Au Revoir - Musings of Strife

[Hawkeye_Gough 624]

Spoiler

 

 

[!]
Following the death of Zu'e, this missive is sent to the hands of all Mystics of the Order of Xion or the Abdast Order, as well as to the friends and so-called family of the lost.

It is written in the language of Darkspeech.

[!]

 

To all who shine in Dark's Shadow,

Today, I have become the Herald of Strife. I imagine that my days are limited, so I write now that my words may be heard when I am bereft of my title or when I perish. My position is one held by few among Strife, yet by many of its Heralds. Talar'Shen, Fornotos, and now I have each felt an inclination. The Pen is mightier than the Sword. For a Way that believes in the fight everlasting, it is odd to find myself clashing through words and doctrine as well as blades. Still, in the fated battlefield, I wish we will all be true Champions.

 

The Ways of Xion are each holy endeavors, but we have fallen out of sync. Recently, I have fought and fallen against a Herald -- or, I suppose, another Herald -- over the notion that his direction was not his Way's. What folly of me. The unraveling of the Ways from their shared exigence and alliance into mere shards will be the death of Xion, and I have helped that death along. I hope now that my devotion to Strife, and to all Xion, will help to mend our straying hands even as no other Herald stands awake.

 

In life, my duty was to protect. My purpose was tied to life and to the Progenitor. In death, my duty changed. I was no longer the Shield, she was no longer the Voice. We were both shield and sword and voice at once. In truth, death made me redundant. Ascension brought only pain, losing sense to the souls within me who despise my commands and eat at my memories. My memory of Her will remain, even if I have lost my path or my life.

 

This is my first command written, but the last any of you will read: Protect the line of Rykov-Ottovas. It exists in spirit and in flesh; there is a survivor of the Progenitor out there, the Child of Dark. Do not let death strip away duty; I am survived by many Champions who will do better than I have done.

 

With kindred affection,

Herlurazhna Garzu Zu'e.

Friend.

 

[!]

Thus ends Zu'e's writ, but attached to the missive is a depiction of his demise, authored by four Mystics.

[!]

 

To whom it may concern,

Pale Lord Zu'e has died beyond the reach of revival. No Maleficar or Anathema can claim credit for his demise, but instead the Chromaweave is responsible. His death has been wrought with purpose; it is an act of creation, not destruction.
 

 

All who held dealings with Pale Lord Zu'e are requested to seek out a Champion of Strife (or a trusted Champion) for redirection to the proper prophet. These Champions include, but are not limited to:
Brother Urk'ezg Ghaaz, Sister Gul Zu'Pzym, Brother Ryker, Other Brother Ryker, The Third Revelator, or your local Barrowlord.

 

[!]

In addition to this more public missive, a few letters have been individually sent out after the Lord's death.
[!]

 

Svanhild

Spoiler

Dear, beloved Daughter,
I have recently named you Svanhild Rykov, but I have yet to explain the significance of your name. My purpose, both in life and in death, was to protect the lineage of Rykov at any cost. I was often a failure, in that respect, but never was the line totally lost. You are a new era -- a new chapter -- of line Rykov. You have my blessing in all things, and I pray that your growth and prowess comes as I know it will.

 

Ask The Fourth for the spear I carried, and ask him to explain Xion to you. He has much to say, even in my absence. And, even without me, remember my promise. Death is but a dream. A temporary dream. All will be fine, in coming years.

 

Love, Father.

 

Tqiko

Spoiler

My Joy,

I told you, when I ascended, that I would not be forever. I hoped that I was wrong. I held your scale every day since you gave it to me. I bound it to my very soul.

 

Please know that of all the things I have been, your Lord is what I am most proud to be. I ask that you do not cut ties to the Abdast'Zar and to the Order, but if you do, they have been instructed not to bring you any harm or danger. You first aligned with me because you were threatened, but I will not allow any more threats to fall upon you. The might of all the Champions lay at your fingertips, if you wish to take it.

 

I wish to follow you, as often as I can, from wherever I lay now. I promise that even if I am in the wastes and you cannot see me, I am always nearby.

 

Love, your Lord.

 

Barrowlord Khor

Spoiler

Fellow Arnor,

What irony, that my first Brother shared my name? I have a million things to tell you, but almost all of them you already know. I could have asked for no better Zar Zu'wea, o' Brother. Glory be the King of Nothing.

 

If the King Beneath returns while I am ever-dead, tell him that I served him faithfully. Make demands, from me to him, that I was too cowardly to give in life.

