[PK] THE DEATH OF LANRE CERUSIL

[sam33497 3201]

THE DEATH OF LANRE CERUSIL

 

Spoiler

 

 

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. . .

 

It was a child-hood filled with harshness, with the necessity of being outstanding. Who knows what genetic outcome created the boy, but he was odd. There was no memory that belonged to him or others of complaint or wailing, and the Cerusil talonii only reveled in this, pushing him further and further.

 

He was about twelve years old when he broke; it was inexplicable.

 

. . .

 

Young Lanre Cerusil looked up to the stars, a hand outstretched. Upon the peak of the highest building in Fi’andria he sat - he reached further and further, but he got no closer to the stars. He screamed in frustration, echoing out into the night. Those were the child’s pursuits these days - he could not understand the way of things as they were, and spent a great many years of adolescence like this.

 

Eventually, he would return to normalcy, in an outward sense. He took once more to his duties, entering military service as befit his talonii. But there was still something different about him. He was distant, sometimes unwilling. He was a genius where he was applied, but he rarely applied himself. If not for his acceptable accomplishments, he would likely have been written off as a disgrace to his family.

 

. . .

 

It should be no surprise that Lanre Cerusil grasped at the Void like a moth to a flame when he could. There it was, anti-reality, a way to subvert that which was supposed to be. It filled him with a bliss that he had never before seen, and a promise.

 

And when he found that he was capable of changing things, and when he saw the power which he wielded tear apart the city in which he was raised, he knew his path forward, and advanced relentlessly thereafter.

 

. . .

 

He was himself again. In a few decades, he was the strongest. What was there to teach a student of the Void who saw beyond you? He found himself staring, still, when no-one was around, at the stars.

 

It was soon after he reached the height of his strength that he realized he was too weak. He struggled with this problem for years. How can one change a world designed to be immutable? The endless and horrible cycle rejected him when he moved. He pushed himself to his limits, fought things that were stronger and stronger. He gained powerful allies, and with them slayed things that should not be slayed.

 

And still, it was not enough. Death loomed close over him. He was crushed by it. The truly strong reared their faces before Lanre once in a while, displaying their massive forms and taunting him with his mortality. He watched the cycle of the world, of light and dark, and thought.

 

He thought of mages of the Void, and he thought himself a Sword. He sought to change them, and he did. He did his utmost, crushing against his goals relentlessly, though towards the end he found the time to relent; to live. He did so with all of his ability, his mind - long-fractured by his ascent to strength - preventing him from true sanity.

 

His life was entering an important stage, one that would determine the ultimate result of his efforts. As he had seen new life, some of the cynicism of his past left him. A spark coiled in his core, and he began to fulfill the role of a hero unwittingly. There was finally hope for the damaged elf, an amicable future.

 

. . .

 

Lanre Cerusil’s death was remarkable in some ways, and unremarkable in others. If you asked him posthumously, he would probably say that it was a way in which he expected to die. But all in all, it was a footnote in history, and Lanre Cerusil would die, his goals having never been reached, leaving many promises unfulfilled, and damning many. Perhaps the legacy of his life would leave waves; perhaps not. But he was dead.

 

. . .

 

Lanre Cerusil knew he was going to die, but he did not prepare for it; he would’ve equated such a thing to acceptance of what was to come. No letters, assurances, or inheritances were left for family or ones he held dear. 

 

However, in a moment of weakness spurred by cold logic and a Crown, he had left an order for a single letter to be dispersed upon his death.

 

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Spoiler

 

 

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To the ARCH-LICHES ARATAKRAST AND GASHADOKURO

 

Spoiler

If you are receiving this letter, then I have failed and been proven too weak to fight against you. I had begun to fancy myself a champion of sorts for those you wished to destroy; evidently now this has been proven false by my weakness.

 

To the end, I am a coward. I wish to continue life even damned, my ambitions abandoned. I surrender myself to your total and eternal service. I have enclosed a book that was once my Voidal Mastercraft - it should have a tangible enough connection to my soul.

