A Hounds Passing [PK]

[Monster_Duck 365]

The young lordling Marwin van Aert woke to find many messengers saddling up to deliver grim news across the realm. He ambled through the many hallways of his home towards the armory hoping to join them. The Blackvale youngling imagined at more than a couple of the stops he might see cousins or friends near his age. He thought back to when his brother Martijn and him had sat along the steep grassy slope of Zwarsteen watching imperials charge down a ragtag group of dwarves and uruks alike, the gleaming blade of his uncle seen right at the center of the fray. He remembered how earlier that day, he had ridden on the back or his uncle Carolus' horse into Beleth, and upon returning Martius had given him a gleaming set of armor, a few sizes too big; so such escapades would be safer for his nephew. Upon reaching the armory, he donned his gambeson first, and realized something: the full suit of armor now fit, perfectly. Perhaps no foe feared this Blackvale pup yet, but that in no way stopped his ceaseless daydreaming on the walk to the stables fueled by tales from generations of mighty warriors, captain-generals, and princes. In time he would grow to be a hound in his own right.

[_RoyalCrafter_ 5285]

The Count of Whitewood prayed for the safe passage of the Prince's soul tothe seven skies

[truelarper 593]

Ser Gedeon remembered the young noble on the great bridge, before buildings shadowed its road. He remembered the words shared onto him, and he remembered his destined path set.

[Random 1690]

The Chains which would eventually lower his coffin rattled loudly. Though most of them had escaped a swift demise, all would fall the same, sooner or later - the mark of death never faded, no matter how far they ran, rode or sailed.

 

Spoiler

Probably one of my favourite regulars to interact with during Aevos’s northern antag. Quite the comedic death, too. 

 

[ibraheemc2000 2965]

A knock came quietly at the door in the night, Sir Zubayr 'The Sandsworn' opened the door to find one of his Tribal Men at Arms with a letter, remounting his dune rider and rode off. The Knight's eyes squinted to the letter as he made his way toward the roaring fireplace for the light as he opened it, and propped his back against the brick side of the fireplace. His weary eyes scanned the contents of the letter causing the Knight to slink slowly to the floor, a knee propped to his chest as the weight of the news hefted like a Warhammer to his chest.

He hung his head in silence as he felt the painful throb of a heart in his throat that caused a waft of emotions to surge and cause the Old Apprentice to break into a silent shedding of his tears; Martius had been his Mentor, The one whom squired him, taught him, and been like a father to him. It was this Man who was among the first to treat the Qalasheen Knight with any form of dignity in The Empire, and had been the catalyst of his life within the Empire.

He thought only but a few weeks ago he had spoken to the Knight, and thought of Sir Martius's final request to Sir Zubayr. It caused the Knight to shed what bitter composure he had left into a soft sob, daring not to wake his wife and child. "You have left a very difficult and honorable path to follow, Oh Martius, I fear The Order will not ever recover from your loss." He'd say after hearing the cruel fate of his mentor, denied the path of Martyerdom.

 

Sir Zubayr would set it in his heart, to make a visitation to Sir Martius's grave with his children, so that they may know what Good men that had existed and made their future life possible within the Empire.

[Tide1 4535]

"One of my first. And one of the last. Rest easy now, nephew. You have done what was bid of you and so much more. So it shall be writ within the tome of heroes."

As much said the old Emperor, though lamented in private to greater lengths the loss of his relative and, more importantly, his old friend.