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A Life Well Lived [PK]


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The Death of Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich

8th Baron of Koravia, 6th Viscount of Krusev. And 4th Count of Jerovitz
With Duty, Comes Honor”

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[!] A painting of Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich, Esmee Kortrevich, and their eldest daughter Esfir Rose Kortrevich. 

 

Spoiler

 

 


 

♫ Over the hill... And beyond the vast fields...♫” The soft tune carried out among the crops... It was less like a song, and just something the Knight had found himself improvising with some odd little melody as he worked... The scythe moved over the base of the wheat, cutting them down to allow the man to step over and pick them up in bundles, walking back and forth between the fields of Jerovitz, and the cart where the rest of the harvested wheat lay.

“♫ There lies a man in the forest- awaiting his kill...-♫” Nikolai had stopped for a moment, setting the scythe at his side as he hummed the full tune once more as if trying to figure out where to go from there... He was unsure now...

“♫ But as the birds sang above, a warning for all... It was he who was hunted, awaiting his fall...♫” - “♫ Fore the trees have eyes, and the wind howls loud; It were his screams that were silence, no trace of a sound...♫” The Lord Kortrevich was unsure why that was his string of thought... He continued to hum the same melody he just conjured, reaching down to pick up another bundle

“♫ Tangled up in the vines and the branches above, the forest picked up the man a- ♫” His song had been cut off by a voice somewhere near the wheat cart. It was sweet, and despite the advice, playful. Merely a joke from the one who had listened to the man's singing as he worked...

“You should really stick to fighting and farming...” Nikolai shook his head a bit... A dramatic sigh escaped his lips as he hugged the new bundle of wheat and turned to deliver it where the woman stood. There stood Isabel Fenika Kortrevich. The darker parts of her hair graying slightly now as they entered their sixties.

“Ea think yam quite creative actually... Like Borris but niet as known for mea arts. Vy do niet think ea a creative like him?” Nikolai pretended to be offended by her words, setting the wheat down before reaching up with both of his hands to wipe at the sweat that began to bead on his forehead, stepping forward to meet the woman face to face. There was not a day that passed from the moment he met her that he did not think of her beauty. Her eyes are a shade of green that he has adored since he was ten... Her features still soft and full of youth despite the wrinkles that began to creep about her smile. Nikolai Mikhail loved her more than life, he was luckier than any man that he got the chance to call her his wife. He loved Isabel, and he would for the rest of this life, and to any that might come once he has left this plane.

“Ea did not marry you for your art...” - “Does not mean vy can’t support mea efforts... Ser Nikolai Mikail Kortrevich... The Jovenaar, The Knight... The... Bard? He raised a brow towards his wife, nodding some as if the idea sounded swell.

“More pressing matters, My love. Rumors from the capital say that our Esfir has captured the Grand Prinzens heart, and Anton and Vlad are almost ready to do their knight trials...” 

 

 “Two Knights and a Kortrevich Queen… And Margot was so mean to eam all those years, and all ea did was make absolute winners. Have they spoken any of the news yet? I imagine it would be good for the house...”

Isabel shook her head, grimacing softly as they both glanced back towards the same Jerovitz Nikolai and his siblings had been born into. “I did not wish to have that conversation with her, I believe she was hoping to push Lady Alana towards the prince... She had really tried during the Lifstala season.” Isabel's hands passed over each other nervously, her lips thin at the thought. Nikolai simply reached to take them both is his own.

Yam sure she will be delighted... Besides Margot has calmed over the years, Ea think being the countess really took the energy out of her. Ea can niet imagine her sabotaging Esfir, and besides, their children are doing well for themselves… Vladrik told me he and Margot will be abdicating soon. Dobry! The old man needs a break... They both do. Erik is a little worried but he has them and us as well should he need help. Once Erik is Count, perhaps we can convince Margot and mea borsa to travel like he had been wanting… Perhaps we at some point can join them once Esfir and the others finally have their weddings.”

Isabel smiled brightly at the prospect, her worry of the Komitas’ judgment seeming to melt away as she nodded in agreement.

