[PK] BE KIND TO OTHERS, HADRIAN

[Fishy 2709]

"Rest in peace, nakama." The Shugo said, resting after his battle with the Kuma-Kami. "The friendship between our peoples remains eternal."

[Rig 17580]

“Amol-vuht kul koth zu’kotuhzt rognat e’rakulu tuk ra’strimozaka.”
Do not be quick to assume yourself a predator in the Hells.

• ──────────────────────── 𖤐 ──────────────────────── •

Hadrian was just a boy when Khelman Acal – known to many as Inquisitor Germanicus – met him. The Demon King was often garbed in the flesh of a mere elf and rarely bore witness to anything that could stir his heart of stone. However, he could sense even in those few precious moments that the boy had potential to change the world forever. The heir to an ancient bloodline, one with ties to Daemons, dragons… It was too good to be true. Few would dare to understand the small levers which Khelman would entertain pulling to assist in those matters. Hadrian received those small favors from him freely, because the Demon King knew Hadrian would conquer the world. 

“He will be a great Emperor,” said Inquisitor Germanicus to his wife Aysenur.

“Is he not unstable?” The female Inquisitor inquired.

“Yes. The madness will carry him farther than any other man in history. Inside this Valahan’s heart is the embodied power of over six-hundred-years of conquest.”

From Godfrey to Aurelius, from Tiberias to Hadrian. Cities burned as order was imposed across Azuras. Once, the idea of conquering a continent was inconceivable, the Heavens themselves stood to prevent it. The Mantle of Order, however, had been forgone. The death of the Angel Janus had meant such guardrails were now harder to impose. The Heavenly Court was now dormant and many of the Angels knew true fear. If the strongest among them could die to some upstart spawn of Draugur, it was hardly worth intervening in the mundane world at all. 

Khelman thought back to his time alongside his brothers. Sat alone in his desk chair beneath the known world, surrounded in darkness and confined to a single waning candlelight on his desk, the eyes behind the slits of his ornate elven mask narrowed with malice. The Haensemen had cost him his arm, the love of his life, his home at Breakwater. Now, they were utterly broken, as were the dwarves who assisted them. The Ferryman brought out his pocketwatch, his mechanical arm ticking. Ferryman. Demon King. Inquisitor. 

The value of words.

Khelman remembered the boy’s smile with the faintest inkling of fondness. However small, the Inquisitor had always offered him assistance. Germanicus and his men allied to the assistance of the Emperor-To-Be readily, and always sought the destruction of his foes. Years later, the remnants of that organization – the Imperial Inquisition – would slaughter the mage assassin who had sought to slay their Emperor. None would ever know of this and that brought Khelman immense satisfaction. That pimply-faced teenager who had gone with him to slaughter countless degenerates and would-be tyrants of ill repute was now enshrined in history as a greater military strategist than all the men who preceded him.

Men brim with the fires of innovation. Like us, they seek to push their limits. 

One day, the Twisted King quietly exited a portal near the docks, before he bore witness to the noble carriage carrying the Emperor’s corpse. It dawned on him then just how short human lives could be. In fifty-years, the man had completed a mission far more impressive than anything achieved by elf, orc or dwarf.

I bid you adieu, my friend. You never knew me truly. Yet… You did all you set out to do. You embodied The Climb and took these would-be wolves and made them sheep.

…

God bless you, Hadrian I. You have punished the infidels sorely for their crimes, and they will lick their wounds for a generation.

Spoiler

You have been faced by whirlwinds of dissatisfaction and crying Lolcows for months. Yet, despite the unending complaints, bitching, and nasty behavior from other people you pulled it off. Despite countless schemes against you and our other friends, you and the others have brought to fruition a project that is unique in its scope and scale. As your friend now for six-years, I am gladdened by your success, even if maybe I don't agree entirely with some of our mutual acquaintances' behavior all the time. 

 

You always held firm in your intent to RP and let the course of the winds be dictated by in-game actions. You sacrificed so much time to see this through. There is nothing but respect for you on our end, you always did your best.

