Active Eastern Empire - A See of Dirt and Decay

[Uasal]

Eastern Empire - A See of Dirt and Decay



In the border town of 'Non Ipsum Magna,' the mass burial ceremony was a solemn affair, marked by an air of reverence and sorrow. The town, devastated by See magics, had been nearly buried under the earth, leaving only fragments of its former self visible. Amidst this scene of ruin, the surviving villagers and a detachment of battle-hardened troops gathered to honor the dead, most of whom lay unrecovered beneath the earth.

The sky was a bleak gray, with a light drizzle that seemed to mirror the tears of the mourners. The remaining structures of the town, half-buried and crumbling, served as a stark reminder of the devastation that had occurred. Yet, amidst the destruction, there was a sense of solidarity and resilience among those who had survived.

In the center of the town square, a large pit had been dug to serve as a collective grave for the victims. The villagers, dressed in somber attire, formed a solemn semicircle around the pit. Each face bore the marks of grief and loss, their eyes reflecting the pain of their recent ordeal.

At the forefront of the assembly stood an elderly man, the village patriarch, his face lined with age and sorrow. He began the ceremony with a voice that carried both strength and sadness. "We gather here today," he said, "to honor the memory of those we have lost. Our friends, our family, our neighbors. Though their bodies lie beneath the earth, their spirits remain with us."

A detachment of soldiers, who had bravely fought against the See invaders and eventually pushed them back, stood at attention nearby. Their presence was a testament to the courage and determination that had saved what remained of the town. Leading them was Luisa, her expression a mix of solemnity and resolve. She stepped forward to address the assembly, her voice firm but laden with emotion. "We are here to honor the fallen," she began. "Know that their sacrifice will not be in vain. We fought bravely to protect this town, and we will continue to fight, to rebuild, and to ensure that their memory lives on. To ensure we as a people live on. To ensure the Fae get what they deserve."

As the ceremony progressed, individuals stepped forward to place tokens of remembrance into the pit. A child's toy, a beloved book, a piece of jewelry—all symbols of lives cut short and the memories that remained. The villagers and soldiers alike bowed their heads in silent prayer, the only sound the soft patter of rain and the occasional muffled sob.

The patriarch concluded the ceremony with a poignant invocation. "May their souls find peace in the afterlife," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "And may we, the living, carry on their legacy with the strength and resilience they would have wanted."

As the villagers began to disperse, their hearts heavy with grief, the soldiers remained, standing sentinel over the mass grave. Luisa looked out over the devastated town, her expression hardening with resolve. "We were too late," she said quietly to her nearby soldiers. "We're always too late... tsk"

In the quiet aftermath of the ceremony, the rain continued to fall, washing away the tears and the blood, but not the memories. 'Non Ipsum Magna,' though scarred and broken, stood as a symbol of the enduring spirit of its people, a testament to their resilience and the bravery of the soldiers who had fought to protect them.

Maverick Six Gwen_Temi​

 

[Maverick Six]

Marcus Banecroft
Titles: Human [Mundane], Hospitaller, Eastern Empire Military F

When he arrived at the small village of Non Ipsun Magna, one of the first things Marcus told them was as follows:

"Give me a shovel." He kept alert. His spear was never too far away. But for now, it was exchanged for a simple spade.

If ever given the opportunity -- he made a quiet vow to himself -- to never be above digging graves for the fallen. Whether they were a brother or sister in arms or those who'd sought to protect. He never wanted to be, too. Not when there was little else, he could do. With a blade, he could sink his spear into many a Fae and end many adversaries. Perhaps one day, the "Monster Slayer Spear" would live up to its namesake, and he would set it to eradicating the monstrous threat.

But for now, there was no need for such a thing. The battle was over. The enemies were slain. Now, it was simply time to pick the pieces. Marcus remained alert as ever, his perception lending him to be on guard even now. They were not fully safe in these lands, as these ruins had shown. Yet he had been idle for too long.

So, he would dig. And dig.

And dig.

Until the hole was big enough for them all. His countrymen would aid him. Some would notice that even now, he did not remove his armor -- save for his gauntlets. It would have arguably been easier to do this without it. However, it did not seem to particularly slow him down. Some may have joked that it had become a part of him. Even when it rained, he did not stop.