Absolutely perfect. Nikolai truly believed his life had grown to be perfect, just as he had hoped for...
“Ea have a bit more work to do out here, but ea will be back up to the keep for supper, ai?” Isabel nodded, moving to stand on her toes to offer the Lord a kiss on his cheek before she headed back towards Jerovitz.

He did make it home for dinner that night... Just as planned. Margot and Vladrik Abdicated to their first born Erik Otto and lived their lives just happily as planned... Nikolai and Isabel’s children, all six, went on to marry good wives and husbands. The Lord eventually retired as a Knight, as a Jovenaar, seeing that he and Isabel traveled a bit as they aged further. Meeting with old friends, trying new things, living their lives, before one day Nikolai got sick. So as life goes, he lived out his remaining days happily in the comfort of his wife, children, and grandchildren before in the night he wheezed his last breath with Isabel’s hand grasping his own.


And so that was it. As it was supposed to be. As it was planned. 

 

 


 

Spoiler

 

 

 

But the truth is…

 

He was afraid. Nikolai could feel himself deteriorating with each passing day. He was not an old man, in shape and active as much as he could be, ate well, and never was he a drinker… but sickness is not always something you can ward away. His nights were miserable, hidden away in his room so his children could not hear his murmurs of fever... Or the bloodstained handkerchief that sat in the pocket of his coat, the washes becoming more frequent.

He remembered those that had passed before him; their hacking of phlegm mixed with that taunting crimson, their skinny bodies, and sunken features... The loss of strength and hope. Even nearly twenty later, he remembered each one; Johann, Sigismund, even his own brother Vladrik. Nikolai had gone through too much to die in such a miserable way. That couldn’t be him.

He hadn’t told everyone in his family, he didn’t want them to worry. What would his wife say? Would she find peace in a quiet end, ignoring the situation until it could no longer be ignored? Would he be left to rot alone? What of his children? Would they count down the days to the inevitable? Each second that drew them closer to his death bringing them nothing but fear and mourning. He remembered what it was like to lose his father at a young age, but his children were grown and Nikolai could only imagine that at their age, watching their father slowly grow weaker would be more painful than anything. He loved his wife and children so much, he had spent a majority of his life selling himself to keep them safe... His morals, time, and energy was all for the family he had created with Esmee… He hoped it hadn’t been for nothing, as long as they could live happily after he was gone, that was enough for him.

He festered in his thoughts near the end... The mistakes he had made, perhaps ways he could have been better as a father, or a husband. Maybe Herzen Ruthern was right. Had he not spoken to his wife enough? Had he been so useless? Nikolai spent so much time in his halls, dealing with issues that fell beyond his responsibilities as a count... The wars he had fought, the creature in Dobrov... Was the Ruthern right? Was he, Nikolai Mikhail... So pathetic? Was his countess the reason he mattered to anyone? She assured him otherwise, but that did not mean it did not sit there in his mind like a parasite. Even worse that his soul was burdened with the curse to feel nothing but a sort of malice towards himself, or his life as a whole... 

 

_______

 

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He hadn’t planned his death. He had told Esmee he was going to Reinmar to see Josefina and his grandson, Manfred. The news of the baby born to the Herzen and Herzenas brought joy to the man, joy still hidden somewhere beyond that miserable host. When he got to the Duchy however, nobody whom he had been looking for was there, only some children playing dangerously close to the Dobrovi forest... They began to weave between the trees, their giggles resonating within the area. The Lord knew better than that, he had seen it play mind tricks before, but he could not stop himself from allowing the children to lure him into the trees. The closer he got to the city, the darker the sky fell... The children had disappeared by then, their laughter nothing but a lingering sound before it faded completely. Nikolai continued his peaceful walk and began to speak out loud, his words directed to the creature he had hunted all these years, knowing it was listening.

One of the children had appeared at his side, pulling at his empty sleeve “Mister, there is no turning back, you know?”

