Until the End [PK]

[Javert 9615]

 

UNTIL THE END

 

 

---

 

TWAS CHAOTIC ENOUGH ALREADY.

 

A POLTERGEIST had already wreaked havoc within the Holy See, delivering naught but stress to those who had encountered it. Once such had been handled, it took only a matter of minutes for Thorin’s day to become considerably worse. A letter, sent by his son Allerick’s friend Sabrina, frantically told of a Haeseni arrival within his home city of Earosgrad in Ravenmire. Thorin at once had began to try and muster those within Lemon Hill to organize, even momentarily sallying out to Grense to ring their bell.

 

Yet, Thorin quickly learned that such efforts were futile. In a matter of minutes, Lemon Hill was swarmed by an army of Haeseni raiders. Within moments, they had surrounded both Thorin and the scattered few who lingered in Lemon Hill’s courtyard.

 

“Surrender!” they demanded of him, weapons drawn and armor fastened.

 

There was a pause, perhaps even hesitation from the Prince. His thoughts dwelled to his family - His wife, his daughters, his sons… He wanted to live. Not for himself, but for them. To go home to them. Yet, as Thorin looked around at the dozen Haeseni soldiers which surrounded him, he knew that flight was no option. It never truly had been.

 

“The Blood of the Raven does not cower.”

 

It was a short but fierce fight. The Prince swung as hard as he could at the crowd around him, clanging against armor and parrying what blows he could. He fought for what felt like hours, but in truth were mere seconds. Alas, Thorin was overwhelmed and subdued by the foes who outnumbered him so greatly. The Ravenmirian was then bound by his hands, sat upon a Haeseni horse, and brought along with the Haeseni army as a spoil of war to be at their mercy.

 

In the post-fight clarity with his adrenaline slowly seeping from his veins, Thorin could do naught but think of his family. His friends. How many of his friends had been ripped from him by war - HENRY OWYN HAVERLOCK, whom he had considered a brother before he perished in the Vinovian war - JOHN II, whom he had been forced to turn away from at the outbreak of the war. 

 

He had little time to think once they dragged him into the white-walled keep of House Ivanovich. Thorin gazed upon the chopping block, prepared to receive the Rostova in his final moments. Hauled before the chopping block, Thorin was bid to speak his final words.

 

“Hmh,” Thorin paused for a moment. Again, his thoughts dwelled to his family - His wife ISABEL, his Sons and Daughters; OWYN, ALYSANNA, ALLERICK, COSIMA, ALICENT, BO, and IZZY JR. He wished he could see them now, speak to them, tell him how much he loved each of them so dearly, how he wished to see them grow up, get married, have families of their own, find their purposes in life…but alas, they were far from where he was now, and soon he would be in a new realm entirely.

 

“I only regret that I had not done more to stop this war before it began. I blame naught the lot of you for doing your duties. May my death be swift.”

 

The Prince then rested his neck against the chopping block, whispered a small prayer to himself, and made his peace with his maker.

 

---

 

[EmiliainWonderland 2309]

"I will show no mercy to those who stole my husband, as they showed no mercy to him. Every man, woman, child who crosses my path on the other side of the war will die by my hand. Mercy was lost the moment you chose to kill my husband and leave me a widow." Isabel kept a strong face but inside she was crumbling. She'd find her way to a line of cocaine and nothing but destruction soon. "I pray they will feel the same agony that I feel, that my children feel. If I must die for this cause, then I will join my husband happily, but I refuse to go down without a fight." 

 

Isabel would never love another as much as she loved Thorin. The most unlikely man for her to fall in love with, but it just made sense. A commoner who had fallen for a prince and the prince who loved her in return. She recalled every moment with him, every word shared between them. Love, promises. The two of them seldom argued and even when they did, they talked it out and refused to hold onto animosity between one another. They'd fought together, had seven children together and spent 20 years with each other in matrimony. There would never be another like him, no one as smart, no one who would make her laugh like he did and she'd remember that forever, for however long she'd outlive him. Now she would simply lead her children towards success, as much as she could until finally she would meet him again in the Seven Skies. There would time to cry, time to grieve... but for now, she would fight. Fight until there was nothing left within her.

[HIGH_FIRE 5490]

Jiri cleaned his blade of the blood that stained it during the railings of the day. As he did so he thought of the Prince, a man who actually stood and fought where many wouldn’t have at all. A man who kept true to his word and his oaths. A good man. Perhaps war could come to a close soon so good men would not have to die.

[Tornaedo 1249]

(( Genuinely all I am saying. Respect for actually PKing)

[Phoebe202 1057]

Alicent's wails haunted the city of Earosburg through the following nights, her weeping echoing the sentiments of the Ravenmirian people as they mourned for their beloved prince.

[ratlordmagic 1484]

Within Portoregne, Miroslaw Jazlowiecki lit a candle for the slain prince. Though he had been an enemy, he was a worthy one, and one of the precious few men of honor backing the Curia. While joining in the celebration of the victory, he could not help shake the feeling that this war was about to become much more brutal than before.

[Jihnyny 5233]

 

"I wished not to partake in this war; but they attacked my home."

Louis said, donning his armour with a great-sword slung atop his back.

"As my allies taste my wine; they will taste my sword."

[Navigator 4260]

A harrowing cry echoed in the palace as news reached the Squire of the slain Prince. He wouldn't sleep for the coming weeks. 

 

But there would be revenge. Even if he had to strap a sword to the stump of his decepated hand, there would be revenge.

[Based1Salmon 758]

Holy Ser Peter sits in his study, surrounded by captured banners, copies of the scrolls, and other prizes from his many victories, though feeling none of the pride he once had, the trinkets and trophies meaningless amidst this great lost, Prince Thorin, his long time friend and the man who had shown him kindness and trust  when he was but a refugee, clinging to a fallen nation, was gone. Peter looks to an empty spot on his wall, directly across, marking the spot for a mural of his fallen friend, to hang right next to that of his fallen Brother. 

