dwarf Faridir's Last Stand [PK Post]

[Tigergiri 3073]

 

 

 

 

Faridir’s Last Victory

 

Faridir, stood on the edge of the cliffside, her jet-black hair braided back into her helmet to securely hold it there. Her dark turquoise eyes peering over its edge to the towering figures underneath, her slips her leather and iron gloves on. Her own personal vengeance, that boiled in her heart since she was a wee beardling. The men and lass she swore she would never join.

She stood on their ground.

On their field.

In their fight. 

Ready to defend. 

For all that its worth.

Among her fellow Brothers and sisters that descend from Urguan. Her heart raced at the mere sound of the war cries from echoing against the mountain and rocks below. Swinging her spear in a narrow circle and tapping it on the exposed ground the used feathers from an old pet along some beads and bells. The silver bells ringing shrilly in the air as she was ready to fight desperately for her homeland. War was everything she constantly was allowed. 

Born through a Mynebor war; her life was shrouded in darkness for the first years. 

“Nae faridir, yer can nae leave.” 

“Nae Faridir yer can nae play with da ot’er Dweds” 

Her dull life was stuck in a remote, cold cave, with just a chicken for her only friend. If she has listened to her caretaker, maybe her life would be different, though, fate was a tricky mistress. 

 

The breeze itself was balmy, humid and with the rest of the fellow soldier. She looked the same and felt the same. Nothing was exceptional, another day in a different war standing with her people. 

 

“Faridir!” the hoarse shouts of her distraught father, as she was carried away by a golem. Her Hou-zi friend fighting for his life. 

“PAPA!” her cries ringing the area around the tavern. Magic and sparks flying as She tried her hardest to get out the arms of a golem. A small beardling and a houzi had somehow rallied the entire army. As her face scratched and her father being whisked away. It would be several years until she saw him again. 

 

A rage that day had boiled in her heart. In her eyes, there was no happiness.

 

“Onward fer the Grand Crown.”A deafening shout was heard as the violent battle started up.Her eyes glazed over readying her spear, checking for her dagger and charging forth with her squadron. The Battlefield itself was an odd sight to behold towering bodies fighting much smaller ones. Blood soaking the ground, dirt kicked up and odd scraps of armour lying around dying bodies. Her spear parring with the figure above her. A red hulking figure, snarling horribly and gruesome in their own way. A Grimace on her own face, the same people she used to love she was currently fighting. 

 

“Do Yer t’ionk someday, somedwed may love me? Et does nae maet’er ef oi lioe fer me w’oleliofe. Oi just want ter known w’at luve may feel. Ef only fer aye Moment.”Eyes downturned as she fiddles her fingers, the figure before her cast in shadows. Tears glistening across her cheeks, though it was merely for a moment. Her face would gleam into an obviously grim grin, the tears still streaming even with the joyful toothy smile. “Et Oke, Anabella will look out for me!” 

  

The Red uruk merely picking her up by her armour, and hurling her like a puppet. Her spear splintering and coming up in defence. As her battered body flew into the sunken rocks and dirt mounds of the terrain. Spitting blood into the dirt, as the hulking tusk men and women came in their own fight. She couldn’t condemn them, for fighting for their own lives. A violent cough and second as the blood bubbled up in her sore throat. Dribbling out the corner of her mouth, turquoise eyes blazing in a dazed thought. Faridir witnessed this once before a far back memory of a dying bandit who died within in minutes

. She had done it and had fought on her own side. She had provoked HER OWN battles. 

In Faridir’s mind, this war was already won. 

After 70 odd years, she had finally won back her own life. No one but herself owned it.

This was the ultimate victory. 

1703-1770 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

Spoiler

get ready for the sad funny screenshots I have. Ive played Faridir For over a year. From just one beardling to a force to reckoned with. I stand with dwarves, and Mynebor. Boo me I dare you.. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[mika1278 3213]

Ekoraz would frown upon hearing the news, not quite being able to remember much from Faridir except for her enthousiasm and fun times they had together ”ef unlee oi knew ye betta’, ye were a great lass, Faridir” he’d shed a single tear from his right blue eye over his dwarven coal skin before quickly realizing something and uttering ”oi ‘ope ye wore t’ ‘at oi let ye keep.”

[SimplySeo 6999]

Initially, the news of a blue-eyed Cave Dwarfen corpse being found brought a sense of dread to Jorvin, for there was a fear that it was one of his own. After the identity of the body was declared however, dread turned to an odd sense of melancholy. A Beardling. Spawn of those accursed traitors, yet a Beardling nevertheless, it made him think of his own daughters.

 

With the line of Balrog’s spawn ended, the legacy of his uncle, Torkan was finally washed away, and so finally, Jorvin crosses out the first grudge he ever wrote. The Ironkiln Extermination Grudge. Much to his irritation, he felt not an ounce of satisfaction. Sighing, he closes shut the great book, and leaves to find a drink.

[J33xt101 316]

Balrog walks through the battlefield, a slight limp still visible, an ancient Dwarven sword at his side. A tear rolls down his dark cheek upon seeing the blood, and the body of his firstborn daughter, his mouth moving soundlessly, something finally stretched too far within him. He falls to his knees and places his hand upon Faridir’s forehead before letting a smile cross his face, the memories of their past flooding his mind. The times spent running from Urguan, the years spent underground, building a massive fortress, among many others. He finally accepts the fate of him and his blood, knowing that his time has passed. He looks to the sky once before back down at his daughter before muttering a psalm. 

 

”Iv Thamar brum, Anym Var fov.
livok Thamar menok, vorrukar falok.
Mer ver konuv hom bedwan.
Da Galadoc akhoral othokor kotharem.”

 

His voice raising in volume as he stands to say the last line, he bows his head and utters a few words more. With this, he turns and leaves, returning to whence he cometh.

 

“The most honorable Ironkiln...”

”Yankar hom Dwedki.”

[Nestro_Miner 589]

Fahad stood at his balcony staring into the horizon watching at the desert sun descended, a paper resting on a table beside him. The Farfolk Prince would remember the wonderful moments shared with the dwarven Princess. “You shall be missed”