A Son of Solgaard | PK

[ItsMisterPip 409]

Before his own downfall, the Weiss patriarch bore witness to his comrade's death. His sacrifice was most emboldening yet carried a heavy weight. They had met when Asmund was only a young man, or not even so. He saw this Son of Solgaard grow into a fearsome warrior, a Besirkir of Mikjall. Kazimir had been a part of his trials to develop and hone his skills, and fought alongside him in many battles as the continent grew darker and darker under the Mountain's influence.

"There is a battle to fight… Pay no heed to I."

These last words rang loud in Kazimir's mind, the last words he would hear his friend speak. These last words; a catalyst for flames igniting in the hearts of many in that battle, most severe.

The Weiss donned a cape of black, in mourning for this warrior’s mortal end.

In the hand of a Blessed warrior, a blade was beheld. The Besirkir that Kazimir knew in life, now before him among Malchediael’s legions, spoke,

 

“Welcome, Broedir.”

 

The Weiss looked at the blade, and in it, he saw purpose. In Asmund, he saw a brother.

 

His hand took the grip of that sword with a grin on his face.