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A dance with Death [PK]


Fie
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Deep in the vast wilderness of the west, the Wanderer of Westmarch had entered a lonely inn at a frontier outpost in the Cragenmarch.

 

For nearly three years, she had been living outside of civilization, sketching scenes of nature and collecting rare specimens as she wandered the frontiers of humanity. But today was a special day, she thought to herself as she made herself comfortable at the bar.

 

"Has the mail come in yet from the north?" Catherine asked of the inkeeper, her eyes wide with hope as she leaned forth over the counter. The tavernkeep had been deputized as a postal official, and thus had such on hand.

 

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "Ya still expectin' somethin' from Westfall?"

Quickly, Catherine nodded. "From my best friend, actually..." She replied quietly, patiently awaiting his response.

Grunting, the obese man with the bushy sideburns waddled over to the storeroom.

 

"Speaking of," A Rhenyari bard turned to face a traveling Adunian merchant. "Did you hear about what happened to the Duchess?"

The merchant nodded. "Aye, I did," He replied with a frown. "Threw herself from a clocktower, she did. Nobody really knows why."

Almost immediately, Catherine froze up. Slowly, her gaze turned to face the travelers as they conversed. But nothing more that they said mattered to her.

 

== == == == ==

 

The lost princess had immediately rushed out of the tavern, her eyes filling with tears almost immediately thereafter. She rushed out of the outpost, out of sight from anyone who might see her as she left the wooden stockades which separated it from the wilds.

 

Beyond it, she collapsed to her knees. For hours more, a group of camping fur trappers could hear the strawberry haired woman crying inconsolably.

 

She would sob until nightfall. For now, she was truly alone. She had truly lost everyone.
 

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He heard the news from Captain Winchester while Syndryl was out doing what only god knows. "I understand." he said with a glum look on his face sighing as he walked off.

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"Not a single spared..." Whispered a Novellen as she drew in stumbled breaths--fidgeting incessantly while walking through the darkened moonlight, which shined sharply on her raven hair. A faint well of a tear bubbled within her orbs as it fell to the putrescent pasture. Her thoughts endured in affliction as she began to wander in the darkness.

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Joseph d'Azor frowned as he read the missive, a stunning sword he and his wife had brought back from Aeldin sitting wrapped in brown paper behind the Duke in his Library. "Another young life gone too soon..." He muttered biting the inside of his cheek, He put the missive announcing the woman's death down staring off into the distance and towards Archisdorf. "She was a good child..." He thought back to the interactions with the girl, her slugs and the many youth of Providence who congregated in the d'Azor Estate. "And she was an even greater woman..." 

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Lydia clutched at her chest at the news. First Manfred, now Lauren. She wept. Uncontrollably, she wept until her throat was raw and her eyes burned from the salty tears. She was inconsolable, her family was gone, save for her nieces and nephews. She would remain like that until Laurentina's funeral, whereupon she would attend and return to her grief.

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SIr Jarad Munnel would get the news and sigh "She wasn't a bad person" he said placing the paper down on his desk "May you rest in the Seven Skys Laurentina I"

 

 

Spoiler

Hey fie, well i can not relate to your stress in nation/settlement leading i can relate in other ways, i saw the work you put in with both Oren and Arichsdorf. At the end of the day no one can blame you for the choices you make or the path you took. 24 weeks of head-stewardtry was hell for me so id imagine leading an entire community would be 10x worse. There was many many many days where i just didn't want to login or wanted to flat out PK and leave for good. Honestly why i didn't i will never know. You where a good friend and minster, thank you for all your help in the past. I encourage you now to take a step back and just enjoy RPing or go touch grass (from personal experience it is quite soft :D). Thank you for all your help and i hope you are able to find your own peace :D 

 

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Owyn Leopold Helvets laments the death of his sister from an armchair in Cheval Hall, observing the spot upon which so many of his family had been cremated. Not long before they had just laid to rest their joint niece. The past decades had taken their toll on the family, every year seeming to bring with it the death of a sibling or a child. Whatever discontent he had with his sister now melted away, leaving him in the vast halls alone with his sorrow. 

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Dogs Immortalized Art in America | LiveAuctionTalk

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A wounded man sat against a table. His hair was ash, dark as a raven's feather. His face held a beard to its flesh, yet the expression of the soul was obvious: pain. He winced, treated by a medic nearby, and grumbled some obscure curse which a young boy could not comprehend. May it be out of ignorance, may it be out of the rest of the noise in the tavern, it could not be determined. Men had set down their tools of trade recently, ambling about the tavern and outskirts of the developing village while the nightly breeze crept through the farms and eventually the square itself. 

 

"... Ah, I've certainly been worse," he had grumbled out toward the women nearby. A smile had emerged toward his lips, another offering of reassurance that seemed to possess little sway on the doting maid. "Arichsdorf's population has exploded of late, though we've had some trouble with some local cultists burning our fields."

