It is 11 o'clock after Noon, on the Day of Freedom,
the 11th Day of the Month of the Heat, Year 321.

Final Death

        In the early days, Arganoth, my mighty brother, was amongst the first people to explore The Realms of Valheru. His adventures are countless, and his name is still whispered in some of the darker corners of Valheru. But every great hero has one last adventure to face: Final Death.

        It was a sunny day, and I ventured into the Chicken's Rest to gather in the last gossip. As I entered the room, I blinked a couple of times to adjust my eyes due to the lack of sunlight. The smoke of many pipes was hanging in the air. I removed my Waraxe of Scyld, and walked up to Sam. He knew what I wanted, and he had all ready poured up a mug of beer. I payed him, and we had a little chat about his wife and kids. I looked around in the bar, and saw a couple of my friends here, having a drink before setting out into the world of danger. In an especially dark corner, I saw a dark figure, looming over a mug of beer. Curiously, I walked to him, and my surprise was great as I saw my own brother, Arganoth, sitting before me! It had been many moons and a lot of kills since the last time I had seen him. And time had certainly not been kind to him. His face was the one of a battle-scarred veteran, yet he looked very old and fragile, and by counting on my fingers I realised that he was 84 years old! Now, 84 years would'nt be much for a dwarf, but for a human it was simply incredible, no wonder he looked like something the cat had dragged in. In fact, he was something the cat had dragged in.

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        About 84 years ago, a couple of years before I was born, our housecat at my home had discovered a human child lying outside in the street, crying. My mother was (actually she still is) a kind and caring soul who took in the little babe as if he was her own. Raised amongst dwarves, Arganoth never doubted that he was a person of great potential, as he was about one and a half foot taller than everyone he knew. That too was the reason he at the age of 16 set out to explore and conquer the world with nothing but his clothes and a membership in the mysterious Fighter Guild...

        Soon 70 years passed, I grew up, and heard many a tale about my bigger brother. Although he disappeared after about 40 years of adventuring, the stories about him were still told, and soon my greatest wish was to become as great a figure as Arganoth and yet I did'nt even know him! Still, I felt there were a connection between us, brothers, if not of blood then of mind, and here he was, old and worn down.

His eyes were milk-white, and his voice was a faint whisper as he said "Greetings Vaqaur.."

        I was amazed - he had recognized me after all those years! But how he managed to see with those eyes still puzzles me... Could be some kind of unknown spell, but thats not why I am telling this tale.

I tried to talk, but he interrupted me "My days in this world are nearly over. Here, take this,"

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
He gave me a strange looking bag bearing his insignia on it, and continued, "This is the fruit of my days in Valheru. May they serve you well."

I opened the bag and saw equipment and items I had only heard about. Arganoth examined me with his white eyes, and nodded. "I can see you are worthy of my gift. Now, I will spend my last hour in this world answering questions for all those with no ansvers. Maybe then the gods will have mercy on my evil soul."

And indeed I saw the evil surrounding Arganoth, like a nearly visible aura it echoed with the screams of the innocent women and children he had slain with great delight in his time. I lifted up my voice so that all of Valheru could hear it, yelling that anybody with questions concerning this world should pay a visit to the Chickens Rest now.

        And so they did. People came rushing in from all corners of Valheru, and my weakened brother answered as many questions as he could. After about half an hour of this questioning, the air suddenly seemed to crackle with energy, small lightnings began to show in the air, moving in all directions, and then a dark figure silently faded into my view in front of me. He had the body of a slender elf, and his dark-blue cape hid his legs so that I began to doubt he was touching the ground. His eyes were holes of pure energy, completely blue, they emanated the immense power this powerful being could conjure and control. Azen was here. He looked at me and right through me before he moved (he did not walk, he moved) to Arganoth's seat. He raised a slender hand and touched Arganoth's forehead gently, forcing both into some form of trance.

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        Seconds later Azen opened his eyes, and without having said a word he vanished from sight, completely silent and with no trace of transportation. Arganoth opened his eyes, and informed me that Azen seldom spoke as he found direct transfer of thoughts a better mean of communication. The rest of the hour passed, and then Arganoth looked at me and said "Take me to my happy place."
Later, when I think back on this moment, I have to say that Arganoth had a very well-developed sense of drama. I think he enjoyed being the center of everyone's attention, as he nearly fainted into my arms, exagerating the role of sick and dying man. I took my horse and placed Arganoth on it. Then in a slow and easy pace we moved the little distance between the Chicken Rest and Udgaard Temple. When we reached the temple entrance, Arganoth stopped me, he wanted to watch the world outside. And it struck me that the temple had probably been one of the first places Arganoth had visited on his long journey. It had been his first place to rest and meditate. And now it would become the last. As we sat there looking out on the world in the sunshine, the time seemingly stood still, and then Arganoth uttered those famous words "It is a good day to die."
He drew his last breath, peacefully leaving this dangerous world. Later I realised that his last words were the key to the future of Valheru. Without people who do not fear death, Valheru as we know and love it, would be no more.

        
        
        

*Vaqaur the Dwarven Wielder of The Humongous Axe*