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  1. The Life of Maela Vuiller Arcas, Haense Born to Darien Frostfire and Althea Frostfire --- Maela Frostfire, the one and only daughter of Darien and Althea Frostfire. Her father, a soldier within the BSK. Her mother, a baker. She grew up within the Kingdom of Haense, during a time of strife. Maela hadn’t known of any other family a majority of her life, the grandparents on both sides having long passed. No cousins, no siblings. Haense had a way of being cruel. She’d awaken within their small abode, tucked away in a corner. Her room, hidden from any inspectors. Maela would exit, stomping off snow as she’d grasp at her mothers hand, making way for the bakery. They’d bake, steam pouring out and warming the humble shop. She’d often been told to keep to herself growing up, and so when the baking finished, the reading began. Varying books of all sorts, sinking into whole new unknown worlds. There’d been times when she’d attempt to talk to another, only to be ignored. She’d only been a commoner, afterall. She’d make friends, those friendships lasting all of a few months before they were gone, slipping away like a snowflake on the wind. It’d been one of those days, she’d may have just hardly turned ten, maybe eleven. Her mittens rubbed together, in an attempt at generating warmth as she’d idle by the tavern, having finished her work alongside her mother for the day and her father still on his shift. Maelas breath frosted out in front of her, smoky as it filtered out, crystal blue eyes taking in the scenery. A young boy, his name lost to time, soon approached, speaking with her. A smile formed, talking easily with her fellow child and soon, he’d introduce her to his friend, Oskar Wick. Maela hadn’t met the young boy again but she’d become fast friends with Oskar. She’d awaken, bake with her mother and slip off to join him in fun escapades about the city, often bringing treats she’d slipped beneath her coat for them to enjoy together later on. Wet, squelching footsteps would sound within the sewers they’d all too often explore. The squeaking of rats as they’d duck into cracks and crevices along the ground, while others watched the duo with beady eyes, always, always watching. Oskar, donned in a fine yet worn coat would always protect Maela. They were like night and day, the two. The boy with dark hair and gray eyes, personality like midnight on a rainy day. The girl with pale hair and blue eyes, personality like sunshine bouncing off a window. Opposites and yet they’d gravitate towards one another. --- Time passed. The duo were thirteen and the Inferi war was taking place. Maelas father, Darien Frostfire, ever the loyal soldier had taken to the battlefield. Only to be felled. He died on the field, hit by a misshot arrow from his own side. It was never known who’d shot the arrow. Whether it be a mistake or purposeful. His body, brought home upon a board and a funeral soon hosted. Grief, it overtook the Frostfires. Now, only a widowed mother and a lost daughter. And yet, life did not let up. Darien Frostfire had secrets, a history unknown by his grieving family and so when the knock came, of Holy Knights at the door, shock came past the grief. They were there for Maela. Althea Frostfire, distraught, sent the Holy Knights away, for they were not to take her only daughter. But things only grew worse. With war, came a time of strife, of pain and wanting. --- A scholarly missive. The duo were now sixteen. Maela visited the home of Oskar Wick once more, with a freshly baked treat, steam wafting off of the dish and offering warmth in the frigid cold. She sat upon the chair, peering up at Oskar with the adoration she often did. Their childhood friendship turned to more as she found herself growing to love him, hoping that he may marry her someday. He took his hand in hers, taking her in with a look that said all was not well. He was scheduled to be executed the next day. His missive had gotten too much attention. Oskar, of course, was quick to assure her. This night, he’d fake his death but before that, he had a question: “Will vy marry me?” The answer was obvious, perhaps always obvious to those who’d seen the two together. “Da, always da.” And so a body, near unrecognizable, was found in his home that night, a note at its side. --- Maela played her part well. She grieved her friend, and unknown to those, fiancee. Clipped, dried flowers would be laid neatly at the entrance of the sewers. A shrine, in its own way. Family, it was something odd to her. Having always thought of herself alone, besides her late father, mother and now fiancee. But now, once more, those Holy Knights came back. A grand-uncle, heading the Holy Knights in the pilgrimage to come to new lands. The Inferi war had ended, and disaster struck again. Endless natural disasters, destroying her city and home. Holy Knights at her side, guarding her as she’s safely escorted to the City of Man. How many people must she have fed? Somehow in the chaos, her basket of goodies, meant to