Xarkly 12618 Rep Farm Share Posted May 21, 2022 HIS NAME WAS SIGISMUND Spoiler The clock ticked atop the mantelpiece. Sigismund was not sure how long he laid there in his bedroom, where the air was heavy with medicinal incense, and beams of the afternoon sun shone through the open balcony, bringing noise of the city beyond with it. Whether hours or days, Sigismund could not say how long he lay motionless on his bed, his face slick with sweat, and his chest rising weakly with each shallow, rasping breath. Over the intermingled torrent of laughter, work, and voices from Karosgrad, the clock ticked. How … much longer? Faces had come and gone throughout the day with prayers, smiles, and misted eyes. Katerina had brought soup, Dimitri had made him a promise, Klaus had heard his confession, Karl had understood, the Oracle had decided to be Franz again, Harold had given him his wooden sword, Tylos II had blessed him with his prayer rope, Frederick and Lucien promised they would keep the peace of mankind, Theodosya had tried to cure him, Isabel had sworn to support Karl, Mariya told him she had found her child at last, Ser Reinhardt knelt before him one last time, Maya had given him his last rites, Adrian had asked him if he had found the answer, Elimar promised he would live again, Jakob swore to always make Klara happy, Klara herself held him one last time, he hugged his beloved Sergei, and Maya had given him his Last Rites. Even then, they were but a handful of those he had said his final farewell to over these last weeks. Not for the first time, he looked up to the elaborately-carved Hussariyan Cross hanging above the bed. “Don’t need me anymore … now that I’ve done all vyr … dirty work, eh?” he managed through a hoarse chuckle. The clock ticked. Soon, I think. I … hope. His body was wracked with pain; each breath through his ailing lungs sent a sharp jolt through his chest, and duller shooting pains along his limbs. His throat ached as if it had been scorched, and the lack of oxygen had dulled his senses. This was the part he hated -- the slow decay. Despite having made his peace with what would come next, the final steps to get there were agonizing. Tick. His spirit, though, was iron. Aren’t you scared? That had been the question so many had asked him over these last week. Aren’t you frightened? When he had been a younger man, the answer would have been in the affirmative, of course. Even as a young boy, he had believed his lineage had been cursed with grizzly, premature deaths - his grandfather drank himself to death, his great-grandfather had taken his own life, and his great-great-grandfather had died saving his wife. But now … Tock. He was a young man no longer, no longer the boy with wide-eyes and a mind always captured by fairytales. He had stained his hands in the bloodiest war in recent history; he had passed judgment, and executed those he had once, and still, called friends; he had given commands and made decisions that had cost lives, shattered families, and broken dreams. Hardest of all, he had had to say farewell to those who he had thought would always be there to share the burden of the Crown with him. There were some things even a King - even the Fidei Defensor - could not change. Tick. Yes. I’ve seen enough. I’m not scared. Not anymore. He closed his eyes, inhaling shakily. I have lived … a blessed life. He had reared a family, taken a loving wife, and had no shortage of those he could truly call a friend. He had only two regrets -- the first was that he would leave behind all those he had loved, most especially Emma. He had said goodbye so many times to those he loved, from his parents to his own children, and that pain had hurt more than any blade, and scarred much deeper. The thought that he would finally be the one to inflict that pain … Well, a troubling prospect, no matter how inevitable. Tock. The second regret, however, was what gnawed at him. He opened his eyes, and raised a shaking hand into the sunlight. The slow decay … that everyone has to watch me become a sickly husk of what I once was … that is no way for a King. That is no way for any man. As his hand fell limp back to the covers, his eyes drifted his blade - Aeternus - resting in its scabbard against the bedpost. Is it too late? He had promised Emma he would wait for fate to take him, that he would take every last moment God afforded him, and yet … Tick. What God affords me … He clenched a fist with what little strength remained. God had taken his firstborn and Josef both; God had taken all his siblings before their time, and before Sigismund’s eyes; God had let the war happen, and taken thousands more in those bloody clashes. And now, he is taking me. The irony made him laugh again. I’ve paid your tolls all my life. I’ve bowed to fate, to what you wanted. Just … just this once … His breathing grew erratic. As the clock ticked once more, he looked back to the sword. … Just this once. Spoiler The sun had begun to set on Karosgrad. Wayward