Rattussmackus

The words blurred as she sat in bed that night, reading against the candlelight. Hali slept beside her, a small thing, the only child she felt she had left. Astrid sighed gently, deciding it was time to sleep as it was useless to read over blurred words. A deep breath. A long sigh. “Okay open, how is it?” She opens her eyes on command, still blurred. She shakes her head in defeat, a scoff coming from her “Nothing.” Nothing. So much so that she was scared. Why her? Why did she have to go through this and not someone else? That was a selfish thought, she decided, clasping her hands together. Why would she want someone else going through this? But she wants to see her children, the smile on their faces, the tears that stain their cheeks. She wants to see the colour of their eyes. But she can’t. “I don’t want to see anything at all.” She decides, wrapping the bandage around her eyes. Nothing at all feels better than the hopeful blur. Astrid was suffering from heartbreak, she was ready to give up everything. Give up on life. She was weak, her left leg paralysed and her right leg slowly going numb and now her eyes were of no use. Yet, she persisted. She was a mother, a fighter. She would push on through it all, through the blindness, through the paralyses…she would push on. “With these eyes, I’ve seen death, torture and dispair. With these eyes, I’ve seen pain and anguish. With these eyes, I’ve seen mourning and loss.” “With these eyes, I’ve seen joy and happiness. With these eyes, I’ve seen new life and spring. With these eyes, I’ve seen flourish and smiles.” “With these eyes, I may no longer see but with these eyes, I may remember.”

Astrid Magda Blackthorn Eiriksson Henrysson Black Ruric is already partially paralysed so it’s not like she could do much in the Ashguard anyways.

[!] Missives would be posted around Norland and all allied nations. Clearing up some misunderstandings. After a long conversation within the confines of King Odin’s office, a conclusion came to be and I was instructed to create a missive clearing up a few things. One; I am indeed alive and not dead. I posted the missive of me being dead so I would be left alone by people wishing to kill me. I wanted to go home to my children and that’s how I’d do it. Two; The statements in my previous missive were misguided and harsh. In reality, even if I wanted to fight I couldn’t. I have a disease that could leave me paralysed. I will still not fight and have been removed from the Ashguard so I have no obligation. Three; I am allowed to continue with the Eiriksson name as per the wish by my father in his will. Four; I will work for Norland without being in the Ashguard and wait until a job has been opened for me as per the decision of King Odin. I hope I shall no longer be hunted down for my supposed ‘crimes’. -Signed, Her highness, Astrid Magda Blackthorn Eiriksson Henrysson Black Ruric, Princess of Norland

THREE FATHERS. =-*-= First, it was Vater. She wasn’t sure. His body sat before her in the grass, she sees it when she sleeps. Cold dead eyes, a perfect mirror of her own. She imagines an empty field, just the two of them. He smiles gently ‘Mausbar!’ he calls to her and she runs over, small her, three year old her. Then she grows into an older her and he’s lying there lifeless. He always looked so peaceful in the grass, daisies circling his head like a crown. She never wakes up when she should, allows herself to drop to her knees, screaming over his body. She screams for help but the help never seems to come. She saw herself in him, her brown hair matched his. Mausbar. Magda would grab at her chest, trying her hardest to breathe on that rooftop, the air around her choking her lungs as she called for him but no one came. Not anymore. Mausbar. The word echoes in her brain, it was a cute nickname, something she loved with all her heart but now it was a curse. Mausbar. =-*-= Then it was Father. Magda walked with a skip in her step towards Alisgrad, well as much joy as one could muster. She was to talk to Doc about her sleep, hopefully she would get more herbal tea for her anxiety. It was Ciaran who approached her, placed a sudden hand on her shoulder which made her flinch back, recoiling into herself. “Doc is dead.” Her stomach lurches, though she should’ve known. Something felt wrong from the beginning, the air was thick with dread and she hadn’t been able to sleep for days. “Ich am going home.” She turns to leave, she doesn’t want to stay there. It felt like the place had been cursed, everyone was dying or was it her? Did she do this? Is she the reason they’re dying? Ciaran tells her to wait, that his mother had things for her that Doc wanted her to have. She sat on the steps to Alisgrad, waiting as she allowed her thoughts to consume her. Why wasn’t she there? Why didn’t she hold his hand as he died? Why didn’t she get to say goodbye? He left her his violin and a note. She hugged the violin like it was him, so many memories came from that singular instrument. She remembered dancing for him after begging him to sing a song during events, he was meant to guard her but she would throw a tantrum until she got a song and he gave in. A song made for her by him. Astrid Blackthorn. She treasured those words like she was told that all the jewels in the world were hers. It made her feel like she belonged, like she was given a home, a family. But her family was dead, he was dead. She gripped her living doll sheep tightly that night, she slept for the first time in days. She slept like a child. =-*-= Finally it was papa. She was warned he would die but she was mad, he didn’t even want to say goodbye to her or her children. He never even met her daughter. He never made a move to assure her freedom. He allowed her to be named a traitor, he allowed them to try and hunt her down. To kill her. There was one memory that lingered, something that stained her memory like blood stains hands, like wine stains white sheets. “Raise your arm” Astrid raised the wooden sword slightly “And slash!” She slashed the air in one fell swoop and he jumped up, lifting her in the air. “Very good, my daughter!” She then remembers the cold steel of his own sword against her neck. There was nothing playful about the action, no more training. No more wooden swords. “You are no daughter of mine.” She wasn’t quite sure what to believe, she felt betrayed but she felt the hole of loss. Why couldn’t she stick to the same emotion each time. She missed him more than anyone could imagine, she missed the head pats and the compliments. What happened? She became a ruthless warrior, an emotionless killer for him. In her eyes, he wanted a son, a strong man who could lead armies and become the next marshal. But he got her, a traitor. A coward. She just wanted him to say goodbye. She just wanted him to say he was proud. She just wanted him to say he loved her. Was that too much to ask?