 

Regardless of his wound, the man garbed in the scalemaille seemed more concerned about tarnished fields and citizenry under threat. He winced again, and sighed out of annoyance. The woman looking toward him had seemed to barely notice.

 

"Most people," uttered the woman while her arms lingered by her. ".. That does sound lovely, however - what the - what did you do?" Her voice had risen up, just as her alertness, and it was a clear cue to an onlooking barkeep that she noticed his wounds. She had noticed that the bearded fellow was wounded.

 

The rebuttal had been simple - innocent, even.

 

"... I defended the town and the citizens?" The man said, speaking slowly as if he were confused by her outburst.

 

"You look like you have been beaten half to death!" 

 

Then, a third voice spoke up; the barkeep chirped up from across the room. And a smile had been on his soft face. "But he was brave! He helped the attackers away - oh! Sire, I fixed the fields recently - set the ruined timber and dead crop off to the s-"

 

"Do not defend him in his recklessness," the woman groaned out of annoyance. 

 

This made the man speak up, and he gave a small nod toward her. "... It was not reckless,s," he had said while agreeing with the boy. "I did not die."

 

"He didn't, it's true!" The young barkeep added in.

 

The woman's face was a combination of disbelief, anger, and all things synonymous to annoyed. Her nose had scrunched up, and she shook her head. "You got injured!"

"He got injured only toward the end, when the enemy was all but destroyed!"

 

"Why were you there?!" The complex levels of the woman's disbelief and shock had only grown. The boy saw an angry woman, and he felt fear. "You are but a child!"

 

"I saw fire, I did not want it to spread! If I'm going to be a squire, I must be brave - and fire is horrifying!"

 

The man seemed to agree with him to a degree, and offered a nod. As if that would spare him from the motherly scorn that boiled over the maiden. He had sighed, and the nostrils flared as the wind blew out from him. "If we are attacked, then I must defend."

"Who is defending us if you get yourself killed?" The woman then asked, scrutiny unyielding from its clutches on her voice. The boy had come to find that to be one of the worst things imaginable.

 

"I can!" 

 

The young man's burst of a response sounded off a bit louder than he had intended, with his right hand lifting upward. It was as if he had been answering a rollcall of sorts, and the tankard in his palm waved. The woman then had shot a deadly glare over her shoulder at him, and the gaze felt like daggers to him. The hand lowered, and the tankard was set onto the table to be cleaned; the young barkeep did not utter any other words or intrude any further.

 

 It was nearly eight years ago, now. Eight years ago, and yet the young knight could remember the memory clear as the light of day. The boy was now a man, and his heart had ached at the news.

 

It was nearly eight years ago, and the memory had made Gustaf weep.

 

 

Spoiler

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Had to go digging for the logs, but glad that I had saved them.

 

Thanks for awesome moments of storytelling like this, which to me was personally a key moment for my character's development early on when I had gotten back into the server. I am thankful and appreciate all the effort that you had put in for Arichsdorf and its community, even while all the nonsense had been going on. 

 

 

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"Ay! You! Laury! What are you doing here so early then?!" The Venerable Sir Joseph Sarkozic, Baron Emeritus of Pompourelia, inquired of his oldest friend Laurentina in the Seven Skies. "Let us have some drinks first then, we have a lot of catching up to do Laury. And I suppose the Saints will be rather occupied with welcoming us poor souls."

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In a Vienne manor the young Augustus would be having breakfast with his childhood friend as a courier arrived to deliver the dredding news, he would thank the courier before stepping back towards the dining table  "What's wrong?" The young lady sat next to him would ask as she noticed his visage completely dropped from his usually cheerful look "The margravine has passed" He replied as he then looked out the window and to the sky, hoping that all these inspiring people were in a better place

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59 minutes ago, sashimichopped said:

"Ay! You! Laury! What are you doing here so early then?!" The Venerable Sir Joseph Sarkozic, Baron Emeritus of Pompourelia, inquired of his oldest friend Laurentina in the Seven Skies. "Let us have some drinks first then, we have a lot of catching up to do Laury. And I suppose the Saints will be rather occupied with welcoming us poor souls."

Damianos stared blankly at the arrival of Laurentina. He inwardly groaned, not her too!

@Fie@sashimichopped

 

 

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In the icy domain of crows rested an aged icon of misery. She was positioned before an oak desk as she wrote away, ink covered quill in her careful grasp. She heard of the abrupt whispers in the morn, gossip laced with no urgency, only space to fill. The unfortunate Helvets who met her demise by her own hands, steered by the fate of their own doings. There was perhaps a time when that Kaedreni would gasp with a tear filled gaze, but the emptiness of her curse began to fill that void in its crumbling decay. She offered a moment to fill her glass with an ancient brew from the mountain of St. Thomas, and spared a prayer for that lost soul. “What a pity.” She said, personal turmoil was the killer of all. 

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