When Luck Runs Out [PK]

[Frostdrop1 877]

When Luck Runs Out [PK]

Ser Audo Weiss ‘The Raven’ 

96 SA - 174 SA, 14th of The Deep Cold 

Spoiler

 

“War!”

Forceful was the demand made by the raven-haired boy with ice-blue eyes: the young, lean and scrawny visage of the eldest Weiss child. He opted to toss a dragon figurine at his brother and raise a terrible metal-cored training sword bestowed to him by king Karl III from the local Von Draco smith. Focusing his aim through his glasses, he set his sights on the eldest of his younger brothers. The steps began with a light thunk, then heavier ones as he crossed the modified, open space of the Weiss mansion in Karosgrad: two houses forcibly merged by the Ambition of their father as they masqueraded in faux-noble wealth.

“No.” Came a simple reply as the dragon toy scraped to a stop against the brother’s foot. Raising a finger to turn a page, the brother flicked it over without raising his gaze. However, he could feel the boy’s discontent as the thunks silenced only a step or two away. Only then did his eyes break from the written pages to his older brother, “Audo, you always beat me and you’re always the soldier. It bruises and hurts.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Audo considered retorting but relinquished his fixation when understanding of the plight set in. “...Okay.” His sword lowered in defeat as silence fell between the two. Unsettled by it, Audo shifted. However, his younger brother seemed comfortable as his gaze, satisfied, returned to the page. The ooze of silence continued, until Audo asked: “Whatcha reading, Viktor? We haven’t been out - where’d you even get a new book?” His steps strode over as he leaned all-too-close to Viktor in an effort to see the book.

The colourful illustrations almost seemed alive, with a little monkey and his strange, magic adventure seeming little more than something amusing to pass the time for children their age.

“The Great Sage,” Viktor responded, though his shoulders rose and fell in an indecisive shrug, “Someone dropped it.”

Peering at his brother incredulously, Audo began to frown. “You stole it.”

A sharp motion finally came from Viktor as his head snapped up. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

Swivelling on his feet, Audo then yelled: “Papej!” He called, and continued – louder - at the lack of notably reply: “PAPEJ, VIKTOR STOLE A BOOK!”

 

Silence. Then, grizzled, Felix Weiss emerged from the closest stairwell with a heavy-headed boot upon the floor. Having returned the night before, late, bloodied and battle-worn, he’d closed himself away the rest of the evening and for the better part of the day. His gaze dragged to the bickering boys, then to the shredded, strained infernal banner that adorned their wall. His gaze lingered as the bickering grew, until the noise became like an incessant itch: “Enough!” His voice seemed to rattle the house to the children, and each fell deathly quiet.

One thunk, then two, then three sounded as his boots crossed the floor in a steady, persistent rhythm - observing the two.

“He stole it!” Audo then piped suddenly, the first to break silence as an accusatory finger cast towards Viktor.

“A strange blue man in the street dropped it.” Viktor followed, “He let me have it!”

Audo became more incensed by the added details, opening his mouth to continue to prater.

“Ah,” Came Felix’s drawl, “Keep it.” Audo’s gaze turned to their father, wide. “Sounds like Wright.” He moved a hand over to pat Viktor, who simply gave a hint of a smile at the decision. “A strange one; he does do strange things.”

Strange it was, perhaps a guiding hand or perhaps a warning for what lay ahead. A road of magic and the incomprehensible would follow the family. And, ultimately, become part of the fall of a hero.

“Tonight, there will be no civilians.”

A foreboding rumble rippled across the skies as Felix Weiss made some final adjustments to his son’s – and heir’s – helmet. A boy just the age of nine. An unintentional knock led to the young boy struggling to unclasp the helmet to right the fragile glasses that sat beneath. Audo Weiss had his reservations about the oncoming siege. Everyone could feel it coming and each day, each hour, each minute that passed crept ever-closer to battle. A primal fear rotted in his gut – one of getting hurt. He’d seen many times how his father had returned home ghostly and crimson. And yet, death was foreign. However, he had confidence in his father in only a way a child could. And then there was the thought, a foolish yet persistent one, that this was his chance: his chance to help papej be free of his turmoil.

Gruelling and unforgiving, the battle on the Eastern front had been slow and chaotic. One could describe the entanglement as a battle of wills. When one side was pushing, a stubborn counter-attack would push right back. Amidst this, Audo had a place even if it was, at best, sketchy. In formation he could barely keep up a shield that matched him in height. Underequipped, he had no spear to effectively contribute to the backlines. It would be of no surprise that even though he fought alongside the likes of Sebastien de Savoie and Aleksandr var Ruthern, aiming for the legs as Dame Tarvisha Markov had taught him, the boy was woefully outclassed. Despite this, he aided in felling two inferi invaders and never broke rank. Given his small stature and the much greater threats around, he had been pushed and shoved – thrown, even – but no inferi had seen fit to swing their gargantuan warhammers and greatswords upon him. Perhaps he was battered and bruised, but he had come out of the thick of the battle rather well for wear, aside from being black and blue and having lost his glasses.

As Karl III danced with the Prince of Carrion behind of the hill, Audo Weiss – only able to make out the blurred world beyond his shattered glasses – sobbed in the single remaining arm of his father as he was passed a flask of Carrion Black and, later, he would cry into the arms of his only friend, Veronica de Pelear. Death was now a neighbour.

