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[PK] Karl III: A Crown of Scars


GMRO
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The young Sierra Weiss watched her father weep for the first time as he heard news of a fallen friend. Clueless she offered kindness and attempted words of help, unknowing of what grave thing had happened. She waddled over to the distraught man and held up her teddy bear. Only to be taken into a tight hug. Others entered that room and she heard the one word that slightly clicked in her head of who they were sad about.

"
Ve Koeng?

After hearing who it was that made her father cry, that youth giggled and wiggled in her fathers tight hug, the father broken down in grief. 

"
He am mea friend! He gave mea a horsey en cocoa! Ea like him! Can ve go see him?!"

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A figure bearing a thanhic-steel sword in the narrow hallway, swung out into the darkness with a broad sweep of the weapon, cleaving the head from a small rat-like biped that attacked him. The icy steel shone like a beacon as several pairs of red eyes leered out at him from the vestigial darkness that cloaked their movements. And again and again did the experienced Knight do away with the creatures, his chest heaving as now he made his descent further into the ruins of a house in Old Luciensburg. Once, his father had inhabited this house, until it had fallen to Ratiki occupation some thirty-years ago. 
 

With time to himself at last, he opened a letter from a friend, and realized where the time had gone. There was no longer any time to say goodbye. Yet, the Knight ardently believed it made no difference whether or not he was there, he burned the letter and then offered the simmering flames of the warm and cracked fireplace a gentle salute, his arm crossed up over his chest with his balled mail fist put to his breast with clenched fingers.

 

”Breathe well,” pronounced Ivanovich. “And die well. Goodbye, King of Hanseti. I’ve no doubt my wife shall be pleased by your demise; but you were a friend to me, and our similarities far outnumbered our differences.” 

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Grand King Agnar Grandaxe sends his condolences.

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Maya mourned her childhood upon the death of her beloved older brother. Everything seemed dull in the skies, and she longed for the memories forgotten. 

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Bishop Iosif signed the cross and sought out Georg and the other members of the royal family to comfort and console them not only as the Court Chaplain but also a friend.

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The recently christened Templar receives word of the King's passing while sitting in his small tent in the Duchy of Adria. Phil looks up from his studies and stares towards the sky, falling into a deep reminiscent day-dream about the Karl and his few interactions with them. Images flash through his mind of the hellish Inferni invasion of Karosgard, where he fought alongside Haenseti soldiers and allies against the legions of Iblees. Memories of Karl confronting the infernal Prince of Carrion valiantly with his blade appear before the Knight's imagination. Those memories are shortly replaced with the sounds of Haenseti nobles bickering for the crown over the King's fallen body after he had soundly defeated the infernal Prince. A moment or two later, Phil returns back to his normal state of mind and exhales. He rises to his feet and signs the Lorraine over himself, taking off his steel gauntlets and placing them on the ground as a sign of respect and remembrance. He kneels, dutifully praying towards patron, called Angel Michael in the Canonist faith but known as Malchediael to others, and Ex. Owyn on the condition of Karl's soul.

 

"Mighty hosts and servant of our LORD who reigns in the Seven Skies, may the King's soul make it to his rest peacefully and with grace. Holy Saints, intercede on behalf of this warrior so that he may be accepted before the LORD's domain.  Amen."

 

With that, Phil rises to his feet and exits his tent and immediately hops atop his steed. He whips the reins down and gallops northward towards the Kingdom of Haense.

 

 

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The retired monarch sat idly at his desk as he read the missive of the passing monarch. A soft sigh of discomfort came out of it as he rest down the missive for a while. "It is ashame that my reign was short, you were a pleasant man to speak to. Yet it is unfortunate that you have to die so soon compared to my lifespan, may you rest well Karl."The Ibarellan quietly utters out those word as he wrote down a personal missive to be sent to the late King as a farewell wishes.

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Alexander sighed as the news reached Atrus. "Rest well, my friend." He whispered quietly to himself, departing to send letters to Georg.

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The younger, as he was often called had learnt of the news whilst staying at his estate due south of Karosgrad. Without a word, he saddled his horse and headed for Karosgrad and the Palace within. 

 

Sergei stopped several feet before his brother's body, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Brother." He then approached his twin with caution, withdrawing a blade from beneath his cloak.

 

The aged Prince then placed the sword upon the deceased Crow's chest. "You've made father proud, the Kingdom proud and myself proud."

 

He then knelt before his brothers body as tears continued to pour. "Krusae Zwy Kongzem." Were the last words he spoke to his brother.

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The girl from the Carolusian Mens Club (Est. 458 ES) would remember the late King celebrating one of his last few days alive with her and the others, frowning. "May he rest in peace!"

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Laurelie de Pelear didn't cry for the king, she wasn't close to him like the rest of her family was. However she did mourn him, and was part of the groups that prayed for his health. May GODEN keep him, and may he help his son rule. 

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An ancient King Andrik fell out of his bed in a drunken stupor within the Seven Skies as he goes to meet his descendant "Ah' a fockin' other one, aye. Well, there's Black enough for everyone jus' DON'T FUCKIN' PET GODANS TURTLE.. Eh' bites.. And good job ye bastard"  he'd state before grumbling off to bed once more

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The Great Owl did not enjoy the company of the traitor-king, he who chose his brother Wright. For that very reason, there was once a time when the winged-deity stole the arm of the king, mangled with the very blade the two used to banish the pretender inferi prince. 
 

However, news of his old acquaintances demise eventually came to pass. He did not understand remorse, nor felt guilt for his action. The owl did not seem to care, even. 
 

Though, he lamented memories of the duo; with cracks of gold and yellow, the beast extended a talon out from an empty portal, and dropped the mutilated arm of Karl III into his old bedroom, for any of his sons and daughters to claim.

 

Eventually, the Owl returned to his perch, and continued on with his primordial life — knowing that Karl III was another name scribed into a history book. 

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The Oyashiman ronin-hexer, Masuo of Yamatai, sat upon a stump in the North, sharpening his blade upon a whetstone. He'd heard the news, as a twisting grimace marking his visage whilst he continued his task. It is unfortunate, he thought. The king was one of the few level-headed folks that still roamed these lands. Along with that, he was one of the few royals that Masuo respected in any capacity. 

 

The Hexer sighs, inspecting his work, before looking to the jewel of the North. Apprehension was taking root, but above all, the samurai hoped the King had found some semblance of peace. 

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Linnea Py’lrie frowned as she heard about the death of the King. She remembered fondly how the man allowed her shelter in the palace the night the skies grew red and it was unsafe to travel home.

 

He was kind to her even if she was different than him. He was all a leader should be.
 

And so she mourned, lighting a candle in his honor.

 

Spoiler

GMRO you are one of my closest friends. I remember you telling me I was a dumb idiot for coming back to LOTC but welcoming me back nonetheless. Maybe you are right but I was happy to be able to see you as king even for just a little before you depart. 

 

Have so much fun on your travels, and you better send me tons of pictures!

 

lots of love.

 

 

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