The Fate Of Those Who Serve

[SomeRandomMan]

'...deemed a heretic to Tirgunn, but also to one who employs the use of Mages into their service.'​

Had your letter led with this, I would have followed such orders in a heartbeat. Had your letter focused upon it, I would not hold the opinion I currently do concerning the order. Had anyone bothered to tell me so in the first place; or perhaps penned a letter questioning my circumstance or motive; without raising a directive from Holy Tirgunn, such an easily-resolvable situation would not have arisen.

The weeks upon end in the walds - I endured for the order.

The village I grew up in - I torched to the ground for the order.

Every single day for the past twenty years I served - I served for the order.

When this humble servant finally arrived in the Holy City, the young Lord Curate came to him for guidance in faith and in action. His Divine personally requested my service as his valet in order to act as a guiding light during the tumultuous time of blight and blasphemy - to take inspiration from our order in its righteous path. When the young Lady Isabelle Cadieux was captured by Sanguine, I spent hours. Hours. Hours more searching for the Sanguine suspected to be her capturers before finally accompanying an escort to her family.

Such is to say, I will continue to abide by the Code of Back Raven.

However, I no longer wish to be privy to the machinations of petty politics - to be moved in a manner far-too-unnervingly akin to a pawn across a haphazard chessboard. To be played by those by those who would read so-far-so between the codes established, out of their disdain for another name, out of blindness cast from squabbles unbeknownst to myself, to maintain a facade of 'honour' where there is none at all to be found in inaction - of the inability to teach others to follow in our footsteps.

It is with great melancholy that I must confess my findings -

There are no more Darkwald Knights left to serve.

The young have had their lives taken.

The old have taken their own lives.

The jaded - no longer considered 'honourable' under the Order's service.

The Order Darkwald cannot survive.
​

Much less with politics involved.

Should the Order call upon this humble servant for a hunt, I will oblige.

I always had. I always will.

In the meantime, I will be serving tea, ensuring the Lord Curate memorises the proper Sacraments as a loyal subject of our faith, and hunting the unclean on my own time. Perhaps one day, if the order permits, I would like you to join the members of the faith we serve by visiting the newly-rebuilt cathedral. Such pale rays of light; tinted magenta and gold from stained glass above; reminds one acutely of what our fellow men and dame at arms fight for.

What they die for.

I completely relinquish the Imperial Respect afforded, and I relieve myself from this service - lest and until your opinion change in a further directive.

Oratario Ode,​

Fulgore Fanger,
Ex-Man-At-Arms of Order Darkwald,
Valet de Chamber of the Lord Curate,
High Steward of House Cadieux,
Executioner of the Church.
​

@FireFan96

 

[bwmwags3]

Atum goes wide eyed "What the...dear Baskaar what the Void. Fulgore you fool this was not that bad a thing you needn't have shed the code. Poor man has had it...But I shall not lose hope in the Raven Hunters. Always shall they be our bulwark from the occult and evil."

He scratches a name from a list to be given free medical service.

"Unfortunate thats one free patient gone"

 

[FeatheredBlade]

"Another one falls. Worrisome."

 

[MrNoot1]

The Cook would have finished a shift of work, stretching a hit until he'd stop at the sight of the notice. He'd look to it with a sigh before looking once more. "A new hunt begins.. for the Order." And home he went, to prepare for his job once more.

 

[Arcanus01134]

The Darkwald sat quietly at a tavern's bar, running the razor edge of a crossbow bolt across a whetstone as she considered the notice from earlier. The scratching, grating, sharpening of her implements punctuated her thoughts, each stroke further cementing the conclusions she drew from this announcement. The ramifications weren't lost on her; such an action being so clearly in violation of their code. As much as she disliked what was to come, there was clearly only one choice, and the one choice did not bear good tidings to anyone's future well-being.

Rising from her seat, Mila Braunbecker tipped the brim of her tricorne over her eyes as she exited out of the tavern. There would soon be blood to spill; but first a letter would have to be written.