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#Post#: 1149--------------------------------------------------
Re: Omen War
By: Jenn B. Date: May 14, 2025, 11:25 pm
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Geoffrey Wodeward
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[br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]To all things housed in her
silence[/font][br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Nature offers a violence[/font][br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif][/font]
[hr]
"Not necessarily." He pointed out, thoughtfully. "Still a bit
young. Not grown to your full strength." he looked back; for a
moment, he could have been talking to either of them. Yorick or
the shadow that followed them. [br]
He looked back, catching the shadow of a face he hadn't seen in
centuries. He stared back, one hand leaving the reins like he
could reach back for him.
"I tried. For a time." To watch over him, that younger brother
it was clear he cared for, was protective of. "It's better to
leave your life behind with the sun, though. For them. For you.
These nights it's all but expected." He paused again, facing
forward. "But he had a good life. A full one." Another pause;
the question about descendants hanging like one he hadn't
thought of too deeply before.[br]
"I suppose it's possible, but I'm not sure how you'd find out.
We weren't important people." They weren't kings or lords or
anything so high, that was. Nothing a historian would be so
interested to capture for posterity. [br]
He left the horse at the edge of the burned out village,
dismounting to amble through it on foot. [br]
"I think I've found something." He sounded as surprised as
anything by the coincidence, the luck. "In the basement of his
burned out shop, he left a box of things. His botanica. Some
letters. It wound up at auction in the 1920s, and by providence,
one of my kind acquired it. Someone I know." [br]
He stopped in front of the remnants of a burned out building
that felt familiar to him and dropped to his knees in the snow.
Head bowed a moment in contemplation.[br]
"I'll get it. I'll go bargain with him for it."
#Post#: 1151--------------------------------------------------
Re: Omen War
By: MAT Date: May 16, 2025, 9:27 pm
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Yorick Tsipras
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HTML https://splatomat.com/personal/images/DH/yorick/yurik.jpg[/float]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Do not stand at my grave and weep[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]I am not there, I do not sleep[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Do not stand at my grave and cry[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]I am not there, I do not die[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Euthanatos | Notoriety 2 | Medium[/font]
[hr]
He was silent, and it seemed clear that he was about to talk
about something, but then decided not to. Being cut off from
family and the people he knew was something he had gone through
too, though it hadn’t been by choice. He’d spent all of age 12
in a coma, and woke up having lost literally everything he’d
ever known.
When he did speak again, it was to answer Geoffrey’s
speculation. “Important people…” He turned that phrase over in
his mouth. “Ahh. I understand.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t
matter. It isn’t an issue of history books or civic records.
I’ve mentioned the concept of identity a few times - you share a
part of your identity with every other person who shares your
blood. Your brother, any nieces and nephews, their children,
their grandchildren, all the way into the modern age. If the
bloodline continued uninterrupted, and you do have descendants
still alive today, finding them might use the same kind of magic
I’m going to try and use to find your friend.”
It wasn’t an offer to do that. But it was an implication.
Yorick squinted when Geoff told him about finding something. It
seemed like an incredible coincidence. So incredible it couldn’t
be accounted for by random chance. An extraordinary turn, just
when it was needed.
“Providence…hmm.” Sometimes the Fates weren’t mean girls. “I
actually believe in providence. I believe that the gods
intervene to make their will manifest. That they intervene for
desperate needs, or for good and righteous causes.”
He examined the burned out ruins, then looked back to Geoffrey.
“Do you?” The tone of his voice suggested that the question
wasn’t rhetorical.
