Terry

"Religion," commented a bewildered Frostbeard.

Ulfric would gaze upon the pact with an almost weary look, before signing the pact with a smile.

Somewhere, some place in the lands of Urguan, a Frostbeard grumbled…

23rd of the Amber Cold, 117 SA February 20th, 2023 ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛟᚠᚠᛁᚲᛖ ᛟᚠ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛚᛟᚱᛞ ᛃᚢᛋᛏᛁᚲᛁᚨᚱ A New Lord Justiciar ᛟᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᛖᛚᚲᛟᛗᛁᚾᚷ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚾᛖᚹ ᛃᚢᛋᛏᛁᚲᛁᚨᚱ On this day, the 23rd of the Amber Cold, do I, Ulfric Frostbeard, do step down as Acting Justiciar of the High Courts. As such, and with immediate effect, do the High Courts of Urguan and that of the Grand Kingdom and its citizens, do welcome Thromdrick Irongut as their new Lord Justiciar. May he serve the people well and execute the duties of his new role with diligence and respect of the laws he now upholds. Any of whom wish to serve their Kingdom as an administrator of the Laws of Urguan is encouraged to reach out to Thromdrick by bird! Narvak oz Urguan! Narvak oz Thromdrick! Signed, Grand King Emeritus, Lord Chancellor of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, Great-Grandson of Rhewen ‘Papa Bear’ Frostbeard Lord Justiciar of Urguan

As the great Nooblius stated before; Yemekar laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming. And that day comes soon.

Ulfric smiled brightly. "Teh best ov gifts, aye." He'd say, before moving off to find gift ideas with Elly! @Lirinya

