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To the Maker's Halls

Tags: Morlim Witch-king Nazgul Farak Mirkwood Mordor Agmundr

Short Summary: Morlim and Farak of Erebor take a break from their work upon the Beorning outpost to hunt a warg to the edge of Mirkwood, but soon find that the beast is far from alone...
Date (real-life): 2010-08-21
Scene Location: Western Edge of Mirkwood, Old Forest Road
Date (in-game): Trewsday, Day 27 of September.
Time of Day: Night
Weather: Clear
Middle-earth time is: Dawn on Trewsday, Day 27 of September.
Real time is: 16:41:05 MDT on Sat Aug 21 2010.

Western Edge of Mirkwood, Old Forest Road

You stand at the edge of the dark, great forest, once called Greenwood the Great, now Mirkwood the dark and fearful. The earth below your feet is covered in a thick mat of grass and ferns.

To the east and west an ancient dirt road cuts into the baked ground. Westward, the wide path enters into the dark gloom of the forest, of which you can barely make out the outlines. To the north and south the forest bends out of sight.

The sky is clear.

Contents:
Morlim

Obvious exits:
NorthWest, West, South, North, and East

[Morlim(#20753)]    
'Tis an Autumn's night upon northern Middle Earth, the chill of winter in the air. So near to Mirkwood, there is little in the way of animal life, so the night air is quiet. That is, until a party of Dwarves comes trundling through the grass, torches held high as they look for something.

This party of Dwarves is led by the Chief Master Veteran Morlim, torch in one hand and hammer in the other, so close to Mirkwood. His eyes are cast that way frequently, narrowing as he looks amidst the shadowed and night-covered trees. "Are we sure it went this way?" Rumbles the Dwarf to his companions, glancing back to them.

[Farak(#26511)]
Another of the Dwarves is the Priest Farak, Mace in one hand and torch in his shield hand.. Gazing into the darkness the Priest looks to the Chief Master Veteran as he speaks and says "I know it went his way, we all saw it.." continuing to scan the darkness for signs of movement, holding his torch high.

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Perhaps a clue to aid their search comes then from within the outlaying reaches of the forest; a long, mournful howl followed by angry barking. Strange as it might seem, there might almost be a hint of language to the cries, whatever is making them.

[Morlim(#20753)]
At the howl and barking, Morlim halts and holds up his hammer to signal the other Dwarves to do the same. "Defensive formation..." Murmurs the Engineer, eyes flicking about and gleaming softly in the torch light. "Careful, now, lads. We all know the evil name this forest carries... and not just because of the Elves..."

[Farak(#26511)]
Hearing the sounds from the forest and the words of the Chief Master Veteran, the Priest halts his movement and slowly back steps back towards the rest of the dwarves, looking over his shoulder for a moment he says "This forest harbors nothing but vile things.." Looking back to his front while he back steps, his eyes continue to scan the darkness with what little light the torches give off..

[Witch-king(#28583)]
A second howl picks up to answer the first, and a snarl soon follows as the two appear to be in communion. At the sound of their cries the rest of the forest falls silent; the wildlife knowing well it seems when not to be heard.

And then, just as the howls cease and their echoes fade, the faint sound of hooves drums dully upon the dust of the road eastward. A coldness creeps upon the air, the shadows of the forest pooling and stretching as though come alive, and for those with eyes keen enough to pierce the dark a horseman trots into view.

[Morlim(#20753)]
In the silence after the howls, Morlim shifts his stance, passing his torch to another Dwarf so as to heft his hammer with both hands. As the sound of hooves reach the Dwarf's ears, he growls quietly as he takes a few steps towards the forest; if he notices the cold, he gives no indication.

"I can hear you, horseman, if not see you yet!" Shouts the Chief in Westron. "Identify yourself or face the wrath of the Dwarves!"

[Farak(#26511)]
Hearing the sounds of hoofs and then the words of the Chief Master Veteran. the Priest shivers slightly, breathing deeply the Priest also hands his torch to another dwarf and says "Ensure we have light lad, we may need it.." Hefting his shield onto his arm and standing in a defensive position the Priest stares into the darkness trying to see the unseen horseman.

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

The advance of the horseman does not slow, even in the face of Morlim's challenge, but instead a thin laugh fills the air between them for a moment. The howls have stilled, but even so the woods are deathly quiet, and the shadows lining the road itself now might seem to coil and writhe as they seek to avoid the flicker of the torchlight.

