The Remembered

"The Remembered" was a Season 5 thread written on May 3, 2015. 
== Summary ==
== Full Text ==
Nalaagura Ep'ha: The long day had been spent tearfully rejoining the others that had been left at their new sanctuary. Many a tale was told about the trial, and it too was solidified into the rebels’ history. Everyone soon came to the somber conclusion, however, that there was more to be remembered.
The mass funeral was held at sundown. After everyone had settled in and regained some semblance of normalcy, they all gathered a few hundred yards outside of the dungeon to where an enormous stack of wood had been laid. Entire, dead trees, some still shining with beads of sap that gleamed in the dying orange light, lay in a flattened, column, shaped rather like an upside-down boat, with the twiggy branches reaching up to the cloud-choked sky and stabbing downwards into the blue-shadowed snow, which was finally, finally starting to melt. The clearing that the pyre had been raised in was wide and ringed by black silhouettes of trees with their tops set ablaze by sunlight. It was enough for the entire rebellion to gather and watch the ceremony take place. 
The Warden stood by the very edges of the clearing, shadowed beneath a fir with her unmoving face turned towards the gathering of humans and half-breeds alike. Bjorn assisted Scorch all the way from the tent to the pyre, his ribs heavily bandaged and moving gingerly the entire time, somewhat healed by Hunter’s administrations. And Tree stood with Vox in the crowd, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. In everyone’s hands and paws, there was a torch with one end coated in pitch.    
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock sat near the front on a rock, head bowed, not at all registering the fact his wife and children stood somberly beside him. His eyes remained on the ground for a long time, as he could not bear to look up toward the pyre.
He knew it was unavoidable that women and men would have died in his rebellion. Even before he was first captured and placed in the Grounded Dungeon, he well-knew that. And he had seen it. Seen death. Seen Vox die, and Frosty, and Hemlock, and Kiri, and more, so many more, more names. His mind drifted through every name, every face, every personality he remembered who was gone from him now, friend, foe, and especially all those who had stood alongside him in this long war. A third of the entire rebellion in the attack of Walpurgisnacht. More lives lost in Ragnarok. Even more lives threatened with the trial of Middy, of which he had been informed in great depth once his people returned home.
The weight of so many events happening bore upon him. Of escaping the Grounded Dungeon. Of fighting an army of Changewings. Of encountering Pitch “the Stranger” speaking threats to his people. Of traveling to a lake to restore Vox’s life. Of Akkey losing her memories, Stonegit sinking down to Hel and losing his eyesight. Of Tal Donz attacking. Of witches and white cats ravaging their settlement. Of the Valkyrie challenging a duel with a mortal. Of Tree and himself and Stonegit and Greg possessed by a demon. Of Hel descending to their camp. Of Orskaf stationing his forces outside their camp. Of Loki kidnapping his people and placing them in a pit. Of Kiri dying and Walpurgisnacht obliterating their camp. Of their exodus back to the ruins of the Grounded Dungeon. Of preparing for Ragnarok. Of fighting in the final battle. Of being rescued by Hel. Of encountering the god of the dragons and being tested one final time.
How had this all been within the span of his life? How could he possibly have witnessed this all?
Within him sank a weight of great responsibility for the lives being mourned tonight. The funeral came about, in many ways, because he was here. They had followed him to this point and trusted he could bring them out alive and safe.
I wish I could have protected you all, he thought to himself. I have done the best I could. I am sorry you are gone… and I will keep each and every one of you in a dear place in my heart. My memories shall never leave you. May the afterlife see to you well.
His eyes at last rose upward and rested on the pyre before him.
Grey Bergman: Grey stood next to King Haddock observing the pyre in the center of the group. All she could think about were the poor souls who were not as lucky as she was to overcome death. Tears came to her eyes as she silently realized that this…could’ve been her and her unofficial adoptive baby brother. The two of them could’ve been in that pyre and ready to be sent off to the afterlife…wherever that was depending on the victor of Ragnorak.
