Andustar

A wandering soul observed from afar, weary and disheartened. The lessons of an age past had not been learned and, once again, the hearts of men quivered when they should stand resolute. Oaths of fealty once bore weight; loyalty was once its own reward. How easily those bonds of brotherhood are cast aside by opportunists in the guise of saviours. He had hoped the dream of unity - the dream of His forefathers - would survive the test of time. "Pitiful." He turned the page.

He never forgot their faces - those of the men and women who had pledged themselves unto the end. John admired the loyalty each of them bore, but he admired their courage far more. They had earned the right to leave without rebuke, for they had already given what was expected and more. And yet they stayed, never flinching, never doubting. Perhaps it was suicidal, charging forth and into the enemy advance whilst woefully outnumbered, but then one final effort in defence of their home was worth the risk. Cosima was a kind woman. A moral lady and refined scholar. This was not the end one would have expected, nor say she deserved. But it was the end she chose, and even as he was dragged into the mud. Even as the daggers pierced his flesh and life left his body, John was proud of her. At last, peace - the Temesch had earned it.

No King Rules Forever… Less than two-thousand of John II’s warriors remained. They were among the last survivors of their defensive efforts against the Holy League’s fanatical genocide, and he had gathered them before the gates of Portoregne. All stood alongside him willingly; those who sought to escape the carnage had already fled years prior. Noblemen, commoners and foreigners alike, bound together in faith. Once, they were but a blur of faces, streaked with mud and blood. Yet now, after all they had been through together, they were brothers and sisters in arms. All of them knew the truth of what was about to happen. A host nearly eight times their size stood outside Portoregne, and mercy was not a virtue they took to heart. But where other old and famous states had capitulated overnight, the Kingdom of Balian endured, knowing their destruction was inevitable, until there was but one bastion of resistance left. From the start, it was the League’s desire to purge the land of those who opposed their ambitions of conquest, unto the last. This was the end. It filled John’s heart with sorrow, knowing his people would be displaced and driven from their homeland, if not murdered for their loyalty. And yet, despite the sombre nature of what was to come of their city - their Kingdom - he was proud. Proud to have fought unto the end. Proud to have done, in his mind, what he believed was righteous and just. Proud to have been the ‘Good King’. There was but one last thing to do before the final battle commenced. “Sir Sigismund and Sir Theo de Lyons.” He commanded the newly raised knights to step forward. Their task was a simple one. “Deliver this unto my son.” Cloudbreaker, the sword of the King, fell into the hands of the honoured couriers, and they accepted their task without another word. Then, with his regalia cast aside, John drew steel and took position before the portcullis. Burgundy and their allies formed ranks before the front of the city, presenting themselves and their intent for all to see. They sought to instil the fear of God and his so-called ‘chosen’ host. Yet, John’s heart no longer bore fear. Excommunicated twice, they sought to humiliate him. Yet, John’s heart flared with a pride he had scarcely felt in his entire life. He knew the foe’s cause was not one of holiness, but of ambition and a desire for power, spurred by a hunger for vengeance centuries in the making. “As my city falls, I shall fall with her!” He would gladly give his life in defence of his people, to whom he had pledged his allegiance. His only regret was that he had not picked up his sword sooner. The portcullis raised. The banner of Saint Lothar waved triumphantly in the wind, alongside the standard of the House of Novellen. Defenders and bulwarks smashed into the League’s lines, the battle cry of “Death!” on their lips as they sought to rend one final blow unto their foes. His sword of plain steel was unfamiliar to him - it did not know him like the Cloudbreaker - but still it found purchase upon the Burgundian ranks. The edge, wet with blood, arced amid rasping breaths as he felt a sharp pang in his chest, a hammer caving in his breastplate. John swung with a riposte, intent on carving its wielder, only to be halted by a strike to the gorget. A lance extended, intent on puncturing his neck, becoming lodged in scratched steel from the years of battle. John ignored it, grasping the haft with his spare hand, lacking the room he required to swing another blow. The retinue who charged with him committed themselves with equal fervour. Upon finding themselves packed together, they resorted instead to fists. The weight of numerous hands bore down upon the King’s shoulders, and yet he struggled regardless. Slashing, pummelling, clawing, fighting! Even as the countless daggers dripped with his blood, he never shirked. He never wavered. Not one step was taken backwards. Not. One. Step. [!] A Final Testament Published throughout the realms. My beloved subjects, The end is nigh, and you have given unto me more than I could have asked in these final moments. We fought this war for glory, nor conquest, but because we believed it was right. And yet we have lost. Our beloved city is destined to become a ruin, and the civilisation we have built here in the south will be reduced to ashes. Some may call this a less than fortuitous ending. But with every conclusion, there is a new beginning. Balian was never just a place. It has and always will be a dream, carried by its people wherever they may walk. We are more than just a banner and a Kingdom. We are a culture - an idea. And so long as the memory of that idea endures, it matters not how many swords we may face. To those of you who fought with me unto the end, who live to yet speak of our last stand. You have my eternal gratitude. Those of you who have already passed - Rylee, Warrin, Thorin, Owyn, Louis, and so many more. Soon, I will join you in death’s embrace. To my former allies who still live. I do not blame you for laying down your arms, nor do I wish ill upon you for capitulating. You did what you thought was right, not merely for yourselves, but for your people. Sometimes, that is all we can do. To my beloved family, know that I will always cherish our precious moments together. Nothing brought me greater peace than that which we spent together. My beloved wife, my children - the shape of the future and the stewardship of our people. These things I entrust unto you. And to those of you with whom I was estranged. Live out the rest of your days in peace. What lies beyond for me, I do not know. Perhaps it will be salvation, or maybe it will be retribution. None may know until we pass through the door ourselves. I sincerely hope my door will lead unto the halls of my forefathers, in whose company I will not feel dishonoured. I ask only this: Tell my story to those who ask. Be honest, of my ill deeds along with the good, and let those who would listen judge me accordingly. Vale. IN HOC SIGNO VINCES, HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, JOHN II, by the Grace of God, King of Balian, Prince of Providence,Duke of Helena, Lorraine and Reutov, Count of Pompourelia, Viscount of Eflen, Anatis and Valio, Baron of Renzfeld, Brucca, Valens, Malenos, Montcoure and Ciavola, Lord of Portoregne, Atrus and Monterosa, Warden of La Costa Rubinissima, Protector of the Heartlanders and the South, etcetera. Art by Idle28 ~~~ HRM. John II ‘the Good’ 1975-2028 :OOC:

"As my city falls, I shall fall with her..." So declared John II, King of Balian.

"I see you all. Loyal soldiers - friends one and all. You chose to stand by me until the end." John II sighed as yet another name was scribed upon a growing list. "Take heart in this, Warrin, and all others who made the ultimate sacrifice... None of you will be forgotten."

"Home is where we make it, young Aurus," John said in affirmation. "This place is our home, and we shall defend it. Portoregne may last a few years. Maybe longer, God willing. But if there's one thing that is certain, it's that Balian will endure. If not in any tangible presence, then in memory and the spirit of those who carry with them the dream that is our civilisation. Our culture. Our people." "In the end, we are an idea, and you can't kill ideas."

Crazy

"Here I am. Here I remain," King John II uttered upon reading the parchment. "For you, my people - my family - I will fight."

"If it were merely my blood you sought, I would give it freely. But alas, you insist on ethnically cleansing a people from their homes. You would displace your fellow man, whether guilty or not. You pander to the ramblings of a man whose mind is made by the flip of a coin, yet you neglect the tireless work of Cardinal Ivan Lotharia, a man whom you cast aside because he dared question your ambitions..." The King of Balian grasped hold of Cloudbreaker. He would make his last stand alongside a host of the willing. Subjects. Friends. Brothers and sisters all. "Now, whether we surrender or stand defiant, we face the same threats from these warmongers. They desire the total destruction of our Kingdom, and nothing less. Let those of us who remain be martyred, just as Joren and Godwin stood defiant in the face of Harren's shameful conquest!"

I would have to give you the same answer I gave to Kaii. There are many great irp experiences I can think of, but too many to the point in which I can reliably narrow them down. The best answer I can offer is a string of experiences I had as Alberic du Lac, whilst the character was still young.

No harm to the guy, but Evar'lae is useless in a fight. Patrocleia, meanwhile, is more of a survivor and I would consider her to reliably have my back. Where Evar'lae would come in handy, however, is through his empathy and down to earth nature. He would keep you in touch with your humanity, which would be important in the long-term. It's difficult to say, but from a survivalist perspective, I'd pick Patrocleia. That said, sometimes people do terrible things for the sake of survival. Sometimes we all need a reminder to do the right thing. I'll focus on the characters I've played since my return in late 2023. - Alberic du Lac would be a bar owner and part-time private investigator. - John Casimir Novellen would have either become a farmer or a doctor. - Arthur de Lyons would have become a police officer. - Marcus of the Petra would be doing time for assault and actual bodily harm, following a failed acting career.

When you're an adult and looking back at your youth, you tend to think, where did all that wonder, naivety and curiosity go? I don't have as many big ideas as a used to, if you want to call them that. My ambitions and expectations are a lot more realistic, and I'm definitely more patient than I used to be. Although, it's a lot easier to burnout nowadays, and I do mourn the loss of that creativity. But such is life, and I best keep an eye out for what will inspire me next. As for the accomplishment I am most proud of... Well, I don't want to divulge too much about myself, but I'm especially proud I made so many friends throughout the ten years I've played on LotC. Some of them lasted or endured longer than others, but many more are still going strong. It may have been through an online community, but many of those people helped me shape who I am now in their own unique way. Counter Question: What kind of apocalypse are we talking? As for where John came from, I was offered the character by @Harald just before he became King of Balian. Inspiration wise, I looked to the likes of Martin Septim, from the Elder Scrolls IV, and then also Robb Stark, from ASOIAF. Neither have particularly happy endings, especially not Robb, but they both inspired me with their integrity, sense of justice, and a compulsion to do the right thing even when it proved costly to them as individuals. Robb in particular threw aside his own honour to preserve the integrity of a girl he barely knew, breaking a vow to one of his allies, and some may argue that cost him everything in the end. There was honour in a seemingly dishonourable act.