raven-scorned

[raven-scorned]

exhilaration

[ kill your masters-run the jewels ]

“Fire at will.” 

Yurissa’s words came smoothly to Eilithe’s ear, like an invitation. Mayhem was something Eilithe reveled in,- and like any drug, Eilithe flirted with giving into addiction. For once, the mission itself was to cause destruction. And if Slaver’s Bay. If the Strand. If anything they ever did was evidence, Dead Sun did destruction well. 

As the doors to the compound swung open, Eilithe sauntered in with sticky grenades hanging on a strip in her hand. Take it all. Then burn it down. Stay out of the basement. The orders were simple.

She took little interest in robbing the place. No, she wanted it to burn and she wanted it to be a monumental ‘Fuck You’ to the dog that dared even think to torture Yurissa into loyalty. 

The voices were loud, once the first charges went off. The explosion sent a plume of smoke into the air. The secondary explosion came when the kegs in the storage house went. 

“Burn it.” “Leave nothing.” “Remember your purpose.” 

Eilithe pulled the pins on two standard grenades and rolled them into a side building. The heat from the explosion washed against her left side. It was about that time that an alarm went off. 

The basement. 

When the trap blew it rattled the entire main compound, though the structure itself held. For the moment. “There’s a safe, if we want it, we need to get the fuck down there and fast,” she said in Mairdrin’s direction as he was the closest person that wasn’t on her shit list. 

The building rocked as they went down the stairs. “You got it?” She asked. “I got it,” Mairdrin answered confidently. The other rooms were ransacked while Mairdrin tweaked the delicates of the safe. Her rage was left on what would soon-to-be wreckage. Over turned mirrors and bookcases. 

By the time the ceiling dropped dust and the ground quaked again, Mairdrin was stuffing his pockets and Eilithe was cracking open kegs to leave the ground drenched with alcohol. Sticky bombs were lined on every support beam Dead Sun could find.

Mairdrin’s last grenade would seal the fate of Compound 13. 

When it went, the explosion was exhilarating. The red and orange sparked like fireworks in her eyes. Glass shattered, whole walls blew out, and the fire rose into the night sky in a spectacular display the likes of which Eilithe had not seen since Slaver’s Bay. 

That night she celebrated with Twenty-One Bones table at the Shrieking Harpy cave bar. That night, she couldn’t seem to lose a round.

@raven-scorned​ @dianeshshadowsun​ @velerodra-valesinger​ @kurel-andiel​ @peterwayland​

[raven-scorned]

Shifting Tide

Yurissa poured herself another glass of whiskey bringing the beverage count up to five. Her gaze trailed over the few items that remained in the recently cleared out office. She plucked the glass from the bare bookshelf and walked the short distance to the window that overlooked the training field three flights below. The room looked much like Sapphyre and her offices back in Stormwind where all the main furniture and files had been removed leaving no traces they had ever been there at all.  

“The compound is clear,” Delinar said as he slipped into her office. “Thank you.” She said after downing the contents of her glass. She settled the empty glass upside down on the center of the desk as she savored the flavor of the liquor before swallowing. Her attention quickly shifted to the group now gathering in her room. She lifted a brow in question awaiting their reports.

Ana spoke first bringing forward a few documents for Yurissa to look over. “The funds you requested removed from the organization’s bank accounts have been transferred to your private accounts. I saw the transactions through this morning, untraceable as you wished. The payments that were written for the supplies of the bar and the lease were stopped and voided. Aredhele’s own funds, of course, we left untouched though I think time and suffering would have covered their removal.” Yurissa smirked and nodded. “No need for unnecessary drama. I only want what is mine.”

Her eyes moved to Velistus to inform her if his tasks had been completed. He brought a file over with a few documents she had to sign. As he spoke Yurissa tugged a quill from her bag and a jar of ink doing just that. “The deed of the compound has been awarded to Aredhele as you requested, as well as full responsibility on the leases pertaining to the office, and tavern.  A notary will be sent in the morning with the file as well as notifications over the overdue balances on both. The suppliers have also been informed that she is to be contacted pertaining to the items currently being shipped in for the bar.”  Yurissa nodded once sharply sliding the now signed documents back to the man.