"Dwarves?" asks a voice then, and the silhouette of the rider might now be seen against the treeline. "But these woods are ruled by Elvenfolk. What right have you to speak of wrath when walking upon another's road?"

[Morlim(#20753)]
"This is /our/ road, Horseman," replies Morlim, voice rumbling, a scowl upon his face at the laughter. "Built by the Dwarves in years long past for our purposes. Therefore, a Dwarf can speak of wrath as he likes." He hefts his hammer, letting out a low laugh. "And it is not something entirely spent, as many have found to their disadvantage.

"Now, tell us who you are."

[Farak(#26511)]
Eyes upon the dark outline of the ridder the Priest stares hard, his Mace resting upon his shoulder and his shield up high in a defensive position, listening to the words of the Chief Master Veteran, the Priest says nothing but continues to stare hard at the Horseman..

[Witch-king(#28583)]
"I am the new keeper of the road, since you have left it to ruin," answers the horseman then, still trotting forward in the same manner, until at last his mount stands a dozen yards or so away from the Dwarven party. The horse comes to a halt, and against the stars can be seen a deep, black cowl that twitches hither and thither as if in survey of the khazad. A gloved hand grips tight the reins of his steed to then ease himself out of the saddle, dropping to the road with a grace perhaps unexpected.

"A Dwarf may speak all he wishes, but his speech is mere grunting and belching beside the fair voices of the Firstborn. Perhaps you should leave these woods to those who value them for more than their timber..."

[Morlim(#20753)]
"Pah!" says the Dwarf, "the Elves in that forest are good for nothing. Handy to have in a fight, if they do not kill you first." A grunt comes from Morlim, turning into a barked laugh. "Be careful to whom you issue orders, O Warden of the Road," says he, a level of sarcasm in his voice, "and watch your tongue when you seek to insult a Dwarf. It may be removed the next time you speak."

"Why come you from the forest? Nothing good comes from there."

[Farak(#26511)]
Watching as the rider dismounts, the Priest continues to stare and listen to the listen to the words spoken. Standing strait shield up and mace at the ready the Priest finally speaks saying "If you be such a warden of the road, then I suggest you take up a new profession. For the road was built by ours and is therefore claimed by us.. Leave now, while we still let you.."

[Witch-king(#28583)]
A sneer can be heard upon the voice of the horseman as it answers these latest charges, and all about the group the shadows clutch and claw their way to choke upon the torchlight if they can. Even the stars fade against this sudden tide of dread, and from within the folds of the figure's black robes a longsword is fetched.

"Let me? You think your stunted rabble have power over one such as I? Step forth, if you have the courage, and let us see how well your axes hew!"

COMBAT - Wielded: The Witch-king's Sword

[Morlim(#20753)]
"We are not manlings, easily intimidated," replies Morlim, a feral grin upon his face; his eyes flick about at the shadows and the dimmed stars before returning to the Horseman. "We are Dwarves! Made by the Maker Himself in the depths of time! This is your last chance, O Warden: Leave and abandon your claim upon our road." That said, the Chief reaches up and slams down the visor of his helm, other Dwarves following suit.

[Farak(#26511)]
Rolling his shoulder forwards and then backwards the Priest once again raises his shield and Mace, standing in a fighting position, all while his eyes do not leave the shadowy figure, slowly his eyes look about the darkness, then back.

[Witch-king(#28583)]
High does the fell-blade of the horseman rise into the night, and as a cold laugh seeps from the depths of the cowl the forest suddenly breaks its silence. Fresh howls of menace and anger sound then from just behind the treeline, turning soon enough to a low baying that bounces from trunk to trunk. Shapes lope into view from the undergrowth, wargs come as though at some call, and half a dozen of the foul creatures slink towards the Dwarven group.

The horseman himself lowers his sword then, pointing the tip towards Morlim in wordless challenge, and softer than the night's breath he steals forth to close with his chosen adversary.

[Morlim(#20753)]
"Dwarves! Formation! Kill those beasts!" The Chief shouts his orders, muffled slightly by the full-length visor of his helm. The other Dwarves form a tight circle, the two torch-bearers in the centre; shield clash as they are brought up, and weapons held high to bring them down upon the wargs.