“I WANT TO BE A HERO!”

The deep bellow fanned out from the roof of the Knight’s Keep where Ser Vladimir ‘Hothand’ and his newly accepted page stood. Raising his hands to fiddle with the goofy white goggles that sat about his neck, Audo stared at the man – an adult – with bewilderment. Though that soon gave way to a smile then an unfamiliar giggle as the puerile notion resonated in some walled-off depths of the child. How long had it been since he had laughed? In the presence of this fearsome warrior, this knight, he could for there were no inferi to infest his thoughts under his wing.

“What?” He blurted out through his chuckles. “That’s not a reason to be a knight!”

“Of course it is. Heroes protect people.” The knight replied nonchalantly, pulling his gaze away from the distant walls of the Red Gem to peer down at the boy of ten. A thoughtful silence settled before he then asked: “In chess, what is the most important piece?”

“The king.” Came a prompt reply, draped in a naïve innocence but also an eager energy.

A dip of Ser Vladimir’s head signalled a confirmation.  “And who is the king we protect?”

Audo’s brows furrowed in thought as the question presented an obstacle. “The… people?” He answered tentatively.

Subtly curling, the lips of the Knight portrayed a hint of amusement. “Close.”

All except the wind fell silent, for the boy was stumped.

In his own experience and juvenile perspective, he had no concept of how precious children like himself were. Thus far, he had been a tool to defend an abstract concept of The Future; he was blind to how he could be it. However, this blindness did not limit him forever. Gradually, in the years to come, Ser Vladimir would chip away at the blockages in Audo’s view until the answer became apparent to him much later down the line. Children were the future and Audo would see to it that they were protected and, in turn, taught to protect others and themselves.

“You will be Great. I see it in you.”

Felix Weiss declared off-handedly, yet with such unshakeable certainty. His eldest son sat by him at their family dining table, listening and learning. Such words passed through Felix’s lips like water, yet they were boulders. Time and time again he would repeat such grand claims with practiced ease.

Greatness.

What was greatness to a boy of twelve? Was he great because he was warded under his Serene Highness, future king Georg I? Was he great because, as cupbearer, his life was a shield for that of king Karl III? Was he great because he was a veteran or perhaps because he had undertaken the path of Knight? Did greatness rest in politically representing his family? Or, perhaps, the investment he’d made in helping to raise his younger siblings with an overworked father and a long-gone mother deserved the description of ‘great’? Or, maybe, greatness would lay only in his future as patriarch. 

Whatever the answer, the weight of expectation would remain heavy. In war, every battle became his battle. In politics, every ladder rung became a necessity. In family, every failure was his own.

“Vy will refer to ea as Ve Bandit King Overlord I ve High Bandit Order!”

Audo grinned with a staggering amount of overconfidence as Princess Veronica de Pelear resigned herself to the role of Bandit Minion for the next full day. Over the years, the two had shown themselves to be an inseparable pair. Yet still fresh from the days of being a commoner, the baronial heir carried himself in an abrasive yet charmingly worldly way. His tendencies had a way of endearing adults and, yet, despite his dabbles in other friendships he failed to find many close long-time friends beyond that of the princess.

Iskra, ever-distant, was wary of the lawful authority Audo wielded as a member of the brotherhood.

Carice von Augusten Audo certainly considered a friend, though later misplaced trust would shake his confidence even under his own future roof.

Eirika gave some glimmer of friendship if it was peered at through a murky lens. Regardless, time was always thin for Audo and not enough could be given to sustain a high-born girl of such energy.

Sir Milonir of Whitehall – a disgusting boy of acne and stench and debt – did indeed, later, go from admiring Audo to being his best friend. However, what true friendship they had was marred by a feeling of bitter betrayal, forever relegating the once close friendship to one of utility.

Ki’el certainly shared a connection at times. The men were good to each other – looked out for each other. And yet the diverging lives of each brother-in-arms led to tragedy and yet another betrayal. Ki’el’s capture and execution was personal.

Another friend would not be found for decades to come: Demitrey Novikov. Once a simple brother-in-arms met on the battlefield, the two would kindle a friendship which Audo would find profoundly similar to that of Sir Milonir. Perhaps if they had met earlier, a closer bond would have been forged, and though Audo cared for the man a certain professionalism was pervasive in their relationship. But, then, as the Ambition of each family grew, Demitrey proved never to forget their bond – an act so profound that Audo carried his gifted cane from the moment it passed hands until the moment he was felled.

So, Veronica was always special. She had seen his tears and his joys. She lived through his complications and problems. She helped him build a better life. She helped him be a better man. They spat and argued, and at times drifted as life weighed unforgiving on their minds, and their suffering festered. Although time and duty dragged Audo from the likes of giving gifts and letters, on occasion grand gestures were made apparent, not the least of all in his lengthy endeavor of acquiring Pablo, the panda Veronica came to love. She was there from the beginning but did not see his end.

Her loss to the Veletz League was grating on many, and the proceeding failure of the De Pelears to notify him of their intent left a resounding sourness in him. And though he doubted he could, he released the paper lantern she desired at her funeral – albeit, having climbed high and after many had departed. As it drifted away on the winds, Audo reflected on her words to take care of himself. How terrible he was at that task, but with aid from Demitrey and even his usually spiteful son, Walter, he found a path forward.

One day, they would dance again.

“**** duty.”