Her eyes moved to Emlinon, “And my parting gift?” Emlinon shrugged, “Everything is set though I can’t imagine why you would gift her the building after you mean to destroy it.” Yurissa stood up to pack the last few remaining traces of her within the compound and shove them in her bag. “Aredhele delights in destruction. It’s a warning, as she has recently taken to turning on people. Not to mention she has one of the master keys to the place which had been a gift as well. Plus I am certain this will make my resignation clear.” She shook her head slightly, “Let’s move out.” She glanced back at the office one last time before leaving the compound facility. 

Yurissa raised her hand to her ear once the Compound was cleared and they were well beyond her property lines. “Fire at will.”

[raven-scorned]

Murderer

_______________________

Kill her.

The voice was so loud.

She’s a murderer. Kill her.

It was so unbearably loud.

Kill her or she’ll murder another one. Protect everyone and kill her.

And it made so much sense.

Nivathostin groaned softly as he shifted in the pond. The water bordering the Burning Steppes was silent, calm, and just the right temperature. He had stripped his armor and sat in this pond day after day seeking the solace of a quiet moment to wash the filth of his deeds, and on this day the silence was desperately needed but only made the echo of the prior night that much louder.

“Neither will do anything to the other,” he had assured Yurissa. Narin and Aredhele had been sharing a moment of anger with each other, but Niva had faith that neither of them were so mad as to hurt their own companions – even as Narin offered up a dagger to his heart for Aredhele to wield. Surely they wouldn’t do anything, for if they couldn’t trust their allies then they truly couldn’t trust anyone in this world. He was certain the situation would diffuse itself.

But Aredhele – she had no intention of diffusing it. She dared to take up his challenge. When she looked at Niva, he saw horrifying determination in her eyes, and he knew she meant every ounce of it. He had not once feared the woman or her words or her dreams. She spoke of warbands and conquering, but they were a child’s dreams that Narin was taking precautions against; however that night he saw true bloodlust clouding her visage, and he swore it wasn’t Aredhele who was looking at him but some horrible being who had taken hold of her…

A calling bird snapped the rogue out of his thoughts. He groaned once again and splashed his face with water. Dripping fingers ran through his hair before his head found the damp soil behind him, and he doubted himself.

What was he supposed to do? What should he have done? Was he wrong to trust her? How could he have known that she was so loosely hinged and would fall apart so easily?

After she shoved that dagger into Narin’s chest, a dark cloud fell over Niva’s own mind. He could hardly remember the order of events from there. Grabbing her. Throwing her. Killing her…

He didn’t kill her, but oh how he wanted to. He didn’t see the woman he loved but a monster who had just murdered a man who continued to pledge himself again and again to her cause.

She was a murderer and a traitor and a threat to everyone around her, and such dangerous animals should be put down. Everything in his body screamed his desire to kill this monster, and he nearly did. He nearly murdered this woman he was supposed to love, but he felt no love for her at that moment.

And the most frightening part is that he didn’t know if that urge came from the Void or from his own volition. The thoughts that slithered through his mind were so logical that he couldn’t easily deny them.

It was becoming so difficult to distinguish the two…

Nivathostin slipped under the water and let the drowning sound fill his senses and throw out these thoughts. He would soon return to the compound to see how the recovering Narin was doing, and he needed all of his sanity for the hard conversations that would come in the following days.

@aredhelvaltieri @raven-scorned @narintheitarael

[raven-scorned]

Choosing a Path

Her eyes scanned over the disorderly pile of logs that cluttered the surface of her desk.  Time and again peering at those she had selected the most important.  Not one syllable changed, but the process of her careful study continued. 

He rested his hands gently on her shoulders as he loomed behind her desk chair. “You already know the answer Shadow. You have for days. All of the second-guessing will not change that.” His delicate tone said breaking the silence she had held for days.  “You’re afraid, and you should be.  However, the fear you hold is not for your own well-being it is for those you must seek for assistance on the one matter you knew you could not handle alone.” He paused and made his way around her desk to place himself in a seat across from her. “Let them decide their own fates. If they will stand with you, then give them that option. Stop shutting everyone out, for this is not the time for such ignorance.”

Yurissa’s eyes lifted from the scattered logs and leveled her gaze with his own. “I am well aware of what must be done, but due to the life you’ve lived you fail to understand the gravity of the favors I must ask.”  He leaned back folding his hands over his abdomen, “Is it a favor to ask those that care for you to know you? To aid you?”  

She shook her head slightly, “It always has been.  My job is not to allow my personal interest to interfere with my work, or the aid I supply to others.”  He interrupted before allowing her to progress with her statements in a stern tone, “The dead do not work, and that is exactly what you will be without aid.”

