The Death Of Kalenz Uradir

[Smithers 388]

The sun broke the horizon, caressing all with a soft glow. The cacophonies of industry mingled in disharmony with the previously-untouched nature of the plateau and a city, beautiful and unique in a spirit that no others could approach, slowly rose alongside the wills of the Blessed Elves.
 
In the center of the plateau rose an earthen spire, and upon it congregated a gathering of Silver. There stood Kalameet, the Spider, with a small group of others, and from the edge observed Silir’ilume, the Golemancer. The small group shouted its opposition to the words of the Butterfly, Kalenz Uradir.
 
Voices carried upon the wind, and it became apparent to those observing that not all was calm upon that earthen spire, silhouetted so gracefully against the sky.
 
The air around the Butterfly throbbed with energy, and a golden orb was birthed between his palms, illuminating the peak with all of the light of a newborn star. The Spider tore a gray hole into the void with his magics, and cast his abjuration in opposition. 
 
The two magicians clashed and the magics of the Butterfly were shattered, his will broken and his illusion dispelled. The Spider strode forth, revealing his blade with uncanny swiftness, and impaled Kalenz Uradir. The Butterfly, his mouth open in silent calling, was cast unceremoniously from the perilous cliff.
 
The Spider proclaimed his woes to the sky, and his exclamation of despair struck a tone of discord. Somewhere in the Universe, a star winked out.
 
The Golemancer appeared at the shoulder of the Spider.
 
“Clean your sword. The blood of children of Silver will not coat blades in my presence.”
 
The two descended.

 

The form of Kalenz Uradir laid broken on the rocks below. 

 

 
Dead.

[DISCOLIQUID 2735]

"More dead Elves. Great."

[Kaiser 2347]

"Hurray...?"

[Samoblivion 532]

Kaelin does a merry jig.

[Rig 17591]

The Magi shows no emotion on their masked face, and merely whispers a prayer: This fellow had harmed him and his kin for a long time, but all that goes around, comes around eventually.

Romulus Visconti shrugs.

Zok'braduk roars, not truly having any idea whom Kalenz is, or rather "was".

The Acerbus tilts it's head, mortals enjoyed killing eachother it seemed, he is content to let them.

[Destroyer_Bravo 1054]

Rap'Lur, after delivering a massive amount of pie for an orcish feast, hears something about dead high elves. He leaves before he can spew vitriol about high elves, going back to his secret cave thingy in the wilds.

[Overland 349]

  While in the newly built inn in Haelun'or, Andria Ith'ael simply sighs while contemplating the day's rather eventful proceedings. To the passer by, her expression displays a more gloomy complexion than usual. If questioned, she would utter: 

 

"Two Mali'aheral in one Elven day... Progress and health also involves sacrifice."

[hex37 737]

If one were to view Cyra during the next few days, they might get a glimpse of the softest of smiles on her usually unemotional features. She declines to state what she's so happy about.

[Burkester 1247]

The orcish choir will sing a song for Kalenz at the feast.

[~ Fiend ~ 611]

"No one truly dies," mutters bitter old elf.

 

"..burn the bones, bury the ashes," shudders frightened young elf.

[Jonificus 2763]

Wun sighs as the news reach him. Now he'll never get to smell the twiggeh at the orcish feast.

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

The cacophony of construction resounded around Art as he took a break from his duties, reclining on the roof of the newly built tavern, a glass of wine in his frail hands. A grimly satisfied smile adorns his face as he leans back and enjoys the sunset.

"Here's to competing with the best, and outliving the worst." He says, raising his glass indulgently before drinking. 

[Fimlin 1997]

Fimlin cheers!

[Daisy 9739]

*Avern'dionne retrieves the ashes, and seals them in a tomb.*

"A madman and a tyrant. I wished for him a proper trial. Although he had been an ulcer on the children of silver, he was still a mali'aheral. May the aenguls and daemons bless his soul, his ashes locked away."

[Samson Option 9652]

Duvaindir Thill'onn looks on as he feverishly writes, but sends one of his students with a missive requesting if the High Elves will quit playing pseudo-intellectual and spouting about democracy, liberalism, and so on because he felt they ought to trod The Road of Serfdom before bullshitting themselves.¹

 

¹ F.A. Hayek's The Road to Serfdom