Audo’s mouth fell slightly agape at the words of the king as he languidly sprawled upon the bed in his chambers, listening to the young man drivel and struggle between ideals of love and responsibility.

And then, it was Audo’s turn to listen as Georg I relayed the story of his love for his first queen, Esfir. A speech and talk quite unlike that which Audo would expect where in equal parts responsibility and duty came to be but obstacles between the two. Although Audo failed to grasp the emotional resonance of the king in the moment, his encouragement proved vital in lieu of a trusted guide to courtly romance.

“Take a year to travel the world – it lets the hearts entwine.” The king eventually bid, “And listen to the whispers of your heart.”  With his peace said, Georg waved his ward from his chambers with a waft of his hand.

And so Audo listened, learned, and promptly undertook the challenge of courting Princess Veronica which eventually blossomed into marriage, with an underlying sense of unfulfilled adventure.

Though in all their years together never did they find the right year to travel the world.

“Take this to remind yourself of the man tu will not be.”

Maria held an outstretched piece of shattered glass to the young man, now finding his own path in life, who sat pushed back into the wall, shaking and weak. Vomit splattered down his chest-plate in runny chunks, his feet crunched on glass shards, his eyes and lungs burnt from whiskey forced into them from what should have been a guiding hand. Drunk, the alcohol in his system rendered his thoughts a muddle, yet he felt starkly sober. His snap to reality was unavoidable after such an ordeal with his father. And to be sent away? To an abbey? In Balian? His murky mind ran rampant with half-sloshed ideas.

Yet, his hand stretched out shakily to take the shard from Maria. The gesture perhaps contained an element of care which sorely lacked in his once single father. Perhaps, though, it was the sheer authority the act exuded to which Audo responded: a familiar feeling. Or perhaps it was an overwhelming need in the moment to focus on anything but the responsibilities forced on his shoulders, but after years of rejecting her he finally asked: “…C-can I call you mother?”
 

Maria peered at the shambling, beaten wreck that was Audo. 

“Of course, hijo.”

“Vy must listen to him. His word is mea word.”

Felix Weiss told a young Haus and a young Sierra. Audo stood off to the side, awkwardly shifting his feet as he averted his gaze from the conversation. His fears and worries on leading, his inability to wrangle his siblings as a leader was beginning to wear him down terribly. Perhaps he was not meant for this role – perhaps Haus would make a better heir or Sierra or Via.

Despite his best attempts Sierra had grown into a public menace. He loved her dearly, truly, but the extent of her defiance was terrifying.

And Haus – could he even put that into words? The little brother he tried to train, to love, to protect. The one who ran away with a word. The one that no matter their connection only seemed able to speak down to his older brother. All Audo had done had only made Haus fear his word. Was Audo so wrong in the choices he made? In wanting to protect the choice of his younger brother, he seemed to only force him further into the depths of Ambition. What was he to do with him running away to far-off lands, unwilling to listen? What could he possibly say to ease his mind on The War with The Owl where upon he acted like a madman, striking wildly at family in the square of Karosgrad? To merely look upon Haus wrenched to mind a catalogue of mistakes. Everything about him embodied heart-break and surely Sierra was headed down the same path.

He had not managed to do anything to stop either of them.

How was he ever supposed to lead?

Despite his fears, his relationship with Sierra would mend with time. Haus, however, remained a distant creature. They maintained a strictly utilitarian connection, at least until their very later years. They almost - almost - came to be brothers again. Yet, one more betrayal sealed a hatred so strong that Haus would contort from a figure of heart-break to one of loathing. An ally of the enemy. An ally of The Owl.

Haus had contributed to the twisted fate of Walter Weiss.

“Vyr life is over now.”

Came the words of Felix Weiss as Viscount Audo Weiss took his place upon the Ivory Throne, accompanied to his left by the Viscount-consort, Princess Veronica Weiss.

Audo’s gaze turned to the hall lined with banners, busts and mounted heads. Looming, reality felt like it came crashing down and yet he took a breath and puffed himself up as his own father bowed before him: the man he loved, and hated; the man he duelled almost to death; the man who had set his path with no choice. And now in all his authoritarian humility took on a supportive role.

All from then on became sacrifice; a lamb to the slaughter. Perhaps that is what Felix always understood or perhaps that was the understanding he gained during his tenure. Whatever the case, the Ambition so heavily pushed by the elder had done its work in the minds of his children, none more than Audo and Haus. As Haus tread the world, Audo remained by his blood.

Under Viscount Audo Weiss, Novkursain expanded.

The Five Maxims of Pride were penned.

The title of Lord Marshal was one he did not accept nor strive for, yet he ensured another Weiss bore the sash of the Royal Captain.

He became a crow knight: the only peer of his generation to balance his title and his duty.

He excelled in a knightly capacity, becoming the first Weiss Knight Paramount after establishing a new library for the knights, establishing a hall of history and forging a positive reputation amongst the peoples.

He served diligently under three kings, abiding by the First Maxim: Karl III, Georg I and Aleksandr II whom to each he bore a different relation.

Though not sought, he was donned with the task of being a Crown Jovenaar and saw that duty through, too.

The halls of Staalgrav became ever-more decorated with trophies of war and conflict from across the realm - undead dragons, Rozanian invasions, Mori’Quessir, Orkish incursions, Adrian and Veletzian foes, to simple banditry.

