Rattussmackus

[!] 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

Claudia de Pelear reads over the missive whilst biting into her apple “Hm. Viva Hyspia.”

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?”

1 hour ago, Ramon said:

Venerable Olivia
Made Venerable for her faithful devotion to God, having been slain by Norlanders following her conversion.

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

AND SO IT GOES.

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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.

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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.”

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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.”

MC Name:

         Rattussmackus

Character's Name:

         Nyx Ame'narnir Obedia

Character's Age:

         56

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         Human (Highlander)

Transformed form:

         Revenant

Creator's MC Name:

         N/A

Creator's RP Name:

         N/A

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Phantoms (Often the umbrella term for ghosts as a whole): Phantoms come about when someone has died but cannot seem to pass on, usually because their death was a traumatic one. Once they muster enough ectoplasm, they will come to the mortal realm as a revenant. Ectoplasm is controlled by the mind, allowing it to determine how it appears or acts. It can take on many aesthetics due to it being a malleable substance. All phantoms may be able to see ectoplasm around them and even interact with other phantoms even when invisible. They can also take pain from the phantoms. When phantoms awaken from being in the soul stream, they will be oblivious, not realising anything has happened to them and continuing on like usual. Only realising when things appear different.

Revenants: Revenants are the stage right after phantoms once they get to the mortal realm. They are often incredibly confused on their state, trying to get a grasp of the world. It's a temporary stage that they will eventually overcome. They often want to look for the cause of their death to understand what's happening as the memory had left their mind. They often look light grey, their entire body lacking blood but their wound which may have come from their death will look slightly red, having the appearance of blood. Their voice often sounds distant and they are much weaker then other forms. To move on from this state, they usually need to learn of their death.

Poltergeist: Poltergeists are the next form from revenants usually when they deny their death becoming angered over it. They appear to be red or black due to their anger and denial. They are often the more dangerous and violent type of ghost, talking in hisses or growls. They are often more traumatised by the nature of their death, allowing it to take over their entire existence. It's quite difficult to reason with these forms as they are incredibly troubled. They often act aggressively even if it's not in her nature to do so.

Specters: Specters are the alternative form from poltergeists. They come about after accepting their death and finding peace within it. Specters usually appear a hue of white, blue or even yellow representing their timidness and caring. They hardly ever express negative emotions but they are notably more sad than poltergeists. In the back of their mind they will often think about their undeath and their passing. They will often act kind and do things for others, some can even be shy and wary of mortals. Their memories are often spotty, forgetting big portions of their past. They don't usually linger in the mortal realm for long, often leaving for the soul stream quicker than others. Some may linger though because they feel attached.

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

Revenants: Revenants are often grey and are often seen with the injuries from their death. They have either sunken features or tightened skin due to the lack of life in them. They are recognisable from their past but not as much as specters. Their voices are often distant and shallow, struggling to interact with the mortal realm.

Poltergeists: Poltergeists take on a red or black form signalling their angry personality. The cause of their death is a lot more prominent on their body. They look more animalistic, having features such as sharpened teeth, claw-like fingers and predatory eyes. Their voices are also rather scary and grating, taking the form of growls or hisses. Their form is overall unpleasant.

Specters: Specters are seen appearing white, blue or yellow, no mark of their death is visible upon their form. Their form is practically perfect with porcelain skin with no blemishes, eyes that lack pupils and irises. Their voice is soft and songlike even calm and absentminded, it echoes slightly and is pleasing to all those who hear it. Specters are not often irritated by the mortal realm, even being tolerable to the sun if not slightly uncomfortable.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes.

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes.

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand.

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No.

14 hours ago, Capt_Chief26 said:

The Trial of Ratibor: The 4th Trial of the Bogatyr, the Trial of Faith, was Squire Konstanz’ second trial. The Squire spent many months preaching to the pagans of Almaris before finally converting the Lady Olivia Freysson Ruric to Canonism.

Olivia Freysson Ruric blinks.

Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric scoffs “Oi…only crediting him. Ich am the one with the bee house!”

3 hours ago, rukio said:

How does she know she has muscular dystrophy though...you have to test for it with things way more advanced than a medieval medic would have/know

we have dragons, case closed.

but in all seriousness, it’s for rp. can’t bash us for that.

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Dear Marshal, King and my fellow Guardsmen,

As of today, I will relieve myself of active duties within the Ashguard. These include, spars, fights in training, patrols, ex cetera. I will continue behind the scenes doing things such as pay, promotions, demotions, ex cetera. I also may host trainings as long as I'm not involved.

I was recently diagnosed with the disease Muscular Dystrophy with a chance of me being completely paralysed in thirty-forty years. There is no known cure.

I will try my hardest for the Ashguard like I had since I was seven years old but for once I will listen to advice and I will step down from things which could risk faster deterioration.

I look to my fellow overseer, Ragnar Sigvardson, to do the more active duties.

May All-Father walk with you all.

-Signed

Her highness, Princess Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric,

Overseer in the official Ashguard of Norland

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Astrid Eiriksson-Black Ruric loves field guides.

Josephine Wick-Vuiller finally takes her helmet off “Well that was productive and useful and niet a waste of time.”

Josephine Vuiller never got to know the man before their demise but if she did, she’d certainly ask why the monks spared her but not him. 

Astrid Eiriksson Ruric raises a surprise eyebrow “Maybe they heard of mein fancy battle-axe Ich gave away to her bruder…” She erupts into a fit of giggles “Ich better drag papa along nonetheless.”

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Tick. Tock.

Josephine watches the clock on the wall as she repeatedly stirs the stew pot on the stove. Will it burn? She has a feeling it might but only time would tell.

She turns her head to her babies, the babies that sleep so peacefully in their cots that she managed to bring them down into the kitchen alone. 

Alone.

She had a feeling it would turn this way, it always had. That feeling of family never consisted in her life, a tragic reality which she had to face far too young.

Her mother was never around and she slowly realised it may be because she didn’t actually want her, that idea frightened her to no end but it’s not like she knew any different. 

Her father terrified her, a feeling she was only just getting used to but the unsettling realisation that the frightened feeling was always there. He blamed her for everything and she blamed him for everything. The feeling was damn mutual and in the back of her mind she knows that.

Her brother, the brother who grounded her in so many situations, was dead. His body she visits often, touching the recently upturned dirt with a wishful feeling. She blamed him for dying, leaving her alone in this world without any idea of how to do things. He could’ve helped her raise her children or taught her how to be a good wife, a good soldier, a good daughter.

Tick. Tock.

The stew was burning, she smelt it before she saw it. She lets out a huff, pulling the pot from the fire and waving her hands around in defeat before she turns to the triplets.

“Ghosts can cook better than eam.” She mutters, a memory of the dead hanging over her head always “I’ll just wait for vyr papej to save eam, he did all those years ago.”

Josephine Vuiller had years left to live…yet she felt like she lived them all already.

Tick. Tock.

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A certain foreign princess breathes a deep sigh of relief as she sips her tea “Maybe it’s good I’m not engaged, these Haense folk are wild.” She immediately regrets her words as she thinks of her own actions these past few years involving Haense men. “Ah…nevermind.”