The One Who Still Marches On

[TheHuntedRaven 100]

Spoiler

[This is considered a False Death/False PK/Monk Revival post.]

-= This character is not legitimately being killed off! =-

-= The point of this is just a 'farewell notice' to her time being known as Svanhild, as well as her place as a citizen within Numendil. =-

 

I want to take a moment to give a huge thank you to all in the different corners of Aevos who helped make Svanhild an absolute menace [or had to deal with said menace].

There are far too many people to place here but you know who you are! GREMLINS! ALL OF YOU! ❤️

That said...

This isn't the end of her shenanigans.

This is just a fresh arc within the long-awaited journey.

It was all many weeks in the making.

Spoiler

No one is privy to the happenings of the combat. This was done between Myself and BobBox.

The greatest enemy to Aevos had slowly begun to chip away at everything they had ever known.

 

For Svanhild?

This twenty-year-old had just lost her sister, Svala, to the Nothern Storms.

She thought she lost her sanctuary, her safe place, only to never find out the defenses held out.

This warrior fought against these forces to stop those close to her from losing their homes in Petra. She failed.

 

A vigil for Svala was cut short.

Wrath, her guide, led her actions as every stride led her toward New Valdev alone.

 

A desire to stir the wasp nest led her to toss the bomb on that bridge.

This incapacitated three of the thirteen Golden Vines that stood like stone.

Ten marched to the end of that bridge as she prepared her dagger next. With a toss, another fell.

They spread out. Some less wiser than others to where the hidden one waited to ambush.

 

Something stirred within New Valdev.

Fiery wings spread like a shroud over the land as the elemental fire wyvern flew overhead, knocking her on her back.

Forgoing her Ambush, she took to denser trees waiting for those forces to close in as the creature seemed not to notice her.

She slammed into the first with war hammer raised, denting his armor as he attempted a search. The next came from the right to stab her with its spear.

This spear was deflected. With the opening created, the Garenbrig Soldier killed her fifth the same moment a third's spear sought Svanhild.

This heavy attack caught her in the center mass. The woman stumbled back into the Golden Vine who tackled her aside two paces.

Svanhild, enraged, lashed back. Her sword found purchase killing the sixth.

"Bastards!" Svanhild wailed into the darkness of the night. The seventh fell quicker with a mock thrust of her sword, and the strike of her hammer.

 

Yet, no matter how many she was killing, it was like fighting the tides. The last three had come with reinforcements.

They had all closed in on her.

A spear was lofted toward her! This one striking her torso. Another stumble, another fall. Agony filled her being.

 

The lass barely escaped the next spear. The one lodged within her ripped and tore at her organs as she fled.

Svanhild managed to escape with what remained of her life. It was enough to get to Numendil.

 

Seven deaths to the Mountain Forces for the loss of one?

It would never be enough.

 

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

 

To the dismay of many, there would be no waking from unconsciousness even after Einin's success in surgery.

So, with a slow, reverent motion, Boromir lowered his blade—swift and precise across her throat. There was no hesitation, only a final act of mercy carried out with a trembling hand.

Thus, Svanhild Bluefern had died with Ser Boromir and Ser Kieran at her side.

 

That begged the sole question... who had woken up in place of Svanhild Bluefern?

That remained to be seen. One thing was certain; they would not be the same and their time in Numendil was at end.

 

While friends and family mourn the girl who was; little do they know... the one that remains still marches on.

Spoiler

Love you all.

Until the Next!

- TheHuntedRaven

 

[Hawkeye_Gough 624]

Beyond the lands of Aevos, a nameless Pale Lord sat in a prison beyond reality. Prayers were spoke into its vessel, but word did not come. Not until a certain voice, risen from anguish, spoke into the Chromaborn Receptacle.

 

"Gul Zu'Pzym... The Wraith of Wrath..." spoke Strife, weakly, from his veiled entrapments. "Welcome. . . Home."

 

Rancor was not a thing to celebrate, and nor was loss. But the waking crux of Svanhild's freedom would earn celebration nonetheless.

Edited July 18, 2025 by Hawkeye_Gough