simpleglitchbro

Grimm tosses a spare set of keys to a certain red-headed person. @Lunan_EXE "Get these to him if you can. He's already been here before-might as well be invited this time." He proceeds to make sure the couch is clean enough for Andrei to crash on if he needs it.

Relyr lore is based as hell-total +1

MC Name: simpleglitchbro Discord: simpleglitchbro#4662 Image: Description of Image: Coat Of Arms for Clan Sturmstrike Dimensions: 1x1

Grimm scoffs "Betraying your own sister when it benefits you, huh? Maybe the apple didn't fall too far from the tree after all..."

Grimm gets ready to send a bird to one of his first friends he ever made. "You're always welcome with us, you know..." However he breathes a sigh of relief, that he wouldn't have to face his friend on the battlefield.

Grimm reads over the missive with a pleased expression "Good, if you want change to happen, sometimes you need to take drastic measures. I'm looking forward to working with them after this."

Grimm gives a wide smile after reading. "Within one sentence, he's managed to deliver a one-two verbal combo!"

Grimm laments not getting an autograph "Next time-I swear it!"

Locked inside a dingy attic in Vjardengrad, a shaken man sheds tears broken by fits of laughter. Tears for finally having to say goodbye to the man who helped him build a new home-who showed him the way to become a better person each and every day. Though, through it all, he laughs, as he is happy that this man, whose stress and suffering he had only known little of, is finally able to rest. "Thank you Odin. For everything." Though Grimm feels the magnitude of his thanks is not known or felt by Odin, he still wishes thanks, even in quiet, to a man truly worthy of the title of king, and The Peacemaker.

Grimm mentally prepares himself for this Andrei Bukoski he keeps hearing about. Maybe he can get an autograph!

Grimm lets out a sigh when reading the missive "Well..." He pauses for a moment, before beginning to softly chuckle "maybe now we can tear him away from that damned stack of paperwork..."

Grimm reads the summary of the report, choking out in a raspy, damaged voice "Yep...that basically sums it up...even the part where I couldn't stop that guy..."

Grimm lets out a sigh as he reads the news "Of course they had to make it out of Nyrheim...Let's just hope Dominic knows as much on the Skannari as Sty-" his voice catches in his throat for a moment, before he finishes his thought "as much as Styregg did..."

Grimm reads the missive, and immediately goes back to pouring himself into his work.

Grimm hastily begins scribbling down information on his new clan levy.

Pour one out for a real one o7

Grimm cracks a smile while reading the invitation. While in his office, he takes a stray piece of paper and begins scribbling down gift ideas. "Gotta be something special..."

Within the Failorian woods, a figure tries to rest in the black of the night. Despite the darkness around him, Grimm refuses to get a fire going. Not only does he know the liability he’s bringing on himself by creating one, but he also knows that- *SNAP* …someone’s been following him the past few days. He’s been paying attention to the noises and behaviors of this unseen figure as he feigns ignorance, attempting to figure out who would tail him for so long. It’s not Mori, they wouldn’t track a single person this long. Is it someone wanting ransom? Whoever it is, they must want me badly to be doing this for days on end. *CRUNCH* Strange, the sounds of leaves underfoot permeate the air. Grimm tightens his grip on his sword, rising to his feet in preparation. “If you’re here for me, at least tell me your name, so I know what to put on your epitaph.” A voice echoes through the forest. Masculine, that’s for sure-but still young, that much is for sure. “Might as well make it for the one that needs it, Grimm.” The footsteps grow louder, as Grimm’s eyes dart around the scattered trees, scanning for any movement. The approaching figure has the shroud of darkness for cover, but Grimm can track the movements through it regardless. While he had been on the run, he picked up quite a few tricks for survival-the most important one being the ability to move stealthily, and to always watch his back for any- *WHAP* An impact sends him reeling to the ground, spotting a flash of long blonde hair as he does. As he begins to fade from consciousness, he hears a new voice, distinctly female-this being the one who had just delivered the smack to the side of his head-speaking. “This isn’t him, Arkete.” Arkete? The name is familiar to him, being that of the old lord he used to serve back home. His mind begins to flutter with worry as he slips away into the blackness, passing out on the cold forest floor. ⊙ ⊙ ⊙ After Grimm passes out, a blonde haired woman steps out of the darkness behind him. “This isn’t him, Arkete.” She calls out to scold her junior. “What do you mean? This is Sturmstrike.” Arkete responds as he too steps out. A man not much taller than Grimm, of a lankier stature, with messy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. “His brother is the one my father wants, not him. Leave him here” The woman fires back. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I spent weeks finding this guy. The least we could do is test him to see if he could work in place of his brother.” Arkete hears the woman groan as she relents “Fine, grab the crystal and let’s get him out of here.” ⊙ ⊙ ⊙ Grimm’s eyes flitter open as he’s dragged along, bits of pebbles, twigs, and dirt getting caught in his hair. As his hands are currently bound, he decides to feign as if he is still passed out in an effort to hide. He hears the speech of the two figures as they bring him to a clearing on the shoreline, with a small boat floating in an inlet. “General, you understand what we have here, right? I looked into it-this guy is an officer in a foreign nation-” “This guy is a runaway, Arkete. He’s nothing more. The only value he brings to the table is the fact that we could use him as bait to lure his brother out.” “Are you sure Adrian’s even alive? Shouldn’t he have died in that fire?” “House fire on a lord’s homestead by a Sauerblut family and no bodies left behind? That’s not normal. My guess is they bailed, tried to run off. But Felix and Eva aren’t our concern-they were too old to serve their purpose anyway. It’s their kids that my father was taking an interest in.” No bodies? That can’t be right, there should have been bodies there in the charred remains of the house-there had to have been. Before Grimm can think this through, however, they toss him into the lower decks of the ship, heading to the top level as he hears the General state “Figure out what’s taking Reneta so long and we can shove off within the hour.” His time is limited, that much is clear. He takes a brief moment to examine the situation. I need to get this rope off…that means plan 28C. He raises his hands to his mouth and lets out a soft, low whistle. The flapping of bird wings follows this noise as a jet black raven flies up and lands on an outside window. Avek was a bird Grimm had trained for moments just like this-in his decades of service he’s found that it always pays to have a backup plan…or thirty. The bird hops up towards him as Grimm fiddles with the satchel on its back, pulling a knife from inside. He bites down hard on the handle of the knife and positions it to saw through the ropes. He keeps scanning the room for the return of his captors, spotting his gear along with a colorless crystal sitting on a table as he does so. **** it, I need some form of payback for all of this. When he finishes sawing through the ropes, he snatches the crystal as well and takes time to assess the situation. His captors remain up on the top level, but they haven’t left yet…he could just jump through the window and swim back to land, but they’d spot him. He needs some form of distraction. His mind immediately snaps to the WIll O’ bottle with his gear. That’ll do. As Grimm limps away into the darkness, backlit by the blazing ship and accompanied by the panicked screaming of his former captors, he goes over everything in his brain. “So…now I have people hunting me-and I still don’t know where anyone else is…this is gonna be fun.”

