The dying flame [PK]

[VoidDimensions 280]

                                                                      THIS IS JUST A RETELLING OF EVENTS. DO NOT METAGAME GRUMBLE GRUMBLE

Rúnagleth returned home triumphant, her armor still covered with the dust of the ruins of the fortress she had just come from. She had led not only Templars but druids into the very maw of the dark—a corrupted stronghold of undeath and emerged victorious. At her side had marched faith and nature alike.

Before Prince Argelion and Princess Eriential, she delivered the tale with pride, recounting how she had shattered the phylactery that anchored one of the Undead to this world. Yet, as she spoke, the Prince narrowed his eyes and asked the one question she had not prepared for: “Did you recover the Dust of it?”

A grim silence answered him.

Without hesitation, Rúnagleth turned on her heel and shouted for Ser Arthur. The task was not done.

Together, they rode hard through the moonlit woods, the wind screaming past them. When they arrived, the stronghold stood hollow and quiet. as the druids had done their work cleansing the pit, Nothing stirred.

But silence lies.

As Rúnagleth and Arthur lockpicked their way through a sealed chamber, a chill swept in, then footsteps. A necromancer emerged from the shadows, his eyes burning like sickly lanterns. At his sides loomed two summoned beasts: a hulking olog-golem and a towering undead knight, bloated and mutated beyond recognition.

They reacted fast. Arthur charged the golem, his Boomsteel bashing into the creature’s knee as bone cracked and muscle tore. Rúnagleth swept in with a battle cry, her blade singing as it severed the beast’s head from its shoulders. The olog fell with a thunderous crash.

But there was no time to celebrate.

The undead knight lumbered forward, bloated and leaking with foul blood. Rúnagleth had seconds. With a roar, she slammed her shield into its chest—only to be engulfed in a horrific explosion of bile.

Thrown to the ground, pain wracking her body, she felt her strength drain like water from a cracked vessel. Her vision blurred. Her last glimpse was Ser Arthur taking aim with a javelin,.

She awoke to chaos. Flames crackled nearby. The necromancer loomed over her, victorious. Rúnagleth reached out, bloodied fingers grasping his leg, defiance still burning in her soul.

Arthur’s javelin flew—but missed by a hair’s breadth as the necromancer twisted and leapt onto her chest, snarling like a beast. Without honor, without hesitation, he drove his foot into her skull. Stars exploded in her vision.

But the Templar was not done.

Calling out with her last breath, her righteous weapon answered, flying into her hand like a shard of divine judgment. It struck true, piercing the necromancer’s leg.

He howled, stumbling—but not falling.

Blinding light erupted from the dark sorcerer’s palm, flooding Ser Arthur with dread. Fear overtook him. He could not move, could not breathe.

And then the final blow came.

With a grunt, the Necromancer raised its mace and brought it down onto Rúnagleth’s head. The world cracked. The light faded.

She was gone.

It was not the glorious end the Templar had envisioned, not on a battlefield surrounded by banners, nor at the head of a charge. It was Grim. Sudden. Brutal and Real



For Lord Glyndwr 
 

Spoiler

I've never been much for saying how I feel, nor am I that good at writing how I feel
but even if I could not say it in life, I shall write it in death. I have always seen you as the father I never had
You raised me after my Mother had to leave for the north, you squired me and trained me to be a valiant knight, so I must thank you for all the time you spent with me 
I love you very much. Goodbye, Lord Glyn."

For  Vandrake Vourkehardt 

 

Spoiler

Vandrake, I am honored to call you a friend, we grew up, fought, and squire together
I would wish you luck with your cadet branch, but I know you will not need it as you have proven to be able to lead already as Lord Commander of Garenbrig.
Flame guide brother, and may your family grow stronger.

For  Boromir

 

Spoiler

I am so sorry I could not finish your squireship, but I know you are in good hands with Garenbrig.
You have a lot of potential, so keep training and one day history shall only recall Rúnagleth as the orcess who was 

Boromir first teacher, remember to always stand firm and strong even if thousands of arrows are aimed upon you.
Ps try not to die anytime soon it sucks

 

For Lady Safiyaa

 

Spoiler

It saddens me I shall never see little Alwyn grow up or ever babysit your other bundles of joy,
yet I know they are in good hands as your one of the best parent I have ever met, always so protective of your young ones,
I am sure they will grow up to be proud warriors, just try to remind them of their aunt  Rúnagleth every once in a while, okay?
Keep providing great feasts and tournaments as yours was always my favorite ones to attend. 
Flame guide and be safe"

For ARGELION

 

Spoiler

I wish I could've seen what type of Tar you would've grown into, I'm sure you would've grown into an even better Tar than your father
but have some small words of advice,  never forget who your true allies are to you and the Numendain people, do not get blinded by your own opinions
Flame guide, and see you in the seven skies

For Kieran

 

Spoiler

You were always there for me as I was growing up, thank you for that, and I hope you can still be there for me in another way
Please aid Boromir in his squiring, he has a bit of a aragonce that needs to be tempered, I know you are a worthy knight for this take but please ensure he gets his Owynist oaths
Flame guide.