The family expanded and grew stable, setting the foundation for The Age of Lions.

They survived and re-settled on new lands, with a new Staalgrav.

The history of the Weiss became a sentiment to revere, and the dead were honoured with a newly founded crypt.

Between the weight of his hefty responsibilities and his reluctance to speak or word himself with his family for fear of hurting them, and the drain on his sanity it took he struggled his way through leadership, too. Familial ties were hurt and mended, especially those he relied on. Veronica and Audo share a bond of support, and one of ferocious arguments, whereby insecurities gnawed at their marriage and yet, they came to find unity each time – even if it took time. From Viktor he grew distant after his betrayal, but they came to an understanding and repaired. Stanislaw was busy spreading the word of GOD, but Audo always bore a special place in his heart for the man - his Golden Baby of Karosgrad. Martina rebelled against her father, but in her later years they came to grow closer when Audo’s support of her and the family never wavered. Karl became his student, yet his ever-curious mind led him elsewhere in the world. Y’vette grew to have a taste for adventure, eventually from one of which she would never return. Even his nieces in Raelle and Rosalind grew despite being hidden early in their lives: Raelle, a distant blood-kin – at first a traitor, before some semblance of reconcile and distant support was found; Rosalind, the second daughter Audo never had who grew into her own, similar show of Ambition. Walter, too, even couped his father, leaving a looming shadow in the family. And of all the pains he faced, the rift with his brother hurt most for it truly became an irreparable schism.

For all his faults, he loved the family dearly and for all his woes, the spark of the future – the children – were bright. 

“Va ve Maan.”

Audo stated – clear but quiet over the corpse of his father. A strike to the heart by the Mori’Quessir, deep in the failing Fen defense had sealed the fate of the elder Weiss. Having retreated with the carcass early and at the whim of his comrades, Audo could only reflect on how his father had been beside him.

He had been right there.

But there was nothing anyone could have done.

Death was simply closer.

A growing sense of doom had followed Felix since the apparent onset of his struggling heart, but even now battle took his life early.

For all the pain and turmoil their relationship had, Audo loved his father deeply. Their newly rekindling relationship had seemed promising. Taking a deep breath as the battle faintly raged beyond the blackened retreat tunnel, Audo had to resolve to accept the loss of the battle, and the loss of his father. He took some solace in knowing Felix would have preferred to die in battle, even if it meant that the young boy who wanted to save his father from his turmoil was chasing an illusion.

“Ea canniet watch vy suffer. Balyzm, trust us.”     

The Viscount whispered to his son, Walter Weiss, as they stood alone in the living room of their now-bare manor. For all the regrets Audo had, perhaps bestowing the blade upon his son was his worst. For he could bear to tend the suffering of his own heart – he could not bear to helplessly watch that of his son, just as he had watched that of his brother.

“I can’t.” Walter replied, squeezing his father tighter. “… Not yet.” He continued, imbued with an other-worldly wisdom.

Turning away, Audo hid his visage from Walter as he took a few brief moments to dry his single remaining eye and soon enough the stress of it reduced him to a man fighting on the floor, restrained by his son and his wife. Years of torment, years of battle and war eroded his soul. Eroded his mind. So desperately, Veronica had tried to keep him stable through one means or another. Even in himself, Audo had slipped from one coping mechanism to another. None fixed the curse afflicting his mind.

His sister and brother – he failed them both.

His wife – he failed her.

His son – he was failing him, too.

With time and restraint, the war-dog was brought to his senses. When all was said and done, a blade of glittering carbarum was forced into Audo’s shaking grasp. A bolstering of bubbling confidence rose in the knight’s chest. Shame was pushed aside and he rose proudly as any other Weiss. And when asked what he would do with the blade he replied: “I’m keeping it.” He rested the hefty blade across his lap, freeing his arms of its deceitful weight. “At least for a little while. Not forever. I just want you to rest your mind, Walt.”

“Why are you keeping it?” Walter asked, outstretching his hand to rest upon Audo’s. Walter’s wisdom and need to understand was an ethereal parasite.

Pulling his hand back, Audo retreated into his own confidence. “To keep you safe.” He gripped the blade. “I failed my brother. I failed my sister.” His gaze turned to his wife, “For years I’ve done wrong by you.” His gaze returned to Walter. “I cannot fail you too. Iblees can tear my soul apart – I will not have you suffer alone from this accursed thing!”

Walter moved his hand out once more to grasp the hilt with Audo, tugging to take it away. “Trust me. This is your test.” Hesitantly - tense - Audo tightened his grip for a long moment as a silent stare passed between father and son. And then, he relinquished the blade back to its designated bearer. “And what do you say now, papej?” Walter asked as he peered across at his father.

“My desire hasn’t changed; my words won’t change.” He offered his own palms out to receive but did not move to take the blade by force. “I trusted you. You need to trust me.”

“Then so be it.” Walter returned the blade, gifting it back and forth in a display of what they sorely lacked. Regardless of their sour future, they had some semblance of trust to maintain. “… It is now yours to bear.”

From the hand that had pulled the blade from the stone, the blade returned as a temporary measure. The weight of his son’s state remained heavy on Audo. Perhaps Walter’s differentness had been inflamed by the sword bestowed, and that thought could never be forgotten.

Spoiler

 

“Ea shall niet return until ea find them.”

The ex-paramount had made his decision. With the elf he had taken for one of his own missing, and Walter disappeared into the ether, he decided that he must find them or die trying. An incident with Veronica had left his wary of un-told travel, and the emptiness in his daily life after her death was salt in the wound. The blessed Stanislaw’s death remained raw each day: a twisted fate to have the younger die before the older. He most precious friend, Ram Battleborn, he entrusted to Rosalind Valkonen – although he still thought of her as a Weiss and as one after his own heart. To Viktor Weiss II, he entrusted the flask which had saved his mother’s life. To Viktoriya a bracelet, entrusting to her his bond and support no matter how far he went. To Marian he entrusted the past. To Ofeliya he entrusted the future, with some guiding words.

There was little place for an elder head of Weiss to loom over the proceedings of the present. The lilacs he established were gone, he was too enthralled with other matters to cater to the horse breeds he had tended lovingly, and in his state away from the keep was little more than a lonely old man. The family that needed him most were lost, and it was to those who most needed him that he dedicated himself. On his person he took what he required or felt a connection to, and all else was left in the depths of Staalgrav. Few items of special note remained on his person beyond his combat gear: a poorly molded amulet proclaiming him the best father and knight, his wedding ring, a single letter written many years ago, a golden cane, an audio version of Song of the Black and a black cape he had permanently donned in the absence of his children.

 One child remained lost to the father forever.

One had lost himself to a new man.

Ser Audo Weiss ‘The Raven’ never returned alive.

    Ser Audo Weiss, 2nd Viscount of Novkursain and Knight Paramount of the kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska

circa 500 ES

With a splash and a gasp Audo rose backwards, splattered by dry droplets, finding himself planted firmly by a cloaked figure. Although he barely noticed, his body was no longer a tapestry of scars and burns – his lost eyes returned. He did notice, however, as his hands rose to grasp the arrow-shaft in his chest, that the revengeful mark which had pierced him was no longer there. A single strike. How fragile life was; how close death had drawn. No longer was he surrounded by the gloom of the Underdark, and the monsters which called it home. No longer was he surrounded by the kin that had accepted his lost state, and extended a hand of care.

The figure stood hunched, gaunt, and shrouded in the darkest of blues. Embroidered with lions, her hood shadowed what face she might have. “Are you quite done?” Came her voice, something soft and motherly yet part of her tone seemed to scold him.

“No- I-” He stumbled out, his feet moving forward as if there was a path to follow back before he could complete a sentence. Abruptly, a weight came crashing down on the back of his head. Despite the harsh thwack, it didn’t really hurt even if, instinctively, he raised his hand to rub at the site. Accusingly, his gaze snapped towards the woman, turning just barely in time to see her plant her cane upon the ground and fold both her hands upon it with a sense of finality.

“Your work is done, boy. Rest.” Her voice dripped with authority despite its softness, and to reinforce her words, one crinkled hand unwrapped from the cane to extend an offer of guidance to Audo.

Examining her crooked hand, his own moved to take it as his fierce Ambition finally relented. Despite her manner, and despite her apparent age the touch she offered was soft. After a few long moments of hesitation, he finally responded with a quiet:

“...Okay.”

Spoiler

Audo Weiss has been my first character on LOTC. I don't think I'll dedicate quite the attention I have to any other singular character. Coming off of a father cradled by Ambition, an equally Ambitious follow-up in the shadow of their ancestor only felt right.

In this post, there has been a significant amount I have neglected to even so much as scratch to focus instead on some core points and pull together a few through-threads for the sake of story.

However, I want to say a massive thank you to the Haense community as a whole which had been welcoming since the beginning.
A thank you to the following, too:
@SethWolfwho successful nagged me into trying this time-sink of recreation.
@Xx_BloodStalk_xXfor introducing seth first, and making efforts to have some interactions with many of those we tried to scoop in to playing the Weiss with us.
@BethinwonderlandFor being one of the best rp partners I could ask for. Massively helpful to anything that needed completing.
@GMROFor being a cool king and providing ample rp opportunity and being way too inspirational.
@garentoftFor being a cool wine mom and pretending to offer rp opportunity (ily mom).
@DylFor being a cool anime hero, providing a new angle to my experience.
@MioFor trying to pay close attention to rp even with a bunch of other stuff happening. It made for some exceptionally cool rp moments.
@Werew0lf For being exceptionally cool. He drives a lot of creativity. Thanks for murdering my character.
@ItsMisterPip For listening to me and seth to try this wacky mineman rp.
@CasChaos A little late in our journey did cas appear, but now she's proving a staple - and is always eager to assist and rp. I don't always respond but I love your energy.
@Ragonath For being Audo's persistent absentee son. You might not be around much, but you make me laugh frequently when you are.
@Dinochad Another staple and even though our times don't overlap well you're always encouraging rp and generally making me feel like you want me to be around more.
@CyyanTea A good vibe, an eager rper. A surprise addition from the estranged side of the Weiss family - and its always nice to have good surprises.
@RaijenStars For coping with Audo's nonsense. Your desire to help was always appreciated. Murder more dogs 4 me.
@PrimnyaQuorum Who worked with me to create a stable situation. The relationship of our characters was mentally draining on both of us but he was willing to work with me.
@MakeshiftFoxxo This guy made some important rp for my character early on, and made soe especially important rp for Felix with knock-on effects which I'm equally thankful for.
@CrustehLargely unrelated to rp but I love hanging out with you to watch Who, you nerd.
@Knight of ElkenThis guy is insane. The comedy rp I've had with this man is fantastic. I miss your wondersteed!!!!
@louislxixAlthough here and there and about, he's looking for ways to provide rp. U were my in to some things I enjoyed a lot - until other characters took them away or they got shelved haha. Thank you for the opportunity.
@erictafoyaVibing was fun - you're just chill and I appreciate it.
@Vertesk02 I can't explain how helpful it was to have a builder. Thank you for helping us out in a pinch.
@ClatterCakeA good friend, a great rper.
@PrinceJose270Maybe an out-of-the-blue one but I always liked rping with you when the shot came about and you always vibed with it despite how abrasive my choice of character was - pretty dope.
@xMutedEven if we didn't get much 'Drazi rp, you gave me a shot and your random interruptions in my rp make my day! Now go back to eep.
@annabanana1014Best Mod, enough said. Bully Seth more.
@NymstraFrom your first appearance we kinda vibed. You might not be hanging around haense the same amount, but your rp has always been driven from a good place and made for impactful times.
@Demavend He's a sweet guy. @Demavend@Demavend@Demavend

