The Dragon Rests [PK]

[pkdon 1978]

The Dragon Rests [PK]

 

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The group had set out, hopeful and courageous, to discover the caves which had festered near the Silver City. They’d set upon the ancient ruins, it reeking of rotten flesh. There was little light as they traversed the dank hallways, roots and vines encroaching on the decrepit walls. A place of darkness. A place of death. Corpses of deranged cultists littered the surfaces of this forsaken place, each of different race, dressed in tattered black robes. Murals of a long forgotten time adorned two of the walls, a barrier situated in the centre of the floor, covering stairs which went deeper and deeper, to seemingly no end. On the roof, an overbearing statue watched from above. It’s eyes suddenly lit up, staring towards the Tilruir’tir. It struck, a bolt of lightning surging towards Nehtamo and knocking him back into the wall behind. The current would flow through his metallic armour, scorching his skin. He’d scream in agony, desperately clawing for breath. His body slowly became limp, as he grabbed his wife’s hand, and smiled at her. He uttered his final words, a tear trickling down his face. His grip on her hand would loosen, and his eyes would finally close. 

Nehtamo Seregon was dead.

 

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His will lay in his drawer, soon being discovered.

 

 

To my loving wife,

Del, mayilu, my moon. You are the greatest ‘thill I have ever met, and I did not deserve your love. In my darkest hours, you have guided me to safety. In my coldest nights, you have kept me warm. I was, and still am, nothing without you. I know I haven’t been there as much as I should have, and for that I am truly sorry. Should this letter reach you, know that I want you to be happy, no matter what. Even if it means with another. Stay strong, for me.

 

To Faust’ii,

My son, I wish you the best in life. Support your mother in this time, she’ll most certainly need it. Care for your sister, for siblings should never be divided. I give to you my sword ‘Frostbane’. May it remind you to be courageous and strong, to serve the Motherland well. 

 

To Alyssa,

You are young, and have much to learn. These times may confuse you, but try to keep your mind clear, always. I give ‘Frostfyre’ to you, though I hope you’ll never need to use it. Stay close to your mal’onn and Haelun. I will always love you and your brother, and I truly mean it. Stay safe.

 

To Storm, Cinh, and Rhae,

You are all like family to me. I am glad to have known you, and I wish you the utmost fortune in what may come. Continue to be the great ‘thill I know you to be. 

 

 

Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya

Ay’Larihei

[lemonke 6014]

“See you in the Stargush’Struh, Cowboy.” Maya  hummed out

[KorusPrime 130]

A mage of some minor renown weeps alone. Upon finishing his sorrow, he sets out, to see his own family. To tell them he loves them.

[StormBreaker0520 192]

“Maehr’sae hiylun’ehya, brother. May the strength of your light continue to shine bright even in the afterlife. Your dedication and service to el’cihi will never be forgotten. You shall be the example of duty and sacrifice to the state, and example of the kind of love and devotion that the Sillumir themselves strive to exemplify. Rest easy, and may Larihei guide your path to peace and rest. I shall see you again, I am sure.” Storm says, kneeling beside Nehtamo, fighting back tears himself, as he loses a brother in arms

[Demented_Delila 1248]

 

The letters are found, sometime in the evening of her return home, licking her wounds. A daze had settled upon her in this cursed hour of her life, eyes watering as she reviewed the letters. She begins to shake, the tears coming all over again. They’d had a duty to do there- she’d held him in her arms while he died, his body shutting down because of the events that occurred. Reckless, they’d been, in the pursuit of Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya.

 

The nightmares started again, just as they had when Silir had died. They grew in intensity. Her sanity was slipping, fraying at its seams. Shadows grasp at her vision, his visage appearing places he’d once frequented. She couldn’t help but begin to break down. The bottle wanes of its contents as she cries in their bed. A ragged old penguin, older than their son, older than their daughter, ever older than their marriage, lay within her reach, soaked by her mourning.

 

“....I’m sorry….”

 

The words leave her a mouth a dozen times over. The painting in their bedroom, no- her bedroom now… It taunted her, with his beaming pride and sapphire eyes. Faustien was so young when the painting was made, his young face fat with his toddler-hood. She flees into the night, the desperate need to scream and be free overwhelming her. Like a specter in the night she disappears from the city.

 

She cannot help but scream up at the night sky, violent and uncaring- frenzied in her despair. There was nothing she could do. Her cries echo across the Silver Forest, her mourning rattling the trees. Everything that had been was ripped away from her in a singular bolt of lightning. The last pieces of her life seemed to just slip away from her. 

Haunting melody echoes through the woods, ominous and foreboding, as the elfess plays from her coral whistle. The tone is warped by the pines and their unforgiving reaches. 

 

She returns, in the morning, as if she’d not disappeared in the night, as if her hair was not wild and her face was not grimed with dirt and tears. She disappears back into her room and returns to the civilized world, without her sunshine by her side. The shadows haunt her, whispers scorning her ears, visions of things not truly there bewitching her eyes. A small price to pay, in the end…

[Johann 2498]

“A bulwark against the lessers, impurity and elMaehr’sae Hiylun’ehya slain so untimely... your legacy will be remembered, Nehtamo Seregon.”, Muriel remarks, with consternation in his voice as he read through the missive. 

 

“Larihei’ahernan ito nae, Sillumir, Tilruir’tir... Mali’thill.”

 

 

[ronin_champloo 5951]

”You should have knelt, Llir. – Pride before the fall.” 

 

A solemn ‘Aheral would comment. – His gaze set upon stone, ears then drooping from the sounds of anguish that laid above. A hand would loft itself, placed over at his cheek as his digits would scratch upon it. His peering eyes then unbreaking, the howls of sorrow then doing nothing to his form. – He didn’t know the man, nor will be ever be granted the chance to do so. 

 

”May you find peace in your passing.”

[Ryloth 4321]

Haskir aches with the newfound knowledge of another great Mali'thill passing. Terrible news, especially with the loss of such a profound warrior, a paragon of swordsmanship. "May seelver starlight guide heez path in ventures beyond."

 

The High Aelkos casts his eyes to the glowing crescent moon above, half-expecting a new star to appear in the black sky with the thousands of others.

[Man of Respect 5471]

rock

[ImCookiie 1950]

Adeline remained frozen within restless slumber, narcoleptic saunter leading her weakened being forth through her empty home, towards a window that maintain the setting dimly lit. An undying, frantic admiration locked upon the canopy of luminous stars for a brief moment. Few muttered pleads escaped withered lips, the skeletal robe-clad figure inhaled discernibly as heavy, distant paces continued to further her slumberous stance riddled with confusion and grief. “After all, you are now free. Though I only wish to have switched your place with mine, in that horrific moment. Ay’Larihei.”

[pkdon 1978]

Dead Nehtamo angers at Noix’s comments, wholly wishing to return to life and end the cripple righteously.