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[PK] Through Kor's Gate


ThatFunkyBunch
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWQg7YVdw3I 

 

 

 

Daichia awoke with a startled gasp. His hands flying up to cusp hold of his chest. Finding that there was no bolt within his lung. Naught but hard metal. A breeze brought his attention to the what stood before him. A towering wall of stone, high as the eye could see. it pour but one pathway forward. Daichias eyes shifted as he searched for the robed figure. Towering over him appeared such. The gatekeeper to beyond stood before him. With out a word, the black robes lofted its right arm. Its long ivory index finger pointed the dark elf forward. To the towering archway before him.  

 

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So the Dark elf pushed forward. Hearing his form rattle along. Through the gate he strode. This was his final walk to rest. His thoughts drifted back to his family, sorrow pained his heart. This was the circle of life. One day, he would be rejoined with them. He did as every Jusmia before him did. The Mali’ker looked back on life fully. To his start, and to his end. He had known nothing of his people. Daichia died knowing all he could. After returning from his clan abroad, the dark elf gave his life for the Mortal King Ailmar. Dying within the throne room. He had known love, he had known hate. He had known pride, shame, joy, terror and all between. It was a good life, older than two hundred. He hoped his work was enough. Though he knew, it was out of his control now.  

 

 

Through Stargush’Struh Daichia strode. Night was upon the great lands, the great cities in the world beyond. The dark elf stood at the gate. Staring forward to the center city, built within the mountain. Magara’lin. The first, the great, the only. He could hear the roar of the Ancestors within. With open arms was the dark elf met. Daichia Jusmia walked the mortal plains no more. In time, he would spend his days knowing only his close friends and loved ones. His memories of Atlas and Arcas slipped away in time. His soul become as the other Ancestors. A spirit, a great primordial lord of yore. Immortalized truly, studying within the halls of endless knowledge. Feasting with glee in the halls of celebration. Fighting upon the hills of endless war. Staying with his kin. As all Jusmia, he returned his promise to Jus and Mia. The first of their blood. To meet them in person. The circle, had been complete. 

 

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Edited by ThatFunkyBunch
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Xavis bows his head with a sigh ”A pain in my a**, but a pain I’ll miss none the less. I’ll look forward to seeing you in the afterlife so I can say ‘I told you so’” The elf relaxes back in the chair he was sitting in, resting his hands on his chest.

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Dak’ir sat alone in his camp, speechless as he dropped the letter from the Jusmia clan. A young and bright soul darkened far too soon. “Rest well my apprentice. You deserve it far more than most. And our kin shall know of your deeds and your heart. I shall see you soon.

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Although too high on mad caps to remember the fight, upon later hearing on the news, would sigh, looking up at the moon, shouting out ”LOP LUARA!”, before taking a mad cap in Daichia’s name.

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Talius sighed heavily, and took a deep swig of rum. 

 

He did not know that man, but he felt a deep pain for those of his kin...

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Twilight Ashwood Qua'Req would have be quite most the Eleven day after he passed on into the next life

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Tantalus stands over the dying ‘ker, his skills in the arts of healing failing him for the first time in his life. His one good eye shed a silent tear for Dachia, for, though he did not know him well, the little time he had spent with him had left a big impact on his life.

Edited by blackhand7
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“May Luara guide him toward the spirits of his ancestors, where he may find rest.” Ruathar Indoren sighed at the senseless killing. “We will bring justice to the Mori’Quessir for their callous attempt to disrupt our people’s resolve, but I tell them now that we will not bow to the will of such merciless servants of darkness. For each one of us you bring down, a hundred of yours shall fall.” He finishes.

Edited by Vorgraven
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Lenora mourned over the lose of the great man


You will be missed very much

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He had woken up early that day. Deep inside he knew he was not ready, but he had no choice. The crown his brother once wore was soon to be his, and with it a burder Ailmar hoped he could one day carry with him.

 

 

Uruk and ‘ker alike were present within Renelia, the newly built throne room standing proud within New Magara’lin. Ailmar however was not as joyful as the ones that gathered to watch him take upon his crown. His mind was chaotic, a whirlwind of anxiety, uncertainty. He did not know if he was ready to carry this burden, but he could not fail his people. Many of his trusted advisors had long since departed, but one had always remained, Daichia.

 

Even during his brother’s reign Daichia was there as one of his most valued advisors. Ailmar always looked up to him, aspired to be like him someday. People respected Daichia, he was nothing like the many councilmen Ailmar had met over the years. Over the years Ailmar not only valued Daichia as an aid in ruling the Kingdom, but as a friend.

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The chaos within the throneroom became too much for the young King, and he was soon to pass out. The last thing he saw, Daichia bleeding out from a bolt meant for him. It was only after he had awoken that he was told the news, Daichia was dead.

 

Perhaps it was a sign, an omen of what was to come. Ailmar did not want a reign of violence, but wanted to give his people the one thing they deserved the most: peace.

 

The newly crowned King, was now nothing but a grieving man. He knew he could not give up, however. His people needed him, and Ailmar knew that. If the loss of his friend gave Ailmar one thing that he did not have before then it was a new goal: to eradicate the filth that are the Mori.

 

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“Ah... Daichia...” A particular Ker mourned at  the news of  Daichia.

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She’d overslept and the first words she’d been told when she entered the tavern… were of the passing of Daichia. Spirits, his presence lingered.  A wedding that was only just a few years prior- done in secret with just the two of them.

 

She fled from the Tavern as they spoke on it, it felt like a lie. It felt like a dream from which she’d awake and all would be alright… but his children wouldn’t lie, there was no reason to. Daichia had spoken to her about accepting his death, if it ever came.

 

Delphi curls up in orange and yellow, feeling… alone for the first time in a very long time. The bat chirps in her bag, hearing the gentle weeping of her adoptive mother. The ‘ker scoops her up, resting her forehead against the creature’s. 

 

“Zaichik- Zaichik- Surely this is but a dream… I will awake and Luara’s Light will shine upon us once more…”

 

She’d shut her eye, praying softly as she held Estelle to her chest, rubbing the sweet young bat’s ears. She’d begin to sing as the tears drip down her face onto his pillow, her tone tinged in sadness. 

 

“Sleep my beautiful boy, quietly the Moon is looking into your room. I will tell you fairy tales, and sing you little songs, but now you must slumber, with your eyes closed.”

 

The singing ceases as she cannot keep from weeping. The next elven day passes in utter silence from her.

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A shade has a pang in his stomach during a moment’s prayer.

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Jorg was hammering at the forge, the thoughts of the day on his mind, he had watched it happen, each blow of the hammer upon the dark metal a reminder of the death. His own ally had died...in his brudda’s hall? That is not a way to die. Shadows from the forges flame play out the scene, a bolt, a body, a non moving corpse.

He grunts, he didn’t know the Albia, he had no need to, nor need to shed tear. It was but another corpse of someone who wasn’t a brudda, but one who died honorable. He throw the hammer aside, picking up the piece just forged with tongs putting it with the others. He grunted as he looked at the chipped dusty stone of Krug, a reminder that even those who live long, even near a Rex, will chip and fall away to dust eventually.

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