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The Banishment of Orion "the Lost"


GoodGuyMatt
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"Orion, your unjust punishment will ne stand." He said to himself, enraged by the minitzers and their leaders. "This is teft's doing, and he will suffer for it"

Edited by AmericanSniper52
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Yvian would simply stay silent, he would say nothing, as his hammer raged upon the blade that rested on his anvil, for he had no right to question his Herzog's will and had not the desire to do so. His amalgamation of disappointment, sadness and bitterness would be bit by bit expunged from himself with each blow "Suppose this shall serve Gregorius nicely" he'd stare with a neutral expression at the blade "Shame this day has been sullied"   

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A former Lector wept in his home for the degeneration of someone apart of his parish, and hopes that the disease of degeneracy did not spread to the Reinmaren children. He'd put a note in a glass bottle and set it to sail down the River Petra hoping Orion would find it one day; and it would read:

 

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And thus, the Swordsman prays for the prodigal son to return home to MINITZ.

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Stepping back up to a newly carpentered door, and pulling the notice from where it was pinned to his homestead. He sighed as he read the contents, folding it in his hands and stepping in.

"Mayilu, Orion... I'm home. Theo would like to know if we want to have tea with him."
The notice was cast to the fire.

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Shook his head as he reads the notice "So this is what it's come to, very well then"  he will rip up the paper, to him that action being the final cut-off from the place he once called Home.

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Tobias look at the note trembling he couldnt help but cry while reading, at the place he lived...he could no longer see his father...he can't have both of his comfort place and person together. Quietly sobs  "....so sorry father i guess this is where our paths part our ways..." shook his head making himself shake off the sadness of not being able to see his father. 

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An Elf-Lord inside Celia'nor takes up the missive, giving it a read. A brow would soon be perked by him "Die Verbannen von Orion Adler?" a pause follows, before the Scholar of many foreign languages starts laughing "It's either Die Verbannung or Das Verbannen. But Die Verbannen just doesn't make any sense at all. Or as any true Waldenian would say: It doesn't give any sense." Lord Raziel then shakes his head and goes on with his daily business.

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15 minutes ago, Laeonathan said:

An Elf-Lord inside Celia'nor takes up the missive, giving it a read. A brow would soon be perked by him "Die Verbannen von Orion Adler?" a pause follows, before the Scholar of many foreign languages starts laughing "It's either Die Verbannung or Das Verbannen. But Die Verbannen just doesn't make any sense at all. Or as any true Waldenian would say: It doesn't give any sense." Lord Raziel then shakes his head and goes on with his daily business.

 

Leon goes to find the ducal scribe to beat him up.

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As soon as Orino finds himself on the path in front of the stable, he notices a note sticked to the wall, struggling to read, barely understanding words he still manages to get the main idea - his friend, one who bears the name of God the nomad worships dearly, is now in trouble. Pierced by this thought he'll now be in search of answer and, maybe, justice to his pal.

“May the stars keep you safe and guide you to a brighter future” he whispers and slowly turns around to his home.

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A redheaded man sat in his castle, a heavily feathered owl bringing a copy of the missive in question to him. His palm would slap onto his forehead as he began laughing, the deepest he'd had in a long time. 

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Teft scowled as he read the missive, throwing it into the fire. "This was not the plan." Teft cursed as he left the room, slamming the door on his way out.

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"Seen dis fella a lot in Celia'nor." The gambler would snicker, reading the missive with and  flipping the page over in his hand. "No correlation, obviously." He'd say sarcastically, folding the paper up and storing it away for safekeeping. There'd be some folks who find this of interest.

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Damon smiles as he reads the missive. "Serves you right, scum." He crumpled up the paper into a ball and threw it away.

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