Terry

Ulfric would shake his head as the missive was passed to him. "T'ose damned fools. Unbelievable..." would be all that he'd mutter as he moved to his home to pick up his quill once more, a renewed energy to write.

-1 I've never been to Utah

Ulfric would smile, as the plan he'd helped formulate finally came to fruition.

A Harsh Return from the Cold Ulfric, upon his Adventures through the Cold Mountains, 89-90 S.A. His departure for the Mountains was meant for many things. Peace, quiet, a time to grieve past losses, even a bit of searching to name a few. A time to think, determine what might come next in this long life of his. Perhaps he’d hitch himself back to Urguan, assist in the problems that, from what he heard, were only growing there. Or maybe he’d give up Urguan completely, move fully to Akueli or the Vale, where he knew he had good friends he could rely on. Maybe he could even take up the role as leader once more. A role he, to this day, grows more and more bitter with leaving behind in the way he did. These thoughts plagued him as the freezing and numb feel of the cold mountain gave way to heat and shelter. As he undid his chainmail and laid his shield against the stone of the cave he made home in, he would think to himself, turning to his humble home of rock. “Odd,” is what would come first, as his brow furrowed. “Have I really come this far in life, as prior Lord Justiciar and Grand King, to lone pilgrim in the mountains?” He’d question to himself. He’d shake his head as he went outside to collect snow for water, putting it on the fire to boil. His thoughts would continue to rumble around his head for the rest of the night, through dinner, through his bout of letter-writing, all to culminate in an explosion of rage as he gathered firewood. In what would typically take Ulfric 10-15 swings to down a tree, his rageful and adrenaline-filled state downed it in only 3. It was here, in the calm after the storm with nothing but the sound of his breath and beating heart, that Ulfric’s mind finally cleared, for once since his abdication it gave him a clear path forward. From here, he went to his letters, hastily writing as the words presented themselves, and as the letters were sent, the plans began to form. Ulfric was back, and he intended to make the most of his return. To My Fellow Urguanites, Urguan is dying, dying from a sickness that has plagued her for a long time now. From a sickness that, like us, has persevered, for better or worse. Every monarch that has stood on that throne, from Jorvin and his predecessors, to Norli, Levian’Tol, myself and now Bakir, consciously or not, has tried to heal this sickness to no avail. But no matter how our effort varied, this sickness persisted, latching onto the populace no matter the King, no matter the agenda. It has become clear to me now that Urguan itself cannot be healed through arbitrary means. I praise my fellow Kings for their efforts, whether they were purposefully trying or not, but it is a painful truth that we all must face now. The Grand Kingdom of Urguan is withering, and only through major reforms can its course be corrected. For eons we have carried on the legacy of our forefathers, and with great merit. It is from them that we have what we have today, and forever shall we be thankful. But this has stagnated our peoples and has brought our creativity as dwed to a screeching halt. For eons we have carried the name and ideals of Urguan, but we carry the ideals of dwarves from different times, in a different world. We listen to their advice on how things should work, but alas, they do not work today as they did back then. But yet, we keep listening, intent on the fact that they know best and that their support is needed until we become the very thing that plagues us. We are afraid that if we stray from the path they put us on, they will come back to force us back towards it. If we do not adapt to these new times and new challenges, how are we to survive alongside our allies? How are we to survive alongside one another? The truth is as plain now as it’s ever been. Urguan is bloated, locked in the past. Too much land but not enough Dwed to effectively administer it. Too much pride, but not enough dwed to share in it. Too many grudges, but not enough dwed to see them through. Urguan must become something more if we are to live on. But it will not. Not with its current administration. I know this all too well. Towards the end of my administration, and especially during the War of the Wigs, Urguan began to decline, and it left me with a choice. Step down, allowing the people a new ruler with new ideas to reinvigorate them, or allow my pride to stand in Urguan’s way. I chose the former, and my pride aside, it was the best decision for the Kingdom. Bakir, you face this decision now. I hope for the sake of our future, you make the right one. Step down and allow your successor to make use of a new slate to reforge Urguan, or do so yourself. A King never wishes to be remembered wrongly, and such I wish not for you. Grand King Emeritus, Great-Grandson of Rhewen

Ulfric, gone trekking through treacherous mountains, would not hear of the also-treacherous news that awaited him until he returned, and yet… even thousands of miles away, he thought he felt a twang of grief hit him…

“Ah grudge settled, in the end t’at is all t’at matters.” Ulfric would mutter as he crossed out the grudge on his copy of the great book. “Too maneh grudges gone unsettled t’ese days.”

Ulfric would frown upon seeing the missive. "Ef ah clan es bein' target such as teh Grimgolds are now, et realleh makes yeh wondeh why such es happenin'." He'd say with a shake of his head. "Interferin'... An' t'ey wondeh why t'ey are nae so loiked nowadays..."

[!] By the Will of the current Goldhand Clan Father, Conan Goldhand, and the Approval of Lord Justiciar Falk Irongut, it is decreed that Hekkaes Anvilaxe be pardoned from this grudge.

Ulfric would read over a copy of the missive, before he too, exclaimed; "... W'at? T'is wasn't teh plan..." He'd then promptly exit his home in Akueli.

More votes on here than people on the server at one time... crazy.

Ulfric would raise an eyebrow upon seeing the missive hung outside of the Senate chambers. "Gauntlet Act? Seems teh lad received the same sort ov advice o'I did..." He'd note to himself, before walking out of Urguan and back to his home in Akueli.

