Destructokeith

[!] A letter is pinned to the wall is the main hall of Vissingren Dearest family, I leave this here as my work in the forge has kept me busy but on a recent trip towards the iron mines I was set upon by a pair of trolls, they seemed to have set up in a cave somewhere nearby. I leave this here so any who wish to seek a challenge or maybe an adventure can seek them out and remove them as a threat to our house and the realm. Seek me out once the job has been done and I will reward the brave hunters for doing their duty. Unwavering under the sun

Within his forge Artel works on weapons for war when a bluecloak enters, handing him a letter, he takes it "vhat ist this? more special orders?" he asks as he opens it reading it over, blinking and reading it again "Mutter" he says to himself as he leans hard on the anvil, he looks up at the messenger as tear begin to well in his eyes "find Karl und make sure he has nicht done something rash, go!" he waves the man off before sinking to the ground and beginning to weep, his heart heavy with the lose of the woman who took him in and gave him a mother he never had.

Artel drums his steel fingers on his anvil as Detlef runs in with the paper in his jaw, as the knight takes the paper his pets the bone wolfs skull "danke mein friend" he says as he begins to read "lets hope this doesnt cost anyone their heads but ich agree, that last paper made our mayor look foolish and our prince consort vas cut out fully" he laments as he traces the emblem on the wolfs skull

Artel blinks as he reads the words on the page "ich know ich am crazy, but ve voted on der trout thing before Auggie spoke" he looks at the PENGI twins "ich am sure Aimo ist most unpleased, ich must speak with him at once" he says as he stands from his desk, folding his hands behind his back and setting out to find his brother in arms

Idris panics as he finds the invite "Oh no, my nephew is getting married" He mutters to himself as he paces back and forth, the young man now having a personal crisis somewhere in the woods

Artel drums his deamonsteel fingers on his desk as he reads the words "Adria" he mutters "once more they change their name to try und get away from their past mistakes, Adria died und Veletz took its place, now Veletz has died und once more Adria returns" the drumming stops suddenly "if our leaders fall for this again ich fear for all of Aevos"

"Funny der little queen took it, but it vould be funnier if she gave it to Aurel" Artel chuckles as he looks across the ruins of the Stassion keep, he turns to look at Detlef and the PENGI twins "after all, they dared to insult us, yet here ve stand und they are nein more then ein afterthought now" he smiles and walks off to forge more cannonballs

Artel sits in his study, his steel fingers drumming on the desk as he reads the paper before him. He thinks back to the young boy he had met in the streets of Minitz and watching him grow into a man, he remembers how the boy stood against the bandits as a child with no fear "gone to soon" he mutters as he files away the paper, a frown on his face he stands from his desk "damned war" he says to himself as he snuffs out the lights

The Rabbit’s Revenge [!] Three banners fly over the ruins of Stassion, one the banner of Theonus, one the banner of Icathia, and the tallest, a blue banner adorned with a rabbit's head. Artel stands in the ruins of the once proud keep of Stassion as the forces of the Covenant march off. He smiles, still weak from the magic he used to help turn this keep into nothing but a ruin. Standing there, he thinks back to what had led to this moment. It was just like any day in the streets of Vallagne, the streets full of shoppers and children playing, Artel watched the streets with a smile until a man in a black mask ran past, followed by two guards who managed to stop the man shortly after they ran past the knight. With a sigh, he walked over to find out what the problem was. “We asked him how he got into the city Sir, and he gave us different answers each time!” Came the reply from the guard. The knight asked a simple question in return, a puzzled look on his face. “Why do you wear the colors of bandits who have attacked our people?” The reply that came was nothing but lies, by now the knight commander Aimo had arrived, and with a simple order the bandit's hand was broken and he was thrown from the city. The people of Vallagne went about their days, thinking that would be the last of it. But oh were they wrong For later that day came the men of Stassion, angered by the treatment of a man of their realm. They kidnapped an innocent man for no reason other than the colors he wore. A shame for them that the colors he wore were blue and white. With a simple act of cruelty, the beheading of a man of Theonus, the people of Stassion had unknowingly signed the death warrant of their entire realm. One simple act led to the moment where the Margrave allowed the forces of the Covenant to march from his keep to lay waste to Stassion. Artel turns and heads to the throne room, glancing out through the holes shattered into its walls towards his home, Ghorm had been so close to home when they stole his life. “What if we had known?” “Could we have saved him?” These thoughts tormented the man as he looked up at the ruined throne before his mind drifted once more to the past. The men of the city watch and magi of Hohkmat gathered together in the barracks, collecting gear they would need for their trip to Whitespire. The king of Aaun had called for a meeting of peace, some were hopeful but Artel was not among them, the thought of Ghorm's murder still fresh in his mind. “How can a boy who can't control his vassals hope to bring peace?” he thought to himself as they rode to join with the other armies, it was then that a bird arrived, telling of what awaits them in Whitespire. The sound of five thousand horses charging filled the air as they all rushed to save the boy king, unaware that they were already too late. They stormed the city, then the keep, they chased down the murderers and killed them all and once they returned to the streets of Whitespire, the war began. Seven and a half thousand men stood outside the gates waiting for the Covenant’s move, just over nine thousand strong. We stood packed into the streets safe to plan until an unknown traitor opened the gates and our enemies poured in. Two great armies met in the streets of Whitespire that day as every man that Veletz, Stassion, and the Horde sent died in the street, the rivers of blood poured into the great Silver Sea, and mountains of bodies stacked high. For the Covenant and the people of Aaun, the murder of the king was a great rallying cry, the second warrant of death that Stassion had signed for themselves. But, for House Theonus another loss was felt in the chaos. Our Isavella had fallen, slayed by Stassion’s actions. And once more the fire inside every Theonus burned hot with rage. Artel stares at the throne, small tears in his eyes. He draws his hand and a half sword, stalking towards the damaged throne he lifts the blade high “For Ghorm!” he yells as he brings the blade down, cracking the throne before lifting the blade again “For Isa!” he roars and once again brings the blade down, the throne nearly splitting in half before he lifts it one final time, screaming at the top of his lungs “Unwavering, under, the sun!”. He brings the blade down, cleaving through the throne and digging it into the floor. With a heavy sigh, the knight stands, waiting a moment to rip the blade from the floorboards before marching off. His revenge was complete.