“He never said gut bye.”

Magda Black sat awake in her bed, she shook her husband Oliver from beside her to which he protested but sat up anyways, listening to her mumble “The air feels thick again, the same thickness Ich felt when Vater died..” He reassured her that it was nothing and that she should go back to sleep. Magda didn’t sleep that night, blissfully unaware that the man she seriously considered a father since she was three years old was dead.

Catlaya Karyna Colborn was not only annoyed that day but soaked and tired. Though she laughed at the story nonetheless.

THE FALL OF A KNIGHT. ____________________________________________________________ [!] An excerpt of the event has been written down by a witness, sent to the people of Norland more specifically her father; 'Astrid stays defiant as the harsh Norlandic winds whip around her head, she grips her sword tightly in her grasp as she stares towards the assailant. "Why are yeh here?" She shouts over the relentless whistling, snow coating her helmet and the ground at her feet. "Could ask you the same question." The man calls back, narrowing his eyes "Princess." His words were a tease, a mockery. He didn't say 'Princess' with the idea of respect. He didn't say it so she could feel proud, he knew how much she despised it and he was going to manipulate it. Astrid was weak and tired, even holding her sword caused great pain to her. Her muscles were deteriorating and she knew it, constantly reminiscing of the days where she would beat her fellow soldiers in spars. "Princess Astrid Eiriksson Ruric...once the Overseer. Oh how the mighty crumble." "Ich am nicht ein Ruric, nicht with them." "You can't change blood no matter how hard you try." The man suddenly lunges forward, pushing his sword towards her chest which causes something to snap in Astrid, forcing her to lift her sword up and clash their swords together. "Yeh are meant to wait! Two...it's a two way thing. Yeh...yeh broke it!" She spits, her mind spinning as the line on the floor wasn't there. Where was the line? Where...where was the line? Astrid draws a line in front of her before lunging one leg back as the other stays straight forward, her opponent gives her a quizzical look to which Astrid answers "Ich draw it to stabilise meinself. It lets mich know that both yeh and Ich want to fight." Astrid drops her sword beside her, dropping down to her knees "Nein. Ich won't fight yeh, we didn't agree to this." She shakes her head, hands curling into the snow as tears drip down her face. "Then you will die a coward, you can't even fight." He spits which pulls the air out of her lungs though she says no more as he swings his sword round, slicing into her neck.' Astrid Black is now reported dead, the killer is still unknown. ____________________________________________________________

“My first question is why did Godric need that much dried kelp?” Catlaya Karyna Colborn looks towards her older brother, suspiciously narrowing her eyes.

this was such a gamer moment !!

Olivia Ash searches for Tony from wherever she is, hoping to reunite with an old lover. Hoping to see another coin trick. Hoping to play another game of heads or tails.