 

I presume that you hold my effects, now that I am gone. Some folk will show themselves, asking to claim things from me. Apologies, for the annoyances and grief dealing with those who lack respect. For you, I leave my great-shield of Rokodra. Perhaps you can hex it, and then wield it while you float.

 

With my most profound respect, Arnor.

 

Fornotos

Spoiler

Strife,

When we met, you told me that the living made better Justiciars. Their heads are clearer of doubt, their souls are not decayed or withered. You were right, but I still place myself a close second to you, in my prowess as a Judge and a Herald.

 

When I became Herald, you told me that you had full faith in me. At that time, I was losing faith in myself. Since, I have reclaimed my mind and my spirit was made right with our Way. There are plentiful champions with a vested interest in the Way, and it will do well without the follies of Old Dark or judgement of the living.

 

Yours truly, Strife.

PS: Please meet with Khor. Ask about me.

 

Barrowlord Makabian

Spoiler

Oops! I've gone and died... It's a shame, really, but I know that Xion will be well so long as at least one of us is a Herald.

 

I ask that, if my title needs to be passed down, you help determine the next Herald of Strife. There is no one who I trust more, when it comes to such choices. In exchange for this assistance, I entrust you with the honorary title of Champion -- you need not fight to keep that title.

 

Keep dancing, Strife.

 

Urk'ezg Ghaaz

Spoiler

Brother,

Take from Barrowlord Khor my Armament. Learn to wield it, for it is now yours.

 

Nataya

Spoiler

I write to a dead woman, someone who cannot receive my message. Not now, anyway.

Nataya,

 

I have done my duty. I have shielded you from much, but some things surpassed me. You disappeared, and your shield was not present. But not all is lost. I have named, in your honor, a new daughter of Rykov. She is so much like you, I only wish she knew the inspiration of her new name. Lorina is long abroad, but perhaps she has begun a family wherever she is.

 

Xion was never meant for me, was it? I followed it for Duty, and I heralded it for Duty, but it was never mine. When you return, you will meet Abdasts in the place of Xionists. Please hear them out. They share your disdain for the Immortals, but they -- like I -- wish more to protect. They search for a way to escape the turning tides of fate and pain, to be shielded. They are what I wish I was.

 

With unspoken love,

Arnor Midbah Rykov.

 

OOC NOTE:

Fly high, monarchs of my heart.

[xo31 3979]

A Chromaweaver watched as the Pale Lord was shattered into pieces, and as he fell, did he speak an accursed name.

 

But for a moment, he was no chromaweaver. He was Arthur, and his humanity came rushing back to him in the form of a ghostly explosion. For a moment, he saw a man helping him defend his tavern. For a moment, he saw a man as concerned with his student's safety as he was. For a moment, he felt sad, regret, perhaps, that this was the fate of a man who only deserved peace.

He whispered over the the undead mage next to him, a low murmur, which could only display a percentage of the horror he felt.

"I've never witnessed such brutality."

But he did not refer to the death itself. He referred to the entire lifetime of the thing he saw shattered.

 

 

The Three Souls of Lazarus grimaced in anger. Growing, seething anger. Flames of crimson ectoplasm rose from his shoulders, and he bit his tongue so hard that blood trickled from his lips.

"Someone must pay." He vowed.

[Metamancy 1759]

Spoiler

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

[VerumLupus 13]

Upon recieving the missive, Urk'ezg Ghaaz would feel great sorrow and set his eyes to the skies, feeling nothing for many hours... when he finally felt something he couldnt help but feel immense grief, not believing it at first... racked with a mix of emotions  the specter's blue hues would swirl within his old rusted armor... he clenched his shield tight as he began moving out from his post in the Ruins of Veletz,

[TofuGomi 362]

Spoiler

WHAT THE HELL MAN 😭EVERY TIME OUR CHARACTERS FINALLY START TO RP YOU PK YOURS

 

[SimonItorp 124]

Be it the death of a fellow Lord, to make Razaak's husk shake and convulse in anger, and mournful wails of the damned that were housed within. Through the many times that the Crowned had observed Zu'e arise from debris, form reshaped from water and stone, this was sadly not going to be one of those times.

In one hand did a wicked pike take shape, one that had not belonged to Razaak for that much time, and the Crowned, the Coronated One, bowed its head to such an artifact.

 

"Your service will forever echo through time. Your name, forever written and transcribed, in stone,"  

Did the Lord of Judgement bellow into the harrowing chasms beneath him, wherever he currently were. . .

