[PK] MARTYRDOM

[Jensen02 337]

Sir Stanton Stroheim, battered, bruised and on the verge of madness found himself resting beside a Brazen Bonfire, collecting his thoughts as he basked in its healing aura. "Truley, there were none more pious than Caius Primus." The Templar ruminated.

[Werew0lf 24180]

 

 

 

 

With a clenched gauntlet, and flames undulating from creaking metal, something descended.

 

Justice.

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

Unable to claim each others' inheritances from one another, some solace was found in their reunion in the hereafter. True friends in life and then in death - another chapter in the five hundred year long friendship of the Waldenian and the Oyashiman.

 

 

"SEE YOU IN THE HYPER WAR, BRANDT-SAN!"

 

 

[LordofCabbage 559]

During his long travels and adventures away from civilization and the known world, Jurkha Faochak felt a sharp tinge of pain upon his chest, that lingered on for a long while. The knight-errant knew not the cause, but he fell into a state of melancholy, knowing then vividly that a friend of his, and a great man had perished. Little did he know however that Brandt-Caius had reached his final metamorphosis into Cicero-Becket in blessed martyrdom. . .

[ivery 590]

She had been so angry.

 

What right had he had to steal someone so precious from her, drunk on whim and pressure? He who she had trusted, despite all instinct. She had looked at him and known immediately to be a threat, a wildcard of determination and the sharpest wit. A man who preached mercy she no longer believes in, cannot believe in. Knelt before her goddaughter's memorial, eyes stinging from tears, it had never felt so wrong to be right.

 

Weeks later, Deia carefully unfolds the letter, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Anger curled in her gut unfurls into numb dread. She hates him, she hates him, she hates him- but what if he hated her just as much?

 

She finds a drawing.

 

("You do!" he exclaimed, clutching his gut with laughter. Seeing her expression, pinched, he pats her shoulder. "Oh, come on, I'm only- I'm only horsing around- Bahaha!"

"..You're ridiculous," she mutters, ducking her head to hide her smile. Laughter bubbles up to match his, but she swallows it back. She won't give him the satisfaction. Not when she already looks at him and thinks 'One day, I'd like to tell him everything.')

 

The parchment crinkles in her hands, warping the drawing. A weak chuckle is wrenched from her throat, then more, until she is doubled over laughing. She laughs and laughs and laughs until her knees buckle and she begins to wail.

Edited July 15, 2024 by ivery

[Wizry 1218]

An unlit pyre, once lit with the Radiant Flames, stood infront of the Pontiff's body in the Haenseti Church - a cultural warding from the Templar as the Pontiff shifted off to his Afterlife with Aeriel's assistance. Though, when it had come time to collect the body, the Wanderer had long since disappeared into the mountains to search for further Darkspawn in the pursuit of the Aengul of Courage's war.

 

Though the man never agreed with the Pontiff on many things - it was quite amusing how Brandt had proven one of the Templar's creeds correct in his death. The way a warrior dies is often more important than the way they chose to live. Though a brave man may experience a lifetime of glory and retire with a belly full of wine, legends are born through sacrifice.

 

Cathan hoped the man was remembered in a legend, vices and virtues orchestrated for the world to understand and learn from.

Edited July 15, 2024 by Wizry

[Nectorist 12869]

Father Davide remembers seeing Caius for the first time, back when he was simply helping his old friend Rigoberto run a tavern. Thinking fondly on that day, he prays for the late, great Pontiff that night and many more.

[Laeonathan 5889]

Anger and sadness gripped the one elf that was once-enemy of Caius, yet became a friend in his later years.

 

"Will the next Pontiff believe me, too?" He wondered then, his thoughts drifted off to the return of Iblees.

[DahStalker 3692]

Somewhere isolated, an elfess irrelevant to that notable vicar and in general toiled away. As the sun and its light overwhelmed her she took only a moment to exhale, recalling the hymns and bard songs sung about him. Lhoris glanced to a ring on her finger, providing a smile. “This is one of the good ones.” She spoke, shortly after returning to her work.  

[TheDrHedgehog 150]

Within the square of Leyu'Sil did Castamir sit, waiting. The young noble had written a letter to the Pontiff, awaiting his reply, a reply that little did he know, would never reach him. . .

 

"Sil Castamir!" A fellow guard called out.

 

The youth looked up to the soldier. "Speak diraar." He ordered, yet no words were spoken, only a missive was handed to him. The Cerusil, pious in nature, couldn't stop the streams of tears that trailed his grief, he had already lost so many people. Caius, for him, was a father figure to the mali'aheral, something he did not realise until his holiness had left the elven city. Caius, was a mentor for him, he had learnt much wisdom from the valah, wisdom that would stay with him for as long as he lived. . .

 

Grief gave space to wrath, albeit, a silent one.

 

The lich, this version of his uncle, Lanre Cerusil. For too long has it been a stain upon his family, a parasite that fed off it's pain, a calamity that was the cause of damage untold upon these lands. In that moment, within the raging ocean of Grief and Wrath, the battleship of Determination fought, Determination which he now swore to direct upon towards the accursed lich, it's sails will be Fury and it's canons Vengeance; Vengeance for the true Lanre Cerusil, Vengeance for his House's honor, and Vengeance to the martyr Caius the First.

 

Castamir Cerusil would not rest until the stain had been cleansed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[Apologies for the formating, I did not have the chance to write this post on my computer.]

