[PK] The Hammer Falls

[TheTiniestDragon 30]

The Hammer Falls

 

Surely does the hammer fall, heavy against the shimmering heat of the forge. There works a smith: stooped over the anvil, beating his echoing rhythm in time with the whispered hiss of the blazing coals. Upon his anvil sits a length of steel, unformed, malleable in its fiery glow. With everlasting patience, the smith begins to work – slowly tapering, lengthening, forming the metal with each ringing strike.

 

Elend Morilim stands in the courtyard of Providence city. The sun beats down on his iron helm, lopsided on his head, ISA uniform poorly fit to his thin frame. He looks around wondrously at the bustling life of city, the searching, wandering gaze of a child recently run away from home. A rapier hangs at the skinny teen’s side, shoddily crafted – a first attempt at smithing himself a weapon. He straightens his shoulders, face set stony with flickering embers of determination.

 

In a great plume of steam, red-hot metal meets frigid water, ringing like a great bell as it cools. The smith inspects the blade, scrutinized with a practiced eye, running worn leather gloves along its length. Scale crumbles off, tumbling, dancing to the ground in flakes borne wildly upon the warm Western winds. The smith gazes upon his work for a moment, simply considering, before setting aside the weapon-yet-to-be.

 

Elend Morilim Odinson brushes past the twisted foliage of the Voidal Hollow, hunting. Beside him, a dwarf and a human, a friend and a brother. As the howl of some fetid beast rips through the broken landscape, Elend looks upon his companions. For now, finally, he has found family. How strange it is, the feeling of love! To call someone his brother, his father – a silent tear runs down the face of the young man, hissing into nonexistence against the cursed dirt of the Hollow. With a small smile set on his face, gleaming sword in hand, he strides ever onwards.

 

A hilt takes shape, now, in a rain of flecks of wood. From a piece of hard oak, as resolute and stubborn as the smith himself, a carving knife works its way by. Soft is the grasp of the thin leather ‘round the handle, set firmly in place with a nail. Brightly, then, shines the gem set into the pommel, catching the light in a brilliant explosion of azure. The smith sits back, affixing the hilt upon the blade, watching that gem-refracted light play lazily upon the ancient, soot-stained walls. He lets out a slow sigh, for the smithing is done.

 

In a beautiful Western city, bedecked in flowers and laughter and song, Elend Morilim Odinson sinks to one knee, resting against warm ground. In the cup of his hands sits a ring, wrought of gleaming Starsteel, shining with all the concentrated light of the heavens in the gentle afternoon sun. Elend offers it with a tremulous smile to the woman before him – his maylu, his soulmate, his flame. The sun runs dappled golden rays across the faces of the couple, dipping below the trees. Elend’s love burns, though, a second sun, alighting the future in rays of joy.

 

But the weapon is not yet complete. With a groan, the smith rises, and hovers his hands over the sword. In a rhythm that seems to echo with the soul, all at once esoteric and fundamental, the smith begins to incant. Silver mist, as bright and holy as the stars, leaps into brilliant existence, dancing along the length of the newly-forged blade. The weapon takes on a gentle sheen, radiant with absorbed power.

 

Elend Morilim Odinson stands upon a battlefield, golden spear in hand. Stubble touches his chin, and the lines of age draw tight the skin about his eyes. But his gaze is ever sharp, piercing, as silver lightning sparks among his fingers. A javelin of such light crackles into existence and is hurled, sending the horrific Darkness stumbling backwards. Later, Elend stoops beneath the brick towers of the cities of the icy North. His silver mist, gentle as a summer’s breeze, heals the wounds of the beaten and the souls of the terrified, a weary smile upon his face.

 

 

With a resonating crack, ripping violently across the shadowed battlefield, the strained metal of the sword tears in half. The warrior kneels upon the bloodied ground, damp with the tears and screams of the fallen, gazing at the shattered weapon in his hand. It had had a long life, guided by a steady hand. But now, with a dulled edge and worn-leather grip, perhaps, it was time for the great sword to rest.