 

[Hom 1987]

Spoiler

regardless of if it was perfect or not, i respect the hell out of anyone who's willing to do the thankless, controversial, difficult work of crafting a flawed narrative setting so that heroic stories can take place within it

 

[_Sug 2809]

A now aged Sir Hughes Augustus of d'Amaury sat in silence within the chapel of St. Amyas within the new holdings of Lorraine. He dwelled upon his mortality before the cross, for he, like Hadrian grew up alongside one another. It was a shock to the man, that one he admired throughout his youth might pass on to the skies so suddenly. He'd listen to his children running throughout the halls, perhaps a reminder to be grateful for what he and Hadrian shared and coveted most, succession. Lips curled inward during his prayers, for he knew Hadrian would not approve of one of his knights weeping for him and instead the man of Lorraine retained his silence alone in that quiet place of the Lord.

[JudgeTrudy 610]

Spoiler

A wonderful post, and I commend you for keeping at least most of your sanity after being not just a NL, but THE NL. Enjoy a rest and then a proper change to something more enjoyable and freeing.

 

The news came early in the morning to Lukas von Theonus. He had been asleep in bed when one of his closer servants knocked upon his door, though, Lukas had already started to stir from the bustling around the entirety of the family home. Barely alert, Lukas listened to the servant speak as he rubbed at his eyes, only catching every second or third word. But then came four that he could never have missed, and which signaled a change across all of Azuras: "Emperor Hadrian has died."

 

It was odd, then, as Lukas closed his bedroom after dismissing the serf. He'd always known the Emperor to be a man of poor health. Everyone had whispered about it for decades, since the man was simply the heir to Tiberius. But after so long, Lukas thought, he'd grown used to Hadrian's presence. That growing shadow on the ground, the stillness of the air, the silence of birdsong. He'd felt it everywhere, from each corner of the world. So, too, had Lukas seen the Emperor's impatience and cruelty first-hand. And so had he seen a willingness for some morsels of mercy in the name of stability. Sat in his bunk, hands rubbing at his eyes, Lukas pondered how he truly felt about this death. "Ich called him Hadrian zhe Mad for so long...Hadrian zhe Cruel....zhe Unworthy....yet Ich fought in his battles....never offered any true help to zhe victims of vhat so many called cruelties und crimes." The words came as whispers to himself as he slumped back into bed and stared at the ceiling.

 

For an hour, Lukas thought about his strange emotional response to Hadrian's demise, but also the pit in his own stomach. "Ich know Ich should not be happy about any man's death," he mumbled again, "but...Ich cannot help it." A hand rose from his chest and reached up for the ceiling, as if reaching up to the Seven Skies themselves. "May God forgive mich....und may He forever guide Hadrian's own soul to some purity." It was not said with some ill intention - he did not wish eternal damnation on the Emperor, he thought. But he did expect God's justice to be done.

 

Some time later, Lukas got out of bed, got dressed, and made his way to the center of Petra. Like any day, he had his own errands. There was still some uncertainty in his heart. How must one truly react to the loss of such a powerful figure? Were there to be celebrations on the streets? An enforced state of mourning? Soon, he'd find out. Though as he walked the cobbled streets, Lukas did find himself in a rather brisk gait, and whistling a gleeful little tune as he walked through the empty square, all while trying to ignore that tension in his own gut.

 

. . . . .

 

Meanwhile, in a little cottage further into the country, an extremely old man opened a bottle of sparkling wine and danced with his extended family in celebration. "Two emperors down!" decreed Theodore Elwood as he raised his glass for a toast. "Hopefully just one more to go! May this one lack his father's inhumanity!"

[Kardika 1057]

"So the snake's finally dead..." Shamizir the Sanguine croaked. "haps' its a boon, we oughta wait and see what the next emperor does..." To his disgusts he felt a slight void open in his chest, never would he consider Hadrian in any compassionate circumstance but his heart somewhat mourned the loss of a worthy foe, a veritable threat if not rival. Such a strange feeling would be cast aside, there was work to do yet...

To his rangers he spoke firmly, steadying those that celebrated too hastily.
"Even if e's dead it don't change da' situation... struggle ain't over, dem' dark machinations of state will keep Imperial Burgundy runnin' no matter who's in charge..."

