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Shifting of Polarity


Drak3
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13th of the Sun's Smile, Year 96 of the 2nd age

 

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With the coming of ages history often repeated itself, though at times a spark would ignite an inferno of change, like a wildfire sweeping across vast plains and forests. Consuming life entirely as the winds fueled the destruction further with every waking moment that passed. This is what was ushered within the beating heart of the Doomforged lassie after hearing of the betrayal of both Rhaezaiil and Brankhyn. It burned, seethed like the quaking of the earth itself, the pounding of blood that coursed through her mortal frame heightened by the fury of what the clan had dissolved into right under her nose.


Though in the passing minutes of hearing of the grim results of Rhaezaiil’s betrayal and death and the escape of Brankhyn from Urguan. It was clear a change was needed, and thus the mantle of the clan fell upon the ashen Dwedess’s shoulders. The heavy news was lifted after a communing within the halls of the Grand Chancellor’s room, the announcement  washing away the recent acquired doubts and fears like a wave of scorching violence, soon to give way to new growth much like how death can bring new life with fertile soil, so to would a new era of Doomforged rise from the ashes, rekindled by the beating of hearts.




The time of change was upon the clan as the scales had been tipped, new life would breathe into the Doomforged once more with the coming stone weeks and the guidance of Charsi Doomforged who now held the title of clan mother.



 

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The Rhun Prophet nodded approvingly as Charsi spoke of her intentions to him. "A new future can only be built once ye realize the folly of the fathers."

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Garedyn The Green would look missive, with a smile growing across his face. "There es nae better dwed to take on teh mantle o' teh Doomforged than ye. May great gloreh shoine upon teh rebirth o' yer clan."

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The flow of reality is hard to grasp, if not impossible. Like sand, drifting like an ocean, and the ocean, as treacherous as the land. Where then, will you go? Hold on to whatever support you have, you are in for a rough ride... But no matter how it ends now, what fun you'll have had.

 

 

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Ulfar sits within his halls, enjoying his last warm bowl of soup before the time of absence comes. The stars do not move along the world, but with it. This kin of Gotrek sets for departure and breathes in the air that sails the sky, at once standing at the masoned gates of Omenthiel and then absent like the stars during the rise of the sun. The spawn of Urir left in grandest of hands.

Edited by Papa Rock
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