The Scholar

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

The Scholar

[!] A portrait of Iulius Vernhart, c. 415 E.S.

 

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Iulius Erik Vernhart nodded to Ser Abraham, his hands clasped behind his back as he had done hundreds, if not, thousands of times before. He couldn’t help but feel a tingle in the back of his neck, a bitterness coming as he watched the man before him. In an instant, they were there. Like the darkness enveloping a room when the last candle is snuffed out. Like the potent stench of a rotten egg invading any clean scent that may endure within a space, these animals- these savages- these heathens, flooded the square. 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart watched as the horsemen surrounded the knight and his friend. While the first thing to strike him was confusion, it quickly morphed into anger and concern. Along with some guards, the Jovenaar did pull out his blade, gripping it till knuckles shone white. Iulius was not a knight. Iulius was not a soldier. Iulius was not a fighter. But Iulius did fight.  

 

What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart pivoted- despite his terror, he saw the face of his friend, his best friend. Milo Kutznetsov. He stood beside him, his sword raised in preparation for the skirmish that they were both about to endure. Iulius, likewise, steadied his sword in front of him. His hands shook visibly, but he stood his ground. “This am the end, mea friend.” He whispered to the man beside him, yet there was no reply. 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart turned back to the fight, to the horseman that was rushing forth at him. He sidestepped, his arms moving up to block the swung blade before it was to make contact with his head. Iulius blinked, amazed at his own quickened pace. However, the shock was short lived as the horse, rider in toe, charged at him once more. And once more, Iulius did block it, the blade clicking off his own. The tutor stood dumbfounded, the blade still held out before him. He backstepped, scanning the fight for some advantage. There seemed to be none.

 

What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart saw the opportunity, an attacker that was turned around. He stepped forth, sword pointed towards his spine… and with a hard thrust, sent the blade careening towards their back. Yet by some unholy curse the blade seemed to just bounce off, leaving barely a dent. It was at that moment, Iulius saw his fate. In an instant, he was surrounded, in another, struck down. One axe to the neck, two swords to the side. Iulius sank to the ground. His sword fell from his hands, chipping as it crashed against the road below. He felt his knees buckle under him, before his body retreated to that cool stone as well. He gurgled, blood spilling out from his sides and mouth. Iulius Erik Vernhart felt his eyes close, the street before him stained with the deep crimson of the scribe’s blood. 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening? 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening? 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening? 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening?

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening? 

 

What is happening? Why is this happening? What is happening? Why is this happening? 

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart laid down for quite a while. Silent enveloped him. Darkness enveloped him. The chill enveloped him. However, Iulius’ eyes would eventually flutter open, his gaze cast upon the ceiling of the room. He opened his mouth, though the voice that came out was deep and coarse, a juxtaposition to his usual tone. “Ea… vhere?”

 

“Hello, Mr. Vernhart.” He heard the soft, familiar voice of Dr. Primrose. “How are you feeling?” 

 

“F-fine… ea suppose.” Iulius stammered, watching the surgeon as she cleaned. He gave a soft exhale before moving to sit up. Yet in that moment, his eyes widened in shock. All of a sudden, emotions crashed against him. Tears rushed to his eyes as his breath became shaky.  “E-ea.. Ea can't…Ea can't feel mea legs,”  Iulius cried out, voice quivering heavily..

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart sat there on the table, hoping, praying, that he would wake from this dream- this nightmare.

 

But no hope came.

 

No prayers were answered.

 

Iulius Erik Vernhart had been paralysed from the waist down.

[Wretched Aidan 455]

Milo Kutznetsov goes limp.

[AlexMKPX 49]

Still stilling at the tavern, Alex Paleheart would not move an inch until he heard a young elf girl whom he did not recognize approached him to speak with him, "Papaj! Look what ea drew!" she held out a doodle of him saving her from wolves in a forest, "C-c-cou-s-sin, e-ea- I- f-fail-ed you..." he rambled crazily, before getting up while fidgeting, failing to notice his daughter as he went for his nightly patrol... if he even knows what he is doing at this point.

 

Spoiler

Didn't expect Iulius was gonna die! But marvelous writing my friend :D

 

[Lmcfc 438]

johanna ludovar would frown at the news of her uncle being paralysed “ea will help vu in anything cu need aedypapej” the little ludovar would look to the heavens “may vu rest in peace aedypapej’s friend…”