Edited March 28 by Kardika

[carawithcookies 145]

Elsbeth would read the news regarding the death of the emperor, she hums as she reads the notice "Im sure ye have enough people weepin' for ye or pretendin' to shed tears to look pretty in the eyes of those close to ye." She sighs. "An' im sure there ar' those celebratin' yer demise, an' im certain there ar' those who will take yer death as a chance to scheme or some other shite like tha'." The Halfling shrugs. "Bigguns come an' go, as well as their accomplishments, an' while we ain't elves, we Halflin' will always endure, no matter wot."

[Morigung-oog 5697]

Valithael did not join the louder voices of mourning-- for her own grief was more subtle, as those around her well knew.

 

She stood apart, as she so often did, a quiet and unmoving figure amidst the tide of grief and opinion alike. Death was no stranger to her, least of all the death of emperors. She had seen crowns pass from skull to skull across the long stretch of centuries, had watched men rise in brilliance and fall in ruin, and had witnessed both reverence and revulsion etched into legacy with equal permanence. In the eyes of the eternal, the lifespans of humanity came and went in the blink of an eye, though it made their presence on the realm no less important than those longer-lived. From their fragile mortality came an ambition like no other-- and Valithael was truly blessed to share in that ambition, which had been gifted to her from the Imperials who made her the woman who roamed their halls.

 

The Fennic renegade gazed upon the passage of time and the trial of blood left in the wake of the late Emperor. Elves, mages, dwarves, orcs; any and all who dare stand in his way. It was brutal, unforgiving series of events, but one the genocidal kinslayer of a 'fenn could certainly respect. Conviction and purpose were the foundations of greatness.

 

"... You've achieved that which we've been trying to for at least three and a half centuries." She murmured, tending the candles in the vast Cathedral of Alduun, hundreds she'd lit by mundane hand in his memory. "Your ancestors smile upon you. They'll tell you as much now you've joined them in the skies."

 

A brief, reflective silence followed. She knew well of what came next. A new leader, new policies, new battles and new strengths. "Ave Emperor Marcus Tiberias. Long may he reign!"

 

 

 

[Smmer 2441]

Spoiler

https://youtu.be/Ms6WJ0wUZnM

 A bond that does not require string nor twine. A familial scent & scenery unforgetting, with every corner turned of the castle it was always lingering somewhere, memories within the walls. The constant pitter patter of children running around, marking the walls as they age and grow, watching time pass unable to interact with what once was family. She had taken her life to soon. She could only watch as a figment, a shadow in the corner of ones eye, unable to console nor comfort her children in their time of need, an accursed life one that has tethered her to the land. A cage with no key. She watched as they grew, all their achievement and mistakes, all their wins and losses. A smile etched across her face, bittersweet. When one can only interact with the realm for but a brief moment chances are rare and thus an opportunity never came, culled every time she neared the grounds by Aurum that lined the pockets of many within the Empire. So outside the walls she waits, watches, listens and cares. Happy to stay in the background, watching them grow peacefully... A smile upon their faces is all what she's after. When able, and without hesitation nor care to meet that painful blade she would use those brief moments to fiddle with their toys leaving them different to how they were sometimes even cleaning them, leaving little signs of contentment within their lives. Nothing extraordinary, a bed made, a quill returned to the ink pot. A teddy bear with its arms outstretched as if asking for a hug. Her name was not born to be remembered by many, she lived her life in simplicity and wanted it that way, intangible to the world all she can do is watch them age, time will pass and her sons and daughters will have grey hair while she remains the same, a spirit with noose as a reminder. Life has been unkind and cruel, yet it felt as if a piece of a missing puzzle had slid into place, knowing her son was not the monster he masked himself to be. 

 

  @Werew0lf @Halt @trinn @Rainalyn @Tide1 

(FIE I CANT FIND YOU I DONT KNOW YOUR FORUMS NOW)

[Tide1 4535]

"I chose you because I believed in you, that in spite of your hardships, you would overcome them. And you did. You overcame every expectation, even as they buried you, even as your very body sought to give up on you," croaked the strained voice of Tiberias. Guilt was a two-way street, and it was not oft that the old dragon shed tears of silver. Yet today was such a day, and the parchment had grown warped upon the grieving father's desk.