She settled in his words for a while attempting to conjure a response.  There was no response, and in the end, she had accepted he was right. 

@fromoblivionwra​, @deadsunharbor​

[raven-scorned]

The Den of Oblivion is now open for business day and night, well into the witching hour!

Rejoice, for the hour of sobriety is over. Cast off the shroud of virtue, the warmth of intoxication awaits. Ethereal creatures mingle behind sheer tapestries while others lounge on plush velvet seating, held by finely carved, aged wood. Candelabras keep the bar aglow and behind the counter, well stocked shelves boast bottles of temptation. Merchants from near and far sell their oddities, and a fine conversation from the locals draw you in. Like you, everyone here desired more for their evening. Find what devious delights you are looking for within our walls. We await your company.

Den of Oblivion is a tragically macabre bar located in Stormwind, hosted at the infamous Slaughtered Lamb (IC it is the bae ‘next door’. We serve those that want something different. Come drink yourself dirty, or clean, in the arms of Oblivion.

For business opportunities and employment, please contact Lady Aredhele Valtieri or co-owner, The infamous Maven

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(OOC INFO : Greetings WRA, From Oblivion has taken up the mantle of hosting nightly bar rp in Stormwind. We invite all of you to come write with us and enjoy some engaging role-play. Give us a reboot and spread the good word!

IC the Den of Oblivion is the building ‘next door’ to the Slaughtered Lamb. Unfortunately Blizzard won’t code us in our own building, and that’s a damn shame! We do not force anyone to acknowledge the Lamb as being any other way and if people do not wish to acknowledge our role-play, they don’t have to. Just pretend we are some schlubs behind the bar, oh wait, we already are! (kidding we might be slugs not schlubs) We will be whatever you deem us to be in that pretty little imagination of yours xo)

[raven-scorned]

happy ending II

[ pt I ] 

All night, Eilithe had sat under a dank part of the dock where The Queen’s Gambit was in view. She hadn’t pressed him, she hadn’t called to him through their connection, but she couldn’t stand to walk into their house alone.

There was no attack that night– perhaps even The Sleeper wished to let her rot in self pity. 

The next morning she went straight to the tea house and made herself a ball on the couch. With a blanket over her head, hours passed and she did not move. Kurel wasn’t far. Somewhere on the porch, having arrived from a different direction than her. 

“What’s that fuck up going to cost you?” She heard her son’s voice, not knowing when Xavier had arrived.  Reveria’s stare was hard enough to make Eilithe shift to face the wall, even with the blanket as a buffer between them. “Distance,” Reveria muttered. 

Suddenly she was out on the porch. 

Her body moved on its own, the same way people moved like shadows around her. Melancholy –no, it was deeper. Sorrow. Fear. Not for what The Sleeper had done–kept doing.. kept repeating each time he attacked. But for the sense of dread in her stomach that by nightfall, The Queen’s Gambit would be leaving port.

Somehow or way, Kurel must have known she was thinking it. Because he got up from the other side of the teahouse stoop and left in a rage. 

One minute. Five. Twelve minutes passed before she felt it.

A twisting of her soul that rested inside of him. Not again. Not now. She was certain that none of them would survive another battle with the behemoth inside of Kurel. And so she rose up. Calmly, so no one would suspect what she was going to do.

She would stop it. Or she would end it for both of them.

Into the shadows Eilithe tucked and she got all the way out of Old Town before she passed a glimmer. Another shadow. It caught her wrist, and in a blink, she was gone.

“Say… goodbye…tell them…your last words.” “Rev…” Eilithe managed, to quake out across the seal. The room was the sort of dark that she couldn’t see in, but she felt the blade on her wrist. “Protect… my..children.” 

A quick cut then an icy feeling spread through her chest. Blood bubbled over her lips and her eyes went wide.Whatever had hit her did so quickly, she should have died quickly– yet time slowed down until she could feel herself leaving her body.

The soul of Eilithe An’Diel rose out of the Behemoth’s back and opened her unnatural maw to shriek inside of the forgotten temple. The sound rattled the walls and ears that heard it. Below her the hulking form of Kurel’s other half, his skin hardened and red, spikes jutting out from either side of the massive, freshly carved seal on his back, all of the runes that held it–shattered. 

Dead Sun lashed at them, at Eilithe could only react as though she were an animal being attacked. As each of them tried to separate them– tried to kill them, Eilithe returned with a ferocity that suggested she did not know them. These were not her friends. 

Gunfