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Tungdilson's Exile


UnusualBrit
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Tungdilson's Exile

12th of the First Seed, Year 53 of the Second Age


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With a heavy heart, Gildroc Goldhand found himself with his brother Eivor and cousin Torsun looking back at the city of Kal’Darakaan; a home he had known for fifty years. He embraced his brother, and bid farewell to his cousin before departing. His charge was a holy one, for he was entrusted by his clan father Dorimnur Goldhand with a year of pilgrimage as atonement for his past transgressions against the unity of the clan. And therefore he resolved he would go content, hopeful in his redemption in the eyes of his Clan Father. This would not be the end of his tale. 
 

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The Clan Father moved about Kal'Darakaan upon a golden steel demigrph affixed with wheels for locomotion. He looked out beyond the large gates, seemingly oblivious-or perhaps not caring-of the Orenian menace that may come meet him unprotected. His goal was to ensure that Gildroc had truly left, and upon such confirmation, the Clan Lord of the Aurokanar sighed a great sigh, for in his heart it may have been the last time he would see the troublemaker.

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Glod Grimgold watched, harrowed that such a close friend would leave him.

Gildroc had taught him so much about the Legion, it's tenets, and it's true values.

To honour Gildroc's pilgrimage, Glod replaced the pommel of his feared longsword, Hallowbringer, with a small amount of gold ore (Gilded rock [gildroc]), gripped by a golden hand (Goldhand).

 

"May he fin' hi' peac'."

 

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Glod would look back to all those years ago. Before Gildroc had been taken so early. He sighed deeply, bringing another mug of ale to Gildroc's final resting place. "This 'uns fer you lad." He would say sadly.

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