Grimm pauses for a moment as he trudges through the woods, injured and limping from prior confrontations. He takes the time to mourn the loss of such a young soul-one that had always been a constant in his life since he showed up. "All-Father guide you...fly high, Leon Kvitravn. Fly high, and never look back." Having said his piece, he continues to push on through the woods, determined to reunite with his countrymen, where he can finally mourn for Leon without having to worry about surviving first.

Grimm struggles to keep himself from tearing the letter in two as he reads "I've known that kid about as long as I've been a soldier-nobody's getting away with that shit!" He grabs his sword and moves to leave-only to realize he still remains separated from his fellow countrymen.

In a room nestled just behind the tavern in Ironguard, a man simmers in his own thoughts. Not but a few days ago he was notified about a celebration held in his honor. Ever since reading that announcement, his head had been swirling with thoughts, but none stuck out more than a single term. Sauerblut. That word burned into his memories like a brand on his very soul. ‘Sour Blood’ was the meaning of the term. An old memory from a home and a time long gone, reduced to cinders. He-no, his entire family- Sauerbluts they called them. They were all nothing, their existence amounting to serving those who were more deserving to be called ‘people’. It boiled his blood to think back to this-to how he was treated, but back then he knew nothing else. Even today, having accomplished more than he ever could have possibly dreamed, the term still gripped him, like a voice constantly whispering in his ear. The Halfaway-Sturmstrike suite was empty, save for Grimm. His wife, Kira, had gone on a trip to visit family, and the children-Regalis, Phennah, and Nox- were all out somewhere else at the moment. He was left to his own devices, to stew in a simmering pot of his own memories. And so he simmers. He recalls the first day he entered Alisgrad, nothing but a starving, inexperienced kid, wandering into a new life with no more hope left to hold. He took what little money he had-all stolen while on the run- and was able to put his first few taxes down on a house. And there he was content to remain, a quiet recluse until the day he passed on. But…then something miraculous happened. A hand reached out to him, and a warm smile greeted his cold demeanor. The Vildrs saved his life, introduced him to a world he never could have imagined himself to have been a part of. Finally, once again, he had a family, and he came to cherish them as such. With a heavy sigh, Grimm rises to his feet, the wood gently creaking under him as he steps out of the room, clutching a leather bound journal in his hands. He goes to the nearest fire, keeping a safe distance from it as he looks the book over, scarred fingers running over the cover, feeling the imperfections baked into its being. With one swift motion, he tosses the book into the fire. “No more memories. I found something to keep living for, something in the now, rather than then.” His gaze remains fixed on the journal, the fire reflecting and glaring off of the gemstone replacing his eye. “Mom, Dad…if I’m disappointing you…” He pauses for a moment, watching the embers overtake the pages, passages and memories burning away to cinders, just like his home, like his family. “...I’m done thinking about that.”

In the basement distillery of Ironguard, Grimm reads over the document, giving it multiple looks over. He questions whether there may be a 'Jim Hathaway-Stormcloud' or something and they messed up, but decides to figure this out later. "Well..." he glances over to his messy workstation, strewn with vials used for his brews. He takes a brief moment to consider his sleep schedule, or lack thereof. "...Shit. Guess you were right, guys. I actually ended up good for something after all." he mutters quiet thanks to a family long-gone.

Grimm sits in his new room in Ironguard, his sword resting beside him on the bed as he reads over the missive. "We may have lost Alisgrad, but...'long as we stick together, I'm sure we'll bounce back." He then puts the missive away, taking up his sword and taking a moment to inspect it. "We've got to."

Grimm scans the invite that reached his mailbox "Huh. Fancy words. Makes me feel important." He glances out his balcony, biting his lip in anxiety as he mentally sees how he can fit this into his schedule. "Here's to hoping Odin doesn't think I'm slacking..." He then scurries downstairs to see if he can find his old wedding suit.

Grimm hastily skims the missive as he dashes around the tavern, preparing for all the travelers to come by. "Alright then...gotta get to work, no time to rest." He folds the missive up and stashes it in his backpack as he rushes off to grab more supplies.