She hugged herself as she kept her eyes on it remembering when they told the tale of the trial and how the rebellion almost lost their second-in-command and her best friend. Now here they were standing at a funeral for their comrades, who did not have the chance to overcome death’s jaws…Kiri most of all. She could only bow her head and let the tears flow from her eyes.    
Kira Mær: Kira stood staring at the pyre, she was one of the fortunate ones to survive Walpurgisnacht, and her near fatal attempt at saving Lady Grey.
Her sister and Cairbre stood beside her.
Svieð stood in somber silence, thankful her sister was still alive beside her. Fiendal, Kiri and countless others didn’t make it. Fiendal, always the one to help when old memories would haunt her.
Cairbre stood, unable to say a word; trying his best to support Svieð and Kira.
Greg Ericson: Here Greg stood, torch in hand, at what appeared to be the end. Today, he was a day were he was not goofy, did not make jokes, was not his normal self. Today was a day to be solemn, to reflect on those those they had lost, and grieve over it. A day for remembrance. Looking at the pyre he shivered, know how close he was to joining the lost ones up there.
Nalaagura Ep'ha: Nalaagura sighed behind her mask and glanced over at the others, remembering not only those who had died during Ragnarok, but those from before, that had died from her neglect. She remembered carting several malnourished bodies out of their cells and leaving them below the dungeon to decompose. Her fingers constricted and the torch crackled slightly as the wood was compressed. When she looked up again, she found Treepelt’s eyes, and the half-cat seemed to be thinking the exact same thing she was. She nodded slightly, and the Warden ducked her head in return, looking away. Even though this was a day of remembrance, she wanted to forget the part she had played as the warden. But she didn’t. She reflected and tried healing the pain in her soul.
Hrinthe Fishgiver: Working with in remembrance of the dead was always a somber task.  Yet it was often needed.  For it stirred and quelled the hearts of those who remained, and comforted the souls of those who had been lost.
Many had died in service to the Rebellion.  Those dead souls given free passage were awake in the sky that night.
Hrinthe watched, her throat ready with flame.  She could only think of the many who had died - and she had been present for much of it.  She had not yet met Kiri when Vox was killed, but it was his death that spurred the events that led to their meeting.  It horrified her that he had died in such a way.  But it had enabled so much.
Blue and Jack Frost.  They had been nice and playful.  She missed them.  Dust.  She did not miss Dust.  There was a girl called Elia who disappeared.  The witch hunter Gaius had always liked to give her fish.  A boy who had drunken too much at the feast had been slain at Ragnarok by an Eir.  Fiendal, his name had been.  He was nice too.  Hrinthe often saw his soul floating about and trying to move objects… he had been there at the Trial.  He had tried to help in whatever way a spirit could.  
Kiri though…
A soul stood beside Hrinthe, gently stroking the new scar on her wing.  The touch felt like cold feathers brushing past it, but Hrinthe knew it was only meant to be soothing and comforting.
“I’m grateful, you know,” Kiri spoke, approaching Hrinthe’s head.  “Even if this was the outcome.  I was able to meet everyone here.  The Rebellion was essential to my life.  The end of it.  I’m still… sorry, for how it was used to further Judge Donz’s plans.”
Hrinthe glanced back and smiled at Kiri’s ghostly form.  There were many more like hers floating around the pyre, or standing beside loved ones.  Have you talked to any of them?
Kiri shook her head.  “Too soon.  I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time for the rest of the afterlife.”
You will.
… I am glad you are here tonight.
“Me too,” Kiri smiled, leaning her head against Hrinthe’s neck as best she could.  Even if there was no weight, and neither could actually feel each other, the simple motion was enough.  “Tell everyone I said hi, I guess?”
Hrinthe crooned softly.  She broadcast her next message to those surrounding her.
Kiri is here.  The spirits are here.  They are come.  Kiri says hi.
Seasick: Seasick and Furious stood among the solemn group of rebels. Thinking back on their time in the rebellion, many innocent lives were lost due to the attacks, the fighting and the rebelling. There were so many innocent lives that could have been saved, but regretfully, were not.
