One last cigar...

[Josh3738 1714]

 

...for the road.

 

[Tunes]

---

 

The cliffside road was bathed in the rays of the setting sun, cutting through the thick curls of smoke that rose from the shrinking cigar in the old dwarf’s hand. His journey had been a long one thus far, his strength waning with each passing mile until he’d been forced to take a break on the side of the road. With an admittedly spectacular view, massive mountains cut through the clouds above him, dipping low into long valleys that stretched as far as the eye could see from his seated perch atop the roadside boulder. His mind began to wander again, reminiscing as he often did these days…

 

Centuries had come and gone since the old man, a dwed well beyond his prime, had laid eyes upon the stonework of his kin. Yet he stepped between columns as familiar to him as those of Kal’Azgoth upon entering the Grand Kingdom once more. Through the gates of the dwarven capital, intricate patterns etched into imposing defenses were as much a home to him now as they were in the first days he stepped off the boat and joined Paragon Omithiel, then the Grand King. Even now, his first king’s memory echoed in the work of their descendents as a new age of dwed toiled to carve a life of prosperity from the earth itself.

 

As dwarves had passed him in the street, there were few he recognized and even fewer he knew well enough to greet. Had he truly been gone so long that all of his friends and comrades were gone? With each dwed he knew and greeted, his words came at greater cost, the coughs that had tormented him for months growing stronger with every effort. He thought it wouldn’t be much longer when he departed the city, intent on making his way north to see his kin in Khron’Hundmar before he was finished. Even as he considered this, another wave of coughing racked his form, causing him to double over for a moment until the fit passed and he straightened once more.

 

Flicking the spent cigar into the ravine, he considered how it wasn’t always this way. In his youth, he’d been a mighty warrior, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other legionnaires in matching, well-kept armor as he faced down orc, human, and demon alike on battlefields long since enshrined in legend. From the toppling of empires to the settling of grudges, the exploits of him and his kin, his friends, washed over him and a smile spread across his face as he thought to take pen to paper and begin writing a final letter, inspired by the setting sun.

 

---

 

Though it would take many days to write, it was this letter that he’d press into the hands of one of the last Irongrinders, his son, as he said his final farewells in the halls of Khron’Hundmar. Sickness eating at him, the ancient dwed was led to a small chamber and made comfortable. With final instructions given and farewells said, he lay back in the bed with heavy eyelids, and silence greeted him as he drifted into his final sleep. From his limp grasp, a small, crystalline statue of a noble dwarf holding out his hand to a smaller dwarf, offering help, rolled onto the bed.

 

---

 

Personally handed over by Darek or otherwise delivered, an envelope would make its way to a number of dwarves and friends of the old man. Within each would be a copy of the letter and a single cigar.

 

Spoiler

If you’re reading this, then I must have finally gone to join my old friends among the stars. As the halls of Khaz’a’dentrumm beckon, I find it’s come time for me to bid farewell in the hopes that those who remain will hear this last goodbye. For all my seven hundred and fifty years, I have so many I’d wish to say something to, yet I fear it would take another decade to do so and some have already preceded me to Dungrimm’s halls. Thus I pen this letter to you all; my kin, my friends, and those who await me.

 

As the years have dragged on, I’ve been wondering when the end would come. It’s certainly a morbid thought, but as my beard grows long, it’s something I’ve pondered. I wondered whether it would be in some mighty battle where I went out fighting some great evil for a noble cause. I wondered whether it would be quiet in my sleep surrounded by my kin. I think it will be the latter now, for all my battles are long since done and my foes passed with them.

 

I fought with Thorin Grandaxe at the Battle of the Crossroads, standing my ground even as the Blackmonts took our flank, and I was there beside him when he burned the Emperor’s peace terms in the library of the Cloud Temple days before the empire surrendered, freeing the peoples of Anthos.

 

I stood in arms beside our brethren at the walls of Thoringrad and Indagolaf when I saw the might of our people overcome that of all other nations.

 

Through decades of study in engineering, I perfected the gates of Kal’Ithrun and a dozen fortress cities since, safeguarding our folk from the horrors that came for us. With this same skill, our navy was the greatest ever possessed by the descendent races, and it was my ballista which slew Setherian himself.

 

As officer, Grand Marshal, Lord, and Grand King, I led armies against those who would threaten my kin. From Elysium to Arcas, I fought and bled for the gray and orange banner that flew above our heads.

 

As Arch-Runelord, I saw dwarven runesmithing brought to its greatest height in written history. From the flying Citadel of Arcadia, the Runelords taught more students and passed on more artifacts than any generation prior or since, and our rune cannons beat back many a foe. Even as the capital was set upon by the Dharok, it was my runic bomb that killed the beast.