Astrid Black shrugs “Corrupt council, another one to add to the list.”

[!] A letter would be pinned on the Ashguard barracks so all who go past may encounter it along with one being delivered to the King of Norland. Addressing the current affairs. Dear King Ragnvald Eiriksson Ruric and fellow soldiers, Recently I was alarmed to discover there was an expectation for us to fight in a war I hadn’t realised was happening. I was informed that we were to fight on the side of ‘The Horde’ against Malinor. I have made the decision to sit out and not fight for either side, I do not want to fight against people I consider friends but I don’t want to fight against family either. This was an isolated decision on part of the Norlandic higher-ups who didn’t even ask what the soldiers who are being forced to fight wanted. I spoke to a few close companions of mine who are also soldiers in the Royal Norlandic Ashguard and they were none the wiser. Next time you ask us to fight, ask our standpoint first. You have forced friends to turn against friends and have created a divide. The only request I have is that you don’t prosecute others who refuse to fight, we aren’t cowards or traitors, you told us nothing. I am ready to take another brandishing if needs be. -Signed, Her highness, Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric, Overseer in the official Royal Ashguard of Norland, Princess of Norland

aaah v cool

Astrid Eiriksson Ruric nods in approval.

Astrid Eiriksson Ruric jumps up and down in place, grabbing Ciaran and shaking him “HUND!” She is practically screaming at him at this point “They’re gone, the incompetence is gone!” She soon settled down, leaning back in her chair as she grins towards her friend “The whole thing is incredibly ironic. ‘Unjust humiliation’ If they think being told ‘no’ is humiliating, I’m scared for the next nation they go under. The Mösus were nothing but rats and I’m glad they got rid of their own infestation before I did.” She begins to laugh once more “‘signed Knight of Norland’ you never deserved that title in the first place, what makes you think you can have it now?”

Olivia Ash smiled from where-ever she was, not quite accurate but accurate enough. She was recognised.

AND SO IT GOES. ____________________________________________________________ Olivia wasn’t perfect if that was even a thing. She had failed one too many times and it had become incredibly apparent at that point. Olivia was a canonist – once Red Faith – who had committed many sins in the past, ones far overlooked from the past and others haunting her every step. Her clan was dying, or perhaps it was dead already and she was too busy in her childhood haze to realise. Olivia had loved so many people and so many people didn’t love her, she would wrap her arms around people without realising – she was choking them. ____________________________________________________________ “Vy will be a coward - a craven. Leaving behind all vyr problems.” That’s what he said when she informed him that instead of continuing on she would instead die. No, drown. “I can’t swim.” At least the water was consistent, a constant sheet of ice spread across the lake, forbidding anyone who wished to swim within its depths. Olivia would look outside her balcony over the city and compare the ice to crystals as they shimmered in the moonlight. “It’s over.” So many people trusted her, no she couldn’t go that far, no one could trust her. Not now. Olivia didn’t ask for much but she also didn’t give much. Olivia simply existed, that was the best way to put it. Olivia existed. “I’m a criminal to them.” What was it? Was it watching her father die in front of her eyes? Was it the number of times things failed for her? Suddenly she began blaming Norland, how could they let this happen to her? A child. ____________________________________________________________ “Put a sword in my hand and you may end me yourself, just like how my papej went out.” She asked the man who had stumbled into Alisgrad that eve, watching as his hands dripped of blood, sword in hand. Olivia wasn’t scared for once, in fact, she was hopeful. Olivia was a coward, she couldn’t see it to the very end, of course, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t see her trial, she wouldn’t see herself being called guilty or innocent because she was a coward. “Have vy realised vyr wrongings now that death stares down upon vy?” “No. Even now … I don’t.” Olivia lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with a distant look “If I had friends, we could’ve been gossiping.” She notes sadly to thin air, it was always to thin air. Olivia stood opposite of him, hands gripping her dress as he approached with a sword in hand, “Six years. All to end like this, is that how it shall be?” She stood there for a while, smiling as tears ran down her cheeks. “It shall.” He answers before plunging his sword into her gut swiftly, making a quick attempt to lay her against the bannister slowly before ripping the embedded sword from her abdomen. The woman faltered slightly as the sword pierced her stomach and blood began to ooze from the wound, she always wondered how it would feel to meet fate's end. Except she would be a liar to say she expected it to be this way. “Have vy any regrets, Olivia? Do vy realise them now? Now that death comes knocking, the clock starts ticking and it all hits vy at once? Do vy have a single thought now?” He pauses, his voice cracking. Olivia simply shakes her head at him, a weak smile on her face as she looks up towards him, “I do - some. Though, I suppose it’s too late for that.” She managed to say before squeezing her eyes shut and clutching her abdomen in pain as shaky breaths released from her. Final breaths. Olivia looks at her cousin, enveloping him in a hug. He loved her so much, more than anyone she’s ever known “Ciaran…if I ever die, I want you to have everything I own!” She didn’t allow him to protest but she listened to the way he said “But you won’t die before me.” She nodded along with his words “You’re right, I won’t.” The man stepped towards Olivia looking down at her, his once uncaring expression turned to pure disgust as he looked upon her “Return to flame, for there was not a drop of Canonist blood. Ever.” His words were harsh as he stepped in launching a kick towards her chest in an attempt to send her flying over the bannister to her doom. The small princess was kicked, landing heavily on the floor below in a pool of blood. No more words escaped from her, not even a breath as she stills. Olivia Freysson Ruric was dead. Olivia stood outside the weapons shop with her father, her hand clasping his. She was five. “I don’t like them…they’re mean!” She jabs her finger towards the swords, her eyebrows furrowing “They aren’t mean Livia, they are a means of necessity.” He retorts as her bottom lip juts out, he laughs at her, picking her up and patting her head “What do you like? Would you like chocolate?” Olivia grins, nodding and so they marched towards the sweet stall. Nothing more than a treasured memory. ____________________________________________________________