snowflakes from northern clouds drifted down across the city in the warmthless, golden sun, where a crowd of Haeseni had gathered in the square. Despite their number, the city was unusually quiet; no forge hammer rang, no songs echoed from the taverns, and not even the church bell tolled the hour. The Haeseni of Karosgrad gathered with solemn faces, and held candles and torches. Patriarch Klaus stood at the foot of a wooden cross in the centre’s tiled centre, draped in flowers and leaves, as he led them in prayer. Prayer for their sick King. Their dying King. Back in Sigismund’s room, the clock ticked, but he was not there. "Last us escort you, my liege," had been the words of a dour-faced Ser Reinhardt, at the head of column of Knights with Dame Mariya and Ser Walton, when Sigismund had told them of his plan. So it was that they had made the fateful final journey through the halls of the Nikirala Palace together. Sigismund stopped one last time outside of the sauna, and recalled the emotional talks he had had with Andrik and Eirik there. He stopped one last time in the dining smile, and fondly reminisced on all those chaotic family dinners, on all the absurdities that had made him laugh, all the speeches he had made at his family's engagement dinners. He stopped one last time to pet the magic cannon. He stopped one last time in the throne room, the focal point of his life, and stood in the sunlit aisle, beholding his throne for the final time. A loud clang rang out across the square as the Palace doors were thrown open. Katerina’s prayer cut off as surprised murmurs rippled across the crowd, and their eyes climbed the Palace steps as the snow glowed in the golden sun during its descent. They looked up, and they saw him standing there, draped in his red cloak, his coronet nestled in iron-grey hair, and his scabbarded sword in his hand like a cane, in the company of his Knights and family. Of those who loved above all. Sigismund’s lungs laboured for every atom of air his ailing body would yield. Under the weight of his cloak, he felt like he might collapse if not for the support of his sword. He could not make out a word from the surprised crowd over the sound of his lungs wheezing. He felt sweat roll down his face, contorted into a determined scowl, despite the cold. No … not yet. Can’t … give up yet … The leather of his sword’s hilt creaked as he tightened his grip. Not … yet! “All my life …” The sword scraped as he began to limp forward, down the steps. The murmurs had died, now. The crowd watched in shocked silence. Each descent down a step sent that lance of pain through his body, but now, with the last vestiges of his strength, he endured. He had to. “... I have let fate carry me, and … now, fate wants me to decay on my deathbed … to let my body wither, and my mind fade …” He reached the end, every ounce of his energy devoted to keeping his shoulders straight. “ … and … that’s nie way for … a Koeng to die.” Their eyes followed him with apprehension, with confusion, with concern. He was in no state to be out of bed; that much was clear. But as he stopped in the square, the crowd parting around him, he closed his eyes, letting the snow flakes dapple his hair. “I’ll … be dead within the week. But … just this once, I … I’m going to make a selfish request. In … in my last hour, I’m going to control my death … I’m going to … master my fate,” he opened his eyes, and ripped Aeternus from its sheath, letting the scabbard fall to the ground. “For once in my life!” The silence returned, absolutely now but for the snap of the Palace banners in the wind. With a metallic sheen, Sigisimund raised his sword, shaking in his grip. He turned his head to Ser Walton, the Wall, who had joined the others in escorting him out of the Palace one last time. “ … Ser Walton … will you ... honour my ... last request?” he drew a quivering breath, “Will you … duel me?” Ser Walton met his look with misty eyes. "I ... will honour your last request," he affirmed with a gulp. "... It would be my honour, my King," he uttered through grit teeth as he slowly drew his own longsword. He stepped back slowly, as if having forgotten how to move, before he planted his feet, blade pointed at Sigismund. He managed his own smile as the shocked talk erupted again. He did not hear the words, though; instead, he thought back on what his daughter, his Klara, had said when he had told her of his decision - of his final act. “I-I wish this life .. had not been so cruel to you,” Klara had sobbed back in his bedroom earlier that afternoon. In turn, Sigismund had laughed; a full-body laugh that prompted pain to flare from every joint. “Klara,” he wheezed through the painful chuckles, “you … could not be more wrong. This life … has been a blessed one. I have … loved a wife …" He heard someone began to cry, and dart away up the Palace steps. “ … I have reared beautiful children …” As Walton assumed his sword-form, his sword poised outwards, Sigismund summoned every last fibre