The Murder of a Name

[Serf 580]

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

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The Murder of a Name

<12th of Snow’s Maiden, 90 SA>

 

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“Torsun… I just purchased a death permit for the mines… GIVE ME THE KEYS NOW.”

A warped voice called out from the darkness of an oddly familiar office.

 

“Torsun… They know where you live. They’ve been watching you while you sleep. You can’t stay here anymore or YOU WILL DIE.”

A hellish voice screamed out from the darkness of a dimly lit cottage.

“Torsun~ … WHY DON’T YOU COME TO THE GRAND KINGDOM OF DEATH AND FACE THE ULTIMATE PUNISHMENT THAT A TRAITOR LIKE YOU DESERVES.”

 

A booming voice resounded throughout the blackened stone halls from a dwarven figure who wore a crown shrouded in darkness. As Torsun approached, the figure’s face was that of Bakir Ireheart’s before quickly warping and contorting into that of an eldritch horror with a thousand eyes, and his beard turned to flesh. Out of reactionary fear he fell to the floor and was quickly washed away by the whispering stones of the blackened city.

 

“Torsun… Yemekar’s Axe of the Grand Kingdom.. It is an honor to have you back in our  wretched city again. Will… the mining expeditions kill more of your slaves… ? You’ve abandoned us… what ever happened to the Foundry of Flesh? You dare turn… your back upon the Darkness Prophet of Vur’door… ?”

 

The stones chattered ceaselessly until he was washed upon the familiar footsteps of the Workforce offices where a limbless half-orc rested. He turned his head to Torsun, a smirk growing upon his face at the sight of him.

 

“Oi, bozz. I’m happy you’re back, but you haven’t been the same since the head injury. That pickaxe knocked you out for days, and you started talkin’ all weird. Things have changed since you’ve been gone…”

 

“HE EXPECTS YOU.”

 

The half-orc turned his head toward the doors that bore a visage of the Ruhn Prophet he knew, his mouth agape and from it a faint whisper could be heard.

 

“Torsun… You betrayed me… Norli… you betrayed. You and I.. we could have ruled over these pathetic halls… taught the golems how to kinslay… and genocide the agnarumm. This is what the Brathmordakin demands of me… We must do… I WILL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

 

The faces began to weep as tears ran down from their eyes to form a puddle of blood at the foot of the door. As they lamented, the doors shook violently as hundreds of thousands of runes adorning the entirety of the building pulsed with violet and gold energies until the foundations of the structure buckled and collapsed in on itself.

 

Among the rubble, after the dust settled, sat a massive automaton flanked by stout figures who wore wicked masks of black and gold, their heads slowly panning to where Torsun was sat crouched. The uncanny silence of the hall was broken by a reverberating hum as the monstrous construct rose and made way for the helpless dwarf.

 

“Cagli- Rylanor w-why did you betray me for Alaric and Urguan!? After everything I’ve done for you and your children…” He cried out at the grinding machine, the first words spoken since appearing in the dark halls.

 

The monstrosity of metal came to a halt, looming over the tiny dwarf in comparison as he stood atop the debris. Steam spewed forth before a grating voice filled the cavern.

“Because you betrayed ME, Torsun. You have hated me since stepping foot in these halls. It was you who told Norli of Dorimnur’s fate and the hand I played in it.” The machine hummed loudly. “Your betrayal of Urguan was orchestrated to dispose of me, but it didn’t go your way now did it?” He stepped down before the dwarf, the ground trembling as he had done so. “And now… I WILL TEAR OUT YOUR HEART.”

 

As an outstretched hand came for Torsun, he frantically crawled his way through the darkness and mud before falling down into the pools of Mugdor. Without struggle, he sank beneath the waters and drifted away. Euphoria was felt as an elven figure took shape and embraced him, resting her head overtop his. A voice permeated the waters.

“Torsun… I’ll protect you like I promised. Please… take off the blindfold. Regain your sight. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.. But I can’t stand the guilt of seeing you wander around in darkness like this. I’ve done so much for you, so why can’t you do this for me, ti?”

 

She squeezed him one last time before pulling away, taking a hand to his face to cast off the blindfold, revealing his aurum eyes. The figure smiled and took his hand, pulling him up through the water and casting him out of the pool.

“Ahernan...”

 

He surfaced from the stagnant waters, gasping for air as he thrashed about until making it to the ledge and pulling himself out. As he laid there and opened his eyes, the all too familiar feeling of paranoia took root again. The distant chatter of the city and metalwork was heard as the halls were lit. “Why am I here?” He muttered to himself. “To end Bakir’s thousand year reign..?- No.. to get the funds for the ferry… but why are they all looking at me?”

 

"Will you just shut up and die, traitor? Do us all a favor and die already. What did you just say about my clan?” 

