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Scicle's Last Journey

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The coughing was increasing. He could feel the soreness in his chest, and he knew that this was something he needed to end.

 

Scicle walked along the steep path. Miggles the Ocelot followed beside him, knowing he was struggling to stand without her added weight. Scicle leaned hard on his staff as he walked, coughing up blood once more as it dribbled down his maw.

 

As he approached the gate of Kingston, his head flooded with his memories: his childhood, his mother, Isiris, Elorna, Salvus, the Elysians, Kingston's Palace, Kyral, the Monks... Wither.

 

"Nu," he said out loud with a deep gasp. He slowly made his way up the last few steps and looked directly at the closed gate to Kingston. He smiled softly through his bloody maw. He then fell onto his knees hard, his wooden staff landing beside him in the gravel.

 

"Sa'vi... Kittun..." he whispered one last time before his body fell forward onto the gravel, lying still. The wind blew through his fur softly as Miggles approached her dead friend. She licked his neck a few times before turning and starting back to her lonely, dark home that once belonged to the Kha lying dead at Salvus' doorstep; right where he began all those years ago...

 

[He was a fun character to play, but his time to pass was well overdue. Thank you to all who made my time as Scicle enjoyable!]

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Wither walks up the road, towards Kingston. A long day of building had tired her and she intended to rest. The sight that greeted her made her freeze in her tracks. It had been years since she had last seen Scicle, but she instantly felta sense of dread.

Running over to him, she fell to her knees beside his body. The hood over her eyes covered her expression, masking the pain from outsiders. Gently shaking him, Wither realized with horror how cold Scicle was. The entire situation had not occured to her yet.

She looked around, seeing no one else nearby. "Wake up..." she said softly yet commandingly.

There was no response from the body, and shaken by her grief, Wither began to do something she had not done since she was a child. Wither began to cry.

She lingered there a few hours, snarling at anyone who approached. Still shaken by her grief, Wither finally got up from her deceased adoptive father's side. Closing her eyes and sighing deeply, she quietly headed off to find a place to bury him.

"Sa'vi, papa." She whispered softly as she left the corpse behind.

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Arzota, ironically going this way to meet a Kha contact, stopped in his tracks as he caught the limp body of Scicle from the corner of his eyes; walking over slowly as he arched his neck, making doubly sure of the pelt... Speeding up soon after. As he reached the body, Arzota dropped to a knee, roundabout falling to his side as he looked over the corpse, eyes wide with shock.

 

Before him lay his first mentor, his first commander, his first real friend before the Kameki. He shook his head some, memories of the training pits along with the blue and white robes running rampant through his head. He desperately shook the body, not wanting to accept that this Kha was gone, stopping after a few minutes... becoming aware of the questions that may be asked of another were to see him doing so.

 

Arzota let out a shuddering breath, a tear running down his cheek... burning the whole way down as it dropped onto Scicle's body. He remained silent then, time passing as the sun arced across the sky, and the midday heat growing. Finally Arzota would stand, gathering Scicle's staff and carefully flipping his body over. He crossed Scicle's paws over his chest and placing the staff down his front. "Farewell my friend... I never really thought it would come to this, yet here we are." he mutters sadly, standing fully upright now and reaching into his pack.

 

"I know it won't mean much to you, but it will for me." He whispers, drawing out a single chipped blade, deep emerald in color and worn from age. "The other was cracked beyond belief... you hang onto this one alright?" he asked, voice faltering some as he sets it down next to the staff and takes a step back. farther.

 

Composing himself a moment, Arzota righted himself, staring to the body and giving a series of nods in it's direction... anyone nearby who understood the Elysian code would note something to the extent of: 'May you bread fight amongst the gods.'. Without another word, Arzota would start off again... all sadness washing from his face, and into a deep pit below the surface, where all was stored.

 

 

((Farewell sweet prince... truly this character was amazing, and excellent fun to rp with. To one of characters I rp'd with within a week of my joining; bottoms up!))

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Aron scratches his beard, as he always does when receiving news, leaning back in his chair. His head titled, nearly starting a phrase, before stopping. His eyes scanned the people before him up and down, his brows cocked in confusion. "m'lord?" one of the voices called, wondering why the full grown man looked so confused. "Really?" Aron asked, still not entirely convinced, "T'ere was a few people 'ou 'ad saw the kha". Sighing, Aron let his head shake back and forth "well.... ****..." he muttered out modestly, still confused

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Kaila heads back to Salvus from gathering herbs not far from outside when she sees Scicle just outside the gate. Her heart plummets at the sight. Scicle, the kha who had been her friend, protector, and teacher. She bites her lip as she moves closer to his still form. Miggles still faithfully by his side. "Farewell my friend." she whispers sadly as she pets his arm just as she had when she was small. She moves slowly and presses her lips to his furry forehead as tears stream down her face. As she sits there for a little while longer, she pets Miggles. Slowly she gets up and nods. "I will have you put to rest properly Scicle." She says as she gets up. She turns to Miggles and smiles sadly. "You are always welcome to stay with us." She says, believing the cat will not understand her. Slowly Kaila makes her way inside to make preparations for his burial.

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Aengoth sits in the Starbreaker Clan Hall, sharpening his old Elysian blade as he does. His Elysian uniform sits off the the side with the signs of old fights. The dwarf trails his fingers across each break in the armor, remember the good old times with a slight smile. His smile fading as he remembered the unfortunate downfall of the Elysians and his own falling out with Scicle. The only silver lining in his mind concerning the situation is his assumption that Scicle is alive and well.

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Aengoth sits in the Starbreaker Clan Hall, sharpening his old Elysian blade as he does. His Elysian uniform sits off the the side with the signs of old fights. The dwarf trails his fingers across each break in the armor, remember the good old times with a slight smile. His smile fading as he remembered the unfortunate downfall of the Elysians and his own falling out with Scicle. The only silver lining in his mind concerning the situation is his assumption that Scicle is alive and well.

Why did Aron decide to take a stroll through the dwarven half of Uruguan? Was it the ale? Possibly. Was it the lovely weather? Probably not. Was it the women? Definitely not. Regardless, he strolled along, before deciding to pay his old dwarven friend a visit, a stark grin on his face as he leans in the door "Hail, ye' piss-smelling dwarf! Our friend Scicle is dead. Put that in your pipe and smoke it" he calls, as he notices Aengoth's moment of nostalgia

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Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.

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