This is a big list. I probably missed people but I've been tracking down names for a while so I'm going to stop now. It's been a blast, and I hope to enjoy my future characters just as much
 

 

[Rebellionlife 362]

Beautiful Art 10/10 well written. 

[Jentos 6899]

The An-Gho hung above the body of Audo, mouthing prayers with clasped hands over the dead remains of the fallen warrior. 

 

In death, there was honour - and in honour; holiness. 

[Cheese 2319]

Liridona, though she had not known the Weiss Viscount well, welcomed her fellow Haeseni into the Seven Skies. He had been a strong man, an honorable man, and he deserved to be commended for his life.

[GMRO 5275]

The old king settled sleepy eyes upon his cupbearer. The boy he had seen pour his drink now turned to Carrion. A fighter, he had lived up to his mettle as a Weiss. A lion of the north. "You did well. Be at peace." Said Karl.

[Morigung-oog 2367]

A pale mali, having been living in seclusion now for a number of years, had learned of her old ally's passing. Contemplating the moments shared and the good times had, along with the estrangement of his brother, Haus, Valindra let out a faint sigh, almost sorrowful that the two Weisses hadn't made amends in time..

 

Should Audo have a burial, a tribute to his life be it a grave for body or ashes, those present would find a blade rested at the side of such, a token of respect bestowed unto the Haensemen by the ancient 'aheral.

[Rigorous 1563]

 

 

The Elder Azdrazi Alistair considered all the events that transpired in the Underdark. Deep in the bowels of the earth, the warrior had engaged the Dread Knight he was faced with head-to-head. As a nimble woman in armor had suffered the first blow from the animated suit of armor's rancid claymore, Alistair had intervened on her behalf with his greatsword and entered a fierce mele with the creature. To Alistair, this was merely another fight to delay time to preserve the flesh and blood of the less hardy Heralds who had accompanied the Nephilim on their dastard quest to the deep. Alas, as he stepped backwards and allowed the monstrous armor to detonate, he heard a cacophony of voices as the Azdrazi of Tor Praeth lamented their convert's death at the hands of the Mori'quessir marauders.

 

"Drakon!" One voice wailed, as another shouted. "He is dead!"

 

It was rare for the ancient Dragonkin to feel much remorse. Much less when he was not polymorphed into a human shape. The lives of normal people were simply far too short to elicit any sense of sympathy from Alistair on most occasions. Though he was reluctant to take the lives of others, Alistair believed that to lament death was a waste of time - some forces of nature were simply inescapable. But that did not change the lingering feeling of failure that he felt roll through his nerves like a plague beneath his leather skin and his stone heart. For a brief moment, he experienced a human feeling of shame. Not unlike the sensation he had experienced when he lost close friends of his to the trials in Tor Azdraeth. Wasted potential, he lamented.

 

His greatsword Spite whispered to him, "Yet all the same: Inevitable."

 

Alistair moved to help conduct the man's last rites and made a solemn vow to the An Gho, "I shall not let this happen again."

 

How would his species survive if they could not even keep their Whelpings alive? If the man were to die, it should have been to hatch Drakon as a Nephilim. Not becoming some rancid corpse dragged to the surface for funeral rites. The warrior tightened his jaw and then beset his new task without question; but his thoughts lingered on the ally he had failed to save.

 

 

[Frostdrop1 877]

13 minutes ago, Cheese said:

Liridona, though she had not known the Weiss Viscount well, welcomed her fellow Haeseni into the Seven Skies. He had been a strong man, an honorable man, and he deserved to be commended for his life.

The old viscount knew little of her, too, though familiar faces after his journey away made for a surprising relief. He replied to the unexpected greeting with an unmarred smile - a fresh face once lost to battle. Though, in all his scanning of faces - familiar and unfamiliar - one appeared to be missing.

 

11 minutes ago, GMRO said:

The old king settled sleepy eyes upon his cupbearer. The boy he had seen pour his drink now turned to Carrion. A fighter, he had lived up to his mettle as a Weiss. A lion of the north. "You did well. Be at peace." Said Karl.

The once-boy beheld Karl with a sort of reverence, his fist raising to rest over his heart before his old liege. Karl, even in his short time over the Audo's life, had left an impact so incrediby profound that he had sought to collect artefacts of the man - by means legal, and those not when compulsion demanded. "I shall, my king." Came his reply.

