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END OF RIGHTEOUS FURY | The Angel Raguel [Death]


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"Va Ve Maan..."

 

The Valkonen Knight muttered under his breath, the banner captured from Brasca Keep still tight between his fingers...

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Walter Weiss had been there, when Stanislaw passed, his hand on his chest.

He thought long, and hard in the moment of his brother's passing, to the man he was, and the boy he'd grown up with. His Brother.

 

Of the time they shoved cake in their father's face upon their fifth nameday, all the little fights they'd had running around their family's flower fields, and the adventures they had upon the streets of Karosgrad. He'd always been quietly jealous of Stanislaw, of the Golden Baby of Karosgrad, who was born glowing a brilliant golden hue and who could make flowers grow with their footsteps. Though, it was a childish jealousy. Walter had always loved Stanislaw as the goofy twin he was, and divinity would not change that.

 

He thought of their adulthood. Walter had always wanted to be a knight, or a priest so that he could stick with his brother on his numerous holy adventures as the two had always dreamed. However, the realities of life soon set in, and all of those plans seemed to eek away with time. As the heir of Weiss, he knew he had another road to walk.

 

And upon that road he still would walk. But now, he had to walk it alone.
 

"Keep my seat warm, Borsa. We'll walk those flower-fields again. Some day." 

 

A tear fell from his eye.

 

"I'll miss you. Va ve Maan."

 

And the tears kept falling.

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Verónica had been one of the family members by Stanislaw’s side when he passed. She held onto her sickly son’s arm as his left side lacked a hand. As the golden baby of Karosgrad closed his eyes for the final time. He spoke “Va Ve Maan”- the family’s words. Which almost everyone there echoed.. After which they all seemingly choked on their words as they started to mourn.

She followed her husband out of the room, her body still aching from the battle fought earlier that day. Her ribs ached, yet she ignored the pain. On the rooftop garden, she and Audo exchanged a few words. Sooner than later, she departed the garden so she could comfort her that stayed among the living..

Verónica was unable to read the note that Stanislaw had left her and Audo until he returned from his reclusive state where she had asked to see it. Tears flowed as she read

 

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Priestess Milena cried over her great and wonderful, strong, and beautiful bishop. The western bishopric will suffer from this surely...

 

"There was no greater man, no greater saint, than he."

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"Yes-- I shall SMITE the wickedness in your name..."
 

The redeemed magus Valindra vowed after awaking from a fitful slumber. She knew what she had to do.

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Ser Audo Weiss was adamant and firm in that he could have helped his son, had only he known. Death was no stranger - he knew it well. He saw his brothers and sisters come to die, his father, too, and now, in some twisted sense of norm, his son of whom he was so proud.

Stanislaw was The Golden Baby of Karosgrad. A miracle since his birth. Although, as his father, Audo always saw the baby boy he was. He remmeber the days Stanislaw came down, play-fighting him in the halls of the original Staalgrav. He remembered the boy who odd, strange little occurances happened around - and the one who feared those strange happenings. He remembered comforting and guiding him. He remembered the mastery he gained and how proud he always was each time Stanis used his blessing for good and, even, just for a joke. He rememebered the times they drunk together - and the times they had to say goodbye. And now, to add, a final goodbye.

He crumpled the note left to him and Veronica.
"Ea didn't think that way of vy..." He croaked, having isolated himself. Promptly, with indecision, he unscrunched the letter and, instead, carefully folded it to keep. "...Ea dear boy. Va ve Maan..."

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Along with his parents, brother, and loved ones, Viktor Weiss stood at the bedside of Stanislaw Weiss as the cardinal passed away.

 

"Va ve Maan." The grieving man muttered under his breath as he left the clinic with sorrow and gratitude. Viktor was truly thankful for having this good and blessed man as his brother, but as all mortal beings come to pass, the grief of loss weighed heavily.

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The Bishop, suffering from the onset of a worsening flu, gazed vacantly into the pyres of his temple. The spirit of the law was again far from the land. Temple after temple, priest after priest, and the great injustice of Horen's tribe grew all the more potent and dangerous. Lethal, and self destructive. He lit another candle, another flame to keep alive. But without the law, for how long could the great flame remain with them? "God help us, God help us." 

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The King of Haense -- Aleksandr II -- he sat somewhere within the complexity of his castle.
Speaking simply to the air to the thin air among him, and upward into the night sky:


"Among the stars we shall meet."

 

Spoiler

gonna write more

 

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Leonid, recovering from his wounds received on the field of battle, soon found out the solemn news and, despite their differences, he felt sadness for the priest and his Weiss allies. He soon brought pen to paper once more, despite recently writing in his bed, and returned to his work. . .

The Saint Who Walked Among Us

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Arthur heard of the news, sighing at the investigation had come to an end. "I guess he really was just GOD's chosen." He shook his head.

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"What a pity" Remarked Razad, most pious of Mages. 

 

 

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"Haus, may you find rest in the void, that which you bury yourself in. You were a kind enough man, but a foolish one in the end. "

 

"How...grand of him to say, after - years, has it been?" Haus asks towards the familiar Yisar he rides atop of. The creature regards him for a moment - some equivalent of an apathic shrug that watcher might give himself - before it returns to its simple task of walking. More words follow, as he skims over the brief letter in his hand. He's far from canonist land, in search of something else.

 

He doesn't know what fate occurred to his once-nephew, so distanced from the world as haus is. In the days that follow, dreams plague his sleep. An oddity.

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Bishop Alexios lit another candle for beloved Stanislaw next to the one already reserved for Father Tonito in the crypt of the Cathedral of Saint Arpad, closed his eyes, and began to pray.

 

In a moment of melancholy he cried out,

"O GOD! Will I have any friends left by the time this godless War is over?!"

Inhaling sharply and composing himself, he once more bowed his head and began to pray anew.

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