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Righting the wrongs of the past


Puglord
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Wilhelm "golem legs" sits alone, puffing a pipe full of oracle wood "its been done..." He says to the open sky, the moon looming above him and shining down like a spotlight in the dark and starry night, his bare skin void of any warpaint "Now ah leave da clan for good. ah dunnae like wot ah did sayin it was fer my tryals. Dinnae like da grudges ah was roped into an 'avin ta 'unt dose ah once saw as friends." He reaches for where his necklace of ears once was, one of them having been returned and the other tossed into the ocean due to not being able to find the person who it belongs to, and the bark of the mother tree that was carved into a small statue of a howling wolf now laying on one of its roots as an offering "May Dungrimm be moy witness to wot ah did... An judge meh to deem meh free o my past an allow meh ta choose ah new one." he stands up and slits his palm open, letting the blood pool on his black and charred hand before pressing it on the open stone beside him, leaving a red handprint there before wandering off to write some birds to people.

                                                    OIP.6XqKNrnn3V-9bgHa5j_M6gHaEL?w=323&h=1

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A faint breeze rolls over the hills as Wilhelm leaves, carrying whispers of a forgotten lament. For the briefest of moments he could have sworn he could smell singed flesh and tasted salty tears, though he may be forgiven for believing that the gentle waves of the ocean lapping against the rocky hill face were deceiving him under misguided moonlight. Cloaked in the misty veil of night fog wandered a stout and stocky figure atop the oceans waves as though he were walking just out of sight, searching for his relative's sorrow as he himself is lost in a world without life.

 

He who is doomed to never walk the halls of the dead, the one cursed with the burden of the broken hammer. He sees nobody, only the sorrows and grief left behind by those who still walk.

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Aghuid “Longshot” Ireheart, Forgemaster of Clan Ireheart, Slayer of Hellephants and all around Certified Badass notices the blood print on the wall. Disgusted by its presence upon the wall. So as any dwed does, he scrubbed it off with a wire brush and continued on with his duties of the day, smithing, hunting and working out. Completely contempt with his current life in his village. Surrounded by the king he held most dear.

 

When he returned to his forge he sat his axe upon the wall, the moonlight creeping through the cracks in the stone gave the axe head a dim, silvery, ethereal glow.’to forever remind Aghuid of the oath he had fufilled. He closed his eyes and dreamed. Dreamed of the day he met his fallen brother Durgar in the hallowed halls of Kaz’Ad’Dentrumm

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