Josephine Wick-Vuiller reads over her letter before allowing it to collect dust with her other papers “The wickedness is gone, for good this time.”

Olivia Freysson Ruric winces “Skuke.”

Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric sat in the clinic, messing around with her ring as she heard of her vater’s death. She stares at the wall, unmoving and features blank. Not a tear was shed as the medics bustled around her, some shaking her and retelling her the news “He’s dead Astrid.” Over and over “He’s dead.” So Astrid sat, she sat there for many hours. The sun rose and set as she did so before she finally rose to her feet; “Ah.” Was all the small princess could muster before she trudged towards her house, to Oliver and Ivar.

[PLAYER HAS BEEN FOUND]

Astrid holding her newborn son. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Astrid brushes her son's forehead with the back of her finger, an exhausted yet elated look on her face. A sense of pride washes over her knowing that she will give this child the best life he could ask for where she hadn't gotten that. His big, deep blue eyes stare unfocused at the world as wisps of black hair stick out of his head. For a moment she finally breathes and thinks about all the people who will be in his life. An amazing father who would love him unconditionally, and comfort him without even thinking twice. How he managed to wrap his arms around Astrid and tell her everything would be okay and at this moment, Astrid truly believes he's right. She remembers when she told him of her disease and instead of freaking out, he told her how many walks they should go on before it was too late. Oliver could take a bad situation and make it something magnificent, she doesn't know anyone else with that sort of power. He's a wonderful husband and she knows he'll be an even better father. A funny, golden retriever of an Uncle who makes anything funny, even small stupid things. She remembers when Ciaran made comments about her having future children before he fell backwards in the canal as she laughed at him from the side lines, every time he tried to get revenge on her, he’d just fall in again. Ciaran knew how to make her laugh to no end and she knows that he would die for her and her family and she would do just the same for him. A wise grandfather, someone who he can go to whenever he is in trouble, just like how Astrid had since she was young. Astrid would continue going to her father no matter what, no matter how annoyed it makes him, no matter what the comments are from others, she will always go to her papa. She remembers the pride and happiness on his face when she announced she would be having a child, such contrast to the pain and anger from when he found out about Astrid’s disease. He’d be there for Astrid’s son even if Astrid took that for granted. There are so many others that’ll be in her son’s life that can help him, support him and make him happy. Astrid smiles gently, all the things she worked hard for in her life are finally being rewarded. Astrid turns the small baby towards Oliver and Doc who look just as tired as she does, she mumbles out a few words; “Ivar Blacksson…his name is Ivar Blacksson.” -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric frowns at the missive before sighing, letting it rest on her bedsheets “It appears there’s nein end to pretenders, may they crumble just as fast as they arrived. Ich regret nicht being able to help mein soldiers but Ich know more than anyone that they will do well.”