THA HARATH GORD KA’AZ “I’m Coming Home Father.” Ulfric, standing atop the mountainous ranges of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, SA 111 In all his life, Ulfric had never been as big a mess than he was now. The loss of Khron’Hundmar, disappearance of close friends and family, the attack of the Undead Dragon in Balian and the state of his clan… all weighed heavily on his mind. Had it not been for the support and care of one or two select individuals, it would be safe to say that Ulfric might’ve gone mad. Even so, the brief return of his grandfather helped ease the mess that was his state of mind. A return to old times, simpler times. Filled of laughs, of family, of duty, a time where things just made sense, where Ulfric didn’t have to worry for he knew he had support no matter where he turned. But alas, this brief return was, in fact, brief, and for all the reasons Ulfric suppressed, for reasons he pushed aside, for reasons he knew were to come eventually whether he liked it or not. The reunion had gone as all reunions go between two close members of family that’d been separated. Hugs, laughs, quips of graying hair and reminiscing. Things of which Ulfric needed, things he missed. But the mood changed, the moment Azkel offered Ulfric his staff. “I remembeh Rhewen, an’ his old cavern home. Eht is yer toime teh carreh on his memoreh and legaceh.” For what felt like eternity, Ulfric stood. He gripped the staff carefully, feeling like even the slightest movement could shatter it, before he’d gaze to his grandfather with a resolute nod. It was from here that Azkel led Ulfric to Ulfric’s home, where Azkel passed his belongings on, from one generation to the next, even that of his most prized. From this point on a feeling of… melancholy, took hold of Ulfric. He was happy to see his grandfather, back and smiling and chuckling and reminiscing, but something gnawed at him, something he did not dare bring up for even he was reveling in his grandfather’s smiles and didn’t dare to end it prematurely. But ended, it did. Not a moment or so after the chuckling and reminiscing died down, did his grandfather speak to him again. “Ulfric, wannae take eh walk wi’ meh befer moi departure?” Ulfric would oblige, reluctantly, and off they went to Tal’Rhewenholm, home of the Frostbeards. They would travel to the top of the ridgeline, to the funeral pyre where Rhewen ‘Papa Bear’ Frostbeard himself, Azkel’s father and Ulfric’s great-grandfather, was sent off to the Halls of Khaz’A’Dentrumm. It was here they sat and spoke for awhile about times past and present. Of the clan, of it’s teachings, of the Kingdom and they’re time together leading it, of Rhewen, and all that they’ve experienced since. Though out of all that was said, one thing Azkel spoke to him stuck. “As Rhewen once spoke teh meh oi now speak teh yeh… It is your turn. Take wo' yeh have learned and add teh eht, yeht neveh tarnish deh historeh of deh Clan. Deh greatest theng aneh Frostbeard can deh is simpleh continue. Nae hardships will matteh sae long as our teachings survoive.” Soon after this, would the conversation near it’s end. Ulfric would ask the one question he wished to avoid asking. “So… w'at will yeh do now? O'I know yeh said yeh'd go back teh meditatin' where Rhewen once did, but es t'at all? Will o'I eveh see yeh ag'in?” All because he knew the answer. “Oi think this spot is as good as aneh teh rest moi eyes… Oi will alwehs beh wi' yeh, jus' as Rhewen has been wi' deh both ehf us. Yeh have learned everething dere is teh learn frum Rhewen en oi. Eht is up teh yeh fer wo' yeh believe is best teh come next.” It was here that Ulfric would gaze up, the beginnings of rain starting to hit his face. He knew what Azkel had meant, even if he tried to tell himself otherwise countless times before. He'd look to his grandfather, offering a smile again, though this one less beaming than the last. “O'I seh. Thank yeh, Azkel… fer everythin'. Et's because ov yeh an' Rhewen t'at o'I'm teh dwed o'I am, an' o'I will alwehs remembeh t'at. O'I'll do everythin' in meh power teh ensure t'at who comes next es wortheh, o'I promise.” It was here that Azkel would remove his bear pelt, one of the few times in his life he’d ever done so, as he went to lay his head back, closing his eyes to be drenched by the downpour. “Oi do love deh rain…” He’d say, before uttering his last words at a whisper, his breathing slowing as he would seem to fall asleep, and as the minutes went by, would continue to do so… until eventually stopping. “Tha harath gord ka’az…” Ulfric, sitting alone-now, atop the ranges of Tal’Rhewenholm, SA 112 To my fellow Dwedmar, With a heavy weight upon my heart, do I regret to announce the passing of Azkel ‘The Scholar’ Frostbeard, on the 14th of The Amber Cold, SA 112. I’ll admit, it took me a long time to write this, too long, infact. I could not find the right words to say… and truthfully, for once in my life I still cannot. There is so much I wish to say, but to write it out would mean confronting what had happened, and I don’t think I’m ready for that, not for awhile at least. Azkel lived a very long life, like his father, Rhewen. Not all of it pretty, and in the end, forgotten as he may have become, I’m beyond happy to have had the time I did with him, to learn from him, from the both of them. When I returned to Urguan all those years ago, I was lost. The Clan I had left all those years before, all but nonexistant. Many an eyebrow was raised when I returned, for not many within the halls of our grand city thought a Frostbeard would return, and from there, it only got worse. I had no inkling of how to run a clan, no idea where to start. A recruiter I was not, still not, to this day. But then, one day, I recall being invited to the tavern. I remember rounding the corner… and there he was. Azkel, the dwedmar who would turn me into who I am today. From that point on, it was a rush. I recall Rhewen returning, and from there, so to did others of the clan, of both sides. Ulrah or not, we came together. I still recall all the clan meetings, of seeing all of us in one room together. If I had to choose, that would be my greatest memory from then. Ferek, Asvi, Bharus, Nardor, Ajax and Bojakk and many more... all of us, together. All thanks to the luck I had for both Azkel and Rhewen to reappear when I, and the clan, needed them most. Given all this though, Azkel never was the most liked. The Kaz’Ulrah Frostbeards, the Irehearts during my reign, such and so forth, all had their reasons, but one cannot deny the work Azkel had done. Of the Remembrancer Guild, of it’s library, of serving our nation as Lord Chancellor despite the dismay of many. I am proud to be of his line, and nothing will ever shake my belief of such. With all that being said, he requested to be sent off to the Halls of Khaz’A’Dentrumm much like his father, Rhewen, and I plan to honor such. The funeral will be open to all, however, if you do attend all I ask for is your respect, or if that fails, atleast give your silence. Grand King Emeritus, Lord Chancellor of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan, Great-Grandson of Rhewen ‘Papa Bear’ Frostbeard [[To Be Held: Sometime within the next 2 weekends]] “THE FUNERAL OF AZKEL ‘THE SCHOLAR’ FROSTBEARD”

Ulfric’s head hung low, thoughts chaotically rolling around his head as he lived on, leaving more and more great friends, kin and hardworking citizens to the Halls of Khaz’A’Dentrumm before himself. He’d begin wondering now, if longevity was more a curse than a benefit these days, but would open a Grandaxe Rum in Bjorn’s honor all the same.

From within the Office of the Chancellory, a grumble could be heard. “And t’is es why.” A voice would say, before giving a hefty sigh.

“Oh lords…” Ulfric would sigh, his hands dragging down his face. ”T’at won’t end well, o’I already know.”

I remember being on the Mod Team with you man. Didn't interact too much, but good luck with life! Happy to see one of us manage to get out of here in one (relative) piece!

Ulfric sighed greatly, stress ever building upon the older dwed’s back. Yet despite all of this, the missive still crossed his desk, and upon reading it, knew at once what was needed of him. Leaving his home felt a heavy burden, but so too would abandoning those he had helped create this Hold so long ago. ”Preparations are in ordeh… o’I shall lead t’is merry band shoul’ no otheh.” He mumble to himself as he prepared.

Ulfric, upon returning to the mountains of Urguan, sighed a long sigh as he popped open a bottle of ale, hoping to soothe his aching, smog-filled lungs. He knew what they had faced was not all there was. "Impossible," he'd think to himself. What came for them wanted what it wanted, and if it could resurrect a fallen dragon of all things, he knew it would inevitably get what it wanted in time.