Although there was a period of peace occurring now, Seasick was worried about those still alive, many of whom were still injured from Ragnarok. She didn’t want any more innocent lives to be lost to fighting.
Standing with those still alive, Seasick and Furious waited for the pyre to be lit.
Mera Violet Haddock: “It’s time,” Mera whispered gently to her husband, touching him lightly on the shoulder.
Haddock nodded slowly, solemnly. “It is,” he responded. He nodded toward a small dragon beside him, the one he had recently adopted and dubbed “Sharpteeth,” silently asking Mera to help him on the animal’s back. She complied, somewhat awkwardly, and then he rode up, somewhat wobbling, and holding onto the dragon’s neck securely, as he made his way toward the pyre.
He stopped when he was certain everyone could see him, then turned around and looked at the crowd. Saw everyone about him. Grey. Greg. Emily. Maya. Seasick. Blunt. Kira. Warren. Cairbe. Tornpike. Stonegit. Treepelt. Vox. Goat. Svieð. Tezz. Bird. Hunter. Calder. Bree. Nate. Clover. Virgo. Asha. Mera. Egil. Signy.
“Commence the Battle of the Grounded Dungeon,” he proclaimed, though it was not abrasive, not challenging, not in any way defiant. It was reflective - humble, even. “All of you may recall the day I declared war, and you all surged with me. And together we have stepped through many a trial, through a dungeon escape and dragon attacks and a war of the gods and far more than that.
“Not everyone who began that fight stands here with us today. Many a number have fallen, and I only wish I had the time to list every name who is gone from us now and taken their place amongst the gods who remain. May we speak in our hearts the names of these people now and forevermore. Let them never be forgotten, not a single person, not a single soul. We stand here today to honor every single one of those who has fallen during Ragnarok and the war of the past several months.
“This pyre shall be one way we can commemorate the dead and pay our respects to them. Yet let this not be the only way we honor those who have fallen. 
“We have the chance to step forward into a new life. A life without High Central’s power shadowing beyond us. A life without the threat of a demon. A life in which we are not imprisoned but free. We have survived the apocalypse and now can spread henceforth to a new life… a life of peace.
“The dead fought for this peace. This was their greatest desire, their goal. They hoped that, by fighting and falling, they could pave a way to the reality we, we the living, now face.
“So let us honor them by stepping forward. May we never forget them and their sacrifice. May we not ever take for granted this new life of peace we have before us. May we capitalize the potentials of happiness we now can have. 
“The dead would want us to celebrate for how far we have come.”
Haddock paused, eyes looking at the people, then at the ground, and then the pyre.
“I, for one, shall have many a bubble tea drink to remember the people who have died before us. To thank them for their sacrifice, their care, and their love.
“We will march forward with the memories of the dead. They have touched our hearts. They have touched our lives. Every single one of the fallen have been incredible people… and they… they shall never be forgotten, not even as the fires of this pyre rise. Let us speak of their legacy, so that they may be remembered in our hearts and the histories.
”So now may we end this war. Now End the Battle of the Grounded Dungeon.”
Akkey Black: She could hear the faint murmurs of the crowd gathered outside by the pyre. The wails and low cries traveled to where she sat on the ground, alone and hidden away from everyone. Maya and Hunter had tried again; still she refused. She couldn’t bear to be near anyone, especially not now…
Haddock’s voice echoed across the dungeon, his speech sad and broken. Akkey gathered her hands close to herself, clenching it until her knuckles were white. The tears had long since flowed, never ending rivulets down her face. The pain in her chest was unbearable, If only… if only I was faster… if only I was stronger… There was crackle and a dull roar; the pyre was about to be lit. She buried her face into her lap and sobbed, loud and uninhibited, pouring out all her sorrows, shaking with such deep regret and mourning.Everyone… I’m so sorry…
Ingrid Rehan: Ingrid had long since been aware that Chief Akkey didn’t come. She waited for a while in case the chief decided to turn up, but when King Haddock concluded his speech and there was still no sign of Akkey, she quietly left the gathering. A quick mental scan gave her the directions; Akkey’s Nix powers stood out amidst the other hues.