[Morigung-oog 5697]

It was strange, really, the way Valindra Fornotos, Mortal Lord, Former Herald of the Nameless Way, reacted to the death of her successor following her disillusionment from the path of Xion and her forebearers of Rivel. Initially, the husk of the woman just sat there, lifeless as though she too had been torn from the mortal plane.  Her gaze was hollow, and her head was empty-- or perhaps the screams within were so loud that they drowned out all else...

 

When she eventually came to, her gaze shifted to the morion spear propped up against her desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from years of neglect. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet and calmly, leisurely paced down into the bowels of her ship, the Empress Vengeance, whereupon she glared at an obelisk, inert, unfeeling... If looks could kill, this oversized lump of voidal boulder would surely perish..

 

"You killed my pet rock, you *******."

 

A fist was shaken at the construct, yet to be imbued with any semblance of energy, potential, chaos. Once all anger had left Fornotos, they pivoted, and made their way back to their desk. Zu'e was right.. A letter was long overdue to Khor.

 

Spoiler

When I tossed the rank of herald to you, it was with the expectation you'd carry on the Xionist legacy. You did  better than most veteran players. Proud of you, chief. Enjoy the leadership break. Goodness knows you've earned it!!

 

[Chimeraof1999 1187]

The Draugar who died sat in the loop of forever paradox. A chamber of sorrow and deny. His ears not coiled but never forgetting the sounds of torment. 

 

When the souls released from that stone, or that stone vanishing

The Draugar heard, he only wept, knowing the only person who truly helped me see his worth faded like he did. Only into obscurity, will the Herald Zu'e ever be remembered.
"Rest like I... You've done well, you will be missed but some will forget. Do not let that halt you from knowing...

You lived.."

[TheHuntedRaven 100]

"Truly, no word or action will ever be enough justice to show how much this Pale Lord had meant to this tiny daughter of Horen."

 

Deep within the abandoned ruins, under the many flickering stars, the teenager stood upon a rocky cleft.

Numbness had woven beneath her flesh in a way it has never done before.

 

-==--==--==--==--==--==-

 

Dread threatened to freeze the blood in her veins.

Fury lashed at her heart to stoke flames of hatred.

Emptiness pled with her to help the teen feel absolutely nothing.

Yet, it was the quiet, slow process of grief that had won out for now. Tears shed.

 

-==--==--==--==--==--==-

 

"Nae part of death, distance, or time will squander it." Those words mumbled to be shared of their kinship into the darkness of Veletz.

 

The cold winds from the north cascaded. The gale slamming her with force.

However, this unmoving figure went as undisturbed as the walls around her rooted where she stood.

 

Calmness and Clarity washed over the storm threatening her choices after the loss of the one that mattered to her most.

She tried to imagine in that moment what he would say. Yet, it was only her own voice in which she answered her biggest question.

Perhaps, it was not two purposes lost. Rather, only now, were new purposes gained. He had every confidence in you.

The storm that waged war within her finally brokered peace.

 

-==--==--==--==--==--==-

"May you dream well, Father. My only regret is knowing you will nae witness what will be." She uttered softly in final words.

Edited June 29, 2025 by TheHuntedRaven

[Xergarok 811]

Barrowlord Khôr had not expected things to go downhill so quickly. Within less than a minute his most trusted advisor and companion had been reduce to a humming slab of Menhir. The hatred he felt for those mages there present had to be dammed in, lest he suffer the same fate at the hands of the Voidal abomination. He would keep  Zu'e safe, vowing never to plant this seed...

[Zonty 994]

Marooned in long-forgotten tomb, a lone figure stirs from dust-laden slumber. The air is thick with weight of ages, stale and unmoving — until the walls start trembling, clawed by forces none could see. Cracks spiderweb across the stone, and from the darkness rings a cry — not scream, but a mourning breath scraped raw across eternity.

It echoes like a curse, a memory half-buried:

 

"You were never meant to fall before I did..."

[Sandman_Plays 659]

Word finally reached Caspian Beowulf Colborn III, the letter still present in his hand a callout a challenge he had not managed to answer.

A wave of disappointment washed over him, there was some element of excitement to the idea of a duel to the death with a powerful being and now the opportunity had slipped away, he pondered what would occur if he replied to Death's Scholar, would they find him a new opponant or would they simply Ignore the Bold Flame of Numendil.

Regardless he figured it was for the best, his soul remained intact and another force of darkness had been slain, Caspian uttered a prayer for the creature to Rest in Peace, offering a level of respect to Zu'e

[Jihnyny 5233]