be brought to her fiancee wasn’t last. It went to the people, those starving as they awaited news of their homelands. And then they sailed on, to a new land, Almaris. --- A new home. It was odd, really. The buildings towered and the cold didn’t bite at her cheeks. Maela Frostfire and her fiance, Oskar Wick turned “Theodore Napier”, settled within the city of Providence. The first to marry within the church and certainly not the last, they stayed with a family friend as those got settled into their new homes. Maela, wishing to provide what she could, decorated the home. She’d bake and bake and bake, the ever-present scent of baked goods wafting through the kitchens and the hallways. Her now husband, he’d joined the ISA. Soon, waddling as she was with child, she’d bring him a lunch each day at work. A thermos of cocoa, to go with a slice of apple pie, freshly made whipped cream drizzled over the top and a second thermos of beef stew. Each meal, each dish, something different. Soon enough, he’d been elected Alderman and doing another line of work. Their first child was born, Darien Napier II, named after her late father. Their second came shortly after, Ophelia Napier II, named after Oskar Wicks twin. Maelas mother, Althea Frostfire, soon passed on. --- A time came, then. They could no longer hold the name of Napier, having outstayed their welcome with the trusted family friend. And, so with permission of their cousin branch as Oskar, ‘Theodore’ still kept his beating heart a secret, they took on Vuiller. Oskar, ‘Theodore’ passed one day when on the job and Maela followed shortly after. One might say it of a broken heart, as the woman withered away day by day after the loss of her beloved. --- In the name of genealogy, their current descendants, living or otherwise are as listed: Darien Jonathan Vuiller II Ophelia Althea Vuiller II Antonio Pepino, son of Ophelia and Guillame, her first husband Livia Joanna, son of Ophelia and Dmitri, her second husband
  2. A PRIVATE UNION In the year of our Lord, 5th of Sigismund’s End 28 B.A “With the eagles' foresight we reign victorious.” It pleases the County of Aquilae to announce the matrilineal union of Dona Ophelia Vuiller to Segnor Rodrik Zerionni The marriage took place within the Basilica La Sorella of Balian in a private ceremony for the families to attend and officiated by Father Theodosio. May the couple be blessed in their future endeavors and fly ever high. Signed, Her Excellency, the Matriarch of House Vuiller, Dona Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller, Countess of Aquilae, Viscountess-Consort of Renduzzo, Procurator of the Kingdom of Balian. His Excellency, the Patriarch of House Darkwood, Don Drako Darkwood, Count-Consort of Aquilae, Viscount of Renduzzo. Dona Ophelia Vuiller of the County of Aquilae, Private of the Company of Balian Don Rodrik Vuiller of the County of Aquilae
  3. THE BLESSING OF THREE “With the eagles' foresight we reign victorious.” Cum Aquilis longe victores regnamus. “One must live and die by his own sword.” Viendum est et suo gladio moriendum. Issued by The County of Aquilae And The Barony of Renduzzo On this 6th of Lothar’s Gift, in the Year of our Lord, 15 B.A. With the recent marriage of the Heiress to the County of Aquilae, Lady Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller to Baron Drako Rickard Darkwood of Renduzzo, their union has proven fruitful. Such so, that a blessing in three has been given upon the family after the recent loss of Lord Kristian Vuiller. Three beautiful babies. Triplets, much like the current Patriarch, Count Rev Vuiller and his sisters Mink and Ravn Vuiller. Three, much like the babies saved by the now Venerated Ivan Var Ruthern. The newly blessed couple, keeping this in mind, alongside the traditions of their families, have thus given their new children this name: Lord Godric Ivan Vuiller, heir to the County of Aquilae, a lovely baby boy. @Cjmate Lord Vehlrun Haakon Darkwood, heir to the Barony of Renduzzo, a look-alike to his father. @tcs_tonsils_ And Lady Aurianne Lamiacea Vuiller, a sweet baby girl. @Moo_bot With the recent stress of loss and the complications that come with triplets, the three children were born two months early. At first, touch and go, the two heirs are fully on the mend with a healthy complexion to boot, Lady Aurianne taking a tad longer than her brothers as of current. We ask the Grand Duchy of Balian to extend a warm welcome to their future Count of Aquilae, alongside Baron of Renduzzo and wherever Lady Auriannes future may take her, alongside their prayers for good health. Signed, The Right Honorable, Count of Aquilae, Sir Rev Vuiller, the Seneschal of the Grand Duchy of Balian, etcetera. The Honorable, Baron of Renduzzo, Drako Rickard Darkwood, Leftenant of the Brotherhood of Balian, etcetera. The Honorable, Baroness-Consort of Renduzzo, Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller, heiress to the County of Aquilae, Procurator of the Grand Duchy of Balian, Lady Chamberlain of the Palati Monterosa, etcetera.