of strength in his body. He lifted his sword through the air, into his own high-guard stance. “ … and I have made true friends …” He locked eyes with the Meyster Knight as the wind gusted, sending the shining snowflakes in a flurry around him as his hair and cloak whipped back. He summoned everything, expunged every crevice of his being, and grit his teeth until his jaw ached. He released it all, his very last act, in a roar as he staggered forward, and let his blade fall down upon Walton. “I’ve let fate guide me all my life. I was … powerless to save Edvard, to stop the war, to do everything right. I was … powerless against so much.” Amidst the golden snowfall, Ser Walton clashed his blade against Sigismund's. For just a moment, time seemed to slow, and sound seemed to fail, for the King as sparks erupted from the clashing swords. Through those sparks, he smiled through tears at his Knight - his Wall. “ … I have the power for this one last, futile act of defiance …” Utterly spent, he could do nothing as Ser Walton parried Aeternus to the side, leaving Sigismund wide open. “ … my swan song.” Spoiler As the Knight's sword skewered through his heart in one precise counter-thrust, Sigismund was vaguely aware of crows taking flight from a nearby rooftop. It's so ... painless, he thought incredulously. Then, sound seemed to return like popped eardrums as Aeternus clattered to the bloodied tiles, and he sagged forward into Walton. Feeling left his body; perhaps it was because he had used everything to even lift the sword, but it was as if there was nothing left to feel pain. Everything, every feeling was gone ... except for relief. He felt Ser Walton catch him as the crowd surged. He could see their lips moving, calling out, and he could see tears on their faces, but he could not make out any of what they said. Is ... this all it was? I ... feel so ... light ... Ser Walton had dropped his own sword, letting blood ooze out from the King's fatal wound. He held Sigismund close, his head pressed against his. Tears leaked through the visor. "W ... Walt ... ton ..." he breathed. The words came out in slow breath. He could not feel the pain in his lungs anymore. "Th ... thank ... you ..." "It was ... my greatest honour," the Knight whispered back. Sigismund felt his vision blur. Is it really ... so easy? Even his thoughts grew sluggish, now. He could no longer see those around him anymore - the weeping faces of Sergei, Klara, and all the others had vanished into a white-gold haze, as if the sunset-tinted snow had consumed everything. He stood alone, embracing his Knight. N-no ... that's wrong. I ... am never alone. I never have been. As he felt his eyes grow leaden, like drifting off to sleep, his breath - his last breath - carried one final word. "Kru ... sae ..." He felt ... something change. As his vision faded, he heard distant chants, as if from under water. Roars. Bellows. " ... Sigismund?" Suddenly, his eyes shot open with a gasp. Where ...? He could hear birds cawing overhead, and insects cricketing in heat. Vaguely, he was aware that the body of King Sigismund III was in the arms of his Knights, who held him reverantly as those teary chants rang. But ... he - Sigismund Karl - was somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Someone still held him, too. Slowly, very slowly, he looked up into the fact of the person that now held him. " ... You took your time, little brother," said Petra. Spoiler "LONG LIVE KING SIGISMUND!" "KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM!" The roars, their voices raw with emotion, rolled over Karosgrad like a continuous thunderclap. The lifeless body of King Sigismund III, the eyes peaceful and glazed, was lifted by the King's companions of the Knight's Table. Between them, Dame Mariya, Dame Emelya, Ser Walton, Ser Reinhardt, and Ser August held the body of their departed liege, the sunlight flashing against their own tear-stained faces. They exchanged determined nods, and together, began to move the body through the crowd, and towards the Palace. The chants followed them all the way. For his name had been Sigismund. He had been the Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard. He had been the son of Henrik and Annika. The husband of Emma. The father of Edvard, Klara, Karl, Sergei, Josef, and Maya. The Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland. The brother of Petra, Marus, Anastasya, and Andrik. The Count of Alban, Alimar, Graiswald, Karikhov, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv. He had been the nephew of Nikolas and Katerina. He had been the uncle of Elizaveta, Nikolai, Vladrik, Theodosya, Sigmar, and Matyas. He had been the Baron of Essentadt, Kraken's Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia, and Astfield. He had been the student of Feodor. The pupil of Ailred. He had been the friend of Kaustantin, Eirik, Adrian, Reinhardt, August, Emil, Emelya, the two