Echoes of Stone; Throes of Time

[Hawkeye_Gough 624]

Spoiler

[!]
Written by a Sorvian, translated to Common by a druid, interpreted by a Barrowlord, and let loose to the public by dancing performers,

this note details the end of Herlurazhna Garzu Zu'e, for all those to see.

[!]

The Pale Lord Zu'e

"I have little time," The Herald of Strife admitted to his most loyal Champions, the so-called Many Hands. "Any day now, a duelist with Honor in the heart and Bravery in the mind will strike me down. Should the day come, do not behold my death in terror. Carry on your Strife; carry on your age of Fervor. Do combat not for the souls or the swords, but to claim the Glory of Dark."

 

Those were the final words of Zu'e's final sermon. "Let us go," it spoke to its most trusted friend and acolyte, the one it called its Joy. The two made their way to the Pale Castle, to smash the Lord's throne. They chained the doors on that castle, and none were allowed in since.

 

Zu'e began to prepare for the duels that would take him. He challenged Numendil, Caurost, Norland, the Horde. Were any to best him in a battle by Honor's Rule, he was never to return. He weathered four duels -- two by his foes and two by his kin -- and a trap laid by one quite trusted. Time and again, the Lord and his axe, the Pale Visage, made for swift work and disappointing victory. None would claim his title of Duel Priest, and none would grant him rest.

 

Then came the fateful day. Zu'e brought both his acolytes and a kidnapped scribe to witness his combat. He was to battle Ser Nathannanel of Numenost. The two met, and exchanged clashes...

 

The one called Dragomir arrived at the site, with allies of his clan. Interpreting the duel as interloping on others' lands, the Norn did what he was known to do, and strived against the Darkspawn who followed Zu'e.

 

The Duel Priest and Nathannanel fought on, Magick of Light colliding with Magick of Dark. Bellowed fog, auras of calm, white fire. The victor was unclear, for the trained and agile Numendian put the Lord at great risk. But another interrupted the duel. One who viewed the Knight as family, and who claimed herself she would sully the duel's honor to protect him... Hope was lost for the grace of battle, for the fate Zu'e had received as his destiny.

 

At once and the same, Dragomir led his party to slay the Darkspawn they could find. All that remained was the Pale Lord Zu'e, who now had abandoned the strife that had lost meaning. Numendians and Norns both gave chase.

 

With thrown and magically-recalled hammer, with bolas of prevention and strikes of Boomsteel, the Herald of Strife was bested... Nathannanel took the final blow, but Honor had been costed.

"You spoke of honor, creature. I will bid you one final one," Nathannanel promised, "I will take your life. Should your throne be remade, you know where to find me."

 

Zu'e looked his final time upon the stars, sensing the end. "You have your honor about you. It is circumstance that hath led us astray." The Lord's ectoplasm slipped too far away, the being too close to death to speak... But the mass of souls who made its vessel, the Apparition within, lashed out. It struck at the statue from within, punishing it for failing on its promise. Finally, the statue succumbed to the wounds of Nathannanel's Warpath.

 

None had seen the Lord's throne, since he claimed to have broken it. Whether the Herald of Strife was truly gone for good went unproven... But Zu'e was gone, at least as he was.

His death a cause of pain and despair for some, yet joy and safety for others, time ticked on without regard.

 

Spoiler

OOC:
THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE for enjoying my first event of this kind of scale! We had a lot of jank, but a LOT of fun!
And if you're missing Zu'e already, or want more of this quest, DON'T WORRY. More is coming soon <3

Special thanks to LazyYink for putting a lot of this together with me, Sandman for planning some AWESOME follow up ideas, M1919 for... Well for making this post possible, if you think about it (should have heard our vc start whining as soon as we saw your helmet lol)... And to everyone else, for being the coolest people I've ever met <3

 

 [ ALSO OOC - DO NOT METAGAME ]
Zu'e can still be revived (at the whims of certain folks), so he might not be PKed. Face smashing is not suicide because it does not kill pale lords.

[Sandman_Plays 659]

{!} As Caspian watched the Pale Knight he had fought with find its end, he heaved his breathlessness taking over him he was tired, the fight had been brutal on all fronts and yet he had prevailed, he treated the body with respect taking his foes weapon as his trophy to Present to his House, he looked to the Pale Lord's intensive fighting on the front before finally he passed out, Carried back to Numenost to receive medical treatment for his wounds.

His only thought in his mind was "Honor... they showed Honor" before he would finally awake in a surgical room, stiches running over his body it felt like it was all that held his frame together.

ooc- Really fun CRP thank you all for being great sports about everything! see yall soon!

