The end of a cycle [PK]

[Zakajaervi 259]

 

- Alright, I know my latest post was a leaving-post, but during christmas time i had some days off, and I thought I might as well PK my persona. So here it is, I greatly appreciate anyone reading this I put some effort into it. There are names I may have forgotten, there are names I certainly choose not to include. So here it is, Abrahams story summarized.  / Z

 

 

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The Death of Sir Abraham the Spellblade, AKA Adrian Obediah

 

 

 

Just like any Obediah, the life of Adrian was not completely in the light, nor completely swallowed by the dark. He entered Haense, in a world his ancestors had both shaped roads and destroyed them. In a world where the tales he grew up being told, was written all around him. 

 

A particular name amongst many others he did remember from his fathers tales, “Othaman.” Their families had once long ago fought in the late empire. And so it was that the world had its consistent way of making history repeat itself. 

 

Sofiya Othaman. It was not only she who brought him into the BSK but it was also her that he began to admire. To love. She brought him onto a road he intended to use to wander away from the un-life his ancestors were a part of. Though learning the woman he wanted had a deceased brother Karl she wished to speak to again, a terrible idea was born. As was a vampire. And the following years, Adrian helped her seek tools he knew would destroy her. Petyr Weiss was amongst the wisest to have crossed roads with Adrian, for he understood that Adrian was a danger to her. That his love was sure to be damaging. What Adrian knew she wanted more than anything was soon to damn her. And when he realized the damage he had done, his mind began to break. So, he ran. 

 

Thus, Abraham Fjelstedt was born. A new chance, a new life, a new identity. Some people knew Adrian, way more knew Abraham, but very few knew the both of them were the same person. He was now Man, Vampire, and Scion. A limb set in three different worlds. His road lead him to a newborn empire.

 

He was a fool to assume he could surpass the Scions plague upon the mind. He did not realize it, but the boon of being a spellblade had split his mind to two. When he was not Abraham, he was the vampire he didn’t yet know he could cure. A vampire which spread its madness into the empire that the man, Abraham, was fighting to rid from dark-kind. It took a long time for him to see what was happening around him, to notice that the unholy commotion he was ordered to root out was birthed from himself. Khel’Ahern. A perfect parasite of his own making. 

Below the surface, Adrian the Vampire was making friends with powerful dark forces. He was once recruited as a tool for the white haired woman who did make him into a scion. The adrian that the empire did not know was becoming more unstable by the day. The white haired Anair knew he was beyond controll and order, even for her.

 

 

"He is no man. He is death and destruction."

 

 

Above the surface, Abraham sought to follow the footsteps of his Grandfather, Solomon Obediah, whom was knight in the Swints Guard of Oren. He was doubtful, being a Scion, but he sought to make his case either way. Nobody took him seriously, hearing about what made him unique. What made Abraham unlike the common warrior. He thought the someone who would see value to his uniqueness did not exist. So he thought. Thus, he met his first mentor.

 

“Interesting,” - “The Imperial Guard is not a bad place to start, and can easily be a open door to better things.” - “Tell me why should I train you?” The grey eyes of the Knight would rest on the form of Abraham, “What would be in it for me? If you are not of his Imperial Majesty's levy.”  

 

It was Sir Arn Honeywine.

 

 

Stood in front of the great Sir Honeywine he did make his case, and he made it good. Where Abraham saw hope, the knight-commander saw potential. And so his path to knighthood began. Ironically, one of the quests onto the knighthood Abraham was seeking was to convince his emperor, and his knightly commanders that he was free of any plaguing in his mind. He had convinced himself, and so he did convince them too. “You are an enigma” The knight-commander was not wrong. A knight, with his face often shrouded, was a knight shrouded in mystery. 

 

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Following his knighthood, he was living at the peak of his bright life along with his comrades.  He married into the house Winburgh aswell. Illatiae Winburgh, whom he met whilst dueling his comrades in the army which was also a part of his quest. The love of Abrahams life. The upside to his life, where he believed he was fighting for the right reasons with the right people. Redgar, Severin, Sirius, Martius, Carolus, Vaughn, Honeywine, and so on. If it was against the mountain, other dark forces, the enemies of the empire of man were his enemy also. 

