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[This post is about an IRP event, if you were not there you don’t know about it!] A lot of things were to be said about Otton. A lonely individual, a misguided individual, a gullible individual. A pushover. Despite being one of undeath and immortality, there was still an ever so slight resemblance of his previous life within his bones toward his own kin. He was doing just that, aiming to assist his kin and an attempt at repairing mistakes, reconciliation. A quick meander happened upon that keep and he would greet the man outside. A quick exchange of words was to be had, before he was quickly ushered and led inside of those isolated walls. A cold feeling overcame Otton as he approached the project that was to be worked on, just a few days prior he had done the very same thing, his guard down from familiarity and comfort that his apology had been accepted in his mind. Misguided once more, nothing unusual for the immortal, yet this time truly fatal. An uncountable number of assailants, ones he had seen before and yet denied their deal. But this wasn’t about their rejected deal. It was about his actions. He had been found out, and no matter how innocent he truly was, guilty was all that awaited him. His pleas had run out, no more were to be accepted, and this plea to be his last. The impossible was being committed, an act so heinous he had only ever seen it once before himself, the event that had led up to the present. His power fell, a draining not felt before as genus was stripped from his marrows. Gift soon depleting, and nothing left of the Prince of Comoară, nothing left of the Hierarch of Illia’s Blood and nothing left of Otton Jazloviecki. He was truly slain. “You have become what you hate, what you feared has overtaken you. Your daughter unable to be brought back, and all was not by mine hands. Not even a smell is present upon my marrows and yet the most heinous crime against our kin to be committed. Revel in it, writhe in it. Your fate awaits you, eternal shunning and a life of being prey, not the hunter.”