 

Elend Morilim Odinson drops to one knee, breath ripping ragged through the unnatural calm of the forest clearing. Bloodied wounds stain his gleaming armour, creeping crimson sashes of terrible pain. But within himself, the holy knight feels his ember, bright. It drives him upwards, lightning in his veins, crackling and arcing into the air with unstable power. His spear burns with light – silver so bright it is almost white, blinding. And he surges forwards, those claws of the Dark find his chest, tearing flesh from sinew and bone. But the Light flows ever-strong, and Elend  brings his spear down upon the head of the Darkspawn. With a roll of resonant thunder and the bitter hiss of lightning, the corrupted skull gives way, the body before him dropping to the ground. Elend collapses, now, too – the Light coursing through him fizzling as his strength wanes. But hand clutching his spear, empty silver eyes gazing skyward, there remains ever a smile on his face.

 

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To my friends, family, and beloved ones:

 

If you’re reading this, I am no longer with you. Perhaps I have fallen in battle, or of old age – but in truth, it doesn’t matter. This letter is my last will and testament, to let those I care about continue strong after I am gone.

 

To Adrian, my friend:

Spoiler

I leave you my gauntlet, Tos’iheiuh. I know you have struggled with a myriad of paths, and I hope its light guides you through the darkest of times. May you wield it with grace and resolution.

 

To Immeral, my son:

Spoiler

I leave you my sword, Callendor. You are a force of calm throughout chaotic times, and its blade of ice reflects that. May its edge always strike true, even against the strongest of foes.

 

To Radvan, my brother:

Spoiler

I leave you my spear, Ker’vihai. For whatever path you may now walk, a companion against the Darkness is critical. May you find the Light in its darkness, and within your own life.  

 

To Astrid, my wife, my flame, and the light of my life:

Spoiler

I leave you my spear, Anaphael. If I am lightning, you are my thunder – my joy, my strength, and my courage. I know my death will not be kind to you, my flame, so allow the light of this weapon to guide you past the anguish. I am here, watching over you, fighting by your side, for every step of the way. And know, always, that I love you.

 

And to all those that have journeyed with me, for whom I have no more to give, I thank you. To live among such incredible people made life a pleasure, and I shall see you all again in the next.

 

–Elend Morilim Odinson

 

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OOC:

Spoiler

To all who have been a part of the journey of Elend over this past while, I thank you – truly. Elend has been an incredibly fun character to play, learn, and grow with, which would have been impossible without all of the amazing roleplay I had on him. For those who weren’t mentioned in Elend’s will, know that I still think of you, and am infinitely grateful for the roleplay and friendship we’ve shared. Farewell, all – I’ll see you around.

 

[MeteorDragon 2794]

An aging man would sit within his home, head tilted down towards the ground as he muttered. "Another I knew was taken.. a shame, but such is life." Sulieronn let off a tired sigh into the air, slowly shaking his head. The man grasped onto a bottle of mead and pressed it to his lips, taking a long, slow swig of the drink. "And to think he was almost a Voidal Mage."

[TeawithFrisket 2613]

The shield felt the wind change, another was sent to the seven skies...though she did not know whom they were.

[rukio 8909]

A silver eyed paladin would, by word of mouth or bird, hear of the untimely passing. Within her chancery did she light a candle for the fallen. "A paladin's death should never be grieved." She'd murmur quietly to her only student, not yet Embered their self, as the candle burned through the night, scentless beyond the mildness of wax. "For our souls are set ablaze in the hope that we will die and continue our wars for Xan in the afterlife. If this terrifies you, there are many other paths of life to walk."

[AmericanSniper52 225]

As the man read this letter, he could feel not but sadness, at the loss of his brother. He had never known a greater comrade, a greater friend, a greater brother. "may You find some semblance of peace, brother, among the honored dead" He said as he drank from his bottle, another friend gone to the unknown.

[RMW01 208]

Once sturdy gloved hands shook as they gripped onto the letter delivered to the door of a stoic woman's home, a home once occupied by an inseparable duo’s love for each other.
Where the warmth of joy had once filled her heart and the room she stood within, a painful grief brought a sickening coldness to the ame’s world. “No. . ." she uttered, a once unshakable voice now but a mere whisper. The paladin tried to breathe, but her throat was grasped by sorrow, incapable of being hidden away behind walls of solitude.
Green eyes soon became plagued with tears as the realization sunk in. Her love, her dear, dear Elend, was dead. A future which she had allowed love filled dreams to form shattered, now destined to remain just that- a wishful dream of what could have been. Her lover, best friend, soulmate, and other half was gone. . . leaving Astrid to mourn alone within the walls of a building which no longer felt as though they were her home.