Some responded to grief in different ways. Some became cold or acclimated to such a thing. Some did not care. For Marcus -- it boiled him from within. He did not strike random objects. He never yelled at people and rarely even raised his voice. But yet boil him all the same it did. Today, he would dig. Another day, he would journey. Another he would seek power. Another he would seek.

He sometimes lamented how he felt. Yet the idle mind was the plaything of demons. Hence Marcus' seemingly eternal movement. His perpetual journey for prowess and power. His desire to quickly become of use. He could spend no time idle. For now, he simply climbed out of a muddy ditch. And began the process of throwing the soil onto those bodies loaded in.

However, it was during his travels that he encountered Ordella.

The funeral would go on. And at the timing appropriate, Marcus would utter a short prayer.

"Great Hades, master of the dark afterworld, honored host of our beloved dead, husband of fair-haired Persephone, holder of the riches of the deep earth, eldest son of full-hearted Reha and Kronos of the shining sickle, I praise you.

Hades, kind one, unyielding one, gracious granter of respite to the suffering, of welcome to those who have passed from our world, I thank you for your gift of shelter and hospitality."

While it was not, he who oft worshipped the likes of Hades, he had become quite familiar with it given the death of those near him.

"We're always too late."

One who had been so-called a "Paladin" in other lands sighed solemnly through his nose. For a moment, he searched for words. Then they would come. "We must do better. Whatever it takes." He said. "But we weren't all too late Optio. I have seen towns swallowed whole with all people in them. Let us be thankful for the living and do as we can for them."

There was little else to do for the dead. And now it had been time for the living. Marcus's eyes looked about his [Perception], lending him an uncanny eye for detail. He did keep trace, but once left to his own devices, Marcus moved among the dispersing villagers. He was in particular, looking to see if there was anyone whom he could assist. Were there wounded among them? Or perhaps the lost?

He'd have to see, for now, he would seek to walk among them, his spear held in hand like a staff, continuously at his side with its blade pointed up into the air. A leather sheath was wrapped around the blade -- ensuring safety. Yet, it could be rapidly removed at any moment.

Hopefully, he will have no further use for it for the rest of the day.

 

[Gwen_Temi]

Ordella Caerwyn
​

There were many reasons why Ordella had to be here in Non Ipsun Magna.

It was her sworn duty to heal the wounded. It was her pleasure to provide closure and comfort for those who'd experienced loss. It was a vow she'd made for herself to bare witness to the cruelties of war from both sides and learn everything she could. It was the only way that she'd have a chance at finding a path that may lead to its end. And so she would offer her services to village in its time of mourning.

She would arrive hours before the funeral and with little introduction needed.

It would seem as though, in times like these, people had become increasingly familiar with the role of an Undertaker.

She would heal those who were wounded. She would survey the area with supernatural senses; gazing out into the rubble in search of buried souls to find survivors who could not be found with mundane senses. And she would scan the area for hazardous enchantments and hostile spells that might've been left behind by the invading forces. Had the village been in need of her other services, then they would have to wait until after the funeral procession. Preserving those who still lived took priority over those whom we'd lost.

The Undertaker was quiet throughout the proceedings.

She cared for these people as she did for all people, but she could only grieve as a stranger. And she had come with intent to learn of the war from those who'd seen it firsthand, not to speak upon it herself. Ordella recognized only a single voice amongst the prayers. The Hospitaller that she'd come to know during her pilgrimage. She would meet his gaze for a brief moment, but little else. It simply wasn't the time. The ceremony would continue on. She would undoubtedly speak with him before he departed the village.

But there would be time for that later.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, The Undertaker chose to make her way over to the village patriarch under the assumption that he was the acting leader of the village. She would greet him with a deep bow before speaking.

"Greetings, Village Elder. I would like to apologize for not introducing myself sooner, but I found myself caught up in ceremonial preparations before I had the chance. I am Ordella Caerwyn, and I would like to offer my services to this community as an Undertaker, should you have me."

Maverick Six Uasal