 

"I did not give up on you. I was proud to have called you my Emperor. I am proud to call you my son. The many peoples of Azuras may remember you as cruel, yet for all your cruelties, I shall remember the one that was leaving me so soon. Rest well, Hadrian, and forgive me."

[ProcaPro 557]

Across the land, on the outskirts of civilized society, stood an empty suit of armor sat on the Western side of Azuras. It was a rare peace interrupted by a notice dropped in his lap, a stray bird that was promptly chased off in a fit of rage for the interruption, regret following the loss of company.

 

He hadn't known the Emperor past finding himself watching the spare court, lurking, disgusted by the man and all he stood for, hatred boiling in his gut if only as an outlet for everything else he hated. Just one point on a large series of events. Not to blame for the loss of his homeland nor all else that gnawed at the spirit, but a symbol for it. Soon his successor would become that too, and the cycle would continue. Yet as he received notice that the Emperor was well and truly dead there was a moment of pity. That was all to think of it in the end.

[jqsmlne 460]

Close to the city of Alduun stood Marcellus’s favorite tree, its leafes a vivid red. Beneath its canopy, he often came to escape, and there he sat down to sketch. Many times during his years as a ward of the Tar-Zôrzagar, he had hidden himself in the cool shadows of its branches.

 

Marcellus knew very little of his uncle, Emperor Hadrian. The man always seemed either too distant to approach or to daunting to confront.

 

On the parchment before him, faint figures began to take shape, one of the Tar and one of the Emperor. It was drawn from a vague memory of his youth, of a rare moment when he had seen the two speak with one another.

 

It was the only memory he had of Hadrian in which the Emperor did not seem frightening or cold.

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

Admiral Kato Ena lights a candle upon the family shrine. Memories of the first Emperor from his childhood to his visits in the imperial capital flashed in the old Oyashiman’s mind as he considered each step that had been taken by either of their families to get to where they were today.

 

A perfect world….

 

At last how long would any of them be around to enjoy it? His sister had already been lost in the war.

[JustMeMorgan 2065]

Spoiler

Honestly,

Werew0lf has played probably the best emperor I've seen in 10 years I cannae even lie- Tide1 and Werew0lf together have a legacy now which is sick

 

An elf sits almost throttling the paper as it is distributed out, hearing the news of the Emperor of Azuras and his passing. The disgruntled war-torn elf whose hate boiled uneasily in his stomach cackling and almost frothing at the corners of his mouth in rage before the snapping tendon of his mind cleared away and the overwhelming emotions settled away. The elf got up.

 

He gathered his architects, and pointed towards the horizon. "A war-torn world no longer. At least one can hope. For the end of the tyrant means the rebirth of all things new." Hadrian was a maniac, but one this elf could do nothing but envy.

[Slorbin 2932]

Slorbin first heard the news whilst sitting in his office. Deep underneath the aqueducts of the Empire, the rodent broods over his newest creation... A stray automata slunk from a mouse-hole, dropping a missive from its brass jaw. The mechanical arachnid scurried into the walls, vanishing beneath Rittersburg's streets. As he unravelled the note, his yellow eyes widened. The Emperor was dead, long live the new Emperor.

Unlike most missives, the rodent treated this one with care. Events this important only happened once during a Musin's natural lifespan. He slowly rolled the parchment into a scroll, and bound it with red silk. He set it upon his bookshelf, and closed the glass cabinet door - to protect the various tomes inside from noxious fumes.

He leaned back into his oversized chair. What would this mean for the Empire...? What would this mean for his student, Chastel? What would it mean for his friend, the late Gennad var Vigo's plans...? Will the Empire be overcome with the spirit of Republicanism... Or was the dream long dead. Will Idunia revolt under its new shackles, will Urguan rise up once more, will Kurai Kuni demand true independence...

He peered at the compass lying upon his table, pointing due north. He turned the west. He could not see it, but he knew it to be arriving. The world had been conquered. The Lordsakes, coalesced. Would the new Emperor be granted an audience with the Aenguls? Could his will change the world.... And would his beliefs be obliterated?

It was an era of great uncertainty.