Edited July 15, 2024 by TheDrHedgehog

[Toffee 2843]

Three months later, all the way across the high seas in the distant city of Fausten, a messenger arrives. He bears news for the Salvian Church—the High Pontiff in Aevos is dead, cut down and martyred. Word spreads through the city, from inns to churches to museums to markets. Caius Primus has ascended to the Seven Skies.

 

Adalfriede kneels in quiet reflection beside the reliquary of Saint Ottomar when the murmurs reach her in that quiet antechamber. It cannot be true, it cannot, yet the messenger finds her on the cathedral steps, the city a pulse all around her. It is undoubtedly his seal, the Spear of Minitz at the heart of it. Reading his familiar handwriting takes her to another time, another place, twenty years ago when her son was still in leading strings and the then-Brandt Cardinal Albarosa read his future in the skies with his great brass astrolabe. The Franklands spread far and wide around them, the city of Kanunsberg at its centre, that spear of Minitz and the pure white wings unfurling on many a banner. 

 

Such kind words he had for his great-grandson, and such wisdom. Yet that was only one side to the great man, he who was a Father to all.

 

"Keep your serpentine ways away from me, you harpy. Your innocence, fabricated from the depths of your mind may play onto Leon's ego, and calm his spirit, Princess. But I have beheld far more treacherous demons than you, I can tell a false-note from a true one. They do not call me the witch-hunter for nothing. I am no boy to wrap around your finger, you better remember that, the next time you lie to me."

 

"You do not know my wife, grandfather."

"I know her better than you. I've done my time in the Palace and Inquisiton both to tell a flattery from a truth. I may have no eye, but the good one does not miss a thing. You think I haven't noticed the stares? The way she plots? This may not be your first encounter with a blunt man, nor an honest one, my dear Princess. But this is the first time you have met an honest and blunt one. People have hurt you, and have prior abused your mistrust, that you refuse to open your heart. Let the past be the past. You were a vagrant, and now you are the Princess of Minitz, anointed with mine own hand. The palace rules do not apply to you anymore. Change."

 

He made her swear it on his Boomsteel mace, the mark of his office, placing two fingers on the mace, then her heart, then into the air.

 

So she changed. Slowly. Arduously.

 

Caius Primus is with the ancestors now. All the better to watch over Adalfriede, and ensure she keeps changing.

[Zemzy_Oakheart 347]

The news drifted along the streets in hushed whispers, carrying the missive to a certain pair of wooden elf eared librarian as Blume Herrlichkeit would pause a moment to find her close loyal subject through the years hand her the news through their beak. Taking a moment to read the information & process the data, she couldn't help but give a sigh of... rellief.

 

"It's about time you'd finally ended your reign of terror over the years, but.. I'm glad to see it was likely painless.... Perhaps.. we should visit the city after all these years.... Ruled with a just hand, my ass...."  Blume quietly mused at the lies that continued to be written about the man, even after all the years that had gone by & none had learned the lesson.

 

"It may not be home anymore, but at least your threat can't hurt me...." As she tucked the parchment away in a file to sort with the rest of the library's assortment for later, Blume would gather her things, as well as a small rock to carry with for the journey ahead.

[Demented_Delila 1248]

A templar elf closes her eyes as she leans out the window of her home in the city. . . The winds had changed. A new era had begun. And another Barclay of great renown had gone to the great thereafter. She hums an old drinking song that she recalled the first of those Green-and-Blue clothed boys singing so many years ago as she tends to the Reinmaren rose buds beginning to claw their way into bloom in the planting box.

 

"So long, Brandt."

 

And so that Templar Elf, a Baptized Owynist, goes for prayer in the Bastion Temple of the Saint King Caius in memory of the departed Pontiff. 

[MrMojoMordor 2413]

Bon'Ox, the one-armed Goblin sits behind his writing table. He really wishes he could cross his arms as he looks at the two pieces of parchment before him - one of them the missive of Pointiff's passing, the other an unsent letter, never to be answered.

 

He wished to ask the late Pointiff for help. To resolve the recent trouble's the goblin had found himself with Jean Cardinal St.Godwin & The Canonist church within Heartlands. Now, all Bon'Ox can do is hope the next pointiff will be as honorable & fearless as this one, placing both the missive & his letter to the side for later.

"Why is it that those Canonists who are TRULY  Honorable & Just, die so easily?  Is it because most of them are Sons of Horen? Then why did my own father die, and why did Krognag die so young - when they were Canonist & Son's of Krug? Was it because they had fulfilled their purpose in this realm? Did GOD require them to come to his aid and stand by him?" the goblin ponders to himself quietly.

He stand up & begins to go through the copies of the scrolls within his room - then the many Canonist thesis on his bookshelves, yet he finds no answer to his burning questions. 

The goblin stands up and goes to the monastery - asking one of the monks there to pray in his stead to GOD & to tell his own father in seven skies not to pull pranks on the Martyred Pointiff.

Edited July 15, 2024 by MrMojoMordor

[graveyard_bones 213]

Something akin to pity forms within Alaric's mind - this isn't a joyous death, yet it's not quite sad either. He shuts his eyes, intertwining his fingers as he clasps his hands together; he isn't religious, but he prays. 

 

He merely wishes that - within the Pontiff's life - he could have disproved the holy man's words, that he will not go back towards the darkness.

 

Alas, he will use that redemption 'til his last breath and hold it closer than anything else imaginable.