NationStates Jolt Archive

It has been nearly twelve years, twelve glorious years, as the broken fingers of the king laid slowly on his bed side, his eyes a fragrant white, his pupils non-existant, hair wisp gray. Even as he breathed what may be his last breath, his veins fought a losing battle against the poisons that are trying to breach his soul. Pain becomes nerve, nerve becomes death, and with all that death afforded to him may cause the upheaval, the broken provinces of Jenrak to tie into civil war.

Arborgard laid in bed, in a deep, whispering coma, a massive flunctuating feeling grabbing at the nearby souls to aid his recovery. Death was almost certain, and life was almost not. He was the king, and the creation, and the mistake, of his greatest weapon might cost him his life.

As the king, Arborgard was the only one who had full knowledge of the construction of the Tears of Enkur, a lethal poison with almost no chance of recovery. One must have a strong will to live, and the nihilist life led by Arborgard was not an inspiring factor in his struggle. A mistake one fateful day stunned him, poisoned him, but did not kill him instantly, so strong was his seemingly frail body, so united was his will. Yet beyond all that he defeated, his greatest enemy is no himself.

Lying in his bed, with Serrin standing by his side, her eyes a twinkling green as they filled with tears to show her pain as well. The others were elsewhere; no one but Serrin to help. Nahk was busy quelling agreements in the Sandurian councils, as the enemy warlords gained political power. Saerus, the will of the people, was off in far off lands, battling the rage and fury of the enemy. Ashili, the beautiful Matriarch, was on a date with an aspiring leader of foreign lands. Ferruga was dead, his body shattered, and his soul broken in the pits of hell. Serrin was alone, to bear the pain of the poison's touch.

Now and then people walked past, as the populace brought gifts, in hopes that the king would recover, and become stronger for his test. Others, more accentious people, sought to see this as a chance to break all the united power that Arborgard worked so hard to bring tightly together. If the king dies, then they will attempt to assume command, to repeat history, and all that is fought and bled for gravely will be ultimately for nothing, and the heir of Nuir Enkur will die, the bloodline eradicated.

The Mistress Serrin and the fellow Chemical Lords, begs to the other sympathetic nations of the world to visit and see the burning body of Arborgard the Twelfth, before the mind's and body's final battle begins. Before all that Jenrak was may be forever lost. If Arborgard lives and survives, then he will grow greater and stronger, more cunning and more powerful for it. However, if he dies, then the history of Ascherach, the true history of our culture, will be lost forever, never to be seen again. Please visit his fighting physical self, and wish him luck.

Billy Johnson (President) is cutting short his participation in the Third Annual Pokemon Tournament of Pterodactylus to visit the King in his hours of need.

May God help him.

Serrin, the Mistress of Homocide

*I thank you, dear Mr.President, for the support of our king's life, even when you had something even more important to attend to. We thank you for your kindness.*

A tall handsome woman, dressed in full bronze and gold armour, her long blond hair braided tightly, presents herself to the Kings Guards.

After a short conversation she enters the room and looks down at the King with pity.
She lifts her gaze and stares into Serrin's tear filled eyes.

"I am Brusca, of the Valkyrja.
This is not the way for a warrior to die, I will return for his soul and he will have a place within Odin's halls, so that he may live his life again as a true warrior should."

She bows low to Serrin and looks again at the King, then turns and leaves the room.

The tall, lanky man approached the Guards, expecting to walk by, but they refused him.

"I am Henry Greet, representative from Nedalia, coming on behalf of my country to attempt to heal the King." said the man, annoyed.

"We have heard of no such country. You may not pass."

"Excuse me? I have with the Strementali Plant from my homeland, and it could be the only thing to heal your ailing and dying king!"

"Im sorry, sir. Please, do not make anymore of a scene here. Be gone."

"I cannot believe the audacity you have shown. I shall be staying here for 3 more days. If any of your superiors want to see their king survive, tell them to contact me. And if they do, THIS little conversation will be mentioned! Good day."

Message Encryption to Children of Valkyrja

We thank you for your earlier display, dear Children of Valkyrja. I am most distressed of my love's condition, but hopefully he might recover yet. He has done so before, but that is of much weaker poisons. This one, I am not so sure. However, despite all odds, thank you very much for your king concern. You my thanks.

Serrin, Mistress of Homocide

=================================

Serrin lifted her crying head, her eyes weeping audacitally. Her hair swiveled past, as her bangs obstruded a certain essence from her. Hearing the bored, torturous complaints of the representative, she essenced herself to walk over to the man stuck outside, known as Henry Greet.
The guards were having a problem, as the fuss was apparent. The presentative was denied of being allowed in, carrying a strange plant.
As Serrin approached the men, they straightened up instantly, as disciplined as they could seem. "Mistress." A man simpered.
"Come this way, dear sir." Pretty Serrin gestured to Henry, as she eyed the hallways that lead to Arborgard's bed. "Please help him."