Meanwhile, Morlim seems to have accepted the Horseman's challenge, hefting his war hammer as he strides forward towards the dark cloaked form. "Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!" Bellows the Engineer, echoed by the circled Dwarves, the ancient war-cry of the Dwarves ringing across the world once more; one of the Dwarves sounds a war horn, its note deep and resonate.

Judging the distance closed enough, Morlim swings his hammer at the Horseman's form.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Farak(#26511)]
Hearing the sounds of the beasts approaching the group of Dwarves, the Priest bends his knees slightly getting into a fighting stance, eyes darting about looking for any creature unlucky enough to move within striking range. Looking back to the shadowy figure and then to the Chief Master Veteran, the Priest moves following the Engineer, close on his heels, Mace at the ready.

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Snarls and growls fill the air to answer the challenge of Morlim's war-cry, and the wargs fan out to eye the Dwarven group with keen gazes of malice. No mere wolves or hounds are these; a cruel intelligence lighting their eyes and piercing the shadows. Slowly they advance upon the khazad, wary it seems of those hefty hammers, and as Farak moves to follow his fellow one of the beasts springs suddenly for the Dwarf's throat.

Meanwhile the hammer of Morlim goes astray, for while robed and swaddled in black cloth as he is the horeseman seems possessing of some unnatural grace and strength. Deftly slipping aside the strike he replies with one of his own; a deft slice of his blade arcing down as though to hew away the Engineer's weapon-hand.

You half-blindly attack Morlim with your Longsword...
Your attack against Morlim badly wounds him!

[Morlim(#20753)]
As the blade arcs down, the Chief moves so that it doesn't take away his hand. Rather, he pivots, exposing his back, and it is there the Horseman's blade lands, slicing through mail along the Dwarf's upper part of his off-arm and onto his back; a low groan of pain comes from the Engineer before he gives a halting chuckle. "Is that your best, O Warden?" Asks Morlim, sarcasm heard through the pain in the voice. He doesn't give the other a chance to respond, thrusting the head of his hammer, and its spike, in the general direction of the Horseman's face.

Of the circled Dwarves, they give insulting calls to the wargs, almost daring them to attack. One can be heard shouting 'Come, beasties, and I shall turn your pelt into a cloak!'

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Farak(#26511)]
Now upon the Horseman, the Priest moves to the side, slightly, and looks to the Engineer as he is attacked, then looking back to the man. Swinging his Mace in a downward motion, aimed for the horsemans arm shouting a loud war cry whilst he attacks.

Farak attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Farak's attack...

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Whirling left and right as the attacks come in, the black-clad horseman darts aside the punch of Morlim's hammerhead, but the mace of Farak has some success as he spins away. The robes are dragged aside by the sweep of the mace, revealing a suit of black mail beneath, but small reward this may seem as a cold mocking laugh rends the night air once more.

"My best, runtish beasts?" he taunts the khazad, and for a moment there might seem a flash of red fire within the depths of his cowl. "Nay, I shall save that for when your lungs are fit to burst and your heart fails from the effort of your flails! Come hither then, and meet the kiss of the Warden's blade!"

To Farak is bent the horseman's malice then, the sword stabbing forth toward the noble Dwarf's throat.

All about this duel the wargs have charged into the fray, though cunning they seem in their movements. Small harm can their fangs and claws do against the steel skin of the Children of Durin, but ever they dart in and out, perhaps seeking to tire the khazad and expose a weakpoint in their armour.

You half-blindly attack Farak with your Longsword...
Your attack against Farak badly wounds him!

[Morlim(#20753)]
"Are you a dancer or a fighter?!" Growls the Chief, bringing his hammer back after it has missed. A scowl beneath his visor, Morlim begins to circle the Horseman, looking to strike from the side. "Only after you have felt the skill of Dwarven craftsmanship!" That said, he swings his hammer at the Horseman's knee.

The circled Dwarves strike when they can at the wargs as they dart in and out; for now, they do not look to be tiring, for the Children of Aule are a hardy race.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Farak(#26511)]
Moving just in time so that the blade does not strike his throat, but rather stabs his shield shoulder, penetrating his armor and causing the dwarf to let out a loud grunt of pain. Back stepping as the blood begins to flow from his shoulder, a deep wound it is. Looking to his fellow dwarf for a slight moment the Priest once again attacks, swinging his Mace, aimed at the shoulder of the Dark Horseman.