A few words were exchanged, words that slipped the Lord's mind as the end came... Something about how he was sick anyways. How ‘Normal Men’ would have wished to let the sickness take them, live out the rest of their days with their family, bedridden.

“Normal men don’t tread these pines, Nikolai Kortrevich…” 

 

Suppose that makes me at least… some interesting... Is that a good thing?” He felt he might cry, nervous laughter escaping him. 


the child had vanished once more...

Yam tired of fighting vy, ea think- Yam niet a knight, Just a lord. Ea do niet even like bein’ a Jovenaar anymore. All ea live for es mea children, mea grandchildren… En they are all… Already good enough without eam- Ea think Matviy is good.... As is Viorica....” The words fell from his mouth and out into the open air. A new voice had filled the area, one that was painted with many; Men, women, and children. This voice had been so familiar to Nikolai.

“You know... You were always My favorite.”

“So you have told me”

“We are not long for this world, I fear our game will soon be at an end...”

The two had talked some more, Nikolai’s walk continuing. They were familiar with each other at this point in Nikolai’s life. Even though he had hunted the creature since he was eighteen, this conversation brought him some sense of peace the longer it continued. Nikolai had faith that his children and friends would finish what they had all been working for.

At some point, Nikolai had stopped somewhere on the trail, turning around to be met with the towering creature. The exposed deer skull covered in the moss and vines, greenery hanging from its branches and antlers of sorts. The grime and dirt that caked the host sat thick along it’s arms and legs, somewhere hidden along it’s shoulders and back sat the skulls and chains of those now long gone.

Their conversation came to a close, and the elder Kortrevich knew it was about his time.


“You will make it quick, Ai? Have ea earned that much over the years?”

“It will be quick...”  Those branches began to twist and turn, outstretching towards the familiar Lord. Nikolai closed his eyes as a pointed thin finger found itself to his forehead. In that moment, over the span of mere seconds, Nikolai had been shown a different life. One he dreamed of for many years; a peaceful life with all those he had lost due to circumstance... Or those he had gained in his true life of sixty three years. One where he became a knight, was never marked by malflame, never lost Isabel. When that life was lived, and his time had come, he would have fallen into the arms of the forest never to wake again. 

 


 

OOC Statement

 

Spoiler

So Nikolai's Dead..

I joined the server in 2019 and played elves since then until I was given Nikolai in August of 2021. It was just by chance, I asked Marb for a char, he said they didn't need anymore daughters, and I said I could play a son, and boom! Nikolai was my first character not only in Haense but also my first serious human character. He's also the first character that I've played for this long and have pk'd in a way that I liked and thought fitting for him. I originally wasn't going to PK him this soon, but I got to a point where I love this character so much and have invested so much time and emotional effort into him and his story.. I was worried that once I left as Count and started trying to do other things that he would no longer be fun. I wanted him to die at the height of the Skinwalker event, but since I have been working and unable to attend the end events, Bonito gave me a wonderful end to the character that was perfect for him and everything he's been dealing with.

I had never led a human house before this and I am fully aware that I did not do the best, something that some people in the community tend to remind me about often. I like to think that regardless I did try my hardest, and aside from any issues I have had in the community, I still love everyone who I have gotten to rp with. Nikolai's had so many connections and has been a good gateway for me to rp with pre-existing friends and make new ones. Getting the titles of House Kortrevich was hell but I would do it all again because I still love the house and adore it heavily. It may not be what those who have created it intended for it to be at this point, but I do hope that me and those after me will create something new for future house members to enjoy or take pride in. 

Pking him did hurt but after recent events, I am fairly pleased where I have left him off with and hope this opens doors for me to do more fun things in the future. 

