Illness Beneath the Sunless Sky

[Nozgoth 3083]

[!] A notice would find its way all over the Holy Orenian Empire, written in fine, silver ink, yet the script was evidently rushed.

 

Illness Beneath the Sunless Sky

On the Account of Lord Ostromir

 

10th of Malin’s Welcome, 1817

 

Over the past week, Ostromir Carrion, the Count of Dobrov and Baron Woldzmir, has been bed ridden with a deathly illness. He does not sleep, nor eat, nor drink, and he appears to be among his last days, for his frame in all its splendour has receded into a frail and sickly thing. Fits of coughing resound from the keep’s walls, all day and night, but not only has his body been plagued; so too has his mind. It has become feeble. The Count has lost track of the time, and seemingly, he knows naught of his surroundings or what is transpiring before him. He does not even recall my name. He speaks in incoherent mutters and ramblings, with some of the only discernible sentences revolving around what he calls “The Sunless Sky”. Whatever malady his mind has been ridden with is taking a toll on him, for this concept is one that he will not forgo. Among other such ramblings, the Lord of Dobrov also speaks of his family, and how he does not see them.

 

Physicians, alchemists, and even priests have tended to him, yet to no avail. We fear each breath may be his last. Though with fleeting feats of energy, he continues to manage, “Beware the Sunless Sky! It impends!” spake he, only this morning. Some other effects of this previously unseen illness consist of: Shaking hands, quivering lips, increased and rapid breathing, seizures, temporary blindness, and more. Thankfully, there should be no fear of transmission, for few people, including myself, have seen Ostromir in this state, and it has not spread to any one of us.

 

It is with great sorrow that I inform the Empire of such a tragedy.

 

An Account By:

Sapientem, and Grand Philosophus,

Saevel de Woldzmir

[JoanOfArc 4604]

Franz Nikolai sits by his grandfather's bedside as the man spoke truths to the young Raevir. For the first time, Nikolai knew his purpose on Terra.

[Tigergiri 3073]

Elizabeth as soon as she heard the news, would drop everything she was carrying and run home. 

[Endovelicus 613]

A shiver ran through Hieronymus' spine as the man heard of the health of the Count as well as his warnings. He puffed on a rich cigar from Wett. "His auguries are truly disturbing...Passions will it to be the ramblings of a mad-man though I doubt that it is so."

[EmiliainWonderland 2311]

Agnes de Falstaff sighed heavily upon hearing the news, perhaps she should've found it in her heart to feel bad. She knew she did feel bad, not for Ostromir or his wife, but for the grandchildren he would leave behind if he passed. The grandchildren that would have no real grandmother or grandfather if he died, the lineage of children he left behind who will never get closure. MIlena, Vladislav. Those were truly the one two of Ostromir's children she cared for, but regardless it was enough to make her frown. Perhaps the kind thing to do would be to send her aunt a letter, so that's what she began to do.

[Malins Welcome 1519]

James Chapel grins widely upon hearing the long overdue news.

 

"At long last. Rot in hell, Carrion. May God have mercy on Oren for allowing you to fester for so long."

 

Spoiler

 

 

https://youtu.be/j9V78UbdzWI

 

Quote

 

 

[Mescaffier 6197]

A Plate-Clad Figure scowled down at the missive, putting it aside as it shoved a slew of potions; working, and archaic, into a leather duffle bag. It shoved the bag's belt over one pauldron and heaved it onto its back with a muffled groan, making a start onto the road. 

"Ostromir, you fool, don't die yet. You've saved my life thrice - it's too early for you," that descendant mumbled, pinching its eyes shut as light filtered through its visor. "Besides, those hooligans in the Seven Skies aren't as good as mortal company. I hear you only get to make half-witted remarks at your family every once-in-a-while, in what some crazy old man called the . . . 'Feer-em?' 'Forr-em' . .  . 'Forr Uum' section of heaven. Wonder where that loon got the name for it."

[Marilyn Monroe 362]

Jeanne Poisson de Motte sits in the Seven Skies, waiting.

 

[Eryane 3698]

"Chrysanthemums, chrysanthemums, chrysanthemums..." Muttered Lady Milena Carrion from the castle in Dobrov, idly listening to the passerby of servants and the like who tended to her sickly father. In her frail hands she clasped a wilted flower and trailed her fingers over its white petals. Tears ran down her pale cheeks in faintly glistening streams by the fireplace where she was seated. "All of them, chrysanthemums."