Johanns, Rhys, Abraham, Flemius, Walton, Tavisha, Mariya, Bakir, Molia, Elimar, Klaus, Sorina, Barley, Lucien, Viktor, Grigory, Little Whale, John, Viktor, Iulius, Lhoris, Dimitri, Harald, Adrianna, Godfric, Matyas, Yvo, Kronk, Otto, Hickory, Sanja, Isabella, Johanna, Aloise, Ulfric, Dracomir, Loarmir, Eirika, Erwin, Alexander, Lynette, Qard, and countless others. He had been the Lord of the Westfolk. Protector of the Highlanders. Fidei Defensor. He had been the King of Hanseti and Ruska. He had been Sigismund III of Haense. Spoiler Well, there it is. I've been Nation Leader of Haense since September 2021, so this marks my eighth month on the job. It goes without saying that being a Nation Leader is definitely a tough job that leaves you constantly worrying about the best way you can serve your community and make this place a memorable role-playing experience for them, and while I think it's tragic a lot of Nation Leaders can't make it past the bad, it's also, without a doubt, one of the most rewarding endeavours I've ever undertaken in my life. To hear that you helped someone settle into the server, that your efforts let them get involved in a community and make friendships that transcend a mere Minecraft server, that you facilitated characters and narratives that will stick with people for literal years, long after they're gone from there. I have genuinely never felt better about doing anything in my life. That definitely sounds cringe, but it's true. Obviously, it's not something I did alone -- absolutely not. I never could have achieved anything without a group of friends who shared my passion, energy, and love for the community; a group of friends I could trust absolutely, and who had my back from day one, and never stopped pushing. There's so many people I'm grateful to for these amazing past eight months, but I need to specially mention Gus, Frymark, Fionn, Shay, Mio, Louis, Chief, Nolan, Deus, Cod, Herod, Raijen, Mady, Rudi, and most of all, Julius, GMRO, and Liv. If you take one thing from this post, let it be that it is utterly and completely impossible to lead a good nation without people like this. I, and Haense, owe everything over these last months to them. To those of you who say Nation Leaders aren't characters, you're full of sh*t. Sigismund Barbanov was by far the most engaging, developed, and fun character I've ever written, both in terms of roleplay and other fiction. Every interaction with every character was nothing less than a pleasure, and I enjoyed absolutely every minute of it. Even with that said, the memories I'll take away from my time will be that of the community itself, and the people in it. While we are a role-playing server, the collection of peoples from all walks of life and all over the globe coming together as friends, sometimes for life, is something that was always beyond precious to me. Whether it was streaming movie or the hundreds of hours we sunk into playing games like Garctic Phone, Age of Empires, Among Us, Empire Wars, Sea of Thieves, Pixelmon, Stardew Valley, Valheim, or the Haenser Games, the OOC friends I've made in Haense during my time are, without a doubt, one of the greatest treasures of my life. My time as Nation Leader is over as I prepare to finish up my postgrad in Law and get out into the working world, but my time in Haense hasn't, as we start our new chapter under a new king. It really has been amazing. Thank you all for coming on the ride with me. 178 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
UnBaed 8956 Share Posted May 21, 2022 She hadn't known how long it had been. Months? Years? A mere few days? Her dreams distorted the hours, yet they made everything easier. That was, until she'd have these brief bouts of sobriety and wakefulness - met with an empty sight and the touch of cold stone; nothing. It always ended in nothing. How could such a dull feeling ache so much? What made such dreams inflict this much pain unto her? Of those bygone days of whispered promises and sparking glances, of that vow uttered between those bookshelves? The shared kiss? The Moth couldn't face the truth still, how could she after all she's sacrificed? Had that been for nothing too? She hated this doubt in her, yet where could she go to escape it? It was all she could do to close her eyes and dream. Dream. Of those foolish days. He was there sometimes, that young prince with stormy eyes. Even after she'd given him that beard, that youthful glint of mischief never faded from his stare. She wondered, before the haze of rest came over her again--does he still have that glint? 