I did want to thank a few people like @dove @AgentofDeath13 @Raijen Stars @gusano who when I first got the house was there for me to really help me get through it, and who gave me advice that I would not have been able to get by without. I thank Delta everyday because I fully acknowledge that without Delta, House Kortrevich would have died, It's good to know that you can't do everything yourself and need help, and acknowledge when people work so hard for something or help you out, and Delta def deserves that recognition. There are plenty of others who have been wonderful like everyone who is playing our kids, or @Xarkly who also helped greatly. Without Conor, I would not be sane and probs would have just gone back to the elves. He took time out of his stressful time as NL to help me, a new player in Haense, and I will always appreciate that... Everyone's not only been great to me but also added to the story I focused so hard on. So thank ya'll.


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My Nikolai Art (+The Artists)
 

Spoiler

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(All done by Araostar on Instagram)

 

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(All done by Rineisded on Instagram)

 

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ElMIWA9vN-U7NYiUvSE9y5BhiCLBYWsPhUN0veWnth1nP42eZAZQxmhPVATl9aSnXynmK_Be2WkGsgFUgT93vY_EYwl16uHreLaLDEL9sD0EegE2k3As9p_lLZ_es2zbKBQMjkjACI9ROt02PtfSHELAkvgIJpzMCR4_qWl05zvGLT21tj7eZ7iLvYEA3Q

(All done by Amayo)

 

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(All done by Emfabreze on instagram)

 

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(All done by me, Me... This is Canon that Nikolai drew this...)

 


Good Nikolai Moments (The last few are good)

Spoiler

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Spoiler

 

 

"What went wrong?”

“Everything.”

The lady ran through the farmlands of Jerovitz, trying to escape the deranged woman who was chasing her down. Reaching the steps of Dame Primrose’s chapel, she left a bloody handprint on the stairwell, hoping someone would pass by and see. She muttered her last prayer, entering inside.

“You’re the reason why he’s dead!”

"No, it’s the beast’s! I had nothing to do with it!”

Unfortunately, her attacker had caught up with her. Déjà vu had hit her, realizing they had been here before. For the same reason as now. In another kingdom, decades ago. 

“It should’ve been you.”

"You’re right, it should’ve been me.”

The guilt started to wash over her.  She couldn't do it anymore, she didn’t want to fight back. He was gone, how could she live on? How could she live in peace? This was it. 

Her story ended here.

 

Esmee’s body slumped over the floor, laying in a pool of blood.

 


 

Somewhere far far far out, another lady seemed to be having the time of her life.

As if she was relieved from burdens. Maybe this was one of them.

 

So, she waited for him, alongside Shortcake, Strawberry, and Berrycake.

Perhaps the Mondblume and their cows could meet him again once more.

 

Sadly, they waited forever. And ever.

 

Spoiler

 

 

 


Spoiler

OOC:

wow! 

i literally cannot believe its been over a year since we first met and roleplayed with each other 

it’s been a really heckin’ crazy ride, that’s for sure

 

and i want to thank you and house kortrevich for the amazing opportunity you given me

being your countess was an honor, something i will always cherish on my time here

 

i remember trying to be a consort on isabel when ender was count, but he didn’t pick me

it didn’t matter much since i knew that wasn’t going to be isabel’s story (s/o to critter & space for this part, talonni’ikru gang) but when the house had fallen into your hands, we joked about how i should be consort and for real this time

i honestly thought that i was going to kill the house in some way, but here we are now with the county title back LOL

 

at the end of the day, i dont care what anyone says - you saved the house cat

you’re the main reason why house kortrevich is still standing today, you did this

you kept fighting, you kept pushing, you kept advocating for the house - you didn’t give up

now look at us, the house is flourishing because of your efforts and your hard work

 

be proud of how far you have come cat
and thank you again <3

 

no, you’re crying - i’m not crying

Spoiler

some funnies:


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Josefina Kortrevich held her son close as she stared off at a blank patch of wall.

 

Klara Elizaveta took a deep, shuddering breath on the steps of her small home in Jerovitz before returning inside with halting movements.

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Adele Ludovar solemnly signs the Lorraine... "May vyr rest be long and plentiful, mea friend..." She murmurs quietly, not allowing a single tear to slip from her reddened, tired eyes. "Spasiba for everything."

 

A candle is left out for the Count-Kortrevich in the Countess of Ludovar's office that evening.

