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Sweet Little Dead Bunny [PK]


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(OOC KNOWLEDGE) - Please do not metagame!

 

Rabbit Mushkake, or as his friends called him, Scarecrow, perished on the 13th of the Amber Cold, SA 18. It was unexpected, completely so. Rabbit was taking a stroll down the Sutican main street, when he was stopped by a complete stranger. After exchanging pleasantries, Rabbit was assaulted out of the blue - It made no sense to him, but he did his best to defend himself.

 

He had so much to live for still -

He had aspirations to be the best Poet in Karosgrad, to properly thank the Lord Speaker for all he had done for him, and to educate himself on both religion and the arcane.

Rabbit was 20 years old, and planning to celebrate his 21st birthday soon.

He had a crush on a girl, but never worked up the nerve to say anything.

He had dreams to renovate his small home in Karosgrad. Above all, he just wanted to live a happy life.

He didn't want to end his life in terror, running for his life from enemies he didn't know.

His name was both innocent, but horribly accurate.

He was destined to die as prey to one stronger than him.

 

His last three poems were on his person when he perished - his entire life's work. No copies were ever made, as per Rabbit's personal beliefs about his work. One day, they might end up in a museum or a library. More than likely, they'll end up in a ditch, same as his corpse.

 

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Fionn Castaway recalls Rabbit's poem as he hears of his death, tears running down his face, but not because of the sad tones of the poem. He'd pull out his carrion flask and pour one out for the young man.

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After hearing the bad news of the passing of Rabbit, Igor couldn't leave his office. Not because he was busy with work, but he couldn't summon the courage to look at the room that was once Rabbit's. After two hours of debating, he finally came out of his office. Earlier before that day, Rabbit had left a letter to Igor thanking him for all he had done and how the move went well. This would have normally made Igor smile, though this only made the whole thing worse. Such a young and ambitious life, only starting his own journey... Just to be taken away by some unknown bandit in the south. Igor didn't even get to say goodbye, or tell him how truly proud he was. All of the visions of a different life where Rabbit could have inspired the hearts of many were now gone. So much to live for, and yet so little time to actually achieve it. In Igor's head, it was almost... poetic. He gave a light chuckle, though followed by a flood of tears. "Rest well... Rabbit."

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*William Carolus hears Fionn crying from in the basement, goes to find out what’s wrong and learns of Rabbit’s death. He remembers meeting the kid, feeling sad about the loss. He tears up goes and swipes a bottle of Fionn’s scotch from the cupboard, and downs the bottle in grief. Before beginning the bottle, he pours one out for Rabbit.*

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Otto August knew little of the man, but always enjoyed reading his poems to help his reading skills! Rabbits death surely would make noise throughout the kingdom.

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Corbin Wick frowned deeply as the news of his student has passed by his ear. The magus taking not just a moment, but a whole year vowed in silence to offer proper respects to the passing of the young and promising individuals that was Rabbit. The Wick hold close to him the notes of his first student, sure to be used as a prime example to be set for the standard of students to follow.

Edited by gavyn
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The news of his childhood friend's disappearance and presumed death is eventually relayed to Albrecht Mondblume. The young squire begins to shake as he stood on the porch of his home, his knees go weak, his heart sinks into the pits of his chest. What harm could ever have came to someone as meek and gentle as Rabbit?

"Scarecrow's... Gone? N-nie Fionn.. He can nicht be." was all he managed to utter as he struggled back the urge to howl in grief. That was the nickname he gave Rabbit roughly 6 or so years ago when the two boys first met in Karosgrad's streets, named after the costume his friend wore while playing with toy knights and soldiers in Albrecht's bedroom and during long adventures into the forests around Haense. The two grew apart slightly as they aged and became burdened with the toils of life and work, both on very different paths in life: One lad a budding poet and the other an ambitious soldier; yet during Rabbit's talent show performance and Albrecht's tournament duel they met again to cheer each other on in their pursuits of greatness.

 

The last time the duo met they planned to share a drink in the tavern together, to talk and laugh about their plans for life as optimistic young men. That day would never come. The last pieces of Albrecht's childhood had been torn away from him and he'd retreat to his room where he would spend the next months in black misery, clutching the tin soldier Rabbit gifted to him as a boy.

 

He had never known such raw grief.

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Mirabella Violet murmured a few words under her breath, as one of the only other poets she'd ever known was gone. The elf sighed, her head lowering to rest on top of her new work. She had heard word one way or another, and silently wondered 'What could have been done to help, if anything?'

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In Matilda’s eyes, Rabbit had been a charming lad, although a bit odd at times, whose intelligence surpassed what she had deemed possible. Memories of training against a drawing of a goblin tacked to a tree, playful banter over her cooking, and praise of Rabbit’s accomplishments flooded back; equally bringing a flood of tears. Rabbit had been the one to first give her the nickname of Mattie, a nickname she had delighted in, but would now only receive with a bittersweet fondness. Matilda laughed bitterly as she stared at a new type of cookie that she’d set aside for Rabbit to try the next time he came into town; she’d hoped he would like this one better than the first ones he had called “too dry.” With a heart torn to shreds, she carefully crumbled the cookie between her palms and sprinkled it over the ground in one last farewell.

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