14 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phersades 1165 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Nikolai Mikhail looked over to Sigismund for the first time ever.. The young boy had been stuffing his face full of bread in the attempt to avoid whatever dinner was being made in the kitchens earlier that day. It was disgusting, but to Sigismund, it would mean the world since it indicated the approval of his marriage to Jan's youngest sister, Emma.. But sat right next to the toddler was the prince, Sigismund the III. Even at nineteen, he was tall and intimidating to the boy. He carried himself with grace, as any good future king should..Sigismund looked down at the quiet boy at some point and smiled.. "And who might you be?""Nikolai" The toddler answered sheepishly.. The first words they ever exchanged. Simple, but even now Nikolai remembered them like it was yesterday. _____Nikolai found out the king was passing through Vladrik.. Oddly enough. Time gone quicker than he wished since then.He was lucky enough to spend time with the Koeng one last time, truly, until it was over.Dinner at Jerovitz, just as it had begun. He watched the Koeng throughout the night; the way he looked around, or gave advice.. reminisced on stories. He even called for Nikolai to take a walk with him at the end of the night; Sharing heartfelt words that the viscount needed to hear, offering some back as best he could through his mourning, his fear. Finally, it was over though, and they made their way back to the gates.. He watched his Sigismund and Emma called for their horses and prepared their leave. He watched as Sigismund looked over the keep with glassy eyes, and at last, he watched as Sigismund said the last thing he ever would to Nikolai"Dravi, Lord Kortrevich""Dravi, Aedypapej" Nikolai said in return, holding his own daughter in his arms now as the royals left._____Nikolai sat in his families cafe after the duel between the koeng and Ser Walton.. The lord drank some vodka in quiet as he collected his thoughts. He did smile softly through his tears.. He figured, this hurt something awful but he was thankful because out of all the loss he had experienced.. He actually got to say goodbye this time, and he could not wait to see Sigismund again one day. 15 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
tcs_tonsils_ 2829 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Iulius Vernhart released a deepening sigh as he sat on his bed. "The keong am dead." He said softly, his eyes bouncing across the room as if trying to make sense of it all. The first person he has met in Haense- the first person who had greeted him, who asked for his story. A man who had promised to hear where he had been and what he had done with the first part of his life. Than man was now gone, survived by his memory and his family. He never got to have dinner with him- never got to get drunk with him- never got to tell him about his adventures like he promised he would do. A sense of deep guilt filled the Vernhart, his eyes flooding with tears. "Ea shall see vy again, mea friend- ea will tell you of mea adventures... even if it is in the seven skies." Borris Iver Kortrevich watched the body hit the floor. He was unsure if what he was seeing was real. His Aedypapej- dead. A noble death, perhaps, but still a death. He felt an odd sense of relief... yet his sadness hid that for a long time. He was glad to have known such a man- to have written his poetry in the presence of such a man- and to have had the pleasure of having him as the topic in his works. 10 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
HogoBojo 3972 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Leopold Sigmar Morovar would sign the Lorraine Cross after hearing of his Majesty the Kings passing. "You were a great Monarch, one who the people loved dearly, and I know that you will indeed be missed. May you rest in peace." 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sarahbarah 5022 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Petra was the first Sigismund saw as he ascended to the Skies. As he arrived, she bore the brightest of smiles as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. "...You took your time, little brother. -- But you're finally home. You can rest now." 16 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pancho 2536 Share Posted May 21, 2022 A horse of snow would ride Notth, on the road to Karosgrad. The Patriot rode hard, traveling across the continent upon hearing of the King’s ailment. As he arrived to the gates, he saw the gathering and knew it was too late. He would take a dagger on his hip and cut his palm, dripping blood into the snow next to him. “A winters fate for such a king. I never met him, but he had his finest hours in the past twenty years. Long alive Sigismund the Faithful.” 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gandhi 2709 Share Posted May 21, 2022 August Barclay placed a hand to his heart with a tear rolling down his face - an odd sight for the aging knight as he presumed himself desensitized to the recent surge of events. "You were a fair Koeng, Sigismund und Ich was proud to be your friend." He cried - hauling himself off to his chambers. Though he couldn't press away his forlorn memories with Sigismund - seeing him as a bit of an uncle after his blood father's departure from his young life. ----- "Do niet keep such a mindset, August - it wont get vy anywhere." Sigismund chastised the page during one of their Knightly trainings together August offered a quiet nod in response - as if fearful of the then young Koeng. "I'll miss you, mein Koeng - Ich wast proud to be in dein retinue." 10 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