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Mika Anarionthough not been around too much in the later life of Nikolai shed a tear which vanished into his beard. Soon after he took on a more distant gaze to go back through the memories they had in his younger life, mostly remembering his awkward teen days and his evident struggle with women, though glad everything turned out decently well on that front. Pondering out over the southern continent's coasts he processes this grief for Nikolai along with a little plush bear which originated from Nikolai's room in Lubba's Keep.

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Stifled sobs rang through a quiet grove in the Eastern woodlands, with all the grief of a mother who had lost a son.

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Twinkling stars shone over the keep of Jerovitz, a dark figure sat upon the roof as they peered into the night above. Northern winds howled until they died, roughing raven locks until they fell in into place. A gloved hand ran through the mussy bangs draped over his forehead; The shoulder cape flopping aside as the arm raised to his face. He sat there like a lost boy, drinking the moonlight into the dark void within.

 

Matviy Artem Rahoul never expected this. This… life. The boy who chewed his shirt until it was soaked and stretched, who sucked his thumb and bit his nails, who ate dirt to fruitlessly satiate his need for stimulation. The Kortrevich runt… was now the Count. 
 

Perhaps it was written in the stars that he and his father were so like. The one that no one expected to rise to the task. 
 

He looked like his father, eerily so, and acted like his mother. He loved them both equally and abundantly that now he felt hole had been pierced through his heart. 

Matviy knew they were sick. They had told him, each doing their own to guide him into Counthood… but he wasn’t expecting to not say goodbye. He expected to be by their bedside until their dying breath.
 

Instead, there were blood on the steps of the chapel and an empty room with a cold bed and dead fireplace. 
 

Bowing his head into his knees, the Komit Kortrevich wept. 

 

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Vladrik O’Rourke-Kortrevich  stared at the flowing stream affront his house, exiting his chambers with tired eyes and an even more worn spirit. Tears made pathways in his book-dusted face that he hadn’t bothered to wash in days. A bottle of auvergnant vodka hung in his grip. A deep swig washed his throat with a burn. He coughed out a sob, and grounded the bottle with a CRASH! A broken boy became a man, and became wiser, but never whole. He longed for his wife .

 

@Moenah

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Wilhelm Otto Morovar stared at the document pacing the halls of the former Ghastenwald manor " To many things have happened as of late, Nikolai was not just a man of honor but a man who served his kingdom and aided many out of the kindness of his soul" he would then sit down at his piano returning to his thinking on the future " Perhaps we can all learn from Nikolai's achievements" 

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Reserved.

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"Ah, another one!" smiled Jan "the mauled to death by a bear" Otto Kortrevich as yet another Kortrevich joined him in the Seven Skies.

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     The face of the Count, lying still in that damp, dark cave had been burned into the mind of the sailor. Despite the location and circumstances, he thought that the now-dead man looked oddly... peaceful. Content... Completely at odds with his surroundings. The privateer sat in silence within his quarters on his ship, spinning a golden doubloon upon his desk, the faces bearing the maw of a wolf, surrounded by a serpent devouring its own tail.

 

     His thoughts wandered then, replaying the events of the night previous vividly in his mind -- From, the ruined, accursed settlement, the scent of rotten wood permeating the valley it rested in as the crunch of leaves and gravel sounded out from every foot fall... To the mines, too dark to see anything except the faint glint in the eyes of his companions and... the others residing in that quarry, and deeper within…

 

     The Heart.

     Alikos's ears had pricked up to the steady beating as soon as the part had entered the antechamber of the mine... Thump... Thump... Thump... His chest tightened, as if the beating of his own heart was attempting to synchronize with the rhythm that continuously pounded within his skull. At length, he steadied himself. He knew what he had signed up for. He had fought this creature before, or at least its spawn, by himself. And he had prevailed. And he did once more. Cleaving his way through countless, cave-dwelling monsters, side-by-side with his companions until they had reached it. The Heart. He was not expecting such an abominable sight. A gigantic, sickly lump of flesh, with something, someone, within.