  4. “With the eagles' foresight we reign victorious.” Cum Aquilis longe victores regnamus. “One must live and die by his own sword.” Viendum est et suo gladio moriendum. The County of Aquilae, alongside the Barony of Renduzzo is proud to announce a donation towards the war effort. A grand sum, filling many a chest, which shall be listed here: 40 stacks of meat of all sorts 16 stacks of leather 20 stacks of iron 10 stacks of gold 20 stacks of feathers 10 stacks of wood 10 horse whistles Weapons, tools and armor which we have had lost count. May we find prosperity during wartimes and may we have no need to use these donations. Signed, The Right Honorable, Count of Aquilae, Sir Rev Vuiller, the Seneschal of the Grand Duchy of Balian, etcetera. The Honorable, Baron Drako Rickard Darkwood of Renduzzo, heir-consort to the County of Aquilae, Draco Rickard Darkwood, Leftenant of the Brotherhood of Balian, etcetera. Her Excellency, Baroness-Consort Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller of Renduzzo, heiress to the County of Aquilae, Procurator of the Grand Duchy of Balian, Lady Chamberlain of the Palati Monterosa, etcetera.
  5. A young Lady Laurelie Vuiller went out to walk her dog. Finally a day of peace, out with Buckles. Walking the roads with a smile. The small mixed and stout dog ran around her feet. She returned the estate. Buckles went to join the other dogs in the back. Home was meant to be safe. As she walked to the keep people were coming in and out. The girl of fifteen raised a brow as she entered. Civil War was all that was being talked about. The smile she once had was no more. The girl was used to death, after all, she was the one who found her father’s dead body. She grew up in war, helping her family wherever she could. She would often care for her ailing mother, who had just started to get better. Lady Katerina had entered their home, while the rest of her family went out to gather their things. Her cousin, Johanne, was going to bring the dogs along for a short while, to keep them safe. Soon, little Laureli was alone, with Lady Katerina, the doors barricaded. Men could be heard dismounting their horses, and fear quickly struck the poor girl. She saw them in the windows, trying to find their way in, Laurelie quickly ducked behind the extra things they had to use to block all the doors and windows. Lady Kate near the door. "HAIL." A man said knocking on the gate that blocked the doors "The Crown wishes to speak" The sounds of another man gripping his gauntlet around the iron bars "We're only here to talk" "I am the kindest of my party" said the last man "You would be wise to speak to me instead of them, da?" The young Vuiller spoke "Get down" "What crown do you support" the questioned asked to everyone who entered the keep "It depends on which Crown you recognise" he answered "Stop talking and get down please" Lady Laurelie pleaded in a short whisper "what is your answer?" he spoke soon after "Stay close" Lady Kate spoke in the same hushed tones as they made their way to the roof. The dagger Laurelie’s mother gave to her clutched close to her chest. After some time had passed, Lady Kate went home. Her cousin, who was more like a sister, Lady Johanne Vuiller, had sent her a bird to come home, but she was already home. Their very tall friend Suika who was one year senior was now in the keep, as was her aunt Rosemary, and a musin had joined them. Down in the basement they talked about heading up the stairs so that Suika could read one of her favorite stories out loud. As they started to make their way up, shattering glass could be heard. Frightened, having not gotten the chance to tell the others what happened prior to that day, they ran back up the stairs to the roof. Letters were sent calling for help, one of the many cannons moved to the door. They had loaded it, ready to fire. “Stay back! We are women and children!” WACK! The musin’s head was caved in by a war hammer. Laurelie looked