Dragoncrest Cliffs Death of a Rose

RIP Rose

By morning Njord had returned from Barrow Fields, empty handed in his search for Regin. His walk was stiff from Shardik’s mark on his hip, but the true pain was in his heart. He thought of dismal @Valravn sitting besides him, just the day before, and the sad dirge they sang for Raleska and Kaertok. The nights were long and cold… and now, another child had been swept away from the wives. A heavy responsibility fell on Njord’s shoulders, but the blizzard made it hard to track anything, or anyone, in the storm.

As dawn peeked through the grey clouds a rare lull in the snowfall occurred. Njord was thankful for a peaceful moment among the mayhem. Maybe Rosencrantz could help him search? The knight was of an arctic breed and surely knew how to navigate this storm better than an islander.

“Rose? RooooOOOOOsssseee!” Njord called out across the cliffs. He checked a usual sleeping place… nope. Game trails? nope. Forest hideaway? nope. Stumped, Njord backtracked towards the western seaside front of Dragoncrest where he saw a familiar silhouette laying by land’s edge. “Rose I been lookin’ all over for ya,” he said, chastising the knight. “I know yer not feelin well, but I was thinkin you could give me a few pointers ta trackin’ in this sno-”

Njord stopped dread in his tracks and floundered. The knight was crusted over in a glittering glaze, frosted with new fallen snow – cold, and unmoving. “Rose?” Njord felt a lump the size of a boulder catch in his throat as his stomach twisted in disbelief (but knowing). He moved beside the paladin and regarded his peaceful expression and knew that he was truly gone. “Oh Rose,” Njord blubbered, bereft with fresh dispair.