THE MARTYR RAUG [PK]

[Cryptic 553]

Ser Alteon felt completely saddened as an empty void now appeared in his life. As he mourned, he stayed quiet for majority of the time. Whilst walking in the street, he'd instinctively look up, hoping to see the great, big red olog, his best friend and one of his cherished battle buddies. A dark day for the Knight Commander, he decided to visit Kiku, a friend of both, to not only share the news but to also mourn for their lost friend.

[growingivy 3382]

The young Godiva continued to appreciate her newfound little bed, built by Raug to replace her pile of blankets. She'd not know of his death, but would take note of the absence he's had.

[Nimbus_Strike 271]

"He's... Dead?"

 

A somewhat chubby, snow-haired elf from Norland, and a frequent visitor to Numenost, would utter in disbelief, looking to the altar that had been raised in rememberance of the red uruk who was her friend. Though out of shape due to her solitude in the past few years, she had served as a fierce war volunteer in Numendil against the forces of Delgorthad alongside the uruk, who she had held dear to her heart as a friend and ally, and even before. 

She knew the uruk from his time as a young warrior. First when he participated in her clan's military drill in the square of Norland, and also later, when she crafted the uruk's fearsome daemonsteel mace. She watched as the young Uruk became a pillar of Numendil in both Virtue and Strength alike, and as he became a father. And now... Before she knew it, he was gone. Just like that. And so she collapsed to her knees, sobbing quietly at the loss of a dear friend.

As night fell, she'd leave a bouquet of lilies at the side of the altar before setting off for her home.

Edited July 31, 2024 by Nimbus_Strike

[jihsoo 746]

16 hours ago, Cally said:

She held her second eldest close as she recited the news.

Faeleth-Naoise O'Rourke held onto her mother tightly, disbelief and distraught melding into one as she heeded the Matriarch's words. Settling by the Olog's large chair that rested by Paddy's Pyre, a top of it sat a large perpetual beer placed by Ser Victor. The Heiress clinked her flask against it, then took a long needed swig. She later on decided to prepare the Olog's stout mixed meat pie meal in honor of her big red friend, to leave at his abandoned door step.

 

"Miss yea l'ready big guy."

 

 

Spoiler

OOC: ITS SO JOEVER I MISS RAUG ALREADY NOOOOO

 

[Kabo0m 118]

"I didn't even get to say goodbye." The musin mourned for many days and nights, he even burnt down his bakery in uncontrollable agony. He had lost 'Paps' his father, this young kid would never be the same.

[SimplySeo 6999]

The Grey Prince, Aranuir, offered a mournful song 'neath Caladhril's stark branches, plucking upon his lyre.

 

Lo! We sing of sorrow, sorrowful and stark
Alas! Life's adornment has departed
Beloved chieftain, dear to his people
Gone on a journey, bound by grief.

Misery writes fiercely, each fate
The Lord decreed, judgments of worthiness
Life dearly fleeting, sought the fair light
Seven stratagems, to endure sorrowful wellsprings.

Spirit is gone, battle has lost
To say sorrow’s craft, as the beloved dies
Dear friend, adorned the earth’s path
To be without moving, armor darkening.

Therefore we think, to endure in mind
To remember steadfastly, my lost ones
You be beautifully accomplished, do not leave friends
Journey to the hall, true and steadfast.

[KidKrinkles 2044]

Ser Victor sat in the Genki Apothecary, the tavern in Celia'nor. His boots were off on the rack. His sabatons were nearby. In the light of the tea candles, his notes were scattered around. A bottle of whiskey sat at the low-table, his legs crossed, as he took another sip. He'd been slowly drinking his way to the bottom as he poured himself tirelessly into work.

 

She-elf, loose red robes, a metal mask, blonde hair, and a haughty speak.

Orc, red, yellow'd tusks, tall. A headband. A cloak. And a scary voice. He took his head.

 

Making contacts, asking around, informing. Spreading the news. Agitating people. He was working. Tirelessly. The bags under his eyes from late nights proof of his work. He'd enlisted and deputized anyone he could, anyone of power, anyone with information. He had a small stack of letters of people reporting... he...

 

... had little time to grieve.

He eyed the wet spots that formed on the papers below him, and sniffed up. He felt so damn robbed.

 

That was my brother. I loved him. My family loved him. They robbed my family. He was to be the bestman at my wedding. Godfather to my child. He's-- was my brother. 

 

The ranger-knight took his off-hand and ran it through his hair. He squeezed it, tightly, in frustration. His teeth grit, a boiling anger inside of him, the flames of the candle burning into his iris.

 

I cannot rest, not until the killer sees justice. The accomplices brought to trial. Raug's head-- his dignity, recovered. I will see them identified. I will see them crucified.

 

And I am so...

 

… damn...

 

… close.

 

Before he left Numendil, for Celia'nor, to leave home, and his family, and seek this justice, he sat at the bar, next to Raug's seat, at the tavern, and eyed it.