Farak attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Once more the cold laughter fills the air around the black figure and his foes, and the darkness might seem to rise up and shroud their duel from all other eyes. As this sinister veil surrounds them the figure seems to grow, towering yet higher than before and quenching for true the starlight from above. This way and that he whirls, evading the blows of the Dwarves, and a savage chop of his blade is sent down towards the breast of Morlim; perhaps seeking to test the craftsmanship of the Dwarves for true.

The wargs press on, circling and snapping their jaws here and there; one bolder than the rest springing for the throat of a khazad.

You half-blindly attack Morlim with your Longsword...
Your attack against Morlim moderately wounds him!

[Morlim(#20753)]
Once more, the Horseman's blade strikes true, but Morlim is a little quicker upon his feet. He pivots and brings his off-arm up, taking the blow upon it; though it splits mail and blood seeps from the wound, it does not seem that bad. "Conjurer's tricks will not deflect our wrath, Horseman!" With both hands, his off-arm used lightly, the Chief swings his hammer at the Horseman's knee once more.

The Dwarf the warg has lept at raises his shield, though he staggers back some as the creature hits; his axe is swung in a vicious, brutal arc down at the warg's spine.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and you parry his attack with your Longsword!

[Farak(#26511)]
Blood still pouring from the wound upon his shoulder the Priest lunges forward with an upward swing of his mace, aimed this time for the chin of the Dark Horseman. Grunting in pain as he does so in an attempt to keep his shield in a defense position..

Farak attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Longsword!

[Witch-king(#28583)]
But ever has the shadow of the horseman grown as the khazad renew their attack, and now behind the shroud of their battle a fierce gaze is kindled within his dark cowl; two crimson eyes glowing as though lit by flame. With unearthly speed the sword of the horseman sweeps from left to right, the ring of steel against steel echoing out into the night as the hammers are parried. A wild cackle seeps as though a foul breath from his hood, and he answers Morlim's words with a viper's hiss.

"Stunted fool!" he scorns the Engineer. "You cannot vie with the likes of I; for I wield the power of the Shadows, and they will squeeze the light from your eyes!"

This said, his cold blade stabbing out anew he drives it forth in a mighty lunge at the Chief's breast. Terrible is the blow, and vicious is the sword, for though Morlim knows it not he faces one of the favored of the Lidless Eye; fell master of the Nazgul of Mordor, and mighty are the spells wrought into his weapon.

Meanwhile the bold warg goes down with a yowl of pain as the axe of the Dwarf cuts deep into mottled hide, and as it collapses in a heap his fellows are driven to frenzy. As one they charge the Dwarf in question, ravening jaws snapping and sharp claws seeking to rip out his gullet.

You half-blindly attack Morlim with your Longsword...
Your attack against Morlim severely wounds him!

[Farak(#26511)]
Shouting another war cry, the Priest presses the attack once again. Sidestepping he spots the fiery eyes, and a look of shock and almost fear can be seen upon his face, Still though he arcs his Mace in a downwards motion, aimed for the head of the Dark Horseman.

Farak attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Longsword!

[Morlim(#20753)]
Morlim tries to shy away from the blade, but the Horseman's speed is too much. The sword punctures the Dwarf's mail and into the shoulder of his off-arm, and a cry of pain comes from the Engineer. His breathing is heavier, now, comming in gasps, as the arm hangs limply at his side now.

"We... are beings of the forge, Horseman," hisses the Engineer, drawing his hammer back before thrusting its spiked head at the figure's torso.

The Dwarf goes down under the weight of the wargs, though if he is dead yet is not sure. The other Dwarves, however, give a cry and surge at the wargs, axes and hammers flashing in the torchlight as they rise and fall.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Witch-king(#28583)]
The fury of their onslaught does for two more of the wargs at once, for the night is filled once again with yowls and whines of agony as the steel of Erebor slices open their flesh. The three remaining wargs back away a short distance, regrouping, though even with the sight of their fallen fellows the thrall of their master seems to hold their nerve together. Snarling, yapping viciously, they circle the Dwarves once more.

And their master seems at ease within the shadows he has coiled about his duel, for as Farak strikes and Morlim follows suit, once more does he deftly dart aside with a speed and grace not suggested by his swaddled frame, parrying the former and dodging the latter. Deep within his cowl the fires of his eyes burn all the more, leaning all his dark malice and dread upon the Priest now, turning his back to Morlim. Down upon Farak his blade now slices, seeking it would seem to cut the khazad's proud head in twain.

