[PK] Aengoth's Final Journey

[Aengoth 2883]

 

 

At the cusp of his 907th year in the mortal realms, Aengoth passes his last hours beside a campfire with roasted pork and good company. His final days of his ripe old age spent sharing ancient stories with those who would see the next dawn without him.

 

Aengoth was blessed to have called many places home. From his humble start in Kal’Dwain and Solace in Asulon where he busied himself amongst the smallfolk providing what he could as he began his Blacksmithing trade. Soon after his many treasured years spent in Anthos, be they fighting alongside the Dwarves, Salvians, or the White Rose. To his days spent amongst kin and as a Lord of Kal’Arkon in the Fringe where he spurred the Starbreakers onto a golden age while facing the internal conflict of having to choose between his family and the comrades he had found amidst the White Rose and Order of Saint Lucien. Then onwards his years spent perfecting his craft as the Forgefather of  Kal’Akash in Vailor during the 18 year war before his exile where he found refuge amongst the Court of Oren as the Court Dwarf. The final last few years in Helena of Arcas where he lived peacefully as a humble Blacksmith finally reconciling with the Clan he cherished deeply as he saw humanity enter a new era he could not have ever imagined. 

 

On his final night he lay in a cot as Zadrik and Crumena prepared him for the journey ahead. They hoisted him into a wagon, aiding him as old age and sickness had robbed him of his strength. Peacefully he laid in the back of the cart as the three shared tales and stories while traversing down the long road ahead of them. As his last breaths had passed, Aengoth’s final rune would slowly turn his sick and old frame to stone from whence he came. And so his traveling companions of the last four centuries did escort him on his final journey back home under the mountains.

 

 

[rukio 8910]

((@zilldude you cuck why would you hide the Elysian march song)) 

Spoiler

 

Wither trudged through life under a new name and appearance. Memories of Scicle, Arzota, Doone, Aengoth, and herself serving as Elysians in Salvus surfaced from a long buried corner of her mind. Those happy memories were soon replaced by the White Rose's assault on Doone and how that had changed so much, for all of them. A smile flickers across her lips for a brief moment before a frown settles there once more. 

 

"First Scicle, then Doone, then Arzota, and now Aengoth..." She mused in her misery. "How I wish I'd reached out before he died, but watching another die in front of me...perhaps in the afterlife when the creators see fit to end my suffering we'll all reunite, like old times. Until then..." 

 

She trails off, simply nodding the last of her words in a language only the Elysians had understood, fingers trailing along an old Elysian light armor uniform, an old assassin's gauntlet, and pair of claws she had designed for Scicle. Her hand lingers on the archaic objects for several moments before going to the violin beside them. With a sigh her hand goes back to her side.

 

"Perhaps when my time comes I'll play us all a song..." She murmurs bitterly, looking to her front door with a hopeful gaze, as though hopeful the last of her old family, a love that would never die to time, would come back some day. "Rest well Aengoth, few deserve to, and yer among them.”

Edited May 31, 2020 by rukio

[itdontmatta 7192]

Spoiler

reserved

 

[Riftblade 849]

Velenius watched from atop a keep’s tower as the trio departed from the valley in which the keep stood. He’d only spoken to the fallen Dwarf mere hours before his departure. The man gave one last salute as the wagon faded into the distance.

 

“Fare thee well. May you finally find rest.”

[Charles The Bald 1789]

Charles “The Bald” would chant and drink with Aengoth for days up there. They would then visit the souls that have wronged them and fight them too, but harmlessly since they do not exist materially. Then it would be another round of drinking ….

Edited May 31, 2020 by Charles The Bald

[firespirit44 1279]

The old grizzled Paladin would watch as Zadrik and Crumena assisted the ailing dwarf onto the back of their cart, knowing that he had already befriended, and immediately lost a friend. A being from a different world, it was by chance that the two would meet under the ominous clouds hanging over Luxem. He sighs, turning back inwards to the keep, muttering a real, sincere and heartfelt player for the first time in centuries. 

 

“May you rejoin those you love in the stars, Aengoth Starbreaker. I shall carry out your wish.” 

[SimplySeo 5239]

Deep beneath the earth...  The song of beating steel and bubbling heat surrounds Jorvin Starbreaker, who toils away, beating upon his anvil. Sweat drips from his scarred brow, and with every strike the young Dwarf hoists aloft The Hammer of Gotrek shaping burning metal into an axe, just as it had for seventeen hundred years.

 

The tool of legendary renown had served him well since it’s return. With it in hand, the young lord of that ancient clan forged dozens of weapons, giving onto his clan armaments that would serve at their side for centuries. As he worked, Jorvin’s mind quickly drifted, and his thoughts dwelled on the one who returned it to begin with. Meeting Aengoth was something Jorvin was not soon to forget, as he was perhaps the oldest connection to his.../their/ past, and all the glories and tragedies with it.

 

Internally, he cursed himself for not asking the Dwarf a hundred questions when he met him, for Jorvin had been too caught up in his own affairs to do so, but he made a point to remember their lengthy conversation. For several years Jorvin’s resolve had wavered, especially after that damned Atheran expedition, it was his conversation with Aengoth, and the stories of that elder Dwarf’s youth that caused Jorvin to find his spirit once more. Their clan had suffered a thousand trials and a thousand tribulations, but just as the Hammer of Gotrek had survived since the days of yore, so too would Gotrek’s children. Iron does not wilt.

 

Wherever he was now. Khaz’A’Dentrumm awaits, Jorvin was sure of it.

Narvak oz Aengoth Kornazkarumm

 

 

Thanks for the hammer.

[DahStalker 2846]

Hillith Athna glanced towards the slumbering dwarf after their brief chat within the confines of Luxem, lips drawn into a simple yet remorseful smile at the small talk they had shared. She hadn’t known him long, their first being during a gruesome battle in Athera where he had revealed his brilliance in runesmithing. With a lingering moment to remember the Dwed’s face she pivot on a heel, ambling off towards her next mission.

[John Ivory 4535]

The Duke of Helena mourns the loss of such an ancient patriot, sending his condolences to Messrs. Basrid and Drumm. 

[Fimlin 1696]

“Aengot’, fer the toime weh’ve known eachother, ah woul’ say ah’ve grown familiar wit’ ye, and ah’d consider ye ah friend in the end. Yer’ve gone far from t’eh days of Asuloun, far from teh Fringe an’ Athera, far from our toime in Avar. Ahm glad to ‘ave ‘ad ye in the clan, if even jus’ for our short toime on Avar in Vailor, ye ‘ad done us well. Our memories are long bu’ t’ey too can fade. Ah will do ye the justice o’ keepin yer in memoreh, tha’ much ye ‘ave earned.” 

Fimlin enters into his own journal and submits to the local DNN newspaper.

 

[Legoboy7984 2441]

Agnar Ireheart sighs upon the news

“May ye’ rest en peace Aengoth.”