The Weight of Failures

[Papa Rock 2400]

 

 

The Weight of Failures

 

 

Ulfar sits within the caverns that run deep into the world, deeper than any man would wander.

His gaze stares into the ground, isolated in the darkness of the depths, with nothing but his thoughts and the voices. Still, the Iron Crown rests upon his head.
 

Light leaves his eyes as the golemantic prosthesis shuts off, essentially “closing” his eyes to retreat into his own mind. Around him are angered voices of Grand Kings long gone, words spewed and slurs thrown at the rise of Man, and also the failures of Ulfar.

“We did it. Why couldn’t you?!”
A voice yelled out.

“You carved the steps for the rise of the Umros!”
Another voice claimed.

“You failed our people! You lost our home!”

Ulfar’s hand grasps at the sides of the Iron Crown, gripping it tightly in rage and frustration.

The walls of fortitude within himself begin to crack as the weight of shame and guilt presses against it.

He tries to speak up against the tide of voices-

“I tried! I fought as hard as I could!” - “I planned and built our artillery superiority! I trained our capt-”

He is cut off by a shattering voice.

“And what good did it do?!”

“You?! Your achievements and ambitions do not matter!”

“What you did does not matter if it did nothing.”
 

The Starbreaker is forced into silence.

 

“You want to talk about what you did?!”
Another voice chimes in.

“You left our one ally to the wolves!”

“You gladly helped the man you call friend to crush Haense!”
“You tore down the walls that protected our people!”
“You turned your gaze away from the Clans! Taking in. . . Mice!? Halflings!?”
“Sutica!?”
 

From the dark, an emerald gaze pierces through and stares at Ulfar. A voice follows shortly after.

“How about when You shunned my people?”
“When You scattered Hefrumm?”
“When You boarded them out of their own home?”
“Unity. You fractured our Kin, cutting away a third of our people so that you could go to war for the Umros.”

“Where was your cold heart when it mattered most?”

The voices surrounding Ulfar grunted and grumbled in agreement.

“Your failures eclipse your achievements!”

“While you waged war of hatred against the Aenguls, you couldn’t see the enemy your own Kin warned you of!”

In attempt to defend himself, the Starbreaker speaks up-

“Every Grand King has his failures! Your Grand Kingdoms were not perfect either!”
“Where did your Heros go!? The Kin that wakes from slumber in our people’s greatest need!?”
“Where were the previous crown bearers!? Thurgrim!? Sigrun!? Ulfric!?”
“Only Bakir stood! He was the only crown bearer to stand by my side!”
“I am sure the list goes on! Our heroes turned their g-”
 

Ulfar feels a force press against his neck, suppressing his voice within his own mind.

 

Several voices speak up to judge him.

“Your failures are born from your own mistakes.”
“Not from us, our kin, your allies, or our heroes.”
“Not from your past or upbringing, not from your pain and suffering.”

“They come from you.”

“Now they will be burned into your very soul. When you stand before the Brathmordakin for judgement, they will see your sins engraved into you like words on a page.”

 

Something lurks within the dark, seizing the moment to slip through the fractures in the Starbreaker’s fortitude.

The shadow around the Cave dwarf grew thicker as a vile ancient voice spoke, with the calmness of mischief and cunning, cutting into the soul of the Starbreaker with precision.

“Had you followed Khorvad’s design, you would be absent from failure.”
“Did they answer your prayers? The Tyrant, Yemekar?”

Ulfar’s skin tightened as his hairs stood, a biting cold piercing into the core of his torso, feeling a presence lurk behind him, never truly revealing its face.

“His Ambition is unending. How else did the Khazadmar dominate and conquer the world hundreds of years ago?”
“A golden age under his name.”

“Yemekar sits upon the throne, yet he is no God of Kings.”
“That title belongs to someone they had to throw out. . .”
“Submit to his Ambition and find victory in defeat.”
“Or. . .”
“Die and rot with the rest of our kin, left behind.”

When the eyes of the Starbreaker reactivated, his sight focused onto his open hands, stained red. The blood of his kin covered them, leaving a burning sensation of agony. Ulfar looks up, surrounded by the faces of his dead Kin, allies, and friends.

 

“What. .”

His face then rests into his own hands.

“Have I done. . .”
 

 

The lost Starbreaker finds himself wandering through the deep caverns, eventually spotting a pool of water. His armor chinks as he kneels down with a thud, lowering his hands into the water so that he may drink. His shoulders slumped by the crushing weight of guilt, head hung low by the constant judgment of the voices. Ulfar’s face lacked expression or emotion, merely an empty husk of what once was the Grand King.

His hands dip into the water again, causing the surface to ripple once he raises them out, drinking what he can. As his head rises, a subtle pale glow reflecting off the rippling surface catches his attention. He waits there, watching the surface of the water settle until calm and unmoving.

“. . .”

The image reflecting off the water becomes clearer, a ray of light managed to reach the depths and shine a piece of Dungrimm’s moon upon the surface. As he leaned closer to gaze at the moon’s reflection, he froze, staring at a monster that hid within the darkness of the water. The sudden scare slowly fades as he nears the water’s surface to see that the monster is himself.

 

The Iron Crown that loosely sits upon his head is grasped at both sides.

“Never again. . .”

Muttered where none can witness but the Brathmordakin themselves, an oath made to atone.

The Iron Crown is then lifted from his head, the voices fading from his mind as it is then slung onto his belt.

 

Edited March 22 by Papa Rock

[PanicZealot 648]

"Moi King?" Grelu called out. "Ulfar...where are yeh?" He asked again. The blinded dwarf now stumbled through the clergy temple as the voices in his own head grew louder.

[Xergarok 811]

The Elder passed through the burning dwedmar lands unseen. "My student, how lost you must be now..." Muttered he. "Perhaps now you'll understand what needs to be done. There is only one path to walk. Come home..."

[DISCOLIQUID 2701]

A clawed demon runs fingers over her occuli, watching the King from afar. A lone sigh breaks the lips of the creature, who had watched the Empire do what she never could. A bittersweet victory, not one worth celebrating. Memories, nearly all consumed by time, rush back... of the Priesthood, of Garedyn, of Ulfar's lineage, of Lurdoic, of Charsi, of the Swaddled Girl who hid her Urguani heritage. 

 

"I spite them all, yet..."

 

Then silence came, and the Prophet of Khorvad rose. She drifts headlong, leaving her private cave to seek the remnants of the Dwarven people. Perhaps her intentions were wholly evil. Perhaps they were not.

 

 

[SharpString 429]

Away from the destruction and hate of the empire...  A forest dwarf rests amongst the branches, the sea breeze drifting through hair adorned with leaves and vines. "'Ope 'es alright..." he mutters, thinking of Ulfar "Meant te speak to 'im 'bout you then ya know?... Before all t'is fightin' broke out again." the dwarf said, gazing over at Bjor's statue... that now holy relic of Hefrumm's founder, kept safe amongst Anbella's creation.

 

Tuzic sighed... The pain of years spent fighting for his home of Hefrumm, only to see it scattered to the wind as soon as he went off to follow Anbella's mission. The pain of the Kingdom Bjor fought so hard to create, lost to the numerous poor decisions of ill-advised elders... It was a heavy burden, and yet the Hearth Mother provided... nature singing a sweet song in his ear. "Mercy... Tha Lady's mercy on us all." In the forest dwarf's possession was the remains of Hefrumm's relics after it's scattering, along with one emerald icon... he flipped the thing between his fingers, thinking of Garedyn. "Patience, Tuzic." - "Patience."