[PK] The Death of Vukosav

[TheCaptain 639]

[!] Clasped to the back of midnight black bat, a message of crimson, bestowed upon those of a lineage of red [!]

"The blood is the life, and it shall flow eternal."

 

For centuries, I have tread the vast planes of this world. I have borne witness to the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of nations, and the decay of cities. I have watched as the gentlest waters sculpted stone as if it were clay, and I have seen tempests rage, reshaping the land as a blacksmith forges iron in the fires of war. The greed of dwarves, the fury of men, the wrath of orcs, and the treachery of elves—I have seen them all lust to the varied truths they clung to: honor, wealth, justice, divinity. Yet all were laid bare before the might of one singular word, one offer.

This is the gift I bestowed, the essence of my bloodline. I am the father, the brother, one of the Firstborn, the eldest, the king and count, the sanctified macabre saint of the sanguine. I am the Unholy ser Vukosav Radomavic the Black, knighted by the final pope before the fall of Oren. To all who crossed my path, I offered a life of sin and boundless indulgence, a chance to live for eternity. Many a pious soul fell to their knees before me as I led my kin through golden ages. We feasted in grand castle halls, drenched in the blood of our prey, hunted with no remorse, no regret, no fear—for we were eternal.

 

And now I rest, fallen, for I dared to stare into the abyss of death itself. I, Vukosav, met its gaze and perished with honor. I did not cower like the mongrels our kind is often known to be, nor did I bow my head in fear like the Greaters we were meant to serve. I died as a true Vampire, a creature born of absolute freedom. A fate I crafted of my own actions.

 

For my deeds, I now drift in an endless void, and I feel... at peace. The sorrow that once tore at my heart is lifted—the pain of lost love, my wife; the blood of the fallen, my children; those I left behind—friends, family. All burdens have been shed. I am formless, adrift in eternal bliss. God did not claim me, for I was wretched. The spirits did not beckon, for it was not my fate. And Drazhana, the vile demon to whom I once sold my soul, could not bind me, for I am free.

 

The Age of Vukosav is no more.

The Era of the Radomavic bloodline begins.

 

And so, to those I leave behind, do not mourn my passing, do not let your tears nourish the earth. Instead, rejoice. Rejoice in what I have bestowed upon you—true freedom, eternal life, and the breath of existence itself. When the hour is ripe, when you are prepared…

 

 

 

 

Edited August 8, 2024 by TheCaptain
removed metagamey info

[_NotChris 278]

Spoiler

Nice post, I like the formatting.

 

[Lapidary 494]

It always comes when least expected. Over the years, the passing of so many had left him nearly numb, and yet- This time, it was different. It was family.

Florian could feel the ache that wormed its way deep into his chest. He had waited decades for his return, spoken to him only for a day, and in such little time like a flourish he was gone. Vukosav, the very reason for his stand, the guiding hand that led him to all he now held dear. 

But he would not cry. It is with honor that his father had passed, it was with pride he held his head, and too would he seek to further that legacy. The bloodline of Radomavic would not cease here, rather it rolled pure throughout his veins. A fist was clenched, then pressed firmly to his chest. 

"Memento mori." That which separates us from the binds of the silit, and the sufferings of man. Inevitable, yet postponed to live a life of greatness. None had lived greater in his eyes, than Vukosav. This ending was a good one, despite its grief, that he knew. ". .Goodbye."

[Zonty 994]

In a dark cradle of night and soft beams of the moon, she sat atop an escarpment. Afar of busy realms, in the wilderness, she leered down unto a valley. Clad strangely: in unstained tourniquets and a violet cloak that flapped to the whimsical gales, she held one such a missive in her grasp. Her visage was obscured, and yet a shroud of silence was heavy upon her.

 

Morose.
 

"You lost a battle, but not dignity. You met your peril, but not thraldom. Nor servitude. Nor slavery."
 

She lulled her own despondency. 
 

"Unclipped. Unchained. Unbridled."
 

Her wrist flicked, and the parchment was loosed to the ire of winds that frivolously borne it away.

 

"Rest. You have earned it.”

 

 

 

[NLThomas 1225]

Spoiler

Death of a legend. The Count will live on in minds and hearts.

 

[Morigung-oog 5697]

Far off in a distant land, the judge of an ever-expanding faith reflected upon their actions that day. Watching a sworn foe pass peacefully into death filled them with envy. Stacks of ancient scrolls sat in a heap beside them, telling of ancient battles long since concluded, and ones that still endured to this very minute. 

 

"Many will argue he was undeserving of mercy, yet still, it was granted. This is why we fight. May he atone in death as as he failed to in life."

[Moonish_Imp 208]

A man. A Monster. A friend.

Akemi poured a bottle of sake on the ground; one of her last.