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Ash [PK]


satinkira
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You are not repentant for your mistakes, Ash. You only regret being caught. "

 

Was such true?

Time for Ash, it seemed, had slowed. Alatariel was throwing the lance towards his head. He could just about make out Nehtamo standing behind Alatariel. He privately wondered if he felt shame. He thought it unlikely. He had ever been the persistent leper, the murderous elf who killed others for his own illnesses.

But what did it matter? Here he was, about to die, and he thought of Nehtamo. 

So trivial.

He was curiously calm. So long had been spent pondering on this moment that now that it had come, it did not hold the.. the innate fear that he had been worried it would. That, he assumed, would come after.

He felt a sudden pang of anger. This was not right. He was promised.. so much more. Where was the rite? Where was his transformation, his blessed afterlife? Had the An-Gho lied to him?

Or had he lied to the An-Gho?

No matter now. The lance neared his face. At least, he reasoned, I will meet Alucard before Nehtamo does. That is one small victory I have.

And as the lance pierced the skull of the elf, he thought one final thought; almost chuckling upon his imminent death.

Forgive me, An-Gho, for I misunderstood. I have failed, and now I pay the price - for the afterlife is not the sum of life.

The afterilfe, he now knew, is the sum of what one avoided in life.

And with that final thought, Ash died a fool.

Spoiler

No, this is not an April Fools. 

Thank you very much for the incredible journey this character had. It's been quite a ride - thank you specifically to @Jentosand @Neviah. Thank you to @rukioand @Valannor, too, for the based PK RP. I look forwards to the next narrative.

 

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A rush of sorrow ran pulsed through the old Hannibal as he heard the news. He had not known him long, but nonetheless he paid his respects to a fallen brother-in-ash. Kneeling among the firelands, he made his offering with a long moment of silence.

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A scaled figure would seat itself, writhing fingers through ash next to a stone grave. Unbeknownst to events happening across the continent, the man that lay deep within the dragon felt a crunch, a sinking feeling, something terrible had happened.

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A loyal son of the Arch-Drakaar basked in its drakeshrine, the flames violently chewing at him, comforting him before it had all fallen dim, ash dusting his form, he rose and made way to a room as he naturally brought himself to slash unto the walls with embers and chalk. Depicting a mural, texts all that which was the truth of Asioth, he then imagined a newer world a better one. Yet such was a fallacy, he dreamt of a world where no accursed lighter-bearer who heeds the words of their cuckold lord, the aengul of lies, the aengul of control. Yet such was  a pointless dream for he had known the sundering of their mewling lord will be the greatesst day, for that he shall only sunder once.  the cub-lion, who claims order yet only claims the hearts of so few mortals.
THE ACCURSED LION. DECIET. WEAKNESS. CONTROL

 

 

 

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Hera thought she would feel... Something. 

 

Satisfaction? Happiness? No, she knew death would never bring her joy, no matter the death... 

 

But she expected something. 

 

But all she felt was sorrow, a bittersweet kind of closure. She signed the Lorraine over her chest, murmering a soft prayer. 

 

"Saints recieve his soul" Or whatever there was left, she thought grimly. "And forgive what can be forgiven." 

 

Spoiler

Ofc this all has to happen while I'm on a road trip >:I

 

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Those who strayed near the resplendent white Fortress would hear a curious sound...

 

The tolling of a bell.

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The An-Gho was lulled - given the certainty and innocence of stone. 
 

In time, he would know the extent of grief. Pain— torturous to the mind, would be made a secret idol in the deep pit that was his unfathomable heart. Remon had not only been one of his favourite students, but an Ash-Knight who had excelled not only in service, but in questioning who and what the An-Gho was.
 

And for that, Remon had gained irrevocable respect from his serpentine master. 

 

In the end - damnation took its dreaded toll. For ever was the World the granary of hungering forces. 
 

Now the spirits of Alucard and Remon, the two, who had been cherished as students of an innocent age, would remain as memory. For all his cold demeanour - his inscrutable face, his terrible revelations, he had loved them. 
 

And that was exactly why he was destined to lose them. For ever cruel was Fate, and crueler still would be the Tears dispensed in holy retribution. 
 

But what retribution could there be, to repay damnation? 
 

So thick were the extents of this tragedy. 

 

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