[PK] One Last Craft

[_Black_Drag0n_ 781]

Life is like a piece of metal in a forge.

It's shaped and moulded by the flames of experience and adversity.

But in the end, it must return to the ashes, a testament to the impermanence of all things.

 

[!] An artistic representation of Vidnyr during his last moments

 

 

ONE LAST CRAFT

 

Alone stood a dwarf, his hammer lifted high as he chanted in the ancient tongue taught to him by the sons of the Daemon of Fate and Conviction.

 

"Kwi Azdromoth, fehlim ve dout naam, soves sia cha'sid persvek nomeno vehaforle!" ¹

 

 

With those words, the dwarf lifted his mighty hammer once more, bringing it down upon the tool upon the bronze.

 

"Keznol'mar, zahere'az tha yoth thas vaador'kav, tha ad ek oz thorok'a yol'hohekk. Oz verdig da khazadmar." ²

 

 

With those words, he lifted his hammer, Stailininn Titar, bender of even the strongest of steel, higher than he did before, bringing it down with a mighty CLANG on the steel, curving the metal before bringing it back to the forge of the Redmont Hold. Sparks flew everywhere, igniting the ground beneath the feet of the dwarf as he stumbled from anvil to forge, the voices in his head screaming in a cacophony of magnificent proportions.

 

"Please. . . Get meh. . . foohd. . ." The forgemaster asked a small stone construct that seemed to stand idly in the corner of the room. "Yissagam. . . Nowh. . ." He said, his tongue dry and his body exhausted. The small Servus Golem ran off, his tiny yet heavy feet leaving a trail in the ash of the cavernfloor as it went out, looking for food for its creator. As it did so, it passed the bellows, where two of its brethren worked tirelessly to keep the air flowing through both the magnificent forge and the hot cave, surrounded by the pools of magma.

[!] An artistic representation of the forge Vidnyr used in his last moments

 

Having mastered a great many magicks and crafts during his time on the Realms of the Living, the ashened figure now confidently strode through the smithy, picking up the last pieces of the puzzle he had been working on for years and years.

 

"Níðhöggr, teh toime es nearleh t'ere" The rough voice of the dwarf spoke over the sound of roaring flames of Tor'Praeth, a large dragonlike ash-Yisar nodding its head slowly, deep black flames curling aroudn the snout of the immense Arcane lizard.

 

[!] An artistic representation of Níðhöggr and Vidnyr di Ixolar

 

 

After having gathered every single item he needed for his final creation, he started working on it. Combining his knowledge of both Tawkin and Automaton forging with the magicks of Atronach and Golemancy, he attempted to create a core capable of holding a soul, yet binding it to the Voidal energies, akin to a Soul Atronach. He lifted the pieces onto the anvil, flicking his wrist and bringing to life a small army of Servus Golems. Each of the constructs manned one of the stations around the smithy, two of them going back to the bellows, another three lifting up the massive hammers attached to the ceilings as the last two brought over an assortment of tools, laying them out over the table.

 

Over the coarse of five gruelling hours, the dwarf laid the last hand on his creation when suddenly a tremble seemed to go through the ground. Quickly after that, the flames seemed to die down before bathing the entire chamber in a bright light, brighter than Vidnyr, who had stood besides the fires of the Drakaar, had ever seen. They reached up higher, burning through the tar-treated ropes that held the massive hammer, which descended down upon the creation on the anvil.

 

As the small orb was shattered, the tether of Vidnyrs soul that had been connected to its creation seemed to string out, drawing out Vidnyr's soul as his body was consumed by the flames he had so dearly loved and worshipped for the last century and a half of his nearly three centuries long life.

 

And as he laid there, surrounded by his creations, in a place akin to where he made his first hammer, his first tool, his memories flashed past.

 

The fights against Oren

The trials for his Clan

His first kill, even though by accident

His great assortment of teachers and friends he had found as both Vidnyr and Ursus

The war against Xan and his Paladins

 

And finally

 

The Freedom he was now released in.

