gavyn

Kerzenwick Calls An Announcement from the Black Gate The Shepherd Knight, sat upon a throne, one of rot and deceit. And so, the bells toll. From his grave would rattle once more such a knight of unrest, the shards of ivory bone that once defined him dried and brittle, stained of filth and age- they await the saturation and satisfaction of battle, what they were once designed for. As the ichor painted soil about his such shallow grave be disturbed, the Shepherd comes to consciousness in his current state; “It is time.” he would hum with a broken tone, yearning for something of a physical and almost mortal image of him to come, “They have come. Kerzenwick calls me.” The voice without body would echo, the grounds of all Wickwald shifting as their true ruler be reminded of his purpose. And so, comes another toll of the bells. Siegmund will walk again. The path of the Wick, one clear to the Shepherd from such a young age, has always been a weary one to grasp. In his time he had done all he could to change such- but alas, to no avail, the cycle will continue. Despite his countless efforts and restless years, what does he have to show for such? And so, yet again, the bells will toll. Siegmund will see again. A lost Baron he was, as he had given his life for the Kingdom wrought in Black and Gold, such colors he lay cloaked in; even in such a state of disgusting and pitiful despair. The Baron of Kerzenwick, the Shepherd knight of the order of the Golden Hussar, his name not once celebrated, nor remembered with a smile. One might think such a betrayal, yet he will carry these colors with pride until the end of all comes. And so, the bells toll, a final whining and echoing toll. Siegmund will fight again. For one thing will always remain, even in the ignorance of greedy and lustful mortals, dancing with gold and pride- a Wick will remain a Wick. Such the Shepherd realizes, through his visor, the cycle has repeated. A Wick will face a Wick, in life and death. Ser Siegmund “the Shepherd” Wick, now roams again, upon his shoulder flows the colors of his former quest, yet a new mutter of loyalty is fresh upon his tongue. He sets upon a new dawn, Kerzenwick calls him, this being his only purpose as he finds himself greeting the sensation he remained oh so vigilant for in his supposed time of rest. The Baron of Kerzenwick has yet to rest, and rest will never be a thing in his horizon. The call of Kerzenwick rings in his head, his head will not fall until such is answered. And so, silence, the bells fall silent at this moment. Siegmund has accepted his fate.

mediocre jojo?

Could you, you know, atleast take me to dinner first?

THE RESTLESS HUSSAR A Story from the Grave & Beyond The Shepherd Knight, rotten and forgotten, never forsaken. From such a shallow and forgotten grave would rattle the bones of a long forgotten soldier. The rattle heard far beyond into the fields decrepit, void of life - ruin of past nations left to the memories and battles of yore. Shrouding such disturbed and upset bones would be a cloak, a cloak of tired and aged colors ready to retire; a cloak of black and yellow, a cloak of a Haeseni warrior. Ravaged metals and plate scattered over the aged and frangible ichor splinters of what was once a man of faculty and vigor, a man wrought of gold and piety - a man known as the Shepherd. So now where he rests, in pitiful unrest, is no longer suitable for him. He yearns for more, for a second chance; as the spirit of the last Golden Hussar is one of fire, of passion- he could never rest for too long. His spirit, it roams, in agony and suffering, begging for nothing more than sinew and gore, something more to him than what filth he resides lord of in his state. The bones will rattle on, and the Shepherd will remain troubled, awaiting his deliverance to the mortal plane once more. What was a man of Wick ilk, waiting to be brought a chance anew, for he was a creature molded for success and order- such is what he will bring. But for now the restless Hussar must rest, for his patience will bring him the most righteous of bounties beyond life and death. He knows he was not left behind, so rest is what he will do until the bell tolls, and he is called upon once more.

Id say im pretty tough

I've been standing here waiting in the rain, waiting for you to notice me. But to no avail..... my heart aches

hookah

Was never part of the groups he was, yet he would still make time for me and proved to be an amazing friend and teacher. Miss him and his rants. Long live Ryan, today is for you

ok

Corbin Wick, Viscount of Reau Pond, wonders where his vassalized water feature of Dobrov will rest next...

Franz Branimar smiles as he puts his pen down for a moment, taking a moment to reflect on the recent happenings within Oren. The Vladov seeming content with the men his hand writes for.

Franz Branimar smiles the Sun's Smile as he finishes sealing the last few copies of the letter, preparing himself to continue slaving away at his office job.