 

In combination with being surrounded by wise people, and under constant orders to keep the empire clean, Sir Abraham later realized one of the greatest enemies he was looking for, the one who had birthed Khel’Ahern and spread malice was himself. If he was not losing his mind before, he lost it now, and he set out a plan. He was going to end his madness by ending himself, he knew he had no way out, and soon his cursed blood was sure to be exposed. He had a letter written to his peers stating how he was killed by the mountain forces, but he learnt in time that he could be cured. Victor Rorin carved him the beginning of a path to redemption. 

 

After the mountain had been fought, and the empire had risen again in the new world, Sir Abraham would disappear. For the peak of his duties had been fulfilled with the mountain, he reminisced of all the things he had done, of the people he had wronged. He was sure to go to hell, he was sure to be damned. So he knew he had to die. 

 

Even if it would not make a good purchase to the skies, he had to apologise. He could not set in for eternal rest until he had apologised. Only then would he end his own life. So, he sought out to speak to a friend of a woman he had wronged long ago, Yeliza, who he knew was still around in Norland, but in search of her, he found Petyr Weiss. Not only family to Sofiya, but the father of her children. Someone who hated Adrian. Perhaps he didn’t need to take his own life, or so he thought. Although he may not have been forgiven, Petyr had been a better man and moved on. Accepted things. He denied Adrian's plead to end his life, much to his surprise. 

 

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Something about those words stuck with him. Do not take some coward's way out, Adrian.

 

So he made a new plan. To tell everything, everything to his mentor, so that he may report for execution for his crimes. But before he had the chance to speak to him, the empire was under attack by Eidolons. Two pale knights, and a pale lord. 

The spellblades eyes would shimmer, the voidal energy roaring in his eyes. Let’s give this one more go. Joining the fight against the dark golems were none other than his mentor honeywine, his brother in-law Larkin and his nephew Viktoriya amongst other brave warriors who rode in to save Alba. 

 

Deadbreath and brittle stone clashed against the warriors that day. Sir Abraham, whom was now old, was at the beginning of the fight way too focused on the enemy, rather than those he was fighting with. Before it was almost too late, he watched as his mentor was about to be felled by two dark golems. In that moment, he realized what he had to do. 

 

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Perhaps it was dying will, bleeding, oozing, he stood to his feet after that blow and kept fighting. Using his spellblade powers to both shatter stone off of his enemy, but also to help his wounded brother to safety. Once, surging energy into his mentor whom was very close to dying, bleeding as much as himself. 

 

When the menhir stone of his enemies had finally stopped moving, and started to crumble and dry, the aftermath was not pretty, but he was satisfied. He had helped his brother and his daughter to the clinic, kept his mentor battling just a little longer. Perhaps if he was not there that day, the outcome would have been different. He had fought his final battle, not a worlds care for himself. His faceplate had been shattered in half. Bleeding from a cracked skull, from a thrashed stomach.

Adrian started to hear his mother call him home.

 

“Where is honeywine?” 

 

Bleeding and stumbling steps on the clinic floor, up to the surgeons chambers. 

 

“He shall live?” He asks, looking at the unconscious Knight-Commander. 

 

“He shall.” 

 

Abraham knew that his own bleeding had reached a point of no return, but he didn’t notice. He did not care to. At that moment, Honeywine was his mission.  He sat down after a long while of staying on his old feet. 

 

 

 

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"Abraham?" said Larkin. 

 

 

 

 

The end. 

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That'll be it for good ol' Adrian / Abraham, 
Back to retiring!
Ta, 
- Zakajaervi

 

 

[Cryptic 549]

The Eidolan Samurai returned to his domain, bathing in the ectoplasm pool as if recovering from his previous bout. A searing pain could still be felt from the stony shoulders and back of Shuten-doji. Perplexed by its effect, he wondered who or what could have dealt such damage to him. Little did he know, it was Sir Abaraham's flames who were responsible for this scorching chip of his body. With that, he simply cleaned his odachi with his forearm, ready to haunt more souls across Azuras.