 

And as a final tear rolled down the charred face of the dying dwarf, the flame that had burnt so bright for so long finally died out...

 

 

 

Vidnyr di Ixolar was gone

 

 

 

 

The Letters & The Will

A small metallic bird finds each of the people mentioned in the will of Vidnyr di Ixolar

Spoiler

To the Grandaxe Clan of Urguan

Clanfather, I am sorry for having failed you, for having failed our Clan.

I had vowed to protect you with my life, and yet this letter finds you after I have joined our ancestors, failed in my duty.

My wordly possessions, or at least some of them, will be given to you by one of my creations. They will know what to give you.

 

Kin, I am sorry for finding myself unable to help you in your trials, done or yet to come.

Know that what I did, I did to protect you, my closest kin first and foremost.

Spoiler

This was one of my first crafts made for our Clan. It should return to whom it was made for.

 

A weapon befitting a king, this axe was made during the reign of Agnar Grandaxe, and was supposed to be a present for the king, but he turned away from the throne before I got the chance to give it to him.

 

These throwing daggers are one of my last creations, and yet have aided me in many battles. They now go to those that hunt, those that protect and serve both the dwarves and the wild.

 

This dagger, forged from a clump of Azhl was made as a tribute to the late Bjorn Grandaxe.

 

The last item I want to grant the Clan is a ring, once given to me by Bjorn himself, containing a spell that allows one to translocate multiple people across a space.

 

[Screenshot to be inserted]

 

@D3F4LT

 

To the Irongut Clan of Urguan

Clanfather, I, Vidnyr, have become a beardling under the overseeing eye of Thromdrick Irongut.

I have always had great respect for your legacy, your wisdom and your magicks, and have studied under, and taught a fair bunch of your members.

They have proven to be some of the greatest students and teachers I have had the honour of meeting. For this, I bestow upon you an item given to me by one of your Clanfathers.

Spoiler

This Claymore, enchanted with a Flame Blast Spell, was made when I first started studying under Falk Irongut, made by this master of the arcane. Now, I will give back what I have gotten.

 

@Badgermordakin @TheFirstShroom

 

To the Nephilim of Redmont

Thank you. Thank you for adopting me when I had fallen, nursing me back to health, and allowing me to blaze brighter than I had ever done before.

Thank you for enduring my endless questions, for teaching and training me whenever I asked.

Thank you for allowing my flame to burn as bright as it did for as long as it did.

Some of my most. . . Useful possessions are bestowed upon you, either for I had been granted them by you, or for I used them under your tutelage.

Spoiler

First, to Kaazvalikar, previously known as Kairos, I give my Mace. It has served its purpose, aiding me in our war against The Lion, saving me and my allies in battles across the realm. Use it well and wise.

 

Second, to Kaazvalikar and his brethren, I give back the Glaive I once forged from the remnants of the Weeping Drakaar Dii'Fahdom. Bring it to honour.

 

To Elathion, thank you for your help in my gathering of knowledge. For this, I give you an item combining some of what you taught me. It is of classic Grandaxe design. May you use it well.

 

To Amako, I bestow the Rokodra shield once gifted to me by Kairos upon his ascension. May it protect you against the flames out there to harm you. It was given to me under the premise that I would bestow it upon the next Lieutenant Herald, but after discussing with Kaazvalikar, he told me to gift it to you.

 

To the An-Gho, I give back what I was once given. A hammer containing an Artificers Manifestation, made long ago by an ancient Herald of Azdromoth. I never was able to use it to its fullest capability, but I have come close I hope.

 

 

[Screenshots to be inserted]

 

@ToddTheArchitect @Java17 @Jentos @FlemishSupremacy

 

To Briga Irongut

Hello old friend, I am sorry to leave you.

May your wisdom carry you far, for I know that Ogradhad will allow it.

To you, I grant an item, most used in the forges.

Spoiler

This hammer, I made a long time ago, when we came first to Aevos.

 

@Beholder

 

To Aganar Silveira

Hello friend,

I like you. You are a good student, curious and respectful, motivated yet with patience.

May your curiousity and drive bring you far.

Spoiler

The first item I bestow upon you is a cloak once made together with one of my teachers. It contains a powerful illusionairy enchantment.

 

The second item, as well as the third item are simply weapons forged of Arcanium, may you use them well.

 

@McSteve

 

To Edvard Karvellan

Thank you for your patience.

You have taught me nearly half of what I know of the arcane, and about as much about the material realm as well.

All  the way back when we had first spoke, you said you would help me with the creation of a shield, enchanting it with a Conjuration Enchantment.
Now that I don't have need for it anymore, I want to give it back to you, to do with it as you see fit.

Spoiler

[Screenshot to be inserted]

 

@ECS1999

 

To Grand King Ulfar Starbreaker

Hello old friend,

You were one of the first people I ever spoke to when coming to Urguan.

That conversation lead to a flourishing friendship which was sadly cut off.

Even though, I still hold great respect for you, and your mastery of the Rune.

Spoiler

I want to give back what I was once taught by you. You helped me make my first Servus Golem. Now it comes back to you.

 

@Papa Rock

 

To Obok Metaldrinks

I bet you didn't expect this letter.
I respect you a lot. You know exactly what you want, and how you have to get it.

You're one of the best craftsman and especially tradesman I have ever met, and to have ever crossed the realms.

Spoiler

To you, I grant a simple item. It is a horn, enhanced with an alchemical craft.

 

@Wulfric

 

 

 

 

 

Translations

Spoiler

¹ "Oh Azdromoth, grant me your wisdom, guide my hand in this creation!"

 

² "Ancestors, forgive me for my missteps, I did it to better our future. To protect our kin."

 

OOC

Spoiler

Vidnyr di Ixolar, or as he was previously known, Ursus "Frostaxe" Grandaxe was my first character I ever played on LOTC. I have played him nearly consistently ever since I joined nearly over 2.5 years ago, and enjoyed nearly every second of it. For this, I want to thank everyone I ever interacted with, most notibly the Dwarven Community, the Grandaxe Clan, the Azdrazi Community and the Arcane and Voidal Community, since I spent most of my time with them.

 

Also, since I'm nowhere near talented enough to make art near the quality seen on some PK posts, I had to turn to the dark side, using an AI generator, even though I know it's frowned upon.


Feel free to message me if you have any questions, or if you feel I have forgotten you.

 

[Conqueror 424]

KAAZVALÎKAR knelt in the Ash-halls below Tor'Praeth, the Mace held in both his hands. His gaze laid not upon it though, just beyond, staring into the pit of Heralds before. He was silent, his maw held some agap, liquid Fire stricken against those grounds.

 

He had forgotten the harrow of a Herald-death, the sadness of one who could never transcend with him. In his head replayed his memories with Vidnyr, the same way the minds of those who grieve always recall. This Dwarf, unlike Azlihessan was, will never be his Brother.

 

He knelt for hours.

 

And hours.

 

Spoiler

acc going to crashout first admiral now you + i will miss fighting alongside you in events and using ur blood magic crafts to kill people in ever-evolving creative and violent ways

 

[Hrokaz 631]

Alaric Grimgold stood before the great hearth of his simple hall, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the cold stone floor. The flames flickered in the silence, casting fleeting warmth upon his weathered face. His thick, gold-graying beard, braided with golden clasps, hung heavy over his black mail-clad chest. His brow, creased from years of battle and burden, furrowed further as the messenger knelt before him.

 

“Speak,” Alaric’s voice rumbled, low and steady, like the grinding of mountains. There was no need for pleasantries here—news came swiftly and often brought with it ill tidings.

 

The messenger, a younger dwarf clad in the sigil of a distant kinhold, swallowed hard before delivering his words. “My lord… your nephew, Ursus Grandaxe… he is dead.”