You half-blindly attack Farak with your Longsword...
Your attack against Farak badly wounds him!

[Morlim(#20753)]
The Horseman turns his back. Morlim, feral grin upon his face for a moment, takes the opportunity presented. Bringing his hammer back, he swings it in a great arc at the target the figure has so generously presented, seeking (it seems) to pulverise the Horseman's spine.

The Dwarves reform, pulling the injured or dead Dwarf into the circle and closing the gap. The war horn is blown once more, deep and reverberant. The Dwarves begin to clash their weapons against their shields.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Morlim's attack...

[Farak(#26511)]
Attempting to jump to the side to avoid the attack, it is not nearly fast enough, for the Dark Horseman's blade strikes his ture upon the already injured shoulder, and with a rather loud grunt of pain the Priest's shield falls from his now useless arm.. Rage in his eyes the priest attacks once again, swinging his Mace at the dark man, aimed at his chin once again.

Farak attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Farak's attack...

[Witch-king(#28583)]
Rage is not reserveed for the Dwarves alone, for as Morlim's hammer strikes the exposed back of his foe, the hood whirls about in anger. Alas for the khazad, as fine as the workmanship of the Lonely Mountain may be, it is not the match of the evil smithies of the Dark Lord himself, and the mail beneath the cloak turns aside the blow. All the same, the distraction allows Farak to land a similar strike, and if the gaze of the Nazgul was aflame before, now it sears into the choking darkness wrapped around the trio as though lit by fires of the distant mountain of Doom.

A shriek rends the air, terrible and awful to the ears, piercing the night and setting the nearby forest itself aquiver. Birds take wing urgently from the shock of it, and those animals which hid at the coming of the Ringwraith now bolt for safety, thinking little for whither they might run. For the Witch-king of Angmar's wrath is kindled now for true, and a gloved hand shoots out to claw the air before Farak.

Black mist seeps from his hood towards the Priest's face, the claw-like hand snatching at the air, and it might seem as though daggers of ice stab at his will in a bid to steal away his heart and resolve.

Then, quick as a snake the wraith whirls about to face Morlim, all the savage ire burning in his eyes trained upon the Engineer, and with malice dripping from every word he curses his foe. "Folk of the forge, you say? Then speed to my Master's own, where the iron of your soul shall be tortured and folded from now until the World's end!"

Down slashes the blade of the Nazgul; down in a bid to hew the Dwarf's head clean from his shoulders.

You half-blindly attack Morlim with your Longsword...
Your attack against Morlim terribly wounds him!

[Farak(#26511)]
The mist that attacks the Priest's face, seems to take his breath. For Farak begins to gasp for air as he covers his ears from the deafening shriek.. Pain is written across the face of the priest, as he slowly back steps, moving back and looking as if his vision is blurred or he has been blinded as he continues to gasp for air, now clutching at his throat, unable to breathe...

[Morlim(#20753)]
The Dwarf moves back, but hardly fast enough; the Nazgul's blade slashes across his chest, rending mail forged deep beneath the Lonely Mountain. Breathing hard and ragged now, the Chief speaks. "When... when I die, fiend... I shall hie me to my Maker's side... and none may disrupt that journey."

Blood drips from beneath his visor to the ground below, reeling dizzily at the scream, seemingly standing by sheer force of will (or bull-headedness). Shaking his head slowly, he hefts his hammer as though it weighs like an anvil. He does not swing it, however; he thrusts the vicious spike at the Horseman's knee, falling with it.

Morlim attacks you with his War Hammer!...
...and he misses!

[Witch-king(#28583)]
But the strength of the strike is not enough, and falls short of the mark, tumbling past the robes of the Nazgul as the fell creature steps backward. Cruel, mocking laughter echoes out from the hood, and the eyes within sharpen to scarlet points of light as though narrowed.

"Your strength is spent, runt of the mountains, such as it was, and now I set you on another journey; one you shall enjoy far less..."

With this the Witch-king draws forth a second blade, a long knife glowing with a pale light all of its own, and raising it high above his head he steps forward anew; ready to plunge it between the noble khazad's shoulderblades...

COMBAT - Wielded: The Witch-king's Morgul Blade

[Morlim(#20753)]
Again, the Dwarven war horn blows. But, now, several answer it. Horns blowing wildly announce the arrival of a third party to this battle, from the west. They are soon supplimented by screams and battle cries.

