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Gerhardt Dies


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In the battle against the half-naked dwarves, a dwarven axe found its way onto Gerhardt’s skull. The blow rendered him dazed, and as he attempted to regain his footing he slipped and fell down a cliff. 
 

In his last moments he thought of his Verbantine brothers-in-arms, and most importantly, the beaut that is Bertha Potte. He died looking up to the clear skies, a smile on his face.

 

Gerhardt’s will is delivered to the Captain-General of the League of Veletz by a courier. @Nectorist

 

Your Grace,

If this letter has found its way to you, know that I am dead. I entrust you to find a suitable man of the Midlands to be my successor as Seneschal and take this most distinguished post. He shall inherit my property and belongings. 
 

Godspeed,

Gerhardt. 
 

 

Another letter is sent to Fedor Vilac. @Evrocentrik

 

Dear Fedor,

 

My lord, friend, I shall hope this letter finds you well. I offer you my sincere apologies that I will not be able to attend your wedding physically, but know that I will be watching from above.

 

HAIL AVRELIVS,

Gerry.

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Wilhelmina sheds a tear for the loyal man.

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Sir Peter Montalt, battered and bruised, is wheeled off in a wagon by Willy Horen following the battle at the cliff. The army, despite their numbers, was pincered by both sides in the great Urguan halls - it was a fatal mistake to take a battle at that position. In the midst of many haybales, the Verbantine commandant weeps for Gerhardt.

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The Rivian Champion of Love and Beauty Bertha Potte sat silently at her window as the news was delivered to her. As sorrow burned through her bountiful bosom, she found that she had no words to express her grief. It was only after her handmaids had left her for the night did the beau speak.

 

"O' sweet Gerdy... Oi'll miss yew so..." She declared, a single tear streaming down her pox-scarred face as she closed the window to her tiny tower overlooking Pottesville.

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Johanes van Aert sets a wheat field alight out of anger.

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"Ah, must've forgotten this on'. Alreadeh a wee bit moldeh. T'er' were just so maneh..." he would say, grab the mangled body and throws it along into the mass-grave.

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The Baron de Wett receives the notice, in the post, of Gerhardt's death.

 

"This man died fighting dwarves?" he offers to his fellows in the gentleman's club, swilling his brandy.

 

"I've never liked such creatures," guffaws the Baron, "Let us send our condolences to his wife, and his children, and the Captain-General, and so on and so forth... Erochland is ours, not the patch of those whoresons!"

 

 

Edited by Esterlen
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