on in horror as Suika used her body as a shield for Laurelie. As the men came closer, weapons were already out. How? How did they get on the roof? “Well, well…Look what we have here boys?” the man said with a smirk. “THE VUILLERS ARE TRAITORS!” The young Vuiller knew that voice, it was one of the voices from before. Wait, Traitors? How they were traitors, they did nothing wrong. They had said nothing. If they were traitors there could have been a more peaceful way of doing things right? He boomed loudly. “No steps further, or off with your heads.” Heads, who’s heads. Her body grew cold. Our heads… She thought to herself. Johanne, scared at the men that approached threw a fire bomb at them. Tossing them back, just as the one in front of Laurelie and Suika was about to put his blade into Suika’s throat. The three men were sent flying, one nearly rolled off the roof, yet it wasn’t enough. Rosemary was hit with a crossbow, she ran over to Johanne “Don’t hurt the children!” Despite this, the letters sent proved fruitful, and people were on the way! However, up on the rooftop of the keep, Rosemary Vuiller turned, reaching for Johanne “Please, please not the children. I beg of you with every ounce of my being. Please don't kill my children.” Rosemary reached out for Laurelie to take her hand. Calling her daughter she knew what this meant and played along. Moving to grab her hand, holding onto Suika “SPARE THE CHILDREN!” the man ordered “TAKE ALL OF THEM PRISONER!” Rosemary was soon pulled away, beaten bloody for Johanne’s actions, to be made an example of. She was just trying to keep herself safe. Why were they doing this? We were scared, and frightened. One second it was death and then the next it was prisoner. “Close your eyes Llir, don’t watch this” she whispered to by Suika, still using herself as a shield, close to the cannon, they could do nothing. Voices, she heard voices. Were they saved? The men on the roof of Vuillermoz keep didn’t look happy. The men moved to climb down the walls. Grand aunt Primerose was there. Did she let the others onto the roof? Primrose and Johanne started to tend to Rosemary. Laurlie looked over the walls, a battle could be heard yet she couldn’t see anything. Sukia pulled her to the side “Let me out, my friends are here” After trying to set up another cannon she agreed. Moving down the hallways of the keep, Sukia saw her friend and jumped out of one of the broken windows. Laurelie, started to make her way back up, taking a wrong turn in all the confusion, she ended up a floor too low. Her brother’s window was broken. Careful of the glass, she went inside. One girl, two boys. Sleeping in their cribs, tear stained faces. After checking them, she ran back up to the roof and told her aunt and cousin who she found. As the fight went on, Rosemary went to go find her mother, as Laurlie picked up the musin’s body. They went back to her brother's room. With Johanne with the boys, she tucked the musin’s body into her coat. Laurelie, using her own cloak tied the little girl to her chest. The group passed the boys back and forth as they climbed out a broken window and onto the ground. Looking around, they soon ran to the crypts, careful to make sure no one saw. Laurlie cried over her father’s body. Begging for him to come back, begging Godan to let him come back and to keep them safe. As Johanne prayed to Godan, and Saint Harald. Hours passed. Before a call was heard. “JOHANNE?!?” Once it looked clear enough. Lauralie ran to the house, their home. Her home, covered in blood and dead bodies. She started to pray for those who lost their lives trying to keep her family safe. She moved to her room, the bottom of her dress caked in dirt and blood she started to pack up her very few possessions. Lady Laurelie Henrietta Vuiller didn’t pick a side. Lady Laurelie Henrietta Vuiller had yet to pick a side. Lady Laurelie Henrietta Vuiller had picked a side! “For the Eagles' foresight, we reign victorious.”