NotEvilAtAll 9945 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Filibert Applefoot busts into the scene at perhaps the worst possible moment: Spoiler 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
MissToni 3487 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Bishop Katerina would be decorating the lifeless and covered body of her nephew, Sigismund III. Her tearstained eyes gazing in a numb stare. Though she forced a smile nonetheless as she stroked his head one last time. "Rest now dear, vy are finally free" 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScoutTheWitch 360 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Dame Emelya Eloise Kortrevich would kneel by his body draped in her knightly cloak in a vigilant watch, "Dravi Sigismund." That would be the only time since she met him as a toddler in her very first memory that she would use his name rather than His Majesty. 6 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mady 3067 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Looking down towards her beloved child, Queen Annika could not help but shed a tear. Sigismund, alongside his sister, had made the late queen a mother, being her first children, although not by her own body. Since the moment she held the boy, she knew he would do great things and thus he exceeded the queens expectations and more. Come the day of her departure from the land, Annika knew of only one thing, and that would be the success of her son. He would be loved, respected, and even more so a fighter just as his father and grandfather had been. Dignified in his own right, Sigismunds actions never lessened his mothers adoration. “Welcome home my son.” Annika cooed as she embraced the king as he entered the skies. “Time to take your respite with your family.” And as she took a step back, behind her would be his siblings awaiting his attendance, ready to cause even more mischief just like they did in their youth @sarahbarah @erictafoya @shay @Louis @Rudi. Spoiler @XarklyIt was such a pleasure getting to rp with you in the circumstances as we did. I will be forever proud of how you handled yourself through situations that others would certainly would have crumbled. You are a strong and impressive individual and I am happy to say you certainly went out with an incredible end. Congratulations my friend 🥂 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Elite Snipes 3542 Share Posted May 21, 2022 (edited) Bakir Ireheart raised his glass to toast to the great Haense king. He'd take a drink before muttering these words "I once asked you, do you wish to control your death, and do you wish for a peaceful or glorious one? Perhaps you have gotten both. It saddens me we will not meet in Kaz'a'dentrumm, but I smile as I know your name will live on." Spoiler Edited May 21, 2022 by Elite Snipes 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
zuziee 3223 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Maya Ceciliya escaped to her bedroom. Below the unforgiving and unstopping world mourned her father collectively. She had already given all she could to grieve. There was no sorrow greater. No anguish more tenacious. Maybe it was better that it was a shared sadness, which is why the world didn’t collapse. She was convinced it would have, so the surprise was surreal. Maya was the weakest of her loved ones. Especially when she was younger, she could picture adversely running behind her brother’s or father's legs, telling them of the evil words the other kids spewed. Glee had run throughout her veins in those moments when threats of violence were made against those who bruised her ego. She was protected then. Who would protect her now? When things had been hard, she could always rely on her father. Even if he said he’d always be there, she had nothing of his to carry him with her. God had sinned taking him away, not before she was ready. Then again, how could anyone be ready for death? Subsequently, Maya had been the one to take his confession and last rites. She had been the first to know how bad his sickness was, even before Karl. She had refused to cry in front of him on his death bed, reminiscing now on the few short words they shared and one last laugh. But nothing lasts forever. 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
CanadaMatt 689 Share Posted May 21, 2022 Hickory would frown knowing the king of haense who cared for musin has passed but knowing that he wouldn't want anyone to be sad but to live happily " Hickory Will dos his bests to makes the King giant proud!" the musin would say with a bright smile 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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