 

He bought a large beer: big as he could, like a keg, and had it placed on Raug's chair. Never to move. A solemn gift offered to the best man he knew.

 

Quote

R.I.P Raug, Hyperwar for your vengeance.

 

[MrMojoMordor 2413]

Bon'Ox sits down, cross-legged by the waterfall where Petra's & Numendil's border meets, taking in the news he heard of

Ser Raug's passing.

It is now the 3rd Cannonist Uruk he knew that has died in his rather short-life span of 30+ years. From his father & Krog'nag to now Ser Raug... Perhaps he should find some solace in the fact that unlike the previous two, Ser Raug did manage to become a Knight & make a name for himself? 

Or perhaps the turbulent & short life of a canonist uruk is the punishment from the Spirits? After all - they embody themselves in all that is & is yet to be. 

The one-armed raises his one arm, palm flat pointing upwards - offering a prayer for Ser Raug's soul to both the Spirits & God to look after.

Edited July 31, 2024 by MrMojoMordor

[LazyBacon220 600]

Hadrian Constantine twisted a red gumball between his fingers on the way home from his tour of Numenost. The young prince still could not believe that such a strong, loving, and kind knight could be defeated in battle, much less killed. It seemed not long ago, that Ser Raug had rode his unicorn into battle during a Balianese Joust. Silent tears fell from his little face as he remembered a fallen friend. "I will be strong for you, Ser Raug" He coiled his fingers into a fist around the gumball and held it to his heart, the other arm wrapped around the Regiment soldier that escorted him. "I'll never forget you.."

[Coronate 5528]

"No Uruk, cannonist or not should be made to kneel."

 

"What shall we make of it?"

 

"Deliver condolences, send a Zhult for him to be buried with. He died as an Uruk should, in Battle."

 

 

 

A blade of Orcish make to be buried with the Knight. Custom made.

 

[TN_TURKEY 298]

"I'll miss you big guy..." Prince Arathor would lament, as he retired to smoke some cactus green in honor of the Orkish knight.

[CharlestheDwarf 184]

Thurgrim sat amongst the low-hanging boughs of fruit trees in Numendil, quietly whittling away at what was meant to be a pipe between his hands as A pile of shavings had grown ever larger at his feet. Distant cutting rays flicked across his fingers from behind as he stared down at the roughly hewn object, the amber light of a setting sun drawing a rich and warm color from the unfinished project wherever it touched...

He did not know Raug very well, nor for very long. 

He held a general disdain for the vast majority of Uruk-kind, typically being amenable at best for most and friendly to only a very select few. Not that such a perspective of the race was rare- Most dwarves held at least one of the descendant races in contempt for one reason or another, and he had good enough reason to given his past history with them.

Yet, Raug attended his wedding as a member of Danika's party when it came about. He asked that Thurgrim consider him a friend well before that, despite only having just recently met the Olog. He brought Mirt, a child who'd been the unfortunate subject of a potentially fatal misunderstanding, to him because he trusted that Thurgrim could find a solution.

Even at such an unreasonable request as protecting his family from an individual he'd not known of, not seen, not questioned the actions of himself; He'd accepted without even a moment of consideration.

-----

Thurgrims whittling had ceased, the pile of shavings at his feet having been drawn up and cast from Numenóst by a westerly wind. Slips of his own marginally tamed red-colored mane drew out before him, followed by the fluttering of flown leaves. His attention had drawn to the distant twilight of oncoming night, drawing a barrier across the horizon as though an approaching storm. His lips thinned as somber thoughts began to dredge their fingers through the back of his mind, thoughts that he'd done well to go great efforts in casting off as long as he could.

"... How cruel a joke, tae be blessed with a long life an' have tae watch folk pass around yeh." The dwarf lowly surmised to himself, resigning the pipe to set limply between his fingers, the knife discarded as its partner became little more than a sensory object to be rolled about in its creators hands.

He could not help but think of the others; Jorvin, Eriantiel, the Reinhardts, Camulos, Elentiren, and more-

Furthermore, he could do little more than add Raug to the worryingly growing number of dead within his mind. Nor could he cast off the pestilent idea that so many might come to pass before him, a large number to old age or some other untimely fatalistic end. Then, for a brief moment, a memory of a decades old conversation with Jorvin flickered past his mind. An advisement to harden his heart against the world, and the naive defiance that had come to define those first few decades that he resided within Urguan.

And now, so many years later, that decision had grown into and intolerably dreadful thing before him.

Is this something he could've prepared for?

Did he make the wrong decision?

[ellielove15 547]

"Despite our differences, I wish I had the pleasure to duel you once more. You were an honorable warrior." Leoni muttered before giving a small toast in his honor. 

[_Jandy_ 3519]

"May all whitewazhes follow hiz courze - agh may Kor turn their zoul back unto da Void." sneered a Lutauman of Lurak