 

For a moment, silence filled the hall. Alaric’s piercing eye, as cold and unyielding as iron, bore into the messenger’s own, searching for something, though what it was even he could not say. The young dwarf shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the stare.

 

Alaric did not speak immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze away from the kneeling figure and looked to the banners of Clan Grimgold that hung upon the walls. His nephew… his blood. One of the few ties that remained to the family he had once known. Gone. A deep sorrow gnawed at the edges of his stoic demeanor, but he buried it beneath a mountain of resolve. There would be time for mourning later. Not here. Not now.

 

“Leave me,” Alaric finally said, his voice as firm as iron. The messenger rose, bowed, and hurried from the hall, relieved to escape the heavy presence of his lord.

 

The door closed behind him with a dull thud.

 

Alone, Alaric stood still as a statue, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. His nephew—young, brave Ursus—had once been the future of the family. A warrior in his own right, fierce as a storm and loyal to his kin. Memories flooded Alaric’s mind of the boy, headstrong and full of life, eager to prove himself. Now all of that was gone, snuffed out by the cruelty of death.

 

He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. The stoic mask he had worn in front of the messenger began to crack. His heart pounded in his chest, and the sorrow he had buried deep within threatened to spill forth. But still, he stood tall. Dour. Grim.

 

Alaric Grimgold was no stranger to loss. In his long years, he had buried many, seen friends and family torn from this world by war and time alike. But this… Ursus had been more than kin. He had been hope. The future of the family.

 

With a sudden, wordless roar, Alaric lashed out, driving his fist into the stone wall beside the hearth. The pain was sharp, but fleeting. It was nothing compared to the hollow ache that now gnawed at his soul. He leaned heavily against the wall, his breath ragged, his eyes burning with unshed tears. His nephew was gone, and with him, a piece of Alaric’s heart.

 

But even in his grief, he knew this: He would endure. He always had. He always would.

[Beholder 372]

Briga sat atop her anvil, the will she'd received held limply in her hand. The fuel for the forge had long burned to embers, what heat that remained quickly fading. She stared at the coals, mind elsewhere.

 

Vidnyr... Ursus had been a student of hers, and she a student of his. A friend and an ally. A known master of many crafts and magics, she saw Ursus as the ideal that Ironguts should strive toward.

 

There were so few of her kin Briga could relate to, and now... One less.

 

The embers died, and Briga stared.

 

It was cold.

[McSteve 131]

Aganar was busy decorating a new classroom with the help of his daughter as he received the news and the will. As it hits he looks at his daughter.

 

"Here this is yours, it belonged to a good friend and teacher." he said as he handed Myraela the cape that was left to him. "You will love this." 

 

Though regardless Aganar needed some time. This was his second teacher to leave the world in a weird way. He was afraid for his other teachers, hoping they won't follow the footsteps of Vidnyr.

[ULTRAMIDI 265]

An Uruk knelt down on a large stone peak in the center of a lavapool close to the halls of Tor'Praeth. A long prayer to Azdromoth was given, to protect the soul of his mentor in the afterlife, and guide him in the battles of the beyond. After a time unknown, the Orc finally got up, leaving the pool with a final goodbye to his old teacher "Nomag azdromoth shivi wux, vidnyr, vinxa for dout sovesinw"

[Wulfric 472]

Obok Metaldrinks was overseeing the construction of his upcoming brewery as he read his mail, gazing at it for a long while after he was done.

''I s'ould name a drink after 'im...''

[_RoyalCrafter_ 5285]

Holy shit, never thought I'd see the day Ursus died. Awesome character man, he'll be remembered in my heart <3

(Mobile phone formatting)

[FlemishSupremacy 6115]

A Nephilim brushed stone debris off of an anvil, his thoughts travelling to the dwarf from whom he had learned so much. He'd miss this one, who's skill, wisdom and deep knowledge had been used to enrich the lives of those around him. 

 

He'd pick up his chisel again, determined to ensure the knowledge that Vidnyr had passed to him would not go to waste.

[Badgermordakin 760]