The Grand Finale

[Ixli 1472]

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

Varen'thal's singular iris travels across the plains and up the mountain. He observes the dark fortress in all it's glory, his mind thinking back to the time when the entirety of the mountain was filled with death and decay. His eye compares it to that of the great temple in the south, his heart feeling twisted loyalties between the two. He steps off the dirt road, offering a parting glance towards the path, made by those who sought to act benevolent and aid the descendants in their endeavors. He knows where his loyalties lie.

As he made his way up the deep slope, he rubs at where he once held an eye, now missing. Dry blood chips and falls away as his nails dig into the socket, twangs of pain shooting into his cranium. He walks alongside the river, thinking back to simpler times. Times where he too was good, like the monks that carved out the roads along Atlas. A mere soldier in the Haelun'orian vigil, to now, walking unto his demise. His foot hits the stone signifying the beginnings of the stairway that would bring him inside the fortress, the elf already smelling the decay and sensing the darkness radiating from within. He does not halt there, however. He continues through the doorways, edging around the pit in which he has seen so many
fall.

 

 

 

 

"You could be brought back, Varen'thal. Without your wounds." The lich muttered with a clack.

 

"Perhaps, and if you choose to do that so be it." he tips his cranium downwards, "But my time here, in this form, should be concluded."

 

"If you wish it so, I will be sure your body is restful for all time."

 

"The reason I come to you is a show of faith. Whether your ghoul or alone in a coffin, it not matter, do what you see fit."

 

"Mm.. very well. Do you wish it to be quick?"

Varen'thal seems to pause for a moment, "I never thought about that. I would assume
quick is better."

 

"Perhaps so. I can dull the pain beforehand."

"I ask that you don't waste your time with such." he makes his way around the chairs.

 

"Ah? You are sure?"

 

"Not really." he admits.

 

"It will not take long to dull the senses in one area, Varen'thal."

 

"Then do it."

 

Gravelord Adremeich raised a hand, allowing a darkened mist to crawl free from the confines of his robe, coating the fingers in a dark smog which writhed with intent.

 

Varen'thal's singular iris follows the mist, little emotion breaking through his features.

 

The lifeforce danced around the skeletal digits, pooling within his palm as he approached the elf, holding out the hand palm upwards.

 

Varen'thal sends out his arm, the rest of his body otherwise remaining still.

 

Gravelord Adremeich reaches to hold the elves wrist tightly, the lifeforce immediately flowing free to enter his arm rapidly as the lich stared up into the elves eyes with his hollow sockets. Great pain would wash over the elf, a stinging in the very soul as some unseen machination was put in place from within slowly.

 

Varen'thals form shakes, his teeth grinding underneath his pale lips. His knees threaten to falter, yet he remains standing.

 

"To escape the water, one may have to endure a bit of suffocation to avoid even more in the future." the lich muttered in explanation of his actions, holding on as the pain continued, like a dull ache through his entire being.

 

The elf would attempt to nod his understanding, yet as he dips his head it would remain there, as if the elf was struggling to further lift it.

 

After another moment, the lich released his arm, a dull unfeeling tingling would be clearly present in the elves neck, as though it had lost all feeling.

 

His knees finally collapse, his form falling downwards. Alas, he looks up towards Adremeich, "Thank you for this."

 

Gravelord Adremeich reached a hand quietly into his robe, withdrawing a small, ornately decorated dagger forged of bone from within, showing it to the elf. "I do this because it is my duty, not for thanks. We all have our purpose, Varen'thal. The dead were always mine."

 

"As much as I tried, I could never find mine. Do what you must."

 

"You may simply not have seen it." the lich muttered as he lowered the blade, lining the sharp edge against his neck with one hand, crossed under the other which reached out to hold his head back.

 

Varen'thal would not resist nor comment, the elf leaving the words at that.

 

"Perhaps in the future I will have need of your service again, in defending the dead," The lich said simply, staring down for a long moment. "Rest easy, Varen'thal. It has been earned." With that, the blade was drawn across his neck slowly, the curse causing no pain of the wound to be felt, though blood soon poured from it to coat his clothing. Adremeich watched silently, his hollow sockets locked upon Varen'thal's face.

 

[!] Varen'thal turns his head upwards to look towards
Adremeich. His lasting eye would falter, giving the lich one last look before his form collapsed with a finality. [!]

 

 

 

OOC Notes:

I have had Varen'thal since I joined the server in Vailor, and he has been my primary persona ever since then. At first he started out as a guard in Haelun'or, and eventually he took on a path of darkness and was filled with insanity, greed, and lust for power. Thank you to everyone who helped me advance this persona, and I hope I affected yours in some way shape or form, whether good or bad. I have decided to PK him because I feel at this point, his story as a living elf is over. Perhaps in the future he can be continued in other ways, but for now, he rests.

 

Spoiler

 

 

Thank you for the good times!

[winterblood 11181]

A high elven woman stepped into the shade of a birch tree, kneeling before a beautiful purple flower with a thick stalk.  Although it was the afternoon, the petals of the luscious flower looked to be damp with dew.  She said nothing, nor did she collect the flower.  Her blue-grey eyes were distant, as if recalling a memory.  A memory of an old acquaintance from her days at The Grand Library of Dragur.

 

It wasn't until a voice droned out from her pocket that she returned to reality.  "Is all well, Miss Nemir?"

 

"Ahh... Yes, Eldrad.  All is well.  I only had a thought," she replied, then resumed collecting the blissfoil.  Her day continued on.

[dard 756]

Xaleskar placed his eldritch, metal talons upon the surface where Varen'thal's corpse lays.  His open, ceaseless cowl stared emptily at the face of the man who once swore himself to his service.  