 

"What do you want me to do, Torsun? Give you the funds from the treasury without my master’s permission? He’ll have me castrated for doing my job.” 

 

"Do you want to say that to my face, Torsun? Stop trying to hide behind people and face the execution you deserve.”

 

The surroundings of Mugdor began to melt away as voices filled his head, the granite square of the city coming into view and a crowd coalescing into existence with all eyes set upon him. Confused and terrified at the sudden appearance of Bakir, he grabbed ahold of the only familiar face next to him, and pulled him forward as a shield. “Bakir…” He trembled. “I didn’t say anything about you! Why can’t you just honor the terms of this treaty and- ….”

 

Torsun looked down as a steel tip ripped through his stomach, warm blood forming and running down his body. He let out a dying gasp as he attempted to grasp at his wound, his vision fading as he fell to the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

[gandalfo 1414]

Atandt would light a candle for his friend that night.

[Scatmanpro 123]

Bromdor shook his head. "W'oi... Just w'oi..."

[TheFirstShroom 280]

Alone in his study, Falk Irongut weeps at the death of yet another friend. 

[UnusualBrit 2099]

"Justice will beh done." Thalgrim muttered in grief, speaking a prayer to Dungrimm, Lord of the Dead. 

[The Harbinger 336]

Glod felt numb. "Ah swear mah friend... Justice will beh done." He said softly, not a trace of emotion in his words. Inside rage boiled.

 

[Terry 1875]

Ulfric, gone trekking through treacherous mountains, would not hear of the also-treacherous news that awaited him until he returned, and yet… even thousands of miles away, he thought he felt a twang of grief hit him…

[Papa Rock 414]

The dwarf stands within his trashed house, furniture and equipment thrown all over the place. His hair and beard loose and free, messy from a fit of rage that he had released. The eyes of the aged dwarf looked up to his ceiling, but pierce past the stone to peer into the sky itself.  "Why du yeh keep takin' mah friends?"  he asks with his broken and worn voice, his bruised hand resting against his folded legs as he questions the gods and their motives. Soon after, with a lack of response, the starbreaker finally breaks and enters a phase of rage and depression as he tears up his room and his belongings. 

[Xergarok 345]

Grimdal had treated the wounds of Torsun using his own means after the medics had left. He spoke with Conan and Thalgrim, deciding to leave guard duty up to them and the golem, Ak-Rullaz. He would lay awake for a while, praying to Yemekar, before eventually falling asleep still.

 

The news would hit him like hammer. He locked himself up in his house for the remainder of the week. 

 

[Reece Nolan 639]

Far under the city in the oft-forgotten deep roads, Angr sat on his rotting pinewood bench reading over news of the assassination which had spread like wildfire. In front of the dwed sat a pot of bubbling pigs feet stew which rattled the lid constantly, echoing out far and wide into the dark cavernous blackness surrounding him. "Ov all da dwed, ahm convinced Torsun deserved tae die. Even soh, 'e should 'av paid fer 'is crimes en dah court ov law ratha t'an aht dah 'ands ov ahnotha dwarf." He comments, setting the missive aside and ladling himself a bowl of his signature and miserable stew, complete with chunks of unseasoned pork, undercooked beans and bland pork broth. "Khorvad's influence spreads evah more en t'es kingdom..."

[Datweirdguy 138]

Was busy working in his keep within the Verdant Glade when a courier delivered news of Torsun's death to him. After giving the Courier a handsome tip he told them to leave him as he grumbled quietly. "Eh soh anotheh True Goldhand enters dah great auction. Meh dah Braths bid fierceleh fer yer companeh lad." Gently putting down the missive upon a nearby table he shook his head before continuing with his day.

[Stripez-Purple 50]

This news would reach Zurghamli on one of his Wandering paths, He'd look up into the night sky and simply said "Taken tu soon, Sume day Sumeone will pay fur dis. May the Gilded Brot'ers watch over ye now." 

Edited August 18, 2022 by Stripez-Purple

[AfroJoeTheOlogBro 1093]

"Such is the way of us, Torsun, my closest ally in these past years of roaming about. No matter what we do, there will always be someone hovering beyond us...it always ends in a death, eventually." 

 

Rylanor let out a low mutter as he pondered the thought in his head, having long since heard of the elder's passing. He didnt know how, and could guess why, but he knew it was inevitable, just as he knew it when the trouble began long before...it didnt make it any easier, though.

[1_Language_1 1671]

                 A previous life of Grigoryi might have mourned for Torsun, a close friend and social mentor. Alas, after Grigoryi lost his memory, he never knew Torsun. The elderly dollmaker sits there, turning about an unfinished doll from long ago-- never knowing it was Torsun himself; only just a cute doll.