best of who I was, I hope that you will learn from my mistakes and become someone of great standing. Someone better, happier, Productive anything better than I.







 

Occ

 

Stefan wasn’t meant to become this monster of what he became but that is the Joy of RP you never know what will become of the character you were given or created. I had fun with Stefan and I sure hope he gave everyone the same Irritable, anger, and frustration I had with playing him. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it was fun.

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Aleksandra Ludovar sat upon her bed, concussed and weary from the blur of events. It all happened so quickly. Before she knew it, she had committed one of the most vile acts of man--the slaying of one's own kin.

 

Her mind was flustered with many emotions, though regret was not one. In that moment, her duty held precedence over any love she ever felt for the monster who attempted to take the life of the Koenas-mametr.

 

From that day forth, Aleksandra Ludovar would be known as 'the kinslayer'.

 

 

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Petrysa Ludovar solemnly shook her head from within her place in the Seven Skies. What seemed to be a small and cozy room that was lit by a fire, tea set aside on an inn table. She felt disappointment in her uncle, and ashamed of his actions, and what he had become. She recalled the last time she had ever seen him was as a young child, some time before he'd been banished from the lands, and the place she had once called home.

"Vy were always my favorite uncle... not anymore, it seems. It is a shame things had to come to this."

 

And there she sat in that same cozy room, waiting for someone else to arrive for her to lovingly greet.

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"Good." Stefan Vyronov would state upon hearing the news of the once banished man's death.

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Stefan Boleslav Vyronov stares down at his grandfather's blade, deep in thought. He never knew the Ludovar well, only speaking to him once before. He thought about the incident, about how he had listened to the man drivel on about his hatred of Barclays, Baruchs and others. This immediately cemented the disgust of the old man within his grandson's mind.

 

When the boy had seen the his grandfather again in the square he wished the man would just live out the rest of his life wherever he had been banished to. When he attempted to kill the queen he knew how it would end, though he regretted that the man never saw the error of his ways.  When the old man fell to two stab wounds after repeatedly trying to attack the queen he felt no sadness over the death of his family, as he barely considered him as such, but only that the man died being the bitter man he was.

 

After the autopsy Stefan studied his notes on the man's innards,"Hopefully at the very least vy might be useful in death" he'd mumble to himself, thinking of how this could be applied, but then his concentration was broken by the arrival of the sword. A Shaman's Blade. A trophy from the terrible war that Stefan had only read about. Why then had his grandfather given it to him? Since he seemed to hate him so, but when he read the will it all fell into place. "Perhaps there was a good man in the beginning" he thought as he read it over "But he clearly was not that man at his end. I wonder how he would think about his grandson being so close with the Barclays". The young Vyronov would set the Shaman's Sword up on the wall and look upon it with a small smile "I hope wherever vy are old man, vyr niet suffering too much."

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"First time?" a certain lady asked Alexandra with a light huff. "Some people deserve it- trust me." The other kinslayer then turned around in order to saunter off further into the city.@AnonymousAlexa

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Somewhere lost in a place with many names, which was similar to the woman who held many names, the news of the man's death would reach her. She'd give a slight chuckle, "my husband, dead at last!" Oh how 'Odette' cherished the news, whereupon she turned in her lost and unmarked grave. "May he rot in eternal suffering just as I have" the woman of many names spoke into emptiness, as sin had cradled her own eternal slumber. Conclusively, a murderer, a shape-shifter, and a wife whom spat at her husband's surname until the very end

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