 

It’s very nearly the end of my story now though, and as I reflect on the accomplishments and failings of my youth, I find it’s not these deeds that I remember as fondly.

 

I don’t think of the bloodshed or the cause when I think of the battles now. I think of the laughter and the clinking of tankards as we celebrated our victories and raised a toast to the fallen. Of the great tombs and statues built of our honored dead.

 

I don’t think about the disunity of our clans or the fracturing of Urguan. I think of our times of strength and solidarity, when dwedmar were joined in loyalty and shared purpose. Of strength of arm and mind as the mountains themselves were leveled by our will.

 

I think of those who wronged me and those I wronged, and how honored I am by those who stood beside me despite my failings for I know there were many. The paths we took may have been different, but I rest easy in the knowledge that we all sought the same for our people in the end.

 

Though the years may have weathered our bodies and grayed our beards, the mark we’ve left on this world is everlasting. I can only hope that those who remember me, do so in my totality. That I am remembered for my accomplishments as much as my mistakes, and take from this lesson that it takes failing to succeed, to learn. So let those who come after me learn of and from me, and let them do better than me.

 

The hour grows late and even now I feel pulled, as if by Dungrimm himself, to sleep. I’ll delay him no further I think.

 

Know that I'm proud of what you've all done and who you've become, and may your lives be blessed with love, joy, and the company of true friends, as mine was. Carry on, brave souls, and remember that though I may depart physically, I shall forever dwell in the corners of your reminiscences, ever ready to share a chuckle or lend strength in your times of need.

 

Narvak oz da dwedmar and Yemekar guide ye, my friends, until we meet again in the great halls beyond the horizon!

 

@MalchediaelVult @sneakybandit @Llir @Fimlin @Cpt_Noobman @gandalfo @Ioannis @Lefty @Charles The Bald @itdontmatta @Pancakehz @Legoboy7984 @Pepto @z3m0s @Nooblius 

 

[sneakybandit 1503]

Darek Irongrinder stood over the final resting place of Zahrer, slowly his gaze turned to look upon the mausoleum he had carved for the dwarf who had become his teacher, his father. A resting place fit for the body of Zahrer 'The Runesmith', piles of gold taken from the treasury of Khron'Hundmar to help the dwarf bribe his way into the halls of Dungrimm filled the tomb.

 

Then with a heavy heart Darek took the hammer and chisel from his belt, tools which had once been gifted to him by the Arch-Runelord at the alter of runes many years ago. Then the Lord of the Irongrinder Clan placed the chisel upon the stones that made up the passageway, striking the hammer against it's back and sealing the Tomb of Zahrer Irongrinder for the rest of days.

[Algoda 885]

"What a legend" Said one of the dwarves

[UnusualBrit 2061]

Far away, if he ever received news of the Greybeards passing. Aghal Frostbeard would recall meeting Zahrer Irongrinder, noting he hadn’t seemed all that bad.

 

[Lefty 1696]

As Axel Ireheart hears the news of Zahrer's passing, he thinks back to the stories told to him by both his father and grandfather about their many battles, celebrations, trials and tribulations together. Reading the letter he received, he lights up the accompanying cigar, smoking it and pondering over the ancient dwed's life.

 

"Zahrer was a dwed from a different age, one we shall not see ever again. A dwed who was loyal to Urguan from his first day in this world, until his last. He fought alongside my grandfather countless times, and supported my father without question during his reign as Grand King, but most importantly he was their friend, and for that I'm sure they are welcoming him with open arms into the halls of Khaz'A'Dentrumm. The Brathmordakin will most definitely be arguing amongst themselves over whom gets his soul. Urguan has truly lost a legend of our people, a dwed who changed the course of our proud nations history, for the better."

 

With that, Axel would finish his cigar, deeply saddened at the loss of a dear friend of both his father, and grandfather before him.

[gandalfo 1414]

Atandt would shed a few tears upon recieving the letter. He'd remember being tutored by Zahrer in the arts of Runesmithing, his times of serving as a kingsguard underneath Zahrer with Charles the Bald and Verrik Grandaxe. Atandt becoming King serving side by side with Zahrer, gloriously taking down the Empire of Oren in just three short months. 

 

"Many different peoples opinions of Zahrer will vary, whether they loved him or hated him, but none can deny that he was one of the most powerful and influential dwarves that we have ever seen. He will never be forgotten from our history books, and his legacy will forever live on. An era of dwarves that we will never see has truly ended."

 

He would then smoke the cigar as his father passed into Khaz'A'Dentrumm. 

[28547 2]

Dreek Ireheart waves to his old friend as he finally joins him in the next realm.