     The mass of tissue was opened, and there, dead, was Nikolai Kortevich. The man, the friend, he had saved from this beast once before. Dead. And there was nothing he could have done. It was then, he knew he must see this through. And so, he took up one of his companion's axes, lifting it high above his head as he stood over the Count's body.

     "Forgive me, Master Kortrevich," he breathed. With that, the axe was swung. And lifted. And swung. And lifted. And finally, there, embedded in the head of the axe...

     The Tome.

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Since Nikolai was a boy he had an affinity for the mystical, the esoteric, the out-of-place.

 

One such interaction was with the Nephilim, the first of his Azdrazi-blooded kindred, Alistair.

 

Like Nikolai, Alistair was not gone, his only vestigial influence a stone statue in a volcano. The Inner Flame of the magnanimous knight now quenched by the fires of the magma in the volcano that had claimed him years before, upon the death of his one true love - a fiery patron of the arts who had stolen his heart.

 

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In life, the fickle Dragonkin had done very little apart from bring about the existence of his people once again after the genocide perpetrated by the Emerald Dragaar, Taynei'Hiylu. Upon the loss of his one true hoard, the beast had given up on living, casting himself into the fiery depths of the volcano as though it was a bashful first kiss. He had lost his father, the Archdrakaar, long ago. He had lost his other half, a dainty being with brown tresses who taught him of Humanity - the things he had not learned, being dispossessed of his free will at an early age and encased in stone as the last savior of his people.

 

Through some mystical means, the dreaming Alistair remembers the boy with black hair and the funny accent, the one who helped him fetch raw materials. The one he was to make his Herald, and perhaps to adopt and take on as his own progeny - a new Draziman for his flight. He considered now how many centuries it must have been, contemplating whether or not he was alive, dead, or in some sort of mal-adaptive daydream.

 

The statue released a single, salty, muddied tear. It slid down the stone cheek, quickly evaporating upon contact with the lava, sizzling and disappearing as quickly as it came.

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In the deepest depths of the obsidian chapel, a canticle of crying steel is heard. A young bull works with flames and ashes as he forged tools for himself when something strides in with a missive in hand. 

 

A midnight talon reached out to acquire the news, a gloved appendage setting down the hammer he had used to make his tune. Umber and grey hues scanning the words of that given page, rivulets of tears flowing from his eyes…

 

“Of all the people it had to be, why him…” The young lord set himself beside the fire, his orbs trained upon its flames as he spoke in a soft voice. “I needed to speak to him, I needed to apologize, I never meant the words I had said…” His reddened eyes turn to the beings in his company, “of all the people I had left he was one of the last who I loved… papej, I’m so sorry.” Laughter is heard resounding through the depths of the chapel, his company reveling in his despair. The man buried his head in his hands, malice filling his heart once more. “I loved him you fools, but I never got to tell him…”

 

In his eternal desolation, the young Lord rose, and silence befell the chamber. He grabbed his things and made his way out as those servants made way for him. The “knight of Stars” as he was once proclaimed making his way back north, back home.

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The mortician gazed over the corpse laid out on the slab before him. The crypts 'neath the church of Jerovitz ran cold that day - with all but one soul lingering in those depths. Corpselike globes drifted from the stitched up cavity of the late Kortrevich's chest, through to where the axe had been embedded...

Defiled.

The last peaceful sight of his surrogate father - Nikolai Kortrevich, only hours before was though to be living... "It is no guardian," the Carrion muttered, finally gracing the glass focals that were Nikolai's eyes. Soon, two tawne digits came to settle those fleshen bounds to a close, allowing the man his peace beyond that veil of black... He knew the destination Nikolai was headed to would not grant him easy passage, nor would it end in happiness. The nothingness that was a sea of colorless mute would appease the briefest moments of peace.

Peace for the bastard's father. 

Rising then, the body of Nikolai would be carried on to rest within the stone slots of the crypts, where the preserved thing would settle to rest 'fore the wake.

"Forgive me, my Lord."

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