The Ice Thaws [PK]

[CptShoelace 97]

A saddened Khubuc sits alone in his empty hall after hearing the news of his friend. His face remains emotionless, yet compassionate which slowly turns to vengeful. 

[Jason of the North 202]

Ajax, having up to this time spending most of his time with his son, Bojakk, in isolation within Kal'darakaan, and having not left his house in years, eventually gets the news through what voices carry through his window. Surprisingly though, unlike most of the rest of dwed kind, he is not saddened, or at least sadness does not take the helm of his emotions. Ajax and Bojakk both, become enraged, filling with passion and vigor after hearing about such a titan of the clan falling, and in such a fitting way. Together, father and son begin scribbling on paper once more, the Quill of Belka, may yet make a return after such a momentous occasion.

[Dhaelena 586]

It was a quiet night when Dhaen Grandaxe learned of Rhewen's death, sitting alone by the port. With the sharp tang of sea-salt and bitter vodka on her tongue, she reminisced. Rhewen had been a Dwed of legend, a name inked into library texts with all the pride of his people behind it. Yet in person, he had also been a surprisingly gentle conversationalist, who listened to her worries during the cold nights of Kal'Odla.

 

His passing may have marked the end of his epic, but Dhaen felt confident he was bound for a mighty welcome in Khaz'a'Dentrumm.

 

 

The mountain stands so tall and cold,

no hearth to keep her warm.

We toil,

toil

till it seems,

we heat her earthen form.

And at last

when we lay

in her stone embrace,

She takes us up to Dungrimm's gates

and to eternal fate.

[Fiyaleh 72]

A normally reclusive orc stumbles mindlessly out of the cavernous home of the Dwed and into the surrounding wilderness near Karmesinfels. Their brown eyes seem to dim to a blood red as the voices and world around them fade away. Memories of their time spent with Rhewen, however tragically brief, shatter suddenly as if struck by their old friend’s axe itself. The now-silent forest, seeming to hold its collective breath, is interrupted by a wailing howl that splits the trees—literally, it seems, as a tall pine begins to wobble from multiple blows to its steady trunk. The horrific sound is almost inhuman, laced with anguish and rage, and does not cease until the tree finally collapses under its own weight.
 

The figure of the orc remains at its base, their bloodshot eyes taking in the aftermath of their first full bloodlust in what feels like eons. With their throat tremendously hoarse and their fists torn up in bloody splinters, they shakily slide down to sit against what remains of the pine. Their mind reels, exhausted from grief and their rage, with only one proper thought repeating over and over within.

 

Today, we’ve lost another good one.

[Reece Nolan 636]

Angr would have been been working away at the project he had drafted in order to compete for the position of Grand Architect, though as this news was brought to him his hammer had fallen silent. He did not know Rhewen and he knew the Frostbeards even less, but he felt an intolerable heat pumping through his veins. "Grand Architec' can wait." He wheezed, tossing his workman's belt into the grass.

 

He thought to himself as he walked home, here was another warrior slain in effort to bring about peace and prosperity once more. The awful taste of the name Frostbeard was dulled on his tongus. He recalled the legend of Yavok, a mighty dwarf who bravely fought on his lonesome to liberate tbe Kingdom of its fears. He thought on how he might have been too quick to judge this clan, for traitors could never produce heroes like this. Regardless, one thing in his mind needed not a second thought, blood was going to be spilled for this Frostbeard's murder.