 

That is all. -Lanre Cerusil

 

[Werew0lf 12577]

"RAAAAISEEEE HIM! RIIIIIISEEEE! RIIIISEEEE AS EEEEVILLLL!" Alkhayin screamed from on top of his throne, pointing his index-finger to the next throne where Gashadokuro was seated. The lich was enraged. 

 

@femurlord

[Cheese 2580]

“I will save you.”

 

.   .   .

 

Juniper wailed within her room. Friends and family would not see her for weeks.

Held close to her chest was a necklace, in the shape of a broken heart. 

 

Lanre had the other half.

 

.   .   .

 

“I am not going to die, Juniper.”

 

Spoiler

I hate you sam now which horrible person will juni be codependent on and schizo rp with me at 4am

 

[Rigorous 1853]

Grisha contemplates who might be responsible, and then seeks out more information. The Ferryman burned some incense to commemorate the passing of the High Elf who had enlisted as a Scallywag so many years ago.

 

"Go with honor. Know that your work has left an impression on us. There will never be a better master of trebuchets than you and Dayren."

[xo31 561]

Arthur transfigured his Atronach arm to a golden color. In the end, despite all that had happened, he found himself respecting Lanre, and enjoying his presence.

[Unwillingly 11646]

Somewhere in the gales of the north, a False Prince stirs with rotten ire.

[H 784]

Ayche sits in a dark room alone, staring at nothing. Once the adrenaline has faded, and he's no longer in the midst of combat, he's left to contemplate his actions. He's left to contemplate what he was forced to do after.

"I wish there had been another way," he murmurs to nobody in particular. They're the first words he's said since before the event, and nobody is around to hear them.

"Whatever else happened - you were strong in a way many magi weren't. In another world, we would have fought together."

An hour later - maybe two - he rises with shaking hands and goes to burn his bloodstained robes and mask. They've already served the one purpose they were made for, anyway.

[milksoda 913]

Jenny stared at the missive with a sad face :( she looked to her Hohkmatti 11's that she "BORROWED" from Lanre the day of that rebellion (not incited by her). . .She remembered all the passing "Hi Lanre's" but now Lanre was hella extra evil. . .

"Bye Lanre. . ." was all she uttered, waving to the goodbye to the missive.

[rukio 8913]

Aeolus of Khamees frowns as his repeated attempts to send Lanre a letter in response fail. His hands tremble as he thinks of the young elf and their untimely fate.

 

"Oh, how he reminded me of who I was before..." 

 

A quiet lament as his warning to Yera had fallen on deaf ears. 

 

Blood would be spilled for this.

[_NotChris 210]

“Finally, da foker flated.” Goibbled spat upon hearing the news. 

[PrimnyaQuorum 1058]

A bloodied dagger remains tight in his grip. Star-drowned eyes watch the corpse topple over before him, of a man so devout to his goals he resisted all temptation. 

 

That Watcher knows in the very depths of his soul the day will come when questions are asked, when his loyalty will be tested once again. People will claim he had some elaborate scheme, served some higher power.

 

As he hears familiar voices from outside, his heart aches and weeps - that very misery he knows he inflicts is the same that guided his hand.

 

His tears do not stop, nor does his grief subside as days pass. A part of him has been severed, to die with the very life he took.

 

He knows the mission he must uphold now. The Veil demands it. 

[ULTRAMIDI 264]

Yrmshik laughed in secrecy “Outlive yer enemeys t’ey said…”

[Orlanth 3593]

Lanre's mentor clutched at the crown that the 'aheral had been known to wear. "You were a good mage. Probably the best..."

[unlegiqDuck 180]

Sylvir Cerusil would light a candle in his dark room. His gaze would meet the rain outside his window, letting out a sigh as he griefed.

 

"We shall not forget you"

 

[Turbo_Dog 1528]

A dastardly imp perched by his prince chews on an old fished up muddy boot. The imp nodded at his prince in approval as the lich not far from him screamed demands