The Birth Of Holy Chicken The Second

[xSPULLERx 240]

The Birth of Holy Chicken II

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vkwz2Bf2OVc

 

 

Life.  Sound of iron boots clash upon the stone floors of Kal’Ithrun, as Grand King Indago Stormhammer saunters through the gaudy halls.  Assisting him through his walk, he carries a cane made of finely forged gold with the top shaped as a sheep head.  Venturing through, an echo is heard from the clouting of the staff of the cane and the armour he wears upon his little feet.  That, mixed with the anvils from the forge being struck by the hammers which shaped the atmosphere of his great city.  All seem well.   

 

It was a cold day that overcame the sky, which collected frost to the beards of many.  Today, Indago had his beard braided with diamond gems embedded in the strains of his hair.  He had to push around his beard to seek the keys that accessed him to enter his dwelling.  The thought of home warmed the mind of the old king.  His home was nothing of special or grand, as it contained only his belongings of gifts and equipment throughout his life.  As he enters, he passes the tables and workbenches pressed against the walls covered with special minerals from his earlier trips to the mines.  Proceeding to the following room, he finds himself at the back of his dwelling.  Not many people have been back there, nor has the word of it been shared to men of the city.  There, a red velvet pillow rested on a table that held his most prize possession. The egg, produced by the Holy Chicken sits there, forever growing in size as it’s offspring develops within.  The egg is not so easily broken as it is plated with gold.  Only the strongest of it’s offspring will be redeemed worthy if they are capable of breaking free of it’s home.

 

Everyday, King Indago Stormhammer has watched over the egg as it will some day bring the honor to his name farther than any other of his predecessors.  It’s been three years, and that today, was the day of a breach.  A fissure erupted from the surface of the egg, as King Indago hears it.  With his eyes wide, he slowly walked to the egg, as he goes down to a knee staring at the event.  Slowly, the Holy Chicken’s offspring strikes the surface with his beak.  With more strength in every hit, the beak punctures fractures revealing fresh air to the newborn.  Holding the pillow the egg rests on, he sees the child break down it’s barriers that separates him from the world.  The air grows still.  The area silent.  Heavy breathes originating from Indago is all that is audible as the peck of the beak creates a large rift.  The egg is soon to rupture.  Though all of a sudden the egg grows still.  Looking at it, Indago looks around as his face grows worried.  Only after a small shake, the egg evolves into a restful state.  He looks at the egg, filled with thoughts that do not comprehend what is happening.  Then, a final sound of movement broke the silent atmosphere as what has been sealed for so long becomes exposed to the world.  Indago holding a hand to his beard, watched as beautiful white feathers, glistened with gold dust enter the picture of his mind.  His eyes scanned the being that has been revealed as its head laid buried under his wing.  Moving his left arm, Indago released his clutch from the velvet pillow to lay a hand to the creature.  The feathers were soft, softer than the hair of Titania and as smooth as the blubber of a whale.  He clenches his fingers near the fresh feathers of the chicken’s neck.  Slowly, he moves his hand to stroke the creatures back.  Indago could feel the breath of the chicken which made him smile very much so.  He embraces into joy celebrating it’s birth, however something is not normal.  The chicken’s head remained still as his chest begins to slow.  Breathes shorter, movements fewer as the body goes still.  

 

The beat of Indago’s heart grows rapidly as he sees the child fall to the curse of death.  Taking deep breaths, the King doesn’t believe his eyes, as if his true love left him for someone of the kin of Humans.  Lifting the head of the chick, he sees the lifeless eyes.  Thoughts do not leave the mind of the King, as a clear mind is inconceivable.  The chicken needed to survive, as it is the last of it’s family.  The legend of the Holy Chicken most live on.  From the thoughts of the devastated king, there was only one way the past may live on.

 

 

With the chicken in his beard, Indago was off to the high mountains of the south.  The air cold and snow fell ever so lightly.  Not for a long time has he made this journey, to where the only place he thought was suitable for the situation.  Still dressed with his armour, the bitter cold cooled his skin as he made his way up the mountain.  For so long, the snow has collected to make the cliffs steep as every step pushed Indago to his limit of his physical strength.  Though, Stormhammers are forced to be strong, and strong he was.  Battling the cold, it didn’t take long until the shrine was in sight.  Yemekar’s Shrine was the last hope for Indago.  With a final step, the anvil laid in front of the old dwarf.  Time did not wait when Indago reached into his braided hair, slowly pulling out the chicken’s corpse.  Avoiding eye contact with it, he rested it upon the damaged anvil.  There he took the bold step in meeting his eyes with those of the lifeless creature that wears death.  The King’s face tensed up as a small tear escaped the eye of the dwarf.  It made a streak down his cheek and over his lips to where he tasted the bitter of the salt.  Looking down, he closes his eyes as he moves his hand gradually to his waist.  Indago fluently rose to his two feet as he removed the hammer from his belt.  Gripping the tool with both hands, the King relaxed his body, and took a deep breath through his nostrils.  His chest raised as he opened his eyes to where the bright sunlight entered his sight.  Swiftly moving his hammer down, the feathers ruffled at the impact of the iron hammer.

