[PK] Lothar Eliasevic

[Lothar 74]

 

| Lothar Eliasevic |

 

 

"Raise your mugs! Mourning is for the dead."

 

 

 

Lothar was a man many people knew. Whether it was from his books, his performances, or his liquor, he achieved much and attempted even more.

 

Bardmaster

Master Alchemist

Masterbrewer

Guard Captain

Guildsman

Author 

Poet

 

He leaves no known children, and he had no wife. 

 

 

How he came to the end.

 

Lothar lived his early life on the edge, doing many things that would be considered daring. This changed in his later years. In his 50’s, he bound himself to a wisp of peacefulness, which would lead him to spend much time in Adria. 

 

Lothar set out one day from Adria. He was not armed as he rode out.

He was not seen for many years after this, but a few years later, just as the Adrians were finishing their drinks in the tavern, the floating candles fell to the ground, and the room shook and flashed with light. Meanwhile, the piano whailed in despair. It ended as soon as it began. Bardmancers and masters alike would recognize this as the connection Lothar had to his entwined instrument and amphitheater breaking, signifying the death of Lothar Eliasevic. 

 

 

Letters

A Greenfinch would arrive in the aviary of Belgrade shortly after this.

 

To Duke Milos Mikhail Sarkozic,

 

My soul will join my fathers. I have come to the end of my days.

My things are yours. The Three Eagles Guild is for you and Mr Santiago Snake to settle. My things are in a hidden locker within my room. It is all yours, but I pray only this: Bury me, and burn me not. Plant an oak tree on my grave, so the birds might have a home in my death and the deer might have shade. Bury me on the fields of The Avinór. 

I own nothing that you don't know of, but one thing. My house in Trost is yours. That is where my body is. 

 

It has been a good run, my Duke, I regret nothing.

ℒℴ𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓇 ℰ𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓈ℯ𝓋𝒾𝒸

 

So ends the Ballad of Lothar Eliasevic. 

 

[MisaiAki 99]

ONE LESS OF US

⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

[!]

With the aid of Cassian Wintercrest, Bartosz and Marek Sarkozic, Duke Miloš retrieved Lothar's body from Trost and carried him home to Belgrade. Word spread quickly through the city, and those of the Adrian Raevir gathered to help bear the old captain on his final journey. They carried him into his home one final time, down the familiar stairs and into his room, where they laid him gently upon his bed.

There, after a long silence at the bedside of his oldest friend, the Duke delivered a eulogy for the man who had stood beside him since the very beginning.

[!]

“Lothar, I hope Godanistan sees fit to carry these words to you wherever you are now.”

The Duke paused briefly…

“You, Lothar, were with me from the very beginning.

When my forefathers left me nothing but a crumbling manor and an empty hall, when the name of Sarkoz was naught but dust and a fading name, you swore your loyalty without hesitation, without even a single question.

Never once did you break it, nor bend it, nor question it in secret. You were there in every hour I called, and I was there in every hour of yours, and so we guarded one another not only as friends, but as true brothers, even if blood did not bind us.

You watched me raise my name from the very earth itself, from silence into strength and standing. Every stone laid upon that earth, you were there with a helping hand, building together with me. 

You stood as the very example of what a true Adrian should be: ambitious, but steadfast in your belief in Dumacracy, strong of arm and even stronger of will. A drinker among drinkers, a brawler among brawlers. A poet, an alchemist, a jack of all trades.

 You were a bastion of hope in Adria’s cultural revival, not only by speech but by living it. For many, you became the measure against which they saw themselves. And now, you are gone, and we are left with one less good man, one less Adrian, one less Raevir.

 I would not have come so far without you, and I will not forget it.

Godani jest wielki, may he grant you eternal peace and rest.”

 

[w0bbe 52]

Vestasia visited the tavern plenty. It was clear they enjoyed the effects of an amphitheater without having to create their own. Despite being Lothar's teacher, the elf was incredibly lazy... They wondered if he picked up on this at all throughout the lessons or if he died continuing to think so highly of the Bardmaster. It was clear he died, after all. Ves knew what happened the moment the air changed. The mana fizzling out. The candles dropping and the piano screaming.

Their heart ached, for Lothar was around the same age as Vestasia's eldest child. He was another taken under the elf's wing, but death was far more familiar. Outwardly, they'd continue on as usual. Other bards had to learn. In private, Ves would mourn the second(?) student to die.

OOC:

Spoiler

NOOOOOOOOOOOO LOTHAR NOOOO!!!!!!!!! ALL OF MY STUDENTS KEEP DYING

 

[Laeonathan 5898]

A Priest of the Adrians mourns his fallen comrade of the Adrian cause and begins preparing the funeral.

[Damien H. Buckler 48]

Bojangles of Adria made very few trips to the Tavern. He was not one to spend time with others nor was he one to drink. However, he lived right next to the establishment and for the first time in decades -- It was silent. The fellow bardmancer found out of his friend's passing when he saw the amphitheater had fallen. Bojangles had many memories of Lothar, yet, it wasn't enough. It was never enough. It could be five years worth of memories or a century. He stood with another fellow bard, Sammy Bucks at the door to the Three Eagles Guild, listening to the word instrumancy seal in silence with Lothar's Contact information before the green marker too withers away. 

 

Ave Adria.

Ave the Three Eagles Guild.

[NLThomas 1229]

Ludwik Sarkozic sat down in the now terribly quiet tavern. For some time, he just sat there in thought, and this time there was no music accompanying him. After a while, he took up a mug and raises it to the sky. "To Lothar, faithful shield of the Sarkozic."

[Norgeth 1905]

Marek Josip Sarkozic helped lay the deceased bannerman and master bard down onto his bed as a white sheet was placed over him in preparation for burial. “May Godanistan keep him well. . .” spoke the apprentice Thaumaturge, signing the Lorraine as he then left to silently mourn the loyal retainer he had known for as long as he could remember, Lothar Eliasevic.