"well isnt that something" Artel musses as he reads the letter "at least he finally has something, shame ich never got around to helping him break in" the knight laughs as he looks to his loyal bone wolf friend "that vould have been fun" Elsewhere Idris reads the letter as he gets ready to head off on a final adventure before he starts his life proper, he thinks to the events of his day and smiles "maybe happiness like that is not as far away as I thought" and with that the boy climbs down the castle walls and sets off for adventure

Artel returns home, changing back into his armour and muttering about the day "ich hate public speaking like that" he says towards a pair of penguin living dolls who sit almost fully still, only moving their heads to watch him as he paces about

Sir Artel throws off his red cloak and pulls on his blue one "ein war in his name, ich vill see them all killed" he turns and lowers his saber towards the keep of Stassion "BURN THEM OUT, SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE!" he commands to the rallied bannermen of his family, their revenge finally ready to be unleashed, he turns to look at his family as they join him on the battlements with a nod and a look of hate he turns back, ready to watch his enemies burn for daring to kill his kin

Artel reads the invite as it makes its way to the head of his house "ich guess that officially makes Cat family now" he remarks with a chuckle as he begins to clean his armour, picking out the cloak with the least burns and once more looking over a map of the city, glancing over to his ever loyal Detlef "come on boy, ve must get everything in order" he tosses the skeletal wolf a coin to chew on as they set off

Artel stands, brushing himself off and looking at the burned land before him, his horse fallen by his foes. He looks to the ring on his hand "GOTT, ich love this thing" he turns and catches sight of a group of high ranking orcs, with a smile he draws his saber and charges "IGNIRE!" he roars as he charges, the ring once again waking up to help the Flamebringer live up to his name.

As Artel called for his daughter he watched his cousin march forward, the same movements as the day he earned the name "The mad", with a silent nod he ushers the children into hiding knowing that his cousin would not be joining them. As his warcry echoed through the city Artel smiled, for his cousin had died in battle to defend the innocent as he always said he would.

Artel blinked a few times, he reads the missive over for a third time "oh so that ist real, that isnt just, du know" he looks to his loyal wolf skeleton Detlef "ich should really get back in der habit of asking people about these things" he mutters as he hooks his saber to his belt before climbing from his forge home to start his ghostbusting

Destructokeith Sir Artel von Theonus Old Vissingren

Artel stands on the balcony overlooking the square of Vallange, a scowl on the Flamebringers face as he thinks back to the battle until the music reaches his ears, he bows his head to listen, with a nod the knight turns and marches off to ready himself for the next battle

"Wilford Roideach" Artel chuckles "ah ja, der very well know Petrain" he begins to howl with laughter "ich hope he left ein gutte gift in that throne room" he balls the letter up in his palm, flames soon engulfing it as he goes about his day

Discord: destructokeith Skin name: royal officer Bid: 40

Idris stands atop the wall, his new cloak hiding him against the stone as he stands eerily still "well that was awful, I didnt expect scary monsters on my adventure" he mutters to himslef as he watches the mages in the aftermath, looking to the place where a ball of evil flames had nearly cooked him. After a few more moments he turns and jumps down the wall, using the loose stones to make it to the ground, setting off into the world once more

Artel watches as once more the forces of The Bluecloaks gather their arms for the coming battle, he glances over the wall of the keep towards Veletz and its allies land "This war ist far from over kinder, ich hope du vill nicht have to fight one like this in your time" he says to the young ones around him, two with hair like flames and one with hair like shadows, he turns back to the garrison as it sets off to join with the rest of the force of Petra, with a silent nod and a round of hugs, he marches off to join them.

Sir Artel walks through the halls of the once proud Brasca keep, his saber drawn and still aflame he makes sure to spread the flames as he walks, burning paintings and banners as he goes, he thinks of the words of a child he met as he nears the stairs, making sure to set those steps ablaze as he passes, he keeps at his task until he leaves the ruined castle, the flames twisting towards the sky as The Flamebringer marches on.

Artel stands atop the aviary tower in his family keep, hoping that the letter his son sent finds its way to the girl he had spoken so highly of before the armies marched