  6. The Half a Day Peace Lady Johanne Altsromeria Vuiller had been born into war. In all of her mere thirteen years of her life, it was all she has ever known. When the news came of the war ending, she hardly knew what to think. The girl was certainly brimming with excitement. She found the first family member she could, her Uncle Thomas Komnemos to share excitedly share the good news. "The war ended!" She'd whisper all too loudly behind him, before pausing, seemingly realizing something then. "What do I do now?" That was the question, wasn't it? What does she do now? As he turned to her, he explained in no uncertain words that she play, make merry and be a child. And so she did. She ran directly for her Grandmother Primroses house in search for her cousin Aldrych Gendik, the two soon making off for the nearby park to run about like loons, excitedly discuss future plans and have the best time of their life. Later that night, with hope held tight within her heart, she fell asleep with a dream of a better future. When she first awoke, she was none the wiser to the problems started within the Empire. She found her way into the capital, discussing with anyone who would listen about her plans for an upcoming dog show she'd been planning with her cousin Laurelie for what felt like eons. She'd make posters and hang them everywhere. She'd bathe and dress the dogs into their utmost best. And she'd get them the best homes available! With note, though, the square began to fill. More then she's seen all together at once, as armored groups piled in. Her words lowered into a whisper, asking her Uncle Jarad what might be happening. "The war is over, right?" She breathed out nervously as her heart dropped. His answer was a simple one. "Not the internal one." Unsure and terrified, she went and hid. She had no idea what was happening. She warned her cousin Aldrych and escaped to the keep of Vuillermoz, where she then birded her cousin Laurelie to come home, alongside her best friend, Suika. They could wait it out in what she thought was the safety of her home, see what is happening and wait for her Grandfather to awaken from his slumber. And so they would wait. A Musin soon joined them, playing games with the three girls as they heard nary a peep or sigh from anyone. And soon her mother, Rosemary Vuiller came just as their home was sieged. Lady Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller did not understand why they were under attack. She only just found out what was happening as those broke through their windows and accosted the home she very much loved. How she rushed up the stairs to the roof, dragging her cousin along as she burst out from the door, chest heaving in panic. Enemies. They are clearly enemies. Why else would they be here to hurt us? It went through her mind like wildfire and so as the meagre group of children and one adult pushed the cannon atop the roof towards the door, she steeled herself for a fight. Glass shattered and men filed in, a warhammer cracking down on the head of their new Musin friend. A blasting potion, gotten from her Uncle just Saints days prior after she'd been attacked shot forth in an feeble attempt to protect their home and livelihood. And yet, it wasn't enough. They were surrounded. An example made of her mother as she's beaten half to death. Help arrived soon after, the fight went on brutally into the night and as Laurelie and Johanne escaped, they found themselves within the Vuiller nursery. Three babies. Two children. The escape was narrow and yet they managed it. They ran as fast as they could, heading for the family crypts where they came to a kneel with a cry beside the crypt of the late Sir Duncan Vuiller, prayers spilling forth. Laurelie begging for her father to come back. Johanne praying to Godan, Saint Harald Vuiller or anyone who would listen. "Please, please, Godan, Saint Harald-" The babies are coddled within her jacket, body wracked with shivers. "Protect us, please. Please, please." And so the cried pleas continued as did the fight, until eventually, way into the night, the call of her mother came. "Johanne?" Lady Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller did not have a side. Lady Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller did not have a side. But now? She did. "For the Eagles foresight, we reign victorious." Those were the words she whispered that night her entire world was flipped upside down. Those are the words she lives by.
  7. To Serve an Eagle The raucous splat of rain pattered down upon the quiet town of Vuillermoz, a majority of its citizenry finding themselves within home and hearth for the night, the roaring heat of flames warming weary bones. Frail hands trembled as they’d pull a ratty shawl tighter about their form, cheeks flushed and keeping a close hand to the young boy of just eight at her side. Rain drenched the duo, the sky having darkening and having departed from their hailed carriage, they took in the city with both hope and trepidation yet. The soft squish of dirt turned mud beneath feet could be barely heard past the storming night, shoes relinquished to the boy at her side, head tucked firmly against his sister's waist. Not a peep of complaint left him, shivers wracking over his small body as they continued their journey. Could it be true? The thought is fleeting and brief, even as they closed in on their goal they set out for. Spine straightening to that of steel, a firm knock sounded at the front door of the Vuillermoz keep, taking the respite from the rain from the minute overhang as they’d wait for an answer. Moments pass. Another knock. And the door opens. They’re met with discerning blue eyes. --- The heady heat of the fireplace is like a balm to one such Caroline Isaac soul after her harrowing journey. Her very being seemed to warm, the flames lighting her cheeks aglow. Paintings decorated the walls of the stone keep, well-loved and well-lived in and tea is soon provided, palms curling over the fine porcelain with a little sigh. Never had she expected such hospitality. Perhaps, then, it could be true. Conversations undertook and soon laughter filled the front room, followed by a series of questions with hopeful intent. An offer made and an offer accepted. --- The laughter turned serious and never had she expected such wisdom and respect. She is merely a commoner. And yet, as she fell to a kneeling position, dark gaze meeting to meet with that of a light one, she felt right at home. If they were true, intended to keep their word, her brother would have a fine education. A home. She made an oath then and there, anything in the excitement of the moment to grasp onto this chance firmly and not let go. “I, Caroline Isaac, do hereby swear To serve the Vuillers and their progeny To the utmost of my ability. Whether in rain or shine, Dirt or dust, I shall serve to my dying breath. And so be it for my to have sons, daughters, So shall they, too. For to serve an Eagle, Is to take flight to new heights.” As Caroline Isaac rose forth to her feet, she felt something settle over her. Assurance and peace. For, she has arrived at what she shall call home.
