Upon A Pale Horse

[TheOnlyTub 550]

 

In the Name of Incariel

 

 

Lord of Pestilence, Herald of Plagues

 

 

Lo! Unto the Haenseti of Karoslund

I am Incariel, Herald of Plagues

 

Yet now I come to herald the doom of you, Oathbreakers. This is what your kinsmen in the south have named you. I hear their pleas the loudest amongst those that pray for your demise. You forsook the lands of your forefathers and fled to the arms of the northmen you have spent generations fighting against. The spirit of the Haenseti no longer exists. It died with your honor when ink hit paper on the treaty signed.

 

Already my blessings are at work, purging your people from this world. My plagues have begun to spread amongst your “Karoslund” so that the process of cleaning this world of your infection may begin. It pains me to no end to sentence the good amongst you to die, and so I offer this deal, but only once: Bring me the most deceitful amongst you. I name Louna Marie van Leuven and Matteo van Leuven, Dszamila Korvacz and Stephan Korvacz, Petyr Weiss, and finally the citizen Joren.

 

Should their lives not be given to me or one of my agents upon this plane I will have no choice but to unleash greater illness amongst you, and begin the true assault upon your meager settlement. You have one Saint’s Day to decide your fate.

 

 

Spoiler

OOC:
First attack will be after 12pm CST on 5/18.... but I'm not gonna give you the exact date and time.... mwhahahahahahahahaha

 

Hello to those interested enough to read this! This isn't like a sanctioned ST eventline or anything, just something I wanted to do as a player. Shoot me a DM at sailors. on discord, or msg me ingame at TheOnlyTub if have any questions or if you're interested in trying to interact with this in any way. ESPECIALLY DM ME if you want to be an evil fellow and help me out with this! Other than that I hope everyone has fun and I hope this turns out to be enjoyable for you folks and a great way to kick off the summer!

 

[prophetisms 982]

ㅤDszamila stared at her name upon the missive, and her husband’s too. To be called an oathbreaker when she upheld her duty, to its end, meant little. To be called deceitful when she always spoke true, meant little. To be named as a source of suffering and a chip for barter, made her simmer in her seat. 

 

ㅤ“Drivel,” uttered the Raev. Were it anyone else, Dszamila would not have reason to draw her blade. Perhaps, instead, her blade would find a liar’s skull before another fell ill.

[sarahbarah 7105]

Spoiler

 

 

The Matriarch of House Barbanov-Bihar did not flinch as the flames consumed the parchment she once bore, its edges curling like withered leaves caught in winter's grasp. Her eyes, aglow with reflected fire, lifted to meet the skies above, unmoved and unbroken.

 

"You speak of oaths as though they were shackles, and of honor as if it were some brittle thing to be shattered by a single stroke of ink. But you -- you -- know nothing of the burdens we bore, nor the blood spilled for the soil beneath our boots."

 

"We did not flee. We endured. We did not forget. We remembered all too well."

 

"Come, then," the Hesir had written, putting ink to parchment. "Herald our doom. You'll find that we do not fear the end -- only the silence of Southerners who would watch others bleed while they huddle within walls of ivory and sing of glories past."

 

"We do not tremble beneath the weight of judgment borne from mouths that never tasted ash."

 

[psychra_notte 618]

The elder Raev's pale, stormy eyes stared upon the missive, to the names of his granddaughter and her husband. A rage shimmered upon his visage and the frosty mist which trailed Alekszej surrounded him like a torrent of ice and snow, a ferocious blizzard. He looked on in silent rage and carefully thought over each part of the missive until he spoke, "A fool, yet new prey. It is time for a hunt." 

 

With that, he wandered off to plan and prepare for the conflict that would arise from such a threat to his kin.

[Frawlic 1602]

"Haeseni, it's Haeseni," the muttering escaped Dima as she reviewed the missive, tucking it away for later presentation. This is why they couldn't have nice things.

[Terry 2680]

The Kossin i ve Karoshird, Ser Sigmar,  gazed to the missive with a shake of his head. A glance was spared to his Marian armor, then back to the missive, fingers gripping the paper as he read the names of his daughter, son-in-law, niece and last but not least, his Exilic Koeng.

 

"More useless energy wasted, telling us that which we have heard many a time already and willingly choose to deny. If it is an assault they wish to release upon the Karoslund, let them come. We will be ready."

 

And so, for what may be the last time the Kossin suits up, does he, moving out of his abode to patrol the village for any that may wish harm upon his fellow denizens.

[RingAroundRosey 498]

The doe stands watch, fawns running about the wilds. They do not know the rage or grief of their mother because she did not allow it to seep through.

 

Her husband told her just to drop it, that there was no use in investigating after they learned the truth of his disease. His face left scarred, an eye that could never be cured. But that old rage, the rage that lit when they first were called 'oath breakers'. The same rage when her home was taken, when her sister never turned back.

 

"One day, Man will learn the consequence of playing God." 

[PeachLova 585]

 

[!] 

For all of Karosland to see, a missive is pinned to the village board. Visible to everyone within its walls and to every traveler passing through.

꒰ ♱ ⊱─────────⊰ --- ⊱─────────⊰ ♱ ꒱

To the self-proclaimed herald, whose "blessings" reek of nothing but cowardice,

 

You write of self-importance, yet it is you who scrawls hollow words. You speak of "Oathbreakers" to me. And claim yourself one of virtue? Of which is a concept I wager a child like yourself, scrabbling for a mere mirror of power, could never grasp. We forsook nothing; we sacrificed for the betterment of our future. You are the little worm, daring to peek its head from the dirt, living in constant fear that the crow will pluck you up and feed you to its kin as a stark reminder to you, of your utter insignificance.

 

The spirit of the Haenseti, you claim, is dead? Look closer, fool. It burns brighter than ever in the hearts of those who endured, adapted, and refused to break. It lives in every soul who chose the hard path of survival in Karoslund over the easy grave your "forefathers" were digging.

 

And now, after unleashing your indiscriminate plagues upon my people, you dare to demand a sacrifice. My own child. As a recompense? You dare ask this?

 

Let me clarify: To threaten my own is to place yourself entirely at my mercy. You will not have them.

 

For I will find you, and I will hunt you. You will be found whether you hide behind your pestilence or skulk within your armies. And there is not a single thing you can do to prevent it.

 

But do not mistake me. When I stand before you, I will grant you a kindness you have not shown my child, a mercy you deny every innocent soul your plagues have touched.

 

So prepare yourself. The hunt has begun.

 

꒰ ♱ ⊱─────────⊰ --- ⊱─────────⊰ ♱ ꒱

Yours, 

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖗𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