For Elise

 

Spoiler

You remind of Ewin in some many ways, your creative, smart and quick on your feet
if you keep at these traits you will make a grand knight and I'm sure you will be able to find another knight to finish what I started,
I felt blessed everyday I spent with you and being your aunt, Flame guide and see you in the seven skies

For Raug 

 

Spoiler

I do not know why I am writing this but I felt compelled to nonetheless
You never got to raise me and I was always angry at that fact. I always had to live up to the high expectations put on me by the deeds you have done before I was even born
Yet I couldn't ever surpass you in any meaningful way, I hope you can forgive me when we meet in the seven skies for this failure and for failing to pass on your linage,
and you better live up to my expectations when we meet, Love your daughter, Rúnagleth

For Lord Llewyn 

 

Spoiler

You remind of your fathers in so many ways, yet you differ in many great ways as well
You always seemed happy or had this more chipper demeanor that he never had. Please never let this light dim as
It holds the pyre together, Flame guide, and try not to die
P.S. I leave you my sword TUSK, please give it to an honorable knight so it may serve them well.

 

For Mother-tar Caraneth
 

 

Spoiler

You was a grand Tar for the bief time that I served under you, Anorhil has become a good Tar, and I think you are owed a good amount of the credit
and Thank you for taking me as your student and connecting me to our patron. I apologize for not fulfilling the task of becoming a master templar.
I hope to see you in the afterlife that awaits us, flame guide.

 

Edited April 25, 2025 by VoidDimensions
to correct mistakes

[Pepto 677]

Llewyn and Glyndwr both, a rare occassion, looked over the letters addressed to them, standing in the Numenost gardens. They were both taught to be strong, to be Glennmaers and endure. Alas, of all the battles fought, trials seen through, pain and loss, it was this that brought these two towers crumbling down.

Like all things, towers can be rebuilt, grievences healed, but akin to a refurbished spire, it would never quite be the same as it was.

 

"May you find peace in the seven skies, Runa. Of Krug's blood you might have been, but you were a beloved sister and daughter none-the-less."

[MrMojoMordor 2413]

A goblin shaman sits on top of a hill, looking over Vallagne & Numenost ahead of him with a stuffed pipe in his hand.
The goblin ponders over the fate of fellow brothers & sisters.

A cruel one at that.
Not only does another one of Canonist faith die far too young - but also are denied of reach Stargûsh’Stroh.
Denied of joining their own.

Perhaps he's been to relaxed & kind in his approach? 
Perhaps he should have intervened himself more into her life & many others?
Perhaps he should have stayed in Numendil - now all his closest comrades from those days having found death or turned.

... A grim shadow washes over Bon'Ox's face, the evil symbol carved on his forehead aching.

[Sandman_Plays 659]

{!} For the Short time I knew you, it was clear to me you possessed a great understanding of Honor and Respect I am saddened by the news of your passing friend, and I shall toast to your movement into the afterlife Rest in Peice

Caspian drank deeply from the goblet before pouring it out for the fallen.

[IrradiatedGoose 305]

Word had eventually spread to Kieran, through the letter as well, the man knew not what to say for several moments. He could have gone with--should have gone with when she had asked if he would. All he felt was grief, pain, and responsibility. Even when told not blame himself... he would.

[beetle 3315]

It had been only a few years since Eriantiel had returned home, supporting Rúnagleth whenever she could - an attempt to cover up the years lost.

(will write more later, i just really want to eat my dinner rn)

[KalashnikovaAvto 65]

The Darkstalker clenched her fist upon seeing the damage they did to her home "Filthy Fleshlings Killing my brother. Your corpse will serve as trophy and ill seek no rest beheading your brethren, Rúnagleth" 

[Xayshi 49]

The mist clung to the pine trees like thin veils, whispering as the wind stirred their high branches. Dawn broke slowly over Garenbrig, the hilltown crowned in grey stone and weathered timber. From his small manor at the town’s edge, Boromir stirred.

 

The raid on the old castle — two days’ hard ride to the west — already felt like a half-forgotten nightmare. Darkspawn had blackened those halls, though at the time of the raid, none but a single ghoul stood against them. A dozen strong, knights and free warriors alike — had ended it swiftly, Boromir himself never even drew his blade, and more time was spent scouting and breaking in than ransacking the place. An easy task, one that saw no casualties, or so he believed.

 

He stepped out into the morning chill, the scent of pine thick on the air. His cloak dragged across the dirt as he stepped from his front door to check his mailbox. The battered iron latch stuck slightly before yielding under his gloved hand.

 

Inside was a single letter. No crest marked it, just a hurried press of wax, sealed by a thumb — a sign of no ceremony, only urgency.

 

Boromir turned to head back inside as he broke the seal open with his thumb. He pulled the letter out, unfolded it and began reading, stopping as he pushed his door open.

 

As he finished reading, his hands tightened around the parchment, the chill of the morning biting deeper than before. 

 

There was no farewell drawn out in sorrow. No self-pity. Just simple words, honest and rough-edged, exactly like her.

 

He could see her grin in those words — the way she would slap him on the shoulder after a hard day's training, or chuckle grimly after a narrow escape.
She had been more than a mentor, she was his first friend, the first person he grew to love after arriving in Numendil.

 

And now she was gone. Another loss he had never imagined, and he'd still not gotten over the first.

 

The pines shifted gently in the cold breeze as he stood there, letter in hand. Somewhere beyond Garenbrig’s hills, Ser Runagleth— the orcess knight who was training him — was walking a road he could not follow. And yet, even in her leaving, she had left him one last shield: her faith.

 

He folded the letter carefully and placed it against his heart as he pressed his head against the front door of his home and closed his eyes, a quiet prayer muttered as tears slowly crept from beneath his eyelids. 

 

He would stand firm. He would endure. And he would remember.

 

Always.