  8. With the construction of the Vuillermoz library soon to come to fruition, we find that a need for expanding upon the books already in storage has come to a head. With this in mind, a competition has blossomed for the denizens of Vuillermoz and those of the Holy Orenian Empire alike. Donate books to feed the minds of generations old, current and new. Deliver that of bookshelves to stack along the newly made brick walls. And should you win, you would have the honor of naming the new library, within reason, you know who you are, alongside that of any available copies of books within the library. For those wishing to enter, go to the nation of Oren and take the wagon to Redenford and from there, a wagon would take you directly to that of Vuillermoz. Go directly down the road and to the left of the keep and the right of the tavern, the brick building rested upon a new foundation. May this library contribute something great and may you win.
  9. A Dark Knight falls -=Sir Duncan Vuiller lying dead near his own knight tower=- Even from his childhood, it was evident to Duncan that life was going to be something he would have to fight against. His family was a very aggressive Gorundyr one and he was raised as such. However, once upon breaking the lines of combat to save a friend he endangered the victory for his people, which led to a severe beating from his family. This was when he received his large facial burn scars, making him almost instantly recognisable. Knowing that he could not take living in such a condition any longer, he made his way down to Old Providence, with nothing but 20 mina, the clothes on his back and hope that his life may be turned around. And it was, upon his arrival to the city, a High Elf by the name of Minuvas greeted him with a smile, welcoming him to Oren with open arms and kindness unlike anything he had seen before. The Mali’Aheral helped him get set up in a small apartment and taught him about the city and offered him help finding a job should he need it. He soon met a man named Charles Walker, who invited him to join the Ministry of Justice, an offer he took up. Throughout the years Duncan would learn, fight, investigate and prosecute his way through the ranks of the MOJ, leading to him becoming a Supervising Solicitor in almost no time at all. With the help of one Sir James Madron he had fought many battles, surviving and learning true mastery of a blade. At the same time he met an elf called Celeste Valentine, with whom he spent many years in a relationship with, of course they had to hide it but he was very happy with her. Duncan would soon be greeted by two men, a Mali’Ker named Zirath and a human called Toni. They ended up inviting him to a brotherhood known as the Jaeger Brotherhood of Luciensberg. The training was integral in the development of Duncan’s fighting style and he grew to hold a lot of respect for both men as they taught him a wide array of techniques to help him fight. Together the group would work together to fight a variety of enemies, however when the Ratiki sieged Luciensberg, they and the people of Luciensberg found themselves defeated and displaced. On one of the MOJs many fights Duncan witnessed the passing of Ernest Colbert as he was shot with a boomsteel javelin fired from a specialised arbalest. A friend of his and someone he looked up to was gone within seconds, turned in mush. Duncan continued the fight until the retreat was called, but he was mentally scarred with the image of his superior dying. Mere days later he and Celeste were out when bandits approached, both drew their weapons and the fight ensued. Duncan managed to get out of it unscathed, but Celeste had been stabbed, and in his arms Duncan watched as she slowly passed away. Throughout the following years Duncan, while still at work and progressing through the ranks, became more and more saddened as many of his colleagues including Joseph Warwick, and George o’Rourke took their own lives. Mentally, Duncan was deteriorating very quickly, he was unable to surprise a burning rage and hatred at the world he was in. It was on a whim in yet another fit of rage, Duncan put on his armour and made his way to a small village in Norland to go confront his family. In only 1 hour Duncan killed the entire family, showing little to no emotion aside from pure hatred. From there on, despite still working as normal, treating everybody fine, it was evident to anyone that annoying Duncan would only result in him lashing out at them. Something had changed from the old Duncan, a man who was optimistic and hopeful. From there he worked up to the rank of IBI Director, sometimes disappearing to satiate the bloodlust that came with the anger that burned inside of him, but otherwise trying to keep down the hatred he held. As the years passed, it came to fruition that he was soon to be transferred into the Imperial State Army, as part of a shift of power, something that bothered him slightly as he had previously had negative interactions with those who were in the ISA. However, he was pleasantly surprised with the fact that everyone was rather pleasant, he trained and eventually joined the 4th Brigade, an honour he accepted with a smile on his face. An old friend of Duncan’s, Hans