Answering the Call of Kin

[SimplySeo 5183]

 

 

Tor'sjorvath was a busy port on the best of days, that much was obvious now more than ever. With the conflict with Oren, the naval yards were bustling with sailors, soldiers, and shipyard workers, laboring to finish the production of new Destroyers for the conflict. The merchant's district wasn't much better, Elven, Sutican, Dwarven, and Norlandic ships all came in and out, crowding the harbor as they onloaded and offloaded goods. It was a good deal more busy than Jorvin remembered it, as during his time, the town wasn't much more than a naval base, used to crack down on piracy in the southern sea. Here and there, Jorvin recognized some of the vessels, namely those used in the exodus fleet, all those years ago. Jorvin frowned deeply as he mused. The years had not lessened the embarrassment, or the shame of his disappearance. He had failed them, there was no two ways about it, coming to terms with that for a man as proud as Jorvin was impossible, and admitting it, even if just to himself felt worse than a knife to the heart. There was dark humor in that, for a man who had seen as much as he had, one would think wounded pride would be the least of his injuries. But, he was still a Dwarf, and there were fewer more proud than him.

 

Still, it was a comfort to see that they had flourished in his absence, that the Kingdom he had helped build would push on, though its founders had long since left. He was the last one, he thought. Utak had vanished, Gimli, wherever he was, was in a better place. Fimlin no doubt earned his retirement tenfold, and as for the rest? Time, war, and wanderlust had taken them. All of this and more he dwelled on as his ship came to port. It was not the ship he had left on, his own vessel was sold many years ago, instead it was a simple merchant ship, not even Dwarven in origin, its crew was made up mostly of Northlanders, and only the occasional Khazad. As the ship came into port, Jorvin let his mind wander one more time, first dwelling on his son, who he'd left at his home in the north...Either Jorvin would return, or the boy would follow him in time, whichever it was remained to be seen. Then, he allowed himself a single moment to think of her. That pang of guilt returned, and so he pushed out the thought, slung his rucksack of supplies over his shoulder, and finally descended the gangplank. His chainmail rattled with each step, and at his belt, an old, time-weathered hammer hung. Gods willing, he'd put it to work soon enough.

 

Urguan needed him still, that's what he told himself. The reality was likely the other way around. So, without further hesitation, he made his way for Kal'Darakaan.

[Nooblius 5794]

Grand King Norli Starbreaker stands at the highest peak in Almaris at the Shrine of Yemekar, looking northward as he pondered the upcoming conflict. Against the sounds of raging winds and birds flying by, he by miracle recognizes a distinct bell toll heralding the arrival of a ship. He jerks his head over his shoulder and squints as his gaze fixates on a small figure emerging, and he smiles.

 

Things just got more interesting.

[Dhaelena 586]

Beneath a sharp, mountainous overhang - where the susurration of sand cast a sonorous song as it beat against the foreign cliffs - two dwarves sat with their backs pressed against stone as they took cover from the elements. Their wanderings had found them here, three days from the nearest town and many years since their boots were grounded on their homeland. From one, a weary snore emanated as he took his rest. The shorter dwarf grinned at the sounds of her traveling companion before flicking open a pack of cigarettes, unamused to find none left.

 

Dhaen sighed in disappointment and stared at the night sky, a solitary blanket woven with luminous stars stretched before her. As the orange tendrils of dawn crept across her view, she thought not of her travels, nor of her future. Instead, she retrieved a worn paper that had been tucked in her cloak pocket. Dhaen grimaced at the way her hands still shook as she unfolded it, staring.

 

Two figures were etched in ink upon the parchment, a moment immortalized from her own mind's eye; the proud father who lovingly held a peaceful infant in his arms.

 

"Anbella guide your travels. Wherever they may take you."

[hotbox_monk 955]

Draakopf stood before the threshold unto Kal'Darakaan, his arms folded as he awaited an old friend with a smile.