 

 

Buried in the snow, alone, and senseless.  Not a thought in the old dwarf.  The flash of light thrown him off the steep cliff as the energy erupted on the mountain top.  Encased in snow, Indago only saw the peak of blue radiating from the snow.  Solitude.  Coldness.  Death.

 

On the anvil, the gold glistened once again.  A breath.  A cluck.  A life evaded from Dungrimm.  Another gifted.  The Holy Chicken name shall never diminish from the lands, as it is all that brings the connection to love.            

[MediocreGamer 838]

((You used my rendering : D <3 ))

[Dreek 1633]

Dreek rolls over in his grave

[Cracker 4570]

Jahrmann scratches his chin

 

"Why'd Zezimus write about goddamn chickens"

[Hiebe 2493]

Is so confused.

[Zezimus 1523]

Jahrmann scratches his chin

 

"Why'd Zezimus write about goddamn chickens"

 

((I'm afraid I couldn’t write this much about chickens if I was paid to.))

 

Wulfgar lowers his head upon hearing the news of the Grand King’s demise. His eyes appear darkened as he turns towards the rest of his kin. He opens his mouth to speak but finds no words escape his lips. Instead he makes his way towards the clergy district to seek guidance from the Brathmordakin.

[Daisy 9740]

The King had not been seen in days.

 

Onar became worried, he know not what to do. In a midst of hope, he went to the mountains. Perhaps Yemekar could give him guidance. As he walked into the shrine of Yemekar, he saw it. Resting on top of the shrine stood the Holy Chicken. He looked at it in all it's glory, unable to believe his eyes. "Could this be a sign?" he though, "A gift perhaps?" He noticed that the Holy Chicken had made a small nest, and circumferencing it, the Grand King's crown. "By Yemekar's beard..." Onar said under his breath.

 

He began searching around the shrine, looking for any other sign. Just on top of the snow, there he saw it, a small piece of orange fabric. He rushed to it and began digging, only finding horror. As he fell to his knees, there he was. His best friend, his teacher, his King. As he rose from the ground, the frozen, lifeless body in his arms, he looked back to the Holy Chicken. "He did this for you..." he said, with a cold, yet astonished voice. Onar then lowered the body to the ground in front of the anvil, close to where it was at rest. He reached up and gently grabbed the bird, and put it next to the King. As he grabbed the crown, he began to shake, as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "No, I must do this... for him." He then placed the crown firmly on the King's head, and picked him up once again. As he walked down the mountain, the Holy Chicken followed.

 

Slowly and dreadfully did he walk, into the Grand Halls of Kal'Ithrun. The Holy Chicken followed no longer, but had diverged along the path to where it shall call home. As Onar's boots clanked along the stone floors, the city became silent. Only the sound of his movement could be heard as a crowd gathered around, following him. He went back into the clergy, having a guard lock and close the gate behind him. He carried him to where he would rest, until a funeral was in order. He then returned to the crowd outside the clergy. He walked past them, without saying a word. He went to the tavern, and took a seat.

 

"You shall not be forgotten, friend," he said, as he downed his first drink of ale.

[Soggy365 162]

 Aldal Ireheart knelt before the statue of Yemekar in the clergy district, praying for the strength of the dwedmar in the great battle with Ondnarch that was to come. He rose to his feet as he heard the sound of footsteps from behind him. As he turned, he could see Onar leaving the temple and gasped. There upon the front steps of the altar lay the limp body of Indago Stormhammer. His crown still sat proudly upon his brow, thrusting its great, silver spires into the air above his head.

 Aldal rushed to Indago's side, but he knew it was too late. He fell to his knees. His kinsman, his king and his friend was gone. Long had life and his body been parted. Then, with a sigh, he noticed  something. A small piece of shimmering gold, similar somehow to a fragment from the shell of an egg, sat nestled in the deceased king's beard. Aldal scooped it up in one hand, watching as the light reflected on the shining, aurum surface. He understood.

 The High Prophet drew his furry hood up over his face as he departed from Kal'Ithrun. He had managed to decipher a few of Onar's words between his sobs while he sat in the tavern. "Deh shroine teh Yemekar..." Aldal sighed as he turned southwards.

  Eventually, Aldal reached the foot of the mountain which housed the shrine. "Thrown doon deh mountain," he said to himself, repeating the story that Onar had told him. Then he noticed something. A few paces ahead, something glimmered beneath the snow. The High Prophet stooped over the area of the strange object, digging frantically through the frozen ice.

  There it was. The very thing he had come this far to find. He held it aloft with his runic, left arm. "Indaguh's 'ammer..." he managed to say, before breaking down into tears.

  Aldal Ireheart returned to Kal'Ithrun, laying the hammer of Indago upon the fallen king's chest and closing his pale hands over the handle. Great chunks of the hammer were missing from its contact with the anvil in the shrine. He lay Indago down on a bed of flowers before the altar. "Ah commend yehr spirit teh deh 'alls o' Khaz'A'Dentruum," he sobbed.

 

((Since there will be a large amount of dwarves online, why don't we hold the funeral at the dwarf day later on?))

[Fimlin 1997]

*should probably be writing something but can't bring himself to write more than 1 page about a holy chicken without a burst of laughter

[Cpt_Noobman 1954]

*is sad his king is dead*

[Lathros 377]

Lathros still thinks Mr. Clucks is better than the Holy Chicken.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.