A Swift Relief Of A Sorry Man

[PyroAlt 49]

The “BoomSteel” Javelin travelled through the air from an MRA crossbow making contact with the ground behind the Chief Detective igniting behind him with shrapnel piercing the back of the Chief Detectives coat; it was almost over as soon as it began. Watching his other brave agents continue the fight he would spend his last moments in agony holding a letter but in ponder as well. Thinking of all he had accomplished in his life which he himself considered miserable.

 

Joining the MoJ at the age of eighteen he would serve and die for the organization and The Holy Orenian Empire. Now at the age of twenty nine and dying slowly of blood loss from the shrapnel from the boomsteel the life would escape his eyes and his skin would lose its pigment. And at the end of it all his last thought was….

 

“I wonder who the poor bastard will be that will take my position and start like I did next.”

 

((OOC NOTE: It was a pleasure to have some great RP on Ernest. To everyone that ever interacted with him whether it was a friendly or hostile encounter I would just like to reach out and give you my personal thanks. I now move on to newer horizons in my LOTC RP experience and cannot wait!)  -ATallTower

 

 

[Guzr 2050]

Edwin Henry de Sarkozy is sent back by the Boomsteel blast, the man's armor plating protecting him from death, but not much else. The loss of his eye, the use of his sword arm, the proper use of his lungs aswell as now being forced to use a cane when traversing served as a reminder of the cursed day that he lost a good friend, Ernest.

[oryP 1068]

James Madron leaned back into his chair upon reading the letter, holding back is sorrow he let but a single tear drop before grabbing the bottom of his desk and flipping it upon rage. "I shall avenge my comrade with the blood of his killer. That MRA scum shall know pain." Swiftly exiting his office and to the armory with intent to create the weapon that shall bring the MRA's demise.

 

(OOC Note: Had a great time rping with Tower, hope to see him around in the future.)

[NouveauChateau 248]

The veteran of the MRA who fired the round sat at his desk.  His eyes darted across the missive selectively, reading only what he had wanted to read.  The man placed the missive on the 5 other pages of missive he had collected over the months and years.  His hands shuddered as they laid silently upon the mostly barren, old piece of carpentry.  His mind raced, looking up and down the crevasses of the wooden desk.

The lantern brightly lit up the room around him, as his eyes began darting all across the room.  His back felt as if it was being watched by some presence, but none was there.  His head shifted, looking around for a presence of which didn't exist.  The feeling would drop, numbing himself by believing he did the right thing.  It was alright to blow them up.. It was their fault.. It wasn't his.. They were in the way of greatness..

"Such a weapon.. Such a power.. We told them to surrender and they paid the price.. If this is what I must do to continue the liberation of my people.. Then I must continue to be hailed as a monster.  Not for my sake, but for my brethren."

Moskau would state to himself silently in his room.  As his mind begun to flow adrift into a slow slumber, he needed rest.  And so he laid his head down on his desk, falling into a slow slumber with the damned crossbow that fired the shot leaning against his leg.

[KaiserJacobII 1461]

George Hartcold-Rourke watches in horror as Ernest falls, his knee would quick soon after be pierced by a piece of shrapnel from the explosion that killed the Chief Detective. He'd fall to the ground, tears in his eyes. "Oh GOD... Oh GOD.." he'd mutter.

[makeitsoyoucandeleteaccounts 610]

44 minutes ago, KindOfToast said:

The veteran of the MRA who fired the round sat at his desk.  His eyes darted across the missive selectively, reading only what he had wanted to read.  The man placed the missive on the 5 other pages of missive he had collected over the months and years.  His hands shuddered as they laid silently upon the mostly barren, old piece of carpentry.  His mind raced, looking up and down the crevasses of the wooden desk.

The lantern brightly lit up the room around him, as his eyes began darting all across the room.  His back felt as if it was being watched by some presence, but none was there.  His head shifted, looking around for a presence of which didn't exist.  The feeling would drop, numbing himself by believing he did the right thing.  It was alright to blow them up.. It was their fault.. It wasn't his.. They were in the way of greatness..

"Such a weapon.. Such a power.. We told them to surrender and they paid the price.. If this is what I must do to continue the liberation of my people.. Then I must continue to be hailed as a monster.  Not for my sake, but for my brethren."

Moskau would state to himself silently in his room.  As his mind begun to flow adrift into a slow slumber, he needed rest.  And so he laid his head down on his desk, falling into a slow slumber with the damned crossbow that fired the shot leaning against his leg.

 

"Decent job altogether.", spoke yet another Veteran, cladding a semi sarcastic grin upon his face, "He fought and died for his country, as have many of our comrades. It is no surprise that his death in particular would reach our blood-tainted hands, wouldn't it?", he paused.

 

"I wonder if the ink on this missive is also made out of mina. We can scrape them off, and get just enough to buy this man a coffin... if there's anyone to seriously mourn his death within the prison of Providence, that is."

[megavoltar 1635]

Scratching his head was the motion that the newest addition to the Mercatorii Revolutionary Army did as he walked around for a bit, confused as he was informed that they had won the battle at Drobrov.  He sat against a fence post and gave a small smile before suddenly it hit him like a Boomsteel bolt to the head.  "There was a fight happening?  Why wasn't I told about this?"  And so the newbie M.R.A ran to go ask him comrades how the fight went.

[sergisala 3451]

After hearing the devastating news the Solicitor-General would break into tears for the loss of his dear friend and state the following:

 

"One of the best Chief Detectives that the Ministry of Justice has ever had. A bust shall be made and kept within the Headquarters of the Imperial Constabulary in order to have his memory live forevermore. Rest well in the Seven Skies, my dear friend.

As for the MRA terrorists who did this...you shall pay for this with blood."

[Gambit 964]

"A worthy foe." Commented Handia Brick, at a table in the fort the battle had taken place in, "I, at the battle myself, feared we'd face this, 'James Madron, the coward. I recall great... 'Joy,' once I saw this man, such things I'd heard, if only he was not first to die." He'd comment, pausing, sighing the Cross. "I, though he no worshiper of Mother, I believe she saw fit to ensure he was safe on his trip to the Seven Sky's."

[DistantCryptid 405]

Boreal was not in battle to see Earnest pass, although upon coming back into Oren from their duties, the sight of his grave took the breath away from the druid, they cover their mouth as to not make a scene, muttering and muttering...
"You may rest now, old friend"
a rumbling voice hitched out...
"you tried, god knows you did"
they pace the graveyard, uneven pace muffled by the grass below their feet.
"I wish i could see the day you would be happy, but i hoped it would come from your mouth, not your Eulogy."