Ulfric reflected on old memories in the tavern of Kal'Darakaan. "Hmph... o'I started teh end ov teh Holy Orenian Empoire. o'I may beh no King no more, but o'I will 'elp start teh end ov t'is Unholy one as well." He'd answer bitterly, before grabbing his bottle, a close friend nowadays, and downing the last of what remained.

Ulfric would gaze towards his very dusty wardrobe of togas he received long ago from an old Irongut friend.

To my Fellow Azwyrtrumm, Many years ago, when I penned my letter to the citizens of Urguan calling for Bakir to reform the very core of our Kingdom, never had I expected the impact it would have, or the course of events that followed. My opinions on the day I published that letter have long faded, but to this day I do not regret writing such, as for better or worse, it was the right thing to do. Given such however, bright times are ahead. There is a new Grand King, and with such there are new opportunities to be had in Urguan. It has given me hope for the first time in a long time, and a renewed desire to see our kin back in one place, hence the reasoning of this publication. So I ask all of you whom bear the Frostbeard blood, and who desire to work with me for the betterment of our clan and Kingdom, to return home. Return to Tal’Rhewenholm, the last place our great forefather, the late Grand Emperor, Rhewen ‘Papa Bear’ Frostbeard called home. Assist me, your new Clan Father with forging a better future for all of us. signed, Grand King Emeritus, Clan Father of the Azwyrtrumm, Great-Grandson of Rhewen ‘Papa Bear’ Frostbeard

Username: Terry_23 Name: Ulfric Age: Old Are you a citizen of Urguan?: We'll find out Are you of Urguan's Folk?: Nothing I'd rather be

Ulfric would sit on the balcony of his room from Tal’Rhewenholm as the news was delivered to him. “Loike his fatheh before ‘im, he was ah foine leader, an’ ah better man. May ‘e finally rest.”

Ulfric would raise an eyebrow as he read the latest news. And from this, he began to smile, perhaps for the first time in a long time. "Per'aps it's toime o'I return teh greet an ol' friend..." He'd think, as he settled in for another icy night atop his mountainous home.

now this is a map i can get behind

I am being held against my will and told to updoot this Good job Classy! (I do actually mean that) (Yes this was written by me I promise)

An Error Left to Rot A traveling Greene, 97 S.A. “How could this happen…?” Those were the words of one Greene Caerme’onn-Norväyn, so many miles from home, ears ringing, eyes full of tears, body beginning to ache and bleed. “It was never supposed to go like that…” It would be thoughts like this that would plague the young adult as he ran, one hand clenched around that of a blood-stained sword. For many miles, past beaches, cities, forests and open plains... past the scrapes, cuts and bruises of nature and wildlife, would his mind race. Thoughts of guilt, regret, anger and utter sadness, thoughts the boy had once thought to have conquered if but for a time, haunted him completely once more. “How can I ever go home…?” After many an hour running, had the boy finally managed to come to a stop. Though, while the adrenaline left, memories and thoughts flooded in. That of his sister, the fear in her eyes as the blade made contact. The anger and what the boy perceived as regret and sorrow radiating from his mother. The rage and forcefulness of his father, who he’d many a time seen use against his enemies, now used against him. The effort and persistence of his aunt to see wrongs righted, and the boy saved from a dark path… It all became too much for him as he slouched down atop a nearby hill neighboring a stream, tears pouring from his face once more. This would occur for a time, his head hung low as he watched the world move on, down below. In his seat upon the hill, Greene would peer to his sword, finally giving it notice as his mind began to slowly calm. The first thing he’d realize, was the blood that remained towards the tip. With renewed urgency, he would attempt to clean the blade of it in the nearby water, though to no avail at first. This would cause him to lose focus once more, his mind reflecting back to Nevaehlen as his effort increased exponentially. The fearful eyes of his sister, the reddened anger from his mother, the booming authority of his father, and the pierced determination of his aunt. The memory of that scene replayed on and on. “Mum, Pops… Wulff, Auntie Lilly… Forgive me... I’m so sorry…” This memory would continue, until Greene found himself expended, the task of cleaning having sapped him of all his remaining strength. It was here that he’d collapse and drift into sound sleep near the water, the blade’s hums and minor vibrations the only company against the wilds of nature. The next morning, both Greene and the blade were gone, the only evidence of his movements being footprints in the mud, pointed seemingly in the direction of the Western hemisphere of Almaris. On a nearby tree, a simple sentence is carved. “The Wilds know ne honor. -G”

Greene would gaze towards the gate upon hearing of his father's arrival. He'd stand, brushing himself off as he stepped away from the forge, and smiled. "Some good news, at long last," he'd say to himself, as he moved to welcome back his father to the Vale.

Ulfric would give a curt nod as he glanced to the stockpile of iron he had, and then to the forge not far from him. "Toime teh get teh work whoilst Svardin es gone..." He'd go to say, as he brought the flames to life.