Ingrid normally wouldn’t have bothered to seek her out, but tonight was different. It brought her closer to memories of Elia, and Elia would have wanted her to do this.
Oh dear,she thought in shock as she heard Chief Akkey’s sobs before even seeing her. What should I do? She probably wants to be alone, and I’m a stranger in the first place…Ingrid suddenly remembered how familiar crimson threads - theWarden’s influence- had been with Akkey for so long after the dungeon was moved. The idea was enough to stop her in her tracks.
After a moment of deliberation, Ingrid quietly moved out of earshot before running back to the pyre, squeezing past people with muttered apologies. She needed to tell the Warden.
Nalaagura Ep'ha: The Warden felt Ingrid before she saw her, recognizing her mind from their conversation before. She turned her head slightly but directed her mind completely at Ingrid. What is it? she said directly to her mind, shielding their words from the quiet procession.
Ingrid Rehan: It’s Chief Akkey. She’s…not doing well. Ingrid sent the rest of the information in images and sounds. I noticed how you were with her a few days ago. Can you help?
Nalaagura Ep'ha: Oh, gods…
The Warden searched the dungeon and quickly found Akkey, feeling a twinge of guilt for not doing this sooner. Akkey! she said in alarm, materializing in front of her and kneeling down, holding her close with insubstantial arms. Akkey, it’s all right. We’ve come back, everyone’s all right. Everything will be fine, hush. I’m sorry I left.She slowly meshed her mind with hers, exuding warmth and aligning the frantic, throbbing beat of the half-breed’s thoughts with the steady, calming pulse of her own. Shhh.
Akkey Black: “I could have… They should be alive…” she hiccuped, still crying uncontrollably, “Hyro and Teddy… and Cynthia… Snotlout… Rotgrass… I was just– too- weak… too… selfish… They’re all… dead– I’m sorry…”
Nalaagura Ep'ha: You were not. She leaned down to look Akkey in the eye. You must end this. You are incredibly strong, with an enormous heart, and your resolve and determination are astounding. Your shortcomings do not define you as a whole. You fight as fiercely as any demon, little rabbit. I’m proud of you.
Akkey Black: She stared at Nala through blurry eyes, her breathes coming in short gasps as she cried, “They’re dead…” Your resolve and determination are astounding.
“They’re dead…” Your shortcomings do no define you as a whole. I’m proud of you. Warren said something like this to her, too. She knew that. She thought she understood. She was already beginning to learn. But it was just incredibly, overwhelmingly sad and frightening. She’s been through so much… it came crashing down on her all at once.
Akkey wrapped her arms around herself, hunching over on her knees, and sobbed ten years worth of pain, heartache and grief.
Nalaagura Ep'ha: And Nala let her cry. Many bottled-up emotions were being released and she let them flow, waiting until she was more coherent, saying little other than the mumbled repeat: It’s all right…they’re safe now…
As the hiccuping sobs grew less intense, Nala tilted her face back to the sky and then down at Akkey. If you wish to see them, I can show you. I can show you they are at peace, if it brings you the same.
Akkey Black: She gave a shuddering sigh as she calmed, “Wh-what… do you mean? How?” 
Nalaagura Ep'ha: They are here.
The group of rebels in the front, in the middle of which was Greg, touched the ends of their torches together, and Greg reached out a finger and set them all alight. One by one, each of them shared the flame with their friends, their comrades, until everyone’s torch was burning bright and high in the quickly falling darkness. Moving like falling stars, everyone positioned themselves near the pyre until they were fairly evenly spaced, looking solemnly from left to right at everyone else. Seasick was the first to bring her torch forward, and the others followed. The fiery heads were buried in the gaps of the logs and they all began to smoke and catch, spreading among the timber greedily. They all stepped back to watch the flames consume the wood, squinting against the heat, the yellow light dancing on the tear tracks running down several cheeks. The Warden’s body remained motionless, and her essence huddled near Akkey, continuing to watch the sky. 
They are here.
She heard the dragon speak it from a distance away, and glancing around, she noticed shifting, foggy forms forming on the edges of her vision, growing clearer and clearer by the second. One of them walked up to Hrinthe and spoke to her softly, smiling; some moved near loved ones, a father to a group of grieving children and their mother, a young child to their weeping parents, one dead sibling to another living. They can’t see them…
Nala reached out to everyone’s mind and projected what she saw. It was a monumental task. There were still many rebels left and seeing the souls from all different points of view stretched her abilities to the limit. But she encompassed everyone, and soon they were looking around with wide eyes at the souls that had ascended to visit with them. They were dead, yes. But they were smiling, they were gentle. They were at peace with what Hel had given them, and had allowed them to do.
They are here, she told Akkey gently, stroking the back of her head. And they do not blame you. They are not wistful, they are not seeking vengeance upon those who were too slow to stop the final bite of a sword or a crushing boulder. They are thankful, they have come to visit us a final time.
Akkey Black: She saw their misty forms floating through them, approaching their friends and families. Rotgrass passed by her as he made his way towards Tornpike. She saw his face shift in the firelight, smiling down at her. He didn’t speak… but a feeling of relief and thankfulness radiated from him. Just like Nala said.
Akkey recognized them, one by one. Sumia’s little girl. The blacksmith who worked on her custom sword. Even… Fiendal? Her voice caught in her throat. He’s… he’s dead? No… no… She was unable to speak. She couldn’t, she didn’t want to. She saw the familiar faces who fell in the first rebellion, during Walpurgisnacht, in the war of Ragnarok. She let the tears fall, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them once more to watch, They’re here… a final time…
Kira Mær: Kira saw the spirits all around her.
She found herself in complete shock; the Viking- ninja that stood beside Hrinthe.
Some of the weight of the traumatizing memory of Warspurlisnatch felt lifted from her shoulders, as she managed a small smile of relief.
Sveið Jóra Mær: Svieð was at peace, seeing Fiendal’s spirit form nearby.
Toshioka Kiri: It took a few moments for Kiri and Hrinthe to realize that the crowd could see the spirits.  It must have been some sort of powerful magic from one who could sense the spirits as well; they could only be thankful.  It was hard enough for the dead and the living to interact.
Kiri gulped as a few eyes gazed on her.  She remembered her role in things, Walpurgisnacht, and how terrified she had been for anyone in the Rebellion to find out.  She was still terrified.  She had no idea if they knew, or if Greg had told them by this point.  But no one seemed angry.  If anything, it was only wonder and gratitude at being able to see the dead for one last time.
We are here.
She remained by her faithful dragon’s side, half hiding behind the nadder’s spikes, smiling shyly, raising her hand to give a tiny little wave.  “Hey,” she spoke, to anyone who could hear her or listen.  She didn’t even know if that was possible.
She saw Tezz and Clover’s faces, Starlord’s, the King and Stonegit, Grey and Warren, Greg by the pyre, everyone whom she had ever spoken with or shared drinks and stories during their time in the Rebellion.  She smiled and nodded to all, acknowledging them.  
The pyre’s flames rose high into the sky.
I am content.  I am content with this.
She leaned herself against Dagger once more, gazing at the embers that crackled in mesmerizing view.
Greg Ericson: (lost response)
Category:Season 5
Category:Events
Category:Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second
Category:Grey Bergman
Category:Greg Ericson
Category:Mera Violet Haddock
Category:The Warden
Category:Akkey Black
Category:Ingrid Rehan
Category:Kira Mær
Category:Svie∂ Jóra Mær
Category:Toshioka Kiri
Category:Hrinthe Fishgiver
Category:Treepelt Halfpaw
Category:BOTGD