[PK - Apotheosis] A Knight's Resolve

[Goon 1535]

 

18 hours ago, RaiderBlue said:

The final mentor of the late Alberic, awaited in the agreed upon meeting place for their next lessons for the Young Keeper never to arrive. In the following days the mentor conferred with those close to him, the fallen brother would not go unknown, retribution would be sought.

 

All night, it was quiet in their little hole in the wall.

 

All nights were mostly, but this night was, and for the first in the decade past his supposed expiration, the one-eyed Southeron gnawed at a cigar’s end. 

Gruff, smoke-laden rasps rattle the solemnity, “war ready,” he told those who brood with him.
 

“I’m ready to see them bleed.”

[Milenkhov 4626]

Foul Tarnished Zahkrii lit a candle within the temple of Tor'praeth in the name of the Knight of the Lake.

Whether this was sin or sacrilege he would bear it willingly.

A mantle to carry for a fallen foe who had perished at the hands of kin and ilk.

Surrounded and encroached upon.

Yet never subdued in the path he he chose.

So was the face and tale of Albéric cemented within the punished dragon's mind.

"A dream of victory turned harrowing nightmare, for he will haunt our nights forevermore."

[Hakiki 36]

A tall High Elf in her armor walks down a path, for she was young, and yet understood the opening of the heavens and the falling of a star into sapphire hues, a Vessel, stolen. Despite this sadness of knowing, she never found reason to look down anymore. Being near rock bottom once before, nearly consumed by the darkness and stolen from the warmth of the light.

 

She stops to look up to the sky, a somber expression in her sapphire blue eyes, "I wish I got the chance to meet you, whoever you were." She closes her eyes, "I can not believe this is what it took for me to finally act and accept this calling deep in my heart and soul. Perhaps not to redeem myself, as what is redemption but acts of virtue from one point onward?"

Her eyes open once more, still looking to the sky, "Whatever you have done, it will not be in vain. We will halt ruin, for this I believe."

She looks forward, and continues to walk. Heading into the wilderness to seek the beginnings of the trials for Ordainment.

"May you find rest and rest well, Bringer of Virtue..."

Edited May 4 by Hakiki

[Chorale__ 1738]

Prince Paul Alexander Temesch of the Petra, the Duke of Valfleur, would fall to the ground in tears as news of his eldest brothers untimely yet heroic demise broke. The Duke would lower the flags and ring the chapel bells at Courties Hale then; as he calls for the announcement of a period of mourning. To his children the Lords and Ladies of Valfleur, he’d take to an intimate setting in a centered drawing room to speak with them cautiously about their Uncle Albèric’s death.
 

And to their dear Matrère, he visited and shared tears greater than the River Petra with, a gesture the two were familiar and comfortable in doing. The family had mourned together the loss of many sons and daughters of Queen Renilde I — but this one, would do a number on the spry Prince of the Petra. The agony and defeat he would feel, would be similar to the same depression he felt with the tradegy of his twin sister Archduchess Winifred Adalia.

@Nectorist@thisuserisok@DISCOLIQUID@tilly

@AndrewTech

[OOC Note: I don’t know about this ICly yet, but having Albert around to shape and guide my character as a sibling was an experience I’ll never forget. You and your characters have an impact on people, for real!]

[Cally 344]

One Emigliana O'Rourke gazed at the sapphire-streaked heavens and wondered if the sacrifice of a keeper's life was all in vain. Nevertheless, she lit a candle that night within her chapel, uttering a prayer for the keeper she thought she did not know. 

 

"O, sunlit lord of the skies. . . I hope the sacrifice was worth the pain.

I hope said servant suffered less knowing their virtue would become a piece in the greater puzzle of redemption.

I pray for thee, whomever you are. . . For fighting in death, is never to be taken for granted. I hope your dying breaths were brave,

I hope your shoulders were straight and rolled, that danger quivered at the sight of you.

For you, I continue to fight

To rid the world of this malice

To live another day when you might not.

May flame light your path

May your embers be smothered by those you love

Rest now."

 

Unbeknownst, the fallen knight was a man she was kind to, a man she used to love, and now respected. Even though their last words were argumentative. . . She would write to him to meet again, knowing not that her letter hadn't arrived.

 

Spoiler

I've had such a fun time rping with Albert on Emigliana, and their little arch was something that will impact my character for the rest of the time I play her. She will always remember the time she met him as a stuttering young boy, and screamed at the knight that bullied him and dunked him in a pond. Thank you for all the experiences!

 

[MapleSunflower 1093]

Days had gone by since Alberic's mother had heard from him. The house they shared was quiet, more than usual, and she had set out for him.

The verdant crown of ivy and poisonous berries hung low as her head bowed, her brow now furrowed with great concern. The small room was illuminated with the gentle golden glow of candlelight as the story was told, her hand held that of the Keeper's sister tightly as she learned of her son's fate. It had been known to her that this would happen; It was only a matter of time. But she had not expected for it to happen so soon. 

 

Greying locks hung in front of her face like that of a willow's weeping branches, a curtain to hide her bereaved features from that of the sister. The Keeper's sister and her embraced each other in woe.

 

She had not held the boy when he was a newborn, she had not disciplined him as a toddler, nor played with him as a child... She had raised him, trained him, and stood by his side from the moment they were fated to meet in his adolescent years. She loved him as her own. She had adopted other children, yes, and she had one of her own blood... but He was her only child; He was her only son. Her wails erupted with such a sadness that shook all hearts.

It was unmistakable; It was unforgettable.

 

It was a mother's cry.

 

Once her tears had fallen and her weeping ceased, the woman lifted her head with a smile. It was tender and proud. These saltwater droplets of grief were not just of pain, but also of great pride for her son. In the years they formed their relationship, she had always taught him to to follow his golden heart, to protect the innocent, and fight for what is right...

 

He died true to himself, and for that she was overjoyed. 

 

The mother knew what to do now. It was a conversation they had many times before. The crown of holly was removed from her hair, knotted brunette strands catching upon the pointed ivy of her hollyberry crown. A candle burned brightly at her windowsill within the home of Albert. The crimson berries reflected the light as wax dripped along the shaft of the candle, a tear of its own. The crown was dear to the mother and her son knew she almost never removed it. It was a great honor to receive her crown, and now it was his.

 

 Her eyes stared at the flicker of the flame before she bowed her head with deep reverence and kept watch that night.

 

She had work to do.

 

Spoiler

I am so proud of you, Gil. It has been an absolute pleasure to play alongside you, to guide you, and to watch Albert grow. He will live on within all of us and within you. You have left such a positive imprint upon all of us across so many different communities. Be true to yourself as you taught us all with Albert and please, continue to shine. All the best to you, my friend

 

[TheBigBubbles 714]

Alf Vuiller, a man late into his life, and even further into his own ruin pondered that man. Alberic. Alberic had always been there, had always been kind. The elderly Vuiller narrowed his gaze on the horizon, but it was not a feeling of loss that filled his abyss-tainted heart. It was rage. Rage that the best among the flock always suffered the most. It was in these moments that Alf decided he would not allow himself to suffer any longer.

Alf turned away from the dying light of the sun and strode deeper into the keep, there was work to be done.

[Tea_Guzzler 307]

“Alberic is…nie no longer with us. Szam.”

 

As the words sounded, Marceline would hear only ringing, the smile set upon her features twitching, a lump welling in her throat. It took all she had to control her expression, “That is not a very nice joke,” The woman would laugh, a pitiful laugh that would only further her spiral.

 

“That is not something ea would joke about.”

 

Those were the final words before she’d break, her smile falling; attempts at regaining her composure would be futile as the first sob escaped. Barely able to stand, Marceline would try to seat herself, wiping furiously at her eyes as her body shook. Her thoughts a whirlwind - all she understood at that time was that her father was gone. Memories of him, good and bad, all swirled about in her mind; no longer would she be called marshmallow. No longer did she have a shoulder she could rest her head atop.

 

He would be missed.

 

Spoiler

Bro has me crying irl

 

[Juno. 1342]

20 hours ago, Goon said:

 

 

All night, it was quiet in their little hole in the wall.

 

All nights were mostly, but this night was, and for the first in the decade past his supposed expiration, the one-eyed Southeron gnawed at a cigar’s end. 

Gruff, smoke-laden rasps rattle the solemnity, “war ready,” he told those who brood with him.
 

“I’m ready to see them bleed.”

 

Peregrine sat upon a stool in the corner of their shared space, her head bowed and hands clasped upon her knees. Her wide eyes stared at nothing as she learned of the demise of her one and only student; the fallen Prince she uncovered from the ashes. He had risen like a phoenix, his flame snuffed out too soon.

 

"I'm ready to see them bleed."

 

Her fists tightened, the sapphire scars marring her skin sparking with lightning. There was no sadness in the heart of the Martyr Undying, but a rage that could only be cooled with blood.