 

Peter then takes a stroll through the quiet halls of his keep, the sound of his newborn daughter crying ringing on hollow ears as his wife and servants meant to answer it. Found himself holding  a candle, walking into the great crypts of Oakenwald, and placing the candle at his shrine to Saint Lucien. First the Darkspawn had taken his brother, now the Heretics had taken his friend. Peter donned the white tabard of the Grail, the Rhodesian cross shone like blood, mounting his steed and riding out of the gates, knocking over bystanders in his haste, heading directly to Eredmar, and Allerick. Thorin's son would have revenge, Peter would settle for blood.

[HeyitsNano 1582]

Owyn Demitrey Rostova, eldest son of Thorin, came upon the weeping gates of Ravenmire. His siblings silence cracked before him, and they reached for him though he was still yet clueless. As he was told, his heart crumbled and banged harshly against his chest. This was the man that taught him everything he ever knew, who taught him devotion to the people of Ravenmire, who taught him love. His mind reeled back to the last conversation they shared, his father's quiet yearning to have more time with Owyn and their family. 

 

"We will not rest until we crush every single last one of them. I promise you, father."

 

 

[BlauRps 545]

The aging Alchemist, Joseph von Berkhoven, would become wide-eyed and in shock upon hearing the news that his great-nephew-in-law had been slain as an informant came into his shop “This war will only bring suffering upon friend and family alike…” He spoke before sitting down at his desk and goes deep into thought.

All he could think about was his family…

——————————————————————————

As he looked up to the stars above, The Dawnservant, would sigh once he heard the news of Prince Thorin’s passing there was only one thing he could say…

”Another life yet lost in this worthless war…”

He would say before donning his helmet once more and ventured once more on road.

——————————————————————————

Somewhere far away from Aevos, Dion Thibault, leaned into a gestured hand who told him of what had occurred upon the equally distant realm before he spat his wine and stood up once the words of Prince Thorin’s death fell upon his short pointed ears…

”The Haensers did what now?!” He exclaimed before looking over to his older brother, Alaimme Thibault (@Digit_005) ”Did you hear what I just heard, Brother?!”

[Bethinwonderland 2213]

Valencia had been handed the missive by a member of the palace staff. She opened it, thinking it would be yet another boring missive, but the words she saw made a deep frown cross her features. Delicate hands folded the missive into fourths, and the parchment lowered into her vanity as she sat with her thoughts on the matter. Her left hand covered her lower face as her eyes glanced at several earrings that were made from some of the diamonds he had given her all those years ago. She uttered, "You always were a prideful man."

Thoughts of their younger selves flooded her mind. What a good dancer he had been, and how much he liked to talk of his home and the people that resided there. How he had made such a lasting impression on her and at the time, she hadn't a clue. How she regretted the way things between them had gone. How different their lives would have been had she not listened to the what she thought were sound voices.. All of whom were now deceased.. She'd have certainly been better off, or so the "what ifs" in her head told her.. How he thought she wanted to kill him and how deeply that had hurt her back then and how that conflicted had shown her how little she mattered to those in her home life.. There was no changing the past, only accepting the decisions made, learning from them, and moving past them.

She picked up a quill and started to draft a missive
"Dearest Isabel, words can not describe how sorry I am for your loss-"
 

Spoiler

Full letter will be sent in game to Emi.
Thorin was a fanastic character and we'll not see another like him for a long time. Great work Javvy, enjoy whoever takes his slot

 

[Andustar 4143]

News of Thorin Rostova's death travelled far and wide, swiftly. It would not be long until it reached the ears of the King of Balian, John II. He could not believe it - he would not believe it! By what cruel twist of fate did a good man have to die?! Such thoughts pounded the monarch's mind like an infernal bell of judgement, and the rage he so often sought to restrain sprang forth, untamed and boundless. "RRAAAAGGGHHHH!!!" His hands sought the closest object, and he paid no mind to its worth as he hurled it unto a solid marble pillar.

How could he justify this? Not merely the death of a good man, but one he had once called brother...

 

John sank to his knees and wept softly.
 

[DeadraSlayer 419]

35 minutes ago, BlauRps said:

The aging Alchemist, Joseph von Berkhoven, would become wide-eyed and in shock upon hearing the news that his great-nephew-in-law had been slain as an informant came into his shop “This war will only bring suffering upon friend and family alike…” He spoke before sitting down at his desk and goes deep into thought.

All he could think about was his family…

——————————————————————————

As he looked up to the stars above, The Dawnservant, would sigh once he heard the news of Prince Thorin’s passing there was only one thing he could say…

”Another life yet lost in this worthless war…”

He would say before donning his helmet once more and ventured once more on road.

——————————————————————————

Somewhere far away from Aevos, Dion Thibault, leaned into a gestured hand who told him of what had occurred upon the equally distant realm before he spat his wine and stood up once the words of Prince Thorin’s death fell upon his short pointed ears…

”The Haensers did what now?!” He exclaimed before looking over to his older brother, Alaimme Thibault (@Digit_005) ”Did you hear what I just heard, Brother?!”

Spoiler

Shapes and colors

 

[Tk4522 504]

There were no words.

 

[!] Upon receiving the news, Uku could only weep. Another member of her found family perishing in this war.

 

How many were to fall...  

 

Who would be next...

 

Why couldn't she do anything to stop it... 

 

The fe-uruk cried, though only in private. She'd hate for anyone to see her like this. Through her sobs, a familiar was vocalized upon a cracked voice.

 

"Oh Danny boy... the pipes ... the pipes are calling..."