Braun spoke to him before Duncan was due to meet his friend Rev Vuiller, and made the decision to comment on his belief surrounding Duncan’s relationship with Celeste. The religious lecturing struck a nerve for him, anger began boiling as an argument would ensue with the both of them screaming before Rev and his sister Ravn approached. Duncan apologised and walked inside the tavern to talk with both Ravn and Rev. However, the entire time Duncan was planning how to deal with Hans. The next saint's day, Hans was found dead on the top of a hill, and his bloodied cross found on the doorstep of the Melphestaus manor. Eventually, Duncan grew to form a very close relationship with Ravn and after several years of courting, Duncan finally proposed with the approval of Cardinal Johan Vuiller, her father and also the closest thing Duncan had to a father figure. They got happily married and had 4 children and adopted another: Johan II, Lucien, Drasus, Laurelie and Nicole. As he would reach the rank of Leftenant, Duncan would finally calm down slightly, although still suffering from breaks in sanity and killing those who stood in his way. Life seemed peaceful and calm until he met Ragrin and Gorlim Ireheart, two men Duncan despised, criminals who had mutilated and killed all over Oren. One fateful day Duncan saw them outside Saint Harald’s Abbey and decided enough was enough and he would finally arrest them. Joined by many Holy Knights and his father in law, a fight took place, with the dwed narrowly escaping. From there began a very long lasting war of which Duncan saw a hell of a lot of bloodshed, himself causing a lot of it. As Duncan lay dying, he would sigh ever so slightly. He knew it was finally the end, however he debated whether him dying was a good thing or a bad thing for the world as a whole. He had done many good things, such as almost single handedly winning the Battle of New Esbec for the MOJ and the variety of criminals he had put away for their actions. He had helped a variety of people and contributed a lot to society. He was a father with 5 amazing children and a great wife, a friend to many and someone who could be trusted with a variety of tasks. However, could this truly make up for every bad thing he had done. He had killed his own friends, innocent people and even once a child. His psychosis was always progressing and it would only take his wife dying for him to completely snap. Maybe it was good that Duncan was dying, it meant several people would be safe, and that they would not be killed to satiate his bloodlust. As he would gently pass, the question remained unanswered, only whoever remained afterlife would be able to pass judgement on his case.
  10. Blinding white meets one's vision, perhaps that of the snow greeting those of Vuillermoz that morning, wind funneling in past the hills and mountains encompassing the sleepy town. Eagles, while often solitary animals, are aplenty, swooping down and about the skies as they take their morning flight, majestic wings spreading wide in a dazzling sight of delight for the young grand-Heiress. Citizens have just begun to wake up, the rays of the sun casting against the snow and reflecting off of it in a dance of its own. It’d still be early yet for the town, though the clashing of shields and blade could be heard from up the hill, the Order of the Silver Eagle in full training mode. This, of course, was why the Lady had awoken earlier than she’d usually might. She’d struggle with the mountain path winding up past the windmill, frost whipping against her face and turning her cheeks a rosey flush for her efforts. Though, through pure determination and will, she’d make her way to the top of that steep incline and take in the magnificence of the bastion. The tower loomed high, connected to a multitude of other buildings and was made entirely of stone, snow glinting off the roof in a variation as to the colors represented. Her trek was not made for this, though, and so her attention turned to that of those training. The young girl of nine breath hefted, catching in her throat as she’d tuck her furs close against her, warding off the chill even as her chest warmed with excitement and delight. Company Men. Oh, how the thought went through her mind like a wildfire! To see their blades clashing harshly against each other, shields bashing and the thundering sound of boots moving as they kept their movements constant. It was all so exciting for one such Johanne Vuiller. A company man is knocked off his feet, another swigs water from a canteen as sweat poured from the early morning workout. Her Uncle barked out words, undecipherable past the roaring wind and the Company Men gathered, falling into formation. The girl watched with bated breath as they went through varying forms, the early morning light soon turning to that of noon, the snow but a mere flurry and the training coming to an end. Johanne Alstromeria Vuiller knew without a doubt that when she took over as Viscountess, she’d offer only the best for her Company Men. Plans began immediately, perhaps that of blueprints as to what things would change and what she would keep as is. And thus the lily began its bloom.
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