Appearing almost suddenly is a large war party of Beornings, led at their front by the berserker Agmundr. Torchlight flickers across his axe and armour, his face red and lost in the battle rage as he runs towards the wargs besieging the Dwarves. The war party follows, some throwing their spears; most go beyond, landing not far from the duel between the Dwarves and the Horseman.

Morlim remains up on the ground, groaning quietly; if he hears the war horns, much less the Nazgul's words, he does not show it.

[Witch-king(#28583)]
And the cowl of the dread Lord of Morgul twitches upward at the ruckus, the fires of his eyes dimming to a ruby smoulder as they regard the onslaught. A low, feral hiss seeps from his hood then, a snarl of anger at the interruption, and as his concentration breaks so too does the veil of darkness surrounding he, Morlim and Farak fade. Once more the starlight shines upon the noble Dwarves, all the brighter in its wrath against the black enemy, and the Witch-king takes a hasty step back.

"Filthy rabble," he curses, and at once stows away his blades within his sable clothing, his gloved hands free and already reaching for the reins of his mount. "Soon enough you'll know the vengeance of the Land of Shadow, and rue your interference."

This said he turns and sweeps up onto his horse's back, dragging its head about by the straps, and spurring it to a sudden gallop. Off it shoots, like an arrow of shadow into the waiting dark, leaving only the beat of hoof against road as the rumor of its passage.

The wargs, beset by the Dwarves and deprived of their master's will, fall at the first strokes of the Beornings, strangled howls cut short as axes slice through throats and hammers crush their skulls. Ere long the ground is littered with the mottled corpses of the evil beasts, and nary a whine escapes their stilled jaws.

The Dwarves and their erstwhile allies are alone once more.

[Morlim(#20753)]
The wargs slaughtered, Agmundr quickly glances around, looking for something else to kill. Upon seeing nothing, however, he begins to calm, his face clearing. Once it does, it is replaced by a look of confusion at the sight of Morlim and Farak, blinking at their (to him) sudden appearance. With a gesture, he sends Beornings over to help them.

Two of them turn over the Chief Master Veteran and remove his helmet. Blood seeps from his mouth, staining his beard, and he murmurs one word several times: 'Priest'.

[Farak(#26511)]
Stumbling about, the Priest is finally able to start regaining his breath.. Gasping in large mouthfuls of air.. He falls to his knees reaching out in front of himself, appearing almost blinded, Moving slowly he makes his way back to the Chief Master Veteran, his eyes watering and vision almost all but gone. Looking to the Chief Master Veteran he says in words full of pain "Master Morlim.. I can hardly see.. How fare you my cousin.."

[Morlim(#20753)]
"My death is upon me, cousin," rumbles the Engineer, coughing up blood. "I shall not last long, I think. Will you hear and convey my last words and wishes?" The voice is quiet, weak from bloodloss.

[Farak(#26511)]
Reaching and grasping the Engineers bloodied hand the Priest says "You return to the maker, to help him with his work I will hear your words cousin." still unable to see the Priest gazes off into the darkness, his eyes appear to be clouded but the Priest says "Speak your will cousin, and I will do your will.."

[Morlim(#20753)]
The Zinbar lowers his voice so that the nearby Beornings may not hear. "Bury me under the Mountain, in the crypts of my fathers, if you are able. If not, bury me in the outpost I have built, so that a Dwarf may always stand vanguard against the orcs of the mountains and the Beornings do not forget our sacrifices. Bury me in full armour and my hammer in my hands."

He pauses, interrupted by a cough, his grip upon the priest's hand strong but growing weaker. "Tell my family... I am sorry that there is no weapon to return... tell them... something appropriate." He is silent for several long moments, breathing laboured.

"Farewell, cousin. I shall see that the Maker keeps a space for you." A brief flicker of a smile passes across his face before his grip slackens and his breathing slows to a stop.

[Farak(#26511)]
Hearing the words from the Engineer, the Priest bows his head still holding the hand of his now fallen comrade he says "Maker take him and let him be at peace beside you" releasing his hand he reaches up and gracefully closes the eyes of the fallen dwarf, his eyes not continue to water do to his injury or the death of a friend.. It is hard to tell.. Shouting he says "Dwarves! We will return with our Chief Master Veteran to the Outpost.." the priest continues to kneel beside his fallen friend, water coming from his eyes.

Date added: 2010-08-23 14:48:47    Hits: 95
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