[Heart_Spam 281]

Upon hearing of the news of her brother-in-law's passing, Nisreen slowly rose, procured a candle, yet unlit. Somber gaze lingered on the darkened wick as she struck a match, let the orange flame erupt into a dancing light from which all shadows in the dim room fled. A celebration of a fellow Paladin's journey. That newly lit candle was placed amongst others that had long since waned into puddles of melted wax, the new candle's flame commemorating Elend's life and passing. Precious seconds ticked by as Nisreen lingered, watching the candle flicker, before she at last drew her cloak about her shoulders and stepped out the door. There was one other she needed to find.

[Tigergiri 2859]

Leika paused as the news graced her ears, probably much later then the rest. putting on her coat and grabbing a masked bottle she flew out her eyes scanning till it fell on the home.. one she never step foot into knocking gently to call out to her old friend the one she knew would need people the most.

 

 

"Astrid?"

[Fawnytheturtle 687]

Both Faeviel Komnenos and Keishara Daystar welcome him to the seven skies, chatting about memories and watching loved ones below

[SacredSource 213]

The word of Elend's last sacrifice arrives to a wayfaring knight. From whom he heard the news was unimportant in the matter, yet the information brought the knight to change the direction of his route to arrive at a long-abandoned mine. For a night, silver and smoke can be clearly seen in the briefly revived quarry.

 

Once the sun rose, the knight returned to his travels. A Lorraine cross rests upon a newly constructed grave marker surrounded by the remains of incense. Words can be seen crudely etched on the stone marker.

 

ELEND ODINSON

SERVED

75 SE - 90 SE
AETERNUM VALE

 

Despite his quick leave, sightings of an otherworldly silver light can be seen from the mine as the year passes by, the light soon becoming a yearly occurrence at the site.

[ValleyOfLavender 192]

it had taken a while but a young elfess heard of his death and fell to her knees crying mourning the death of her father her biggest regret now in life was not being able to spend more time with whom she loved most, the person who had taken her in and given her a place to call home, her heart broke into a thousand pieces. then would forever be changed not knowing what to do, the young elfess stood and went to find her mother tears uncontrollably running down her cheeks.

hearing of one her best friends death Floria froze holding one of her children and her eyes watered before they widened "oh Astrid!" she put her child down and pat their head "stay here dear" the elfess said before she ran off to find her best friend, Elends lover knowing her friends would need someone to throw punches with

[Thrawn 72]

The sun shone bright on Elysium as Snowyn Skellig approached its gates. "Pleasure," he told the gate guard brightly, "Hoping to see an old friend." Sunlight sparkled across his greying hair and beard, and he wore a jaunty smile as he strolled through the streets of Elysium, his keen eyes searching for the building he had visited once or twice before: the smithing shop of Elend Odinson.

 

He entered the shop with a broadening smile and gazed around at the empty stations. All manner of weapons were strewn around: hung on the walls, laid across tables, and leaned against corners. The furnaces, he noted, were cold, not a hint of smoke clouding them. Yet it was the middle of the day - unless his friend was out hunting dark monsters as he was wont to do, then he should be right here, working away at his craft. With a furrowed brow, Snowyn left the shop, stopping a passersby and asking them if they knew where Elend Odinson was.

 

His face fell.

 

Snowyn re-entered the blacksmith shop, gazing around, the abandoned weapons and cold furnaces taking on new, dreadful meaning. The cheerful golden rays of sunlight strewn through the windows of the shop now felt more like mockery. He absentmindedly hefted a newly finished sword, emotion stirring in him.

 

Snowyn Skellig was not a man of many friends. He'd wandered his whole life through and had many friendly encounters with all sorts of people, but very few of them could he truly call "friend." Yet Elend Odinson had been one of those few.

 

He couldn't help but let out a chuckle remembering the two bright-eyed youngsters reveling in the Providence tavern, oh-so-seriously conducting a clandestine meeting in Du Loc, plotting their new spying and detective work business. They had both thought of themselves as so smart, so devious in their schemes. Boys playing as men. His smile faded. But one of those boys had grown to become far more of a man than the other could ever hope to be: smithing swords and battling eldritch monsters while still retaining that same sunny optimism.

 

Gently, he laid the sword back down where he had found it, and a single tear dropped with it, splattering against the shiny new blade. "Rest well, my friend," he said softly in the empty shop, "And if you have any to spare, lend this old wanderer a little of your might, that when he lays to rest, he may have a sleep as sound and satisfied as yours."

[Markisstreaming 515]

Talinn is sad because he got no letter AND his grandfather is dead