Dwarvish Blood Runs Cold

[Raglin 64]

Raglin hacks and coughs in his chair, blood splattering over his beard and chest. He heaves and pants, looking over his home in Hyrr. He calls for a fellow Edgehand, who takes him to Kal'Azgoth for the last time. The old, sick dwarf looks fondly upon Raglin Road.

"Ah hope me name'll be remem-ACK-bah me..."

The dwarf heaves up more blood, slowly climbing the steps into the city. So beautiful, the snow powdering his hair. He breathes a clear breath, smiling.

Raglin falls to his knees, holding his hands aloft. His eyes swell with tears, his mind flashing through images of his time in this world. Asulon; his many years in Kal'Anart and battle in the Dwarf Orc wars. His friends he had met, the love he had felt. Anthos; his time amongst the Rose and the dwarves alike, staying friend to both no matter the situation, deep down.

Raglin slumps against the stone, clutching a pile of letters against himself. He died there, his eyes drifting closed. These letters were addressed to his friends.

To Baldir,

You'll always be bigger than life, friend. Wether in spirit or in body. I only wish you the best in your endeavors. Don't forget your short friend.

To Tanith,

Your beauty is deeper than the flesh, lass. Your kind heart can light even the darkest of places. Take care of that boy of yours.

To Arthal,

Keep up the good work, boyo. Grow a beard for your old pal, yeah? Miss ya.

To Mayirr

You were a grand friend, and I only hope that you meet your goals in life. And don't stop giving 'em hell.

To Bazian,

You're perhaps one of my oldest friends. I only hope ye keep my name living, old boy. I can never thank you enough for the kindness you've shown me.

To Nalro,

Hey, lad. Keep up that genius work. I've left some ideas imprinted inside this. Take care, bud.

To the Dwarven King,

I want meh statue! Haha!

(( I am leaving LOTC, for real this time. I've loved my times on the server, you all will hold a special place in my heart, trust me. I thank all of you out there for making this place great. Take care! ))

[Raglin 64]

(( Not sure. May pass it on to Aengoth, I believe. ))

[youlovesocks 652]

((Aw. Later Raglin. Had great times with you in Urguan 

[lcflaherty97 29]

((See ya dude. You were a great neighbor while you and your clan lived in Kal'Azgoth, but one thing... where's my letter?))

 

 

 

 

((jk))

[TheNander 241]

((NOOOOOO! RAGLIN!))

 

The following takes place during the funeral for Raglin Edgehand. Which I will personally make sure happens on Raglin road.

 

 

"D'is road 'as saen boath loife an' love, deaf an' 'ate. So 'as Raglin. Ah've 'ad quoite a bit ov experiences on d'is road, experiences all a ye shuld 'ave befer yer passin. It is fer dese reasons dat Ah be nehmin dis road ahfter 'im. Raglin road. Ah wrote a song years aguh an' Ah feel dat d'is be an an appropriate toime fer it. Until recentleh Ah've 'ad nae d'e sloightest oydea wot tuh call it. Ah felt it fittin tuh name it after t'e road itself."

 

Nalro begins to sing in a raspy old Irish tone which sounds more like

than the more pleasant original version by Luke Kelly. 

 

 

 

Raglin Road

 

On Raglin Road of an Autumn day
I saw her first and knew,
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might someday rue.
I saw the danger, yet I walked
Along the enchanted way.
And I said,"Let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day."

On Grafton Street in November, we
Tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion’s pledge.
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay;
Oh, I loved too much and by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.

I gave her gifts of the mind,
I gave her the secret signs,
That's known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint,
For I gave her poems to say
With her own name there and her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May.

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now,
And away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow.
That I had loved, not as I should
A creature made of clay,
When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of day.

 

Nalro stops at the end of the song. "Fer Raglin!"

("Fer Raglin!", the Dwarves echo.)

[TEEbrown 348]

[see ya Raglin, Anart was pretty fun back in the day with ya. Goodluck where ever you go.]

[Raglin 64]

More letters are found amongst the stash.

To Roggar,

You were a fine neighbor! I had one of me kin leave you a big apple pie for yer clan! I hope you will remember me as not only a fiend, but a brother.

To Aengoth,

I leave you the fate of the clan. Do with it what you wish, old friend. I know you'll make the right choice.

To the remaining Roses,

Only good tidings and fair roads I wish upon you all. You've been through hell and back. There's a world out there for you to discover. Don't let anything get you down.

To Avern'len,

My long-eared friend! I wish you a happy life with your child and wife. Never let your birch tree fall.

[Aengoth 2890]

((I will miss chatting and scheming with you, and will never forget that it was you and the Edgehands who first offered me a clan so I could have a place amongst Dwarven society.))

[Destroyer_Bravo 1054]

Meanwhile, Ellsia sifts through the dead dwarf's letters, and deliver the ones addressed to dwarves

[lιoɴ 248]

Wulfric doesn't receive a letter. He attends the funeral and doesn't laugh for a while longer.

 

(( It's  a shame we didn't have time to roleplay more, good luck to where ever you are heading off to.))

[no longer active 734]

*Mili is sad*