 

[SethWolf 1393]

At the end of the Viscount's long walk through the skies of his Lord, did he find a lush paradise of vivid forests, swamps of dancing fireflies and tall fauna that would be the thing of legend if they had existed within the waking realm. The sun was lazily setting over this verdant paradise, and the sounds of running waters ambled free in his ears. A river, long and snaking did it rush was only meters ahead of him.

 

There by the river ye, they sat. Two familiar silhouettes cast against the water that had now absorbed the setting-sun's amber glow. They appeared to be fishing. As Audo's feet crushed the crisp green grass of the riverbank, did the taller figure rise - a black shadow against the river.

 

It was Felix Weiss, and sat next to the old lion was Audo's sister, Sierra @Dinochad. The man did not immediately move to greet his son. At first, he seemed only to try and get a measure of him. Felix then stepped forth and put an arm around Audo to greet him as an equal. Felix had lost his many scars aswell - save his eye which curiously had not been restored upon his arrival into the skies. He was not the tired, angry and crippled old man Audo had known him as last he saw him.

 

"We made you a rod for the occasion, son. Sit now by these waters and enjoy the peace. Tomorrow, we go hunting." His father then pat Audo's shoulder, and moved to continue enjoying their never-ending paradise with his family.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Eikthyr had learned of the Viscount's passing through whispers in the meadows and many forests that man had not yet desecrated. He roamed the dark forests in quiet contemplation of Audo's passing. Eikthyr knew in his heart of hearts that if he was to save himself, he must die a man and die with a heart full of love. He quietly moved then to bring his finger to an ancient log, a log where he and Audo had last spoken. He carved into the bark of the ancient Firr a single word, 

"Hope."

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Kalador perhaps may have once felt bad for taking Audo's body without even having asked his fellow warriors permission first, but he knew Audo better than most - than anyone alive, he would likely wager. He hoped that his friend would have approved of delivering his body to the Weiss, so he may be lay to rest with his kith and kiln. Kalador came to Aevos not knowing of his heritage as an Elf, and what that meant. A life of immortality, oh what a wonderful gift.

 

He understood now the horrible, twisted nature of the curse of his kind. He may not see his brother for a thousand years - perhaps, even more or never again. Kalador had no recourse to salve that wound upon his heart. Audo and he would likely never, ever see eachother ever again in this life or the next. Great and terrible melancholy ruled him, and likely would be a persistent wound upon his soul until his mind left him and he fell victim to the folly of his kind.

 

Kalador decided then that if this were to be his fate, Audo would not allow him to sink into the mud and pity that perhaps many others in his situation would have fallen to. Kalador would keep fighting for a better world, a world where the death of a good man like Audo would never happen in the first place. Audo was now in heaven, but perhaps Kalador could achieve Babylon in this one.

 

 

[hotbox_monk 980]

A drakaarling;  One of The King of King’s chosen would be seen toiling in the ash, dawn till dawn, for the next thirteen days.  Trees were seemingly imported on carts and planted within the day in company of flowers which would illuminate the darkness with their blazing petals.  

 

Audo’s Grotto was lain deep in the ash-fields and serves as an eternal and stark reminder of the Eternal War we wage and those who have fallen in its wake.

 

The Age of Dragons is nigh and those fallen would not be forgotten.  Eternal is the memory of Flame. 

 

[Markisstreaming 521]

Talinn, however wicked his ways had become, was filled with a certain sorrow at these news. Perhaps one of losing a rival, he no longer had a nemesis. Regardless, this meant the number of people who knew of his true nature had lessened.

 

Spoiler

luv u <3 loved Audo, amazing post

 

[Dinochad 453]

"He should be here soon, do vy think he'll cry?"

 

A soft voice left the once sickly Sierra Weiss as she fished beside her father. She was healthy, no longer plagued by her condition. She was enjoying her paradise, and her time with her beloved father forever. As Felix rose to his feet, the Lady's head turned, lips curling into a giant smile. She waited for the two to have their reunion, watching with a happy hum. As her father returned to her side she rose from her seat, dashing over to jump up and embrace her brother in a tight hug.
 

"Oh how ea've missed vy Borsa! Ve have so much to show vy!"

"Welcome home."

 

She kissed his cheek before happily walking over to the waters once more, offering out a fishing rod.

 

 "Let's catch some fish!" 

 

 

"Hauchpapej Audo es.. dead?"

 

Reza raised her brow at the news, her brows furrowing tightly. She waited a long moment to think of how to feel. She knew him to be distant, he was a busy man. She admired him strongly in her youth, it was sad to hear that he had joined her Hauchmamej in the seven skies.

 

She felt the desire to drink, to drown the grief in alcohol- but instead, that woman decided to run. So in honor of her passed grandfather, Lady Reza Weiss could be seen doing laps around the festival grounds, not stopping for breaks- running for a full day- face painted with sweat and tears. 
 

[Frostdrop1 877]

17 hours ago, SethWolf said:

"We made you a rod for the occasion, son. Sit now by these waters and enjoy the peace. Tomorrow, we go hunting." His father then pat Audo's shoulder, and moved to continue enjoying their never-ending paradise with his family.

 

25 minutes ago, Dinochad said:

As her father returned to her side she rose from her seat, dashing over to jump up and embrace her brother in a tight hug.
 

