The death tale of the Great Quingia Raulf as told by “The Witness” and regaled over all of the Great Wolfen Empire
Unknown date in Grekar in the Seahawk tribe Capitol Seaholm.
An emaciated Iron Claw Wolfen is carried, by litter, off of a ship originating from Credia. The Priest of the docks is summoned and heals the sickly pup. He is over 10’ tall, but barley weighs 200 pounds. After about an hour, he awakes in a violent thrashing, screaming:
After he is calmed and settled by the Priest and a Master of the Mind, he is questioned by the Magistrate, inquiring where he came from. He slowly tells that he was born and raised as a slave in Credia. And that he made a hastened escape after what he witnessed. Although slaves are given vary little information, they glean much from drunken conversations of masters. He has known of the Empire and all its tales his entire life, INCLUDING those of the Great Quingia Raulf, member of Crisis. He has witnessed the death of Raulf.
”What do you mean he is dead!?”
Someone shouts from just outside the Harbor masters door and word of Raulf’s death spreads faster than the winds of winter. Soon hundreds of Wolfen are crowded around the little shack trying to listen to the tale. The Wolfen Slave speaks his tale:
”I was at the docks in Credia, moving crates for some master I was loaned to. It had started snowing, although I rarely see it, I felt joy at the sight of the small white flakes streaming form the sky. That’s when I saw the engagement. ReSet was lying in wait before CrIsis’ ship Rogtilda. CrIsis came out the south like spirits of the Thirteenth in the wintry snow and engaged ReSet mightily. Several members of ReSet fell fast, like Kankoran’s in a killer winter. That was when the Quingia moved in fast, faster than any living being I have ever seen move, His mighty Sword raised high, he was spouting words of banishment against his target. His blow landed squarely on the shoulder of his enemy, slicing clean through, lopping his body clean in half.”
The crowd let up a mighty cheer at hearing this.
”But, suddenly the Quingia stood tall and stiff, his arms loose at his side, dropping his mighty sword; it went sliding right in front of the crates I was peering from. Then He just dropped like a slab of stone to the ground. No movement, no breath what so ever coming from his mighty snout. Than ReSet just disappeared, I looked again and even some of the bodies were missing, INCLUDING RAULF’S.”
There was a mighty collective gasp from the massive crowd that was continuing to grow.
There were many whispered and shouted questions. Where did the body go? Was he really dead? What about the sword? What about his pigeon mail?
The magistrate calms the crowd down and asks the group’s questions again.
”Of the body I do not know. As far as his death I saw what I saw. The Sword, yes the SWORD! Look here:”
The Slave pulls back his ragged dress like clothing, revealing the sword Armara. All those that can see are a gasp with shock.
”I was able to grab it in the confusion and I decided that moment that I would be a slave no more. I stowed aboard the first ship I could find headed toward the Empire. I almost didn’t make it, somehow this sword enveloped me with a great magic that protected me… barely. I vowed I would return to my Tribe and join the fight for Good”
The magistrate looks at him solemnly and hands him a missive. The slave reads it slowly.
”So I may be the last.”
He stands up, taking the sword and proceeds out of the shack. All there part and make a path. Someone shouts out a question:
”What is your name and where are you going?”
He pauses for a moment and turns back:
”My slave name is of no import anymore, call me ‘The Witness’. I go to find my remaining brothers and sisters and obey the dying command of my Chieftain.”
He turns back and heads out, the crowd continuing to part before him. Several Wolfen from the crowd file in behind him and follow him out…
Raulf drawing from our own AZ_RUNE.
Armara picture from Stone Perales.
Wolf pack picture from Howling for Justice.
Comments
A legacy is formed. Interestingly another’s disciples called themselves “Witnesses”. I wonder if this is the forging of not a one man’s quest, but of a brotherhood: The Witnesses of Armara. Armarean Knights.
I, AZ_Rune wept as I read the end, in happy anger that his soul made it back and inspired another to do Good!
MGH: There was only one original WITNESS, the only others were crisis. I like Armarean Knights, what about Quingian Knights AKA the Quingias
AZ: I had to give it a proper finish, sortof. It may lead to other events of course.
Wait! THAT was Raulf?? I read it another way. A spectator, a slave living in Credia, part of the crowd. I imagined a weak, sickly Wolfen. He was also a lost member of the scattered Iron Claw clan. He witnesses the fall of the one he called ‘hero’. Something sparks in him. I am not sure how he would have ended up with Armara, but he did. This, after escaping his master in Credia. It did it at first to tell his message: The Quingia is dead! But now returning to a home that he hasn’t seen for decades, and seeing its pearlous state, with Armara in hand he makes a choice. "i go to find my remaining brothers and sisters and obey the dying command of my Chieftain.” He now takes up the mantle. Clearly no Quingia, but his heart is true. Like the ward taking up the mantle of a fallen Dark Knight. He is the Spartacus of the Wolfen Empire. A symbol, a voice! He, being a slave, knows hardship. Though he might not be full and strong, his endurance and resolve is UNBREAKABLE!
Is that not what your story meant?
Yes, with just a dash of “How could the rest of you ALLOW the death of so many fellow Wolfen”