 

He pondered how he got to where he was, how Varen'thal got to where he did.  The two of them started down a similar path.  Each was a dedicated child of Xion, yet here one stood in the glory undeath and the other trapped within the maws of the soul stream. 

 

Would it had been different if Varen'thal took up tutelage under Nasir in his Knighthood?  Could it have saved him? Perhaps if the coven had made wise and given him the gift—the curse—that plagued Nasir to the threshold of death... 

 

The thoughts were fleeting, the Wraith did not tremble or shake.  He did not cry out or smile in a nostalgic reverence.  Not because he could not recall what such emotions were, but because he was incapable of doing so.

 

"I feel nothing."  The wraithlord's visage remained fixated on the eyeless cadaver before it turned to Adremeich and went along his path.

 

There was one last fleeting thought, the figure pausing as he parted from the dead.  It was something, however, not for the eyes or ears of mortal Man.

[DrinkPesticide 52]

Within the confines of his home, in a dialect that escaped most, a dark kharajyr cursed audibly. A dry pop escaped the parchment by which the kha' received the news. Eight, extended, serrated nails poked through to the other side, the announcement stretched between the pair of fours. 

A sibilant hiss escaped the priest to allow those around him to perceive his upset: "That Varen'thal was always a practical go-between once. A great shame, truly."

A twisted snarl remained furled up on the zealot's countenance for hours to come. 

[Parkins 550]

Beneath the mountain, in halls of aged and molded stone, a lone lich tends to the new body he laid to rest along with countless others, given peace until required.

[PeachLova 585]

Nights like these she wondered what had been going on inside his head. It had been nights like this- Where the winter winds howled outside, and Antarctic drafts made their way through the household to chill all of its residents- That she was left to wonder what had been consuming his thoughts. Nights like these where she curled up on their bed, holding their dear boy in a bundle of blankets, that she watched her husband hunch over his desk in despair. These were the nights she would let her mind wander into the various possibilities. 

 

"Love, isn't it time for bed?" The soft features of her son kept her voice mellow. It was late. The sun had set and the moon was bright in the night sky. 

 

In response, she only heard a measly grunt. 

 

In time, he would arise from his desk, groggily making his way to the bed. Her love would curl up in their blankets, graced by the sight of his wife and son illuminated by the fire-light. 

 

She would eventually put the boy to sleep, tucking him in well to ward off all the frigid heathens of the night. Afterwards, she would lazily trudge over to the bed, snuggling up by her husband's side.

 

Nights like these left her to her thoughts. Nights like these had her saying: "It will be alright."

 

-Allora Kriswynn
 

[HazelWazel 463]

Delmira Aureon sits quietly in her laboratory, flipping through all books. As she does so, an old document falls out onto the ground. Curious, the cleric picks it up to glance over it. The treaty of Santegia-Haria and Haelun'or. She would pause, gently picking it up with a faint smile.

"I remember this... It all started when I went there. The elf.. what was his name... Varen'thal. He was so kind." She speaks to her son in the crib, standing up as she brushes her hands over the signed names, hers next to his. She would laugh a bit as the baby gurgles in response, "He was the elf that introduced me to wine. Fine wine. I've never had wine so good since. Perhaps... I should try and find him. I haven't seen anyone of my past in such a long time. He was kind. I wonder what he is up to now."

The cleric would gently hang up the treaty in her office, brushing over the sigils quietly as she tries to remember the details of that elf so long ago. She would sigh, muttering a soft prayer to Tahariae before returning to her studies.

[_Elrith_ 4525]

A man in a cold metal shell screeches off in the distance at the passing of an old friend.

[GDPR 014 48]

1 hour ago, Elrith said:

A man in a cold metal shell screeches off in the distance at the passing of an old friend.

"Calm down." Ordered The Hand That Fed. 

 

[ThatGuy_777 220]

Beneath the stalwart gaze of a towering ivory tree, the meditating mali'ame allows his head to loll. Contemplation visible by his very expression as he listened to nature's voices. "I wonder if Varen will ever stir things up around here again? His presence always was a breath of fresh air from the usual crowd of blasphemers."

"Do you think...we could get along? Despite trouble he has caused...he never did harm my brethren...in...Lanendra? ...Lindria was it?" Inquires a deep, echoing thrum with a sway of its golden branched crown. Mourning doves cooing amidst the confines.

"Linandria, though I'm amazed you can remember that much at all." He'd reply with a glance over his shoulder. Jade irises meeting a pair of amber orbs. "Golem incidents aside, I believe it would still be in thy best interest to avoid him. He never was one for establishing himself in pleasant crowds. It's better to just wish that wherever he might be, that he's not suffering. That he knows clarity, maybe even contentment. After all, even those pressed the hardest down a path of damnation need but weather the storm ahead and seize upon opportunities of redemption as they're presented."

"...I understand." Bellows the voice, a gale like the winds of Autumn combing through canopy leaves. They resume idly listening. Silence enveloping them as the wilds they did heed.

[Valarin_ 170]

"Almost a shame..." Comments a silver-haired elf maiden. She sighs after a moment, "No, it is a shame. He was an intelligent man, though he did attempt to kill me... I think if he was... mentally stable, he would have been better off.." She sighed, picking up her cup of hot tea and sipping it, staring out over the trees. After a moment, she lowered the cup and her head, her silver hair falling over her face, hiding it from the sight of any who might see her. A few tears leaked from her eyes, though she quickly wipes them away before they can fall and disturb the liquid in her cup, "Van'ayla, Varenthal... Goodbye for the last time."

[Aviers 122]

"A fool laid to rest, finally," a high elf would mutter. After a moment, he would turn back to his work. "He could be competent at times, yet suffered to be woefully misguided and lost." The elf pauses as he dipped his quill in an inkwell. "What a waste."

[5itty 66]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.