 

Spoiler

It was great having you in the RP, I hope you had fun!

 

[VolcanicGoat 299]

The Primarch raised from within his throne once more, but he did not triumph, he sat there, defeated, contemplating "..Such power.. ..what could've possibly made me, the Lord of Stone.. ..fall and crumble.." but those responsible knew... that the might of Sir Abraham was decisive within this conflict. He fell as a protector, a legend and a force to be recognized with, especially within the dark circles of the mystical Synod. May he rest in peace. 

 

[OOC Note: Thank you for this battle, it was amazing and huge respect from myself to you, gg's]

 

[najtik 183]

Dame Céstariel stood in still silence beside the quiet grave. No words. Just the hush of wind combing through her cloak.
 

She hadn’t spoken Adrian’s name in some time, not the real one. Not the one she'd found caged beneath layers of armor, duty, lies, and burdens he carried like chains. In life, he'd been fractured: devout, unwell, loyal, treacherous. Human. And yet, beneath all the rot and ruin, there had been a man. A man who looked back, questioned himself, bled for others, and in the end, tried to choose redemption.
 

She remembered the day she handed him over to Anaire. How she'd watched him walk away without knowing if he’d become a monster... or another broken tool in someone else’s war.

But in the end, Adrian made his own choice.

 

Céstariel lowered her head.

 

“Adrian Obediah” she said quietly. Then she turned, and left nothing behind but footprints.

[Werew0lf 24179]

The Emperor's hand clutched a small flask brewed with medicine--taking a quick swig, the distant sound of footsteps caused Hadrian to immediately cover the bottle under his jacket. 

 

A knight-squire entered the room, helm brushed beneath her arm-pit. "Your Imperial Majesty," she spoke solemnly. 

 

"Hm?" His singular eye shifted towards the squire, a faint smile placated his features, but evidently, it was drawn on; a false representation of joy.

 

"Sir Abraham has fallen in battle," the squire's eyes flinched, was it sorrow, or the fear of his reaction?

 

As quickly as his smile began, it promptly dropped to reveal his true emotions; his lips shrivelled, his veins prod from across his forehead, and his teeth tightened. ". . ."

 

"Thank you for informing me, you are dismissed," The Emperor sway his hand; the squire did not wait any further, sprinting out from the room and closing the door behind her.

 

Dipping his quill into a pot of ink, Hadrian brought forth a new parchment from his pile of hundreds, and started to write a letter addressed to someone. 

 

[Arianthe22 242]

 

News of another death reached Thalis on her sick bed, and though it took her a moment, she remembered the knight who had visited her in Haelun’or. Though short, her acquaintance with Abraham had been an interesting one and though she held no love for imperials, this one she would mourn, for he was in his heart a good man.

 

 

---

 

One had to wonder, if the monster was alive what would he say for the death of his "friend", his enemy, his creator, his obsession. On that fateful day under the Alban bridge, Abraham had granted Khel’ahern more than just a gift. The man had granted the elf that which he sought most. An affirmation that he was a beast. An excuse for him to deserve to be hunted and killed. To end the curse which was eternity. An end to the rot within his heart and mind.

Another human to love among the many bound for death, another curse laid upon many. 

Would Khel’ahern mourn the death of Obediah? Would he cheer and laugh? Would he even care to think about the man when their paths had split long before either passed?

But this world didn’t hold Khel’ahern anymore, the parasite purged by fire long before its creator was felled by bloodloss.

And though the elf had not been a good man, he died with no parasites of his own. It was indeed the end of a circle.

 

[SimonItorp 124]

Late, did the news at last arrive in the chambers of an Archmage Scion, Isaac Obediah-Daystar. 

The man did not weep, but he lit a candle for the fallen man. He was family, and now, alone was the Scion once again in a world where all family of his had met their end -- yet he remains.

 

"May you rest well, Obediah. It is well-earned, and you, like your predecessors, shall enjoy it. This, I know for certain. I wish I had been present more," did the man mutter, watching the flame of the candle flick against the wick as it liquified the wax beneath it. He dips his head, in respect, and mourning of the fallen Spellblade and legendary fighter -- fellow member of House Obediah.