"Oh how ea've missed vy Borsa! Ve have so much to show vy!"

"Welcome home."

 

She kissed his cheek before happily walking over to the waters once more, offering out a fishing rod.

 

 "Let's catch some fish!" 

After being patted by his father, and a rod outstretched by his once terrorsome younger sister, Audo let out a faint chuff akin to disbelief. Distant were their troubles, seemingly left in the realm of the living. All troubles except a few, that is. All around, the little paradise they'd built for themselves - Sierra - resonated a sense of peace and belonging. A silent smile spread over his smoothed features. Warm and blue, his gaze settled on each as his hand reached out to take the rod from Sierra and with grand strides he made his way to the bank of the river Ye. He planted himself there firmly, sitting himself with broad, leaning movements as he prepared to cast.

"I could fish. Afterall," He mused; a teasing confidence filled his tone, "I've got a certain lemon shark to show a thing or two."

With that, he beamed a roguish smirk once lost to time.

[DahStalker 2858]

Somewhere far into the Haense countryside idled a young girl with dark hair akin to the bark of pines, tainted with the abnormality of greying seen only in elders. She gawked at her storybook of Knights, listed from the time of King Georg I and beyond, and there she read of Ser Audo Weiss. One of her many inspirations. The girl was hardly intelligent, hardly old enough, and yet cunning enough to know one thing - she would be like him, and many of the Knights before him. 

Sweat dripped from her temple as that young girl practiced, repeatedly swiping a sword at the straw-filled dummy before her. She was strong for her age, an emptied husk of profound might, and yet no purpose. That would come later. For now, she would train, train to be like other Knights of the Haense Realm - such as Ser Audio "The Raven." 

[ItsMisterPip 78]

Deep in Haense’s frigid countryside, Viktor Weiss sat atop his walking mare, a horse as white as the snow around him. It was one of his White Comets, the same horse breed that was bred and tended by Audo Weiss. Like father, like son, equestrian care became a passion for Viktor. Tending to the horses has been something Viktor sought to continue in Audo’s stead for many years…

 

The white snowscape and towering pine trees, accompanied by a gentle breeze and his trusted companion, offered Viktor some consolation… Coping with his father’s death wasn’t easy. He was there to receive his father’s body in Valdev, thanks to the unfamiliar face of Audo’s elven friend, Kalador. Without him, he wouldn’t have ever known Audo’s fate… However, this picked at Viktor’s head: a lingering question that proved difficult to ask of a dead man… Did he find what he had been looking for? … Viktor continued onward. Snow began to fall…

 

“I plan to take the Vikomital throne,” said Walter to a young Viktor in the meeting room of the Weiss keep, many years ago. His iron-handed brother gave him options; to back his father or to help his brother take the familial throne. The young Viktor weighed the options in his conscience, though he feared what could come from opposition to his brother’s desire in the future. In cowardice, hidden by assurance, “I will help you,” said Viktor, thus betraying his father.

 

Viktor never had a strong bond with Audo, not like a bond a father and son should have. Conversations were commonly cut short if they ever started at all. There was a permanent distance. The cowardly naivete of his decision to oppose his father was the reason. A guttural blow to their relationship… Viktor continued onward in the snowfall…

 

“You’ve fought one of these before, haven’t you?” asked Viktor, curiously, as he and Audo both gazed upon the skeleton of a dragon-like creature. The two men sat atop their steeds, taking what would unknowingly be a once-in-a-lifetime venture to spend one-on-one time together. Audo spoke with Viktor about his past experiences battling the undead dragon, Cloudbreaker, and whatever the conversation turned to from there. A few decades had passed since Walter’s rise to reign for the family. Guilt and regret had settled in Viktor, now fully aware of what that decision had cost him for quite some time; his relationship with his father. “Padre…” Viktor beckoned Audo’s attention in a sorrowful tone, “I feel regret… I regret my decision those many years ago to stand by Walter’s side instead of yours…” Audo listened before replying, “Well, what was done was done. I love you, but I won’t forget what you did.” Viktor replied in a plea, “I am sorry, Padre… If I could go back to that night and change my decision, I would change it in a heartbeat… I am sorry.”

 

Ser Audo Weiss “The Raven” was dead… After taking Audo’s belongings and laying his body in wait for his funeral, Viktor informed his family of Audo’s passing, passed along Audo’s things, and promptly left for the solace of the countryside. Having to pass his father’s belongings out to family members sickened him. Now he was alone, under that gentle snowfall. Viktor retrieved a letter from his satchel, unfolded it, and read it. The letter was one Audo left for Viktor when he ventured out to find Walter after his disappearance. These were the last words he ever received from Audo; a father searching for his son, leaving loving regards. Viktor mourned his father when he left, never to return alive. Now that Audo was dead, Viktor felt the same sorrow once more. Sorrow, yet a strange peace… It was a peace in knowing his father was with his mother, Veronica, and his family and friends in the Seven Skies. A peace in knowing Audo could finally rest, for Viktor knew Audo to be a restless, relentless man, commonly occupied with tasks. Audo, dying a warrior’s death, earned peace.

 

“Va ve Maan,” Viktor said with a soft smile, directing his gaze skyward… “One day, we will meet again.”

 

@Frostdrop1 (Thanks for all of the roleplay and awesome character! c:)