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[PK] The Amber Fox, The Son of Malin


exanimated
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"S-Six... N-No-... F-Four? I-I can't even believe it. Why must we lose another one. I-I keep loosing people and all I can do is stand idly by. I-I'm so useless... A-And a burden..."

 

The older man muttered to himself as he stared into the flames of the fireplace. His eyes glazed over as his mind drifted off elsewhere. He didn't seem to move much as he simply sat in place, silently thinking about all that had unfolded prior. 

 

"N-No more... I-I can't stand to lose anyone else... I-I won't... I won't stand for it." 

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Evar'lae Amayril did not know Zolvan Vuln'miruel very well, but he knows well enough of the crippling pain that is losing your closest friend: your spouse. That Sonna, his former colleague and old friend, is forced to go through that surreal nightmare. 

 

When he saw the Fox Druid fall into the waters that are under what was once Ando Alur; the anguish and panic that the poor woman held on her face, the all too familiar distraught look that Evar'lae has seen in a mirror far too often. 

 

There was little he could do as a simple elf to help in a large, drastic situation. Zolvan was already trapped, and Evar'lae had nothing, but the robes on his back. He tried to run back to the Vale, maybe there was a way, but by the time he had prepared with his medkit, Sonna had arrived in the gates with that same broken expression and bare whisper,

 

"He's gone..."
 

As Evar'lae sat on his bed, watching over his children in their respective bunk beds, he thought back to the wedding that Sonna had invited him and many other friends to. She was happy. They loved each other dearly and wanted to express to the world how strong they'll be together. How her eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit tarts that Evar'lae had gifted to her, the way Zolvan gazed at her reaction with fondness in his eyes. There was no doubt that he'd treat his friend well.

 

Now that poor soul is gone.

 

Perhaps it was time to try to reach out to Sonna, Aspects knew how hard he fell after Anthea had perished. 

Edited by Commander_Jester
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A Doctor sighed, his work destroyed. Perhaps madness was the next best option.

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The boreal druid heard the screaming.. 

 

"Run" 

 

they were told, they grasped their shield and rose it above their head and Sonna's their right ear drum pierced by the sound of a broken kingdom would spill crimson upon their helm onto the plate, hurried footsteps and wails of pure grief were heard by them. 

 

Boreal had lost their sense of touch as adrenaline filled their frame, stupored, numb and frazzled, they reach the vale with the sullen fox, they wept alongside their sister as they knew Zolvan even before he was one with the druidic kin, they watched that man grow from a bronze-plated tyrant to a loving husband and caring father. 

 

But now he was gone, the realization hit them once they held the inconsolable widow in a bear hug, misery leaking into their mind as their nose and ears bled, tears wiping grime off of their face as they cried alongside Sonna. 

 

A part of their past was gone, now they had to once more be the rock for those to hold onto within the turbulent tides of grief. 

Edited by DistantCryprid
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"Maln," A soft, shaky voice called down the hallway - meek with the weight of reality. Almost as if he'd turn the corner, Ophelia's voice trembled with his name. 

Nothing, and yet she waited. It felt surreal, to imagine the only father she knew simply dissolving into thin air, without even remnants left behind to mourn. 

She once thought him invincible; he would stand at her side, even when she reached her hundreds. That possibility still felt so  tangible, as if resting just within her grasp. 

 

Death had never seemed all that real, not to Ophelia. It always came off like a distant problem, at times - even a work of fiction.

 

"You can't, not yet..." 

Just days before, she'd spoken to him - embraced him. And now faced with the grief of acceptance, Ophelia's heart crumbled. 

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The Phoenix druid ran like wild through the forests she had ventured far to deep into. The druid had no idea whom had passed, she already had sent a letter off to her sister Sonna asking who had gone. Her glowing eyes were like bobbing flames in the dark of the night as she tried to return home as fast as she could, nature around her panicked, birds took off as she ran past, some in the song of nature mimicking one word she spoke the whole time as tears streamed down her cheeks

"No no no, please don't be my family, not my family, please please please"

"Please"

"Please"

"Please"

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The Inquisitor Eternal sat before his decrepit cave once again, and as he contemplated the fall of his comrades, he remembered the value of previous comrades. For a second time, he repeated. 

 

“A small price to pay for salvation.”

 

Yet, he felt sorrow for the brave heroes that fell to destroy the tear. 

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2 hours ago, Ztrog said:

Silently elsewhere a former child soldier weeps for Zolvan. 

 

A fellow former child soldier comforts their companion.

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Silence came upon the young Vuln'miruel's usually brash and abrasive countenance. Their blood scorched digits shaking in a dull triumph that soon came upon the sides of their sunkissed temple.

Slowly, the figure fell to their knees, releasing one shrill scream of a cry. Their scarred eyes watering with what dismay they could muster. Their bronzen hand curled into their face, nails digging up flesh, spawning a terrible ichor that would trickle down her cheek. 

 

Another cry roared from Sulcelia.

 

One tormented by those visions of their grandfather, one who had looked to their patriarchal figure, Zolvan, for guidance with his eternal visions, fell further with their sobs, uttering one word repeatedly, until they could no longer, passing out with a pathetic cry.

 

"Maln,"

 

"Maln,"

 

"Maln..."

Somber eyes came upon such news. 

 

Long did those accursed, golden streaked hues dashing across their one remembrance of Zolvan, any sign of Sons of Malin that truly mattered. That dagger.

 

Daija's palm rose then, the dagger raising in an opposing grip, before such was slashed, dripping ichor upon an estranged tome... it's ethereal cover soaking such up with no reminder of ever sustaining such an affliction...

"Heavy is the Crown," The assimilated muttered their final reply for their friend, before slithering toward the Druidic Grove.

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Cold darkness gave way to warm, glittering sunlight that came to flood the man's vision, as he opened his eyes. As far as the eye could see, were emerald green forests, stretching up and threatening to scathe the sky wide open. His vision would fall upon a familiar face, smiling warmly and kindly- a hand coming to intertwine with his own, to offer a comforting squeeze to him.

 

"Well done, oh Amber Fox... you did magnificently in your life. But now is the time to rest, dear. Now is the time to breathe... and heal."

 

 

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Eventually should the fallen fox ask of a certain cannon crazed goblin within the forest she would offer unto him a tour of the lands she has been exploring since her time came. "Ye know treeapault is the best way to get around here mhm!" Vex smiles "Oh and dont worry we will greet mavy wavey together yes yes" she may have already lost more of her marbles....oh look a unicorn!

 

Hana on the other hand does a silent vigil within the shrine to anabella praying for the fallen who were NOT dragonkin

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A certain Elverhilin in some far off place regards the memories of his cousin fondly, their time in the sons, and their time spent bantering at one another for simple entertainment. A somber look finally overcame his expression as he let out a heavy sigh and lifted a palm to his forehead. How long had it been since he'd felt loss? Since he'd felt anything? "We will remember him," the elf thought to himself before rising from his spot under a great looming oak to continue onwards...

 

The memories of Zolvan would indeed, never fade.

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