Kbai

[JVQ 1719]

Borin tapped his fingers, in front of him lay the beautiful Diamond Waraxe he wielded, the jewels inhabiting the hilt glared at him, as did everyone else. He had betrayed his kin, his Kingdom, and brought shame to his Father’s name. He maliciously attacked Fimlin, injured a Lord, and over the constant banging and breaching of his door, all he could hear was the loud drone of guilt attacking his ears.

 

He had always felt in competition with Fimlin. Why Borin reverted to assault? One can not say, all that one can observe is that his time was coming. Slowly reaching for his axe, he brings it to his face, remembering the Oren war, remembering the countless Scourge battles, remembering the time he had in the Legion, rising to Commander reasonably quickly.

 

He knew there was no place for him anymore not in Kal’Arkon, not in Khaz’A’Dentrumm, not in Urguan. There was only one place Borin Grandaxe was heading, the void. After all these years, nothing was completed, he had failed, he knew this and nobody could talk him out of what he was about to do. They were almost through, their shouts were ever louder, so was his heart beats. Commander Borin Grandaxe, son of Thorin, raised his war torn Battle axe to his beard covered throat, a tear of regret dripping down his eye, slicing a gaping hole straight through is esophagus. His eyes turn cold, blood staining his uniform. “I’m sorry” he gasps before falling to the floor, his room stained with a pool of his blood.

Borin had no time, he hopelessly bled, bled, bled. All he could do was think about what could've been, how much he had lost, and what he had done.

[Hiebe 2493]

Hiebe finds the lad in his own pool of blood. Using water magic cleans the body and let it be know the dwarf was dead. He prepared the body so that the grandaxes cam bury him, or whatever they did for their dead.

[Fimlin 1997]

Fimlin Grandaxe sits in the infirmary; he had never wanted any of this to come to what it did, Borin had destroyed his own clans hall claiming it was his. Eventually something like this was bound to happen, but how it would was yet to be seen until now. Borin Grandaxe; the youngest son of Thorin Grandaxe had finally snapped.

[unpromised 0]

Much cry

[Greener 687]

Odin laughs

[JVQ 1719]

Odin laughs

You are the worst, I mean the worst

[Graceful Bucko 65]

Gin would not come across this situation directly, though his wandering would eventually lead him into the abandoned room, a thick floor of crusted blood partially coating the bottom of the hall like a macabre throw rug. Humming out of boredom, Gin would cast upon the morbid caking a searing ring of fire just above, dilating and contracting several times over solely for thoroughness's sake. The barren puddle would chip and crack and pop like cooking stone, 'till at last Gin had gathered his craft was done. Shortly after, he scraped the chips into a solitary pile, meandering to the smithy in a short jog to gather a broom, returning in a bit with it in tow. Gin would send the chips in long, saddened swipes across the room, off its balcony, and into the glinting lake below. Gin nods, grinning as his task comes to a close, finishing his mourning hum with his final sweep.

 

Gin raises a hand in the direction of the now-sinking chips inhabiting the lake, waving fondly.

 

"Van'Ayla, Llir."

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

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