A duel of Fates

Haseroth

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The Gods guard us and the Honourable
A conflict’s resolution

To the men and women of the Seerdom of Elyanor,

Recently, the Clergy had completed an intensive investigation involving allegations of one former Dragonknight. The primary allegation, however, was that Sir Karl von Mannhardt, a man known for his chivalry, his honor, and his neverending honesty, was a vampire.
Upon the inquiry, it had been admitted as truthful by the Baron himself. In addition, it was revealed that the accuser once had gone to him to be turned, forsaking her faith. when Gwyn Thorpe rode to Grimmwald to confront him about such, it was then found that a clergywoman by the name of Reylin was killed as a result to the offense of adultery and deceit that the vampire had uncovered and found true.

It is thought that the betrayal of one Reylin de Retford-Jaeger could have even motivated these allegations to come to surface, for it was found that she had previously gone out to seek vampirism before.
To a duel of fate, it was to be. The Inquisitor challenged the Baron to fight in single combat, which the honourable Karl the Merciful accepted. The Baron was felled during the duel, at the hands of Gwyn’s blessed powers, and upon being beaten he had accepted defeat before that which is Divine.
It has been decreed so, the title of the Baron passed down unto his son. His son will inherit Karl’s revered titles and honors, and it will be him who will now hold the seat of Exarch for Ynslee. The family of von Mannhardt shall not inherit the prejudice that was directed to their patriarch. With this death, his curse has been cleansed, and the spirit sent for justice.

May the soul of Sir Karl the Merciful know true peace, and may his pursuits of divine accountability reap success.
Signed,
Gwyn Thorpe.
Jonas of Myrfeld
King of Calendale.​
 
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particri

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Another one.
But... This one…
This one is the toughest yet.
The one where she didn’t expect to lose so quickly.

A raspy scream echoed through the forest right outside of the Barony, wrought with grief and agony. There, within a small circular clearing, surrounded by thick underbrush and dense trees, a woman knelt on the ground. Blacken scorches stemmed outward from the soil her palms pressed downward to.

Incoherent whispers escaped her lips to that of the unknown around her, so only the void knew the begging and grief she wept into the land she’d call home. For her fiancé was murdered by these folks, simply put. It was clear that the sugary words and fluff coated grammar tried to deem the Seerdom innocent in the eyes of all… Yet, she knew this was false. Egotistical ideals and Arrogance would only drop and seep from their only being if they continued to walk upon Enarion.

Odette picked herself up from the ground, wiping off the dust and grime from her persona, a dark look dwelling upon her visage. Time to speak to the twins about what is to come…
 
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gross

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The sickened librarian would exit their dominion with a soft sigh. The heavy wooden doors behind them would close shut with a thud, muffled by the ocean breeze that welcomed the figure outside. They'd make sure they were still locked, then turn on their heel, rolling their right shoulder as it had been under some strain just before.
Oncemore, they'd make their way towards the Barony, to try retrieve the body of the beastly clergywoman to her home.
 

Smmers

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Your mom
Having been made aware of the passing of her Oupa Karl the young Mannhardt would be filled with nothing more than a sinking feeling in her gut as tears began to accumulate within her eyes. Shaking her head, clutching onto the goat plushie that she held within her hands tightly. A sense of rage taking place where sadness would be as she could only mutter out."Phoenix.. will rise.. I- Promise Oupa..." Ester spoke aloud, dragging herself back to her own bedroom...
 
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A sigh. Such a frequently gesture for the copper haired woman. So much death. She stood before the notice, her mind racing. "A vampire? Hmph." Her thoughts continued to gallop along, much like her horse, moments later. Questions. Contradicitons. Too many questions. The man of honour she had begun to know was... She cut her thoughts short, redirecting them. He was a man of honour. One who had not judged her by her kin. He had earnt her respect in that very moment, not too long ago. That was enough to remember such an honourable man.
 

The Courier

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Resident sewer rat, Zrim Scrim, can't read therefore he would chew on the paper before going to raid the castle stores once more for more delectable cheese. Yet perhaps even he would find grievance in the coming days, as those who mourn the late Baron are now less likely to attend to their fields. Meaning less treasured filth for the creature of Grimmwald's Underbelly.
 

Ballywhomst

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A crippled artist paused in his work, setting aside hammer and chisel when the knock of news came to his studio door. He accepted the missive with dust-stained fingers and looked it over.

"Like children waving sticks, these pagans play at mercy," he muttered, letting the letter fall to join the rest of the refuse littering his floor. At his desk he paused to scribble down a note for the dimensions of a fresh block of stone. "A shame I never got to see the man. I shall have to request a portrait for his funerary bust."

Humming, he returned to his work. The occasional tap, tap, tapping of the chisel his only companion. "Ave atque vale, dear Baron."
 

Tide

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Secluded within his home the ever-aging Monarch screams. In anger too that his suspicions confirmed, he scattered his table's contents over the floor.
"Why did it come to this, you.. You demented fool!" He stumbled his way through the cluttered floor and planted his hands upon the weapon's rack.
"I had trusted you with my life, time and time again. We had fought, won, and mourned together. I had made this home for your family possible.."
Jonas seized a blade from the rack and slowly approached his fireplace. Before the flames he knew so well, he kneeled and laid the silver blade against his palm.
"Now all I can do is pray.." Would his words bleed, so much as his palm when he slit himself open. He fed the flames with naught but anger that night, a shadow cast upon his self of what is to come.

"Why is it you must fall without me. Why after all these years am I the one to remain.." He whispered, surrounded by voices he once knew.
 
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