 

[LazyBacon220 600]

Upon the cold steps of the Iron Tower, Nathannenel Eruedraith, Lord Commander of Numenost, collapsed. His body spent, soul strained from the day's fight...his proud armor rattled against the stone steps, adding to the scrapes and bends that marked a hard-fought challenge. A familiar woman knelt beside the man, hauling him up the stairs, one by one. It was only by her effort that the knight actually made it home. 

 

"Tell no one" 

 

His words were raspy and short of breath. Had he ever been this tired? Perhaps at some point, but this...this was different. He carried with him no trophy of the kill. The only monument to the effort given is a pile of stone somewhere amidst other piles of stones that made up the ruins of Veletz. No, this numbness was different from before. For so long, he had relied on the tempest, the constant churning of emotions pushing him; guiding him. These emotions were dulled now, like the numbness of his mechanical hand. How cruel it was to still allow him to feel yet not to the fullest extent. 

 

As the armor was taken from his body and bruises were showcased in the light, a gathering appeared on his steps. The work continued and so, Nathannenel must continue as well.

[IrradiatedGoose 305]

Kieran had bided his time, waiting patiently to see if the duel would erupt into full scale battle, to which it eventually did, the chaos unfolding around him as the forces of the living clashed with those of the undead, wounds being sustained upon those who were among the living, and as for those of undead... being sent back into the ground from whence they came. 

The battle was not without it's dangers of course, Kieran sustained some damages but came out mostly in one piece, though in his mind did linger the many voices that would soon tell him to "rest," would he though... is the question...

(It was a super fun skirmish that took place! Thank you so much to those on the opposing side for being great sports in the chaos that it turned into! <3)

Edited April 23, 2025 by BreadNugget7567

[MonteGiant 891]

Leomonte was there during the miasma of the combat that ensued, he witnessed the duel priest in his defeat, he was the one who threw those bolas. His only comment during the battle was, "Wañuchiy. Utqaylla." a call for the death of the stone lord. His anticipation for combat was calmed during this battle, the battle... was beautiful...

[lemonke 6014]

Once, a Geisha knew a poor man. He was mute, harmless, and kind. When she was lost, he was there, offering home and hospitality, hope, and a smile. The Oyashiman had found comfort in his quietude, but then that man was lost. Alas, she knew not of his destiny, for whereas once he was mortal, now he had become stone.

 

Yet, when she had finally met him long ago on the battlefield, she thought the beast of stone was someone she knew; it bestowed her an aura of familiarity. As if he understood her struggles, as if he knew she was forced to fight, to be war-torn. She was forced to hate, she was forced to spill blood—but while she was enlightened of so.

 

She still could not stop hating.

 

She could not stop despising the stone, regardless of its truth.

 

And yet, she prayed. She prayed for her gods to save the lost in their damnation. She hoped he would return, so that she might ask questions.

[ProcaPro 557]

Grae had stumbled across the scene, the wandering construct having been looking for somewhere peaceful only to find chaos, yelling, clashing steel and violence. Though, as it quieted and the Lord and his duel were what remained, it wasn't the fight kept her lingering but a talk with an old friend.

 

She hadn't stayed to see the end of the fight, but she'd had a guess as to its end.

[Rayalia 537]

Zu'e looked his final time upon the stars, sensing the end. "You have your honor about you. It is circumstance that hath led us astray."

 

The creature had said that to Nathannenel and Azruphêl was all too content to allow it - to allow all - to believe it so. None had heard the two's whispers prior that duel, assurances, precautions, their plannings and back-ups and paranoias. They'd not witnessed the Lord Commander's silent command, directed solely towards her, to switch out mid duel, to cover, to intercede, to intercept. They'd heard her question the creature, they'd heard her conversation with it, but not the passing, whispered, 'keep it talking' that had been ordered of her as Nathannenel used her as cover, under the guise of her own interruptions.

 

Azruphêl preferred it to remain that way.

 

They worked well together because of it; he in the light, she in the shadows - two sides of the same coin in battle.

And if she had broken honor by attacking it after? Well. She had spoken her truth to the creature; battle is not where honor laid. Battle is of survival, is of snuffing out the dark. It is of tricks and deceit and blood and wit and ensuring the living stay alive by any means necessary. Perhaps, in her own way, she bore some twisted similarities with the creatures of the dark. Some minor, very, very minor similarities.

That night, after she'd dragged Nathan back to their home, checked him over for wounds, and, eventually, collapsed in her bed, a stare was cast up towards the ceiling of her room, gaze distant and hollow.

 

No, the dark did not deserve honor, that much she knew.

 

Perhaps, however, the next time, she might preserve some of her own...

 

..Yet, still, it would not be at the cost of his or any other's.

[Ryanark 2738]

Isleífr sat in growing silence before the hearthflame, his discolored right hand squeezed into a fist.

For the first time in years, that hand felt truly like his own again.

The Norn smiled, throwing back a tankard of mead with a hearty chuckle.

 

Vengeance never tasted so sweet.