Billy Johnson entered through the majestic oak doors. The twenty-two year old democratic ruler had had to deal with rebellions, disasters, and wars, but nothing would be as emotional as this. He knelt down beside the bed, and whispered, interspersed (sp?) with tears:

"It's hard for anyone to lie, knowing their death is imminent. I am sure that for you, it is evenworse, knowing you protect the secrets of a great nation. Just rest easy knowing that you have done the best possible for that nation..."

Johnson broke down in floods of tears, and, on seeing the king nod his mighty head in approval, left the room.

[OOC: if there are any mistakes likethis in this RP, my space bar is held together by Sellotape]

Message Encryption to Children of Valkyrja

We thank you for your earlier display, dear Children of Valkyrja. I am most distressed of my love's condition, but hopefully he might recover yet. He has done so before, but that is of much weaker poisons. This one, I am not so sure. However, despite all odds, thank you very much for your king concern. You my thanks.

Serrin, Mistress of Homocide



*Stopping her war horse, Brusca reaches into her pocket and fumbles with the communicator*
Damn these things, but I suppose I am going to have to get used to them sooner or later!
*Frowning with concentration, she finally manages to read the message and replies.*

"Mistress Serrin,
I know not if the King will live or die, but I do know that a chair a the table in the great hall is being prepared for him, beyond that.........Beyond that it is for the Gods to know, I am but a messenger and gatherer of souls."

Things began to get worse. As the daytime passed on, the nights shimmering stars that shed no tears or sorrow for the pain, Arborgard's body became more frail, sickly, and he no longer began to acknowledge his thoughts, his friends, allies, and enemies. No longer could he think underneath the battle, but know he was within the heart of the poisons, the painful lurch too deep to renounce. The poison was winning, and Arborgard was losing. It was his will that kept him alive.

But fate had begun to conspire against him, as one fateful day, his hand burst open of blood, his fingers ripe to the bone. Eyes began loosening, slipping form the hold of their sockets, as a thick slippery grease began to flow from the lids like tears, although this was more volatile. His nose bled blood, and his toenails began to fall off. Hair slipping off his head, the poison was doing more damage within such short time. Beside him, with no one to help her, Serrin patched his wounds, and attended to greet the ones who could help Arborgard. Hopefully, the King could prevail. But then again, hope has not ever been a dashing form in Jenrak.

Johnson threw his money on the table, leapt up, swore, mopped the spilt coffee off his lap, ran out of the cafe door, swore again, stood back, opened the door, and ran out. He had to get to the palace urgently-the King had precious little time left.

On arriving at the palace, he flashed his mud-stained, torn security pass and ran in.

Two minutes later, having staunched theblood from his toe and sworn at the step, he knelt beside the King's bed.

All he had the energy to say through his nettle-ravaged lips was, "..know...done the best...God bless...good luck..."

He broke down in tears.

As his only wife and lover died of Cancer several years back, Kremlin Castro sends his condollences and best wishes to the King in this rough time.

Serrin

I thank you all for your kind responses to Arborgard in his most painful time. One day, hopefully, we will return in full.

The tall handsome woman, dressed in full bronze and gold armour, returns and presents herself to the Kings Guards.
She speaks quietly and then taking position slightly to the side of the doorway, she carefully props her shield and spear against the wall and taking off her helm, puts it on the floor beside them.
She drops her head and waits.

The guards had premicious look upon their faces, as a woman in armor approached. Mechanically, and in unison, they somberly replied, "You may enter, no request is neccessary." They repeated together.

*Brusca raises her head and speaks quietly*
"There is no need for me to intrude, I will wait until I am needed."
*She folds her hands in front of her and drops her head again*

Arborgard, laying in the bed, had won the first battle against the poison, and he was slowly gaining consciousness, his body realigned and properly fixed. But he then again, almost instantly, faced another dire attack, as tumors began bulging up form his legs and arms, and his skull began to soften around his mind. Serrin was praying, and when it turned out that her prayer did not help, she yelled out to the immediate vicinity, "Somebody help me!"

Brusca raises her head at the sound of Serrin's voice. Had anyone taken a moment to look they would have seen, well hidden under the mask of calmness, the pain of one who has suffered many a moment such as this.
I am sorry my lady, I cannot help you in this matter, my duties are not that of a healer
She drops her head again and waites......