#Post#: 1152--------------------------------------------------
Re: Omen War
By: Jenn B. Date: May 20, 2025, 11:51 pm
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Geoffrey Wodeward
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max=45%][img]
HTML https://sharedalbums.b-cdn.net/c0885f09-5d09-426b-8312-77b688531fa9.png?rotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=imagerotate=0&width=800&height=800&optimizer=imagee[/img][/float]
[br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]To all things housed in her
silence[/font][br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Nature offers a violence[/font][br]
[font=Arial, sans-serif][/font]
[hr]
He took a moment to turn that over. He'd never thought of the
possibility, having a legacy like that. Henry having a legacy
like that. Over the long centuries, he'd just lost track of the
individuals, drifting away into the world of the night. [br]
The place, however, still held some lingering fondness. That bit
of forest that still survived to this night.[br]
"Just as you could be his." He remembered the possibility. Yurik
had always sworn that his child had died with his mortal wife,
but there was always a possibility that he could have been
somehow wrong. Or something else. They spoke of so many things,
shared so much and yet there was probably plenty left
unsaid.[br]
"We don't reveal ourselves to humans." He countered as he put a
hand to the ground to get to his feet. "It's become one of our
strictest laws. We've seen what happens when they grow too keen
of our nature." A monster that noone believed in and noone knew
to look for was a far more succesful predator. [br]
He dusted snow off his cloak, picking his way into the ruined
and burned out building. As if emphasizing that previous point:
what happens when humans grew too keen.[br]
"Providence." He repeated, a note of incredulity in his tone.
The notion of divine Providence wasnt unfamiliar to him, but the
idea of it struck him sharply. He paused again, looking down at
his feet. [br]
"I do believe in it." He answered, warily. "Though what god
would put their hand to me, I could not say.I am far from good,
and by no means righteous." [br]
He turned his head over his shoulder to look at Yorick
quietly.[br]
"Either way. It'd be nice to read his letters."
#Post#: 1160--------------------------------------------------
Re: Omen War
By: MAT Date: December 16, 2025, 11:30 pm
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Yorick Tsipras
HTML https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1F3tCmvXqFTlAT1j9JHc8k280TMxJzRNNPcuFY1Mi33Q/edit?usp=drive_link
[float=right
max=45%]
HTML https://splatomat.com/personal/images/DH/yorick/yurik.jpg[/float]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Do not stand at my grave and weep[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]I am not there, I do not sleep[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Do not stand at my grave and cry[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]I am not there, I do not die[/font]
[font=Arial, sans-serif]Euthanatos | Notoriety 2 | Medium[/font]
[hr]
Yorick stiffened a little at Geoffrey's reminder that he was
possibly a living anchor. Something about it unsettled him at
the same time that it intrigued him. He thought that it ought to
only do the former and not the latter. That unraveling this
particular mystery was somehow a bit profane. He was already on
thin ice with his peers. If any of them ever found out what he
was doing - consorting with a vampire - the accusations would
flow quickly and freely.
Still, he had to know. Nine centuries was such a long time but
the coincidences had piled up to a degree that they couldn't be
ignored. Was he carrying another man’s soul; was it fueling his
atman? The kyklos geneseo central to the Euthanatos paradigm
clearly allowed for it. Or was he just a long distant descendant
of a man who had suffered in way that mirrored his own
suffering; some cosmic play repeating through history?
“I didn’t suggest you should reveal yourself. The knowledge
might bring something to your heart though.” Something good,
maybe. Something that might one day let Geoffrey let go and
return to the Wheel.
He shrugged.
“My gods aren’t moral exemplars embodying goodness or
righteousness. They embody order, measure, balance, reciprocity,
and fate. You don’t ask if a storm is good. You acknowledge its
existence, learn about its nature, try to predict its behavior,
and respect its power as a matter of survival. The power of a
storm can water drought-stricken crops or drown a village, maybe
at the same time. So to me, when you ask what god would put
their hand to you, many names come to mind. But even the
conventional Christian god works in mysterious ways - or so they
say.”
Yorick picked his way through the ruins. Everything in this
place felt cold and numb. He didn’t know if it was his emotions
painting the environment or Geoffrey’s.
“I don’t really need to read them to do what I want to try. But
if you’re willing, I’d like to. I don’t have anything of my…true
parents. No pictures, or writings, or property. I never even
tried to look for any other living relatives; I had a new family
and that was all that mattered. If he was a distant ancestor,
then maybe some knowledge could be brought to my heart, too.”
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