The now old, retired-King sighed from his cabin in the cold mountains as he returned, taking his dented and blood-splatted armor off piece by piece, cursing as his golem legs withered in and out from the many hits they received. “Certainleh ah longbeard now, nae doubt about et…” He’d think to himself, as he pulled his hair free and braided his very gray beard once more. He’d relive the memories of the battlefield as he went to pour himself a drink, remembering the smiles and cheers of joy once victory had been achieved once again. Once his drink had been had, he’d say to himself again as he sat slowly, a pained expression covering his face as he sat. “Teh plan es comin’ teh fruition… o’I promised Urguan o’I wouldn’t leave et in worse shape t’en et was when o’I found et, an’ o’I’m happy we’ve managed teh accomplish such.” He’d offer a look over to his collection of photographs, smiling when he eyed the final one. “Soon meh ol’ friend… soon o’I can finalleh rest, an’ see yeh once ag’in…” He’d whisper, as he reclined, going to take a lovely rest.

The old newly-retired King would chuckle from his home in the mountains, as he read the missive. “Cute,” is all he’d say, as he poured himself a drink and sat, watching the sun rise on a rejuvenated Dwarven Kingdom.

[!] The Horn of the Deep bellows out and echo throughout the caverns of Kal’Darakaan as the dwarven people flood the streets from the Hall of the Obsidian Throne. A great ruckus and celebration erupts as the winds of history shift once more... THE ASCENSION OF BAKIR IREHEART For many decades has Grand King Ulfric Frostbeard reigned prosperously, continuing the progress made by his predecessors and leading Urguan through a tumultuous war; but any Longbeard who has worn the weight of the Grand Crown, who has felt the piercing edges of the Obsidian Throne know that it is a great burden. And no matter how well a reign, after a certain time it weathers down the mighty stone of a King’s fortitude, and he must come to resign. Grand King Ulfric Frostbeard began to feel the weight of his crown, the pain of his throne, and knew that for Urguan to prosper and grow to new heights, it would need a new king. It is such wisdom that brought Ulfric to abdicate. It was on the eve of the 3rd of the Deep Cold, SA 67, where Ulfric Frostbeard held a council meeting, at which he raised the crown off his head and set it on the throne, announcing his resignation. There was a final cheer for Grand King Ulfric ‘the Uniter’ Frostbeard, before it would continue to pass towards the nominations of the next Grand King. Much like his kin Utak Ireheart in the old Under-Realm, Bakir Ireheart was unanimously nominated and elected to the office of Grand King, leader of all dwarfdom. A great cry bellowed from the council room, and the mountain shook with the cheering of a rejuvenated dwarven people. Bakir Ireheart has been officially elected the 34th Grand King of Urguan, and shall be crowned by the High Prophet Norli Starbreaker on the 8th of Sun's Smile, SA 68 (Sunday, 3/20 at 4 PM EST), in the Hall of the Obsidian Throne. All of the children of the Brathmordakin are summoned to appear in the court, as well as all allies and friends of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan invited to participate in the festivities thereafter. NARVAK OZ ULFRIC, NARVAK OZ BAKIR, NARVAK OZ URGUAN! Lord Regent of Urguan, Elder of Clan Frostbeard, Thane of Rhewenholm, Great-Grandson of Rhewen

"No... et can't beh..." Ulfric would comment.

Grand King Ulfric grumbles at the fact the coveted Dwedsmark sunk before the Seeker's Ark did, but was otherwise glad to see the Paladins alright come the end of the fighting.

The Price of Doing Business Within his Royal Palace, Ulfric sat. His face emotionless like that of the stone around him, he hadn't been seen in days, the stress of death, war and destruction having been an anchor on his back for longer than he could recall at that point. But he had managed, shouldering the burdens, putting on a brave face for those in attendance to his yearly courts and of those he'd see around the city... but the news of Gildroc's death had broken through that demeanor, the surprise and shock thereafter hitting him hardest. It was at the yearly Council meeting, where Ulfric had learned this. It had come at the conclusion of the meeting, typically the time when the King would feel most at ease, having passed through what occasionally would be a tumultuous period of time, full of fellow dwed yelling and arguing, attempting to push their agendas through force of words alone. Ulfric, surprisingly, was happy prior to the news, having passed this meeting relatively unscathed, but even then he had the feeling that that day had been, so far, too good to be true. He had noticed the absence of his Grand Steward, one dwed who he could typically count on to attend, but shrugged it off. It was only afterwards that he’d come to realize; A good day… never lasts long. And with such, came Torsun, his Yemekar’s Pick. Ulfric had figured that the announcement he had requested to bring up prior to the meeting was to be something about the Working Guilds of Urguan of which he oversaw, or a new matter on that of the Deep Roads, but all too quickly did the King come to learn of the Grand Steward’s true reasoning for his absence. Through an albeit wavering tone, Torsun, there and then, announced the death of Ulfric’s friend, his life taken by that of his own hand. For a moment, Ulfric sat, silent. His face locked onto that of Torsun’s, his mind racing. Gildroc had been one of the first dwed to greet Ulfric back when he first arrived, becoming one of his greatest friends, having thrust him into the life of a legionnaire, something of which Ulfric considered to have begun his life in Urguan and which culminated in where he found himself now, sat upon the Obsidian Throne. But to hear now, that the story of one so close to him ended so abruptly… Ulfric wrestled with the thought. It was with this that the façade finally broke. Ulfric stood, speechless, muttering a few simple words before practically stumbling out of the Council Chambers, not to be seen for days, but heard. BANG. He had a funeral to plan, a war to finish, and a Kingdom to revitalize. BANG. He wouldn’t let himself stop now, he knew Gildroc wouldn’t want him to. BANG. So he worked, day in and out, writing, planning, forging, until he was ready to face his people again. BANG. So every time the hammer was swung, he'd remind himself, over and over. "Narvak oz Urguan, Narvak oz Gildroc Goldhand. May t'ose t'at caused t'is beh brought befer meh in chains."