|Location||The Legend of Dead Kel|
GraveHal is a Lorestone set in Kingdoms of Amalur: Re-reckoning.
Death of Ulsten
Lo, we sing of good kings ship-borne and stout,
From fasting waked and white-wind whispered,
He was Ulsten chief, father of foundlings, boasted and beloved.
With bitter mandate, they laid him upon a serpent-steed,
Kin-kissed the brow and wept, tears into the flames
Until mournful billow and scarlet banner bore him north,
Treasures heavy upon his heart. The great blaze bloomed
Jewel-bright and wild, a dark night lit by kingly fire.
- Rise of Gravehal
Lo, we sing of Solsvard, heir of the Ulfsten shield-breaker,
Sure of hand and pure of heart, with fame on white wings
Who claimed the isle for kin, and raised his great dwarf fastings.
Undersea, Mudhold, Cliffbreak, and Souldeep --
Treasures four and strongholds hearty, prize for his betrothed.
For by his side stood lady Ahnrun, his comely warrior bride,
Whose wish was for a wedding feast, and all kin surrounded,
To bestow the greatest gift of all, a mighty Keep of Gravehal.
- The Blood Feast
So rose the revel, and so fell the chain-armor, the helms of iron,
As bards sang, thick, and bedding beckoned.
Up from the depths of blue-deep winding, the terror Draug
came clawing at their slumbering halls,
Where warriors waged wars with wine-dream and fancy,
Alone in the fearful fasting. First one she seized up,
Alive with wicxked pleasure, bones crushed and bodies beaten,
As she painted walls with gore, a screaming reverie.
- A King's Mandate
A curse-black sun rose over hearth and hall,
with dull-blades drawn, they rose from cups, awake with horror.
As silence gripped the tongues, grief and torment in Gravehal,
for Ahnrun had met the tomb, her long night's silence.
By mandate of the high-spear, all warriors heeded the call
To hunt the beast Draugh to blood-pall and fasting,
With steel-talon reach and venomous tongue, they marched
In her name, Ahnrun, shadow queen of Solsvard.
- Death of Solsvard
Deep in gray-dusk fastings, the kin-king heard her wail,
A grievous cry of triumph borne of such wicked rapture
That his heart burst with wrathful fires. Onward he crept,
Until in scornful conflict, man met beast with blood-tooth gnashing,
Down the beast fell, her crimson-robes swirling,
Solsvard awash in her ruin, until the tide rose to meet them.
Lo, we sing of Ulftsen son, Draug-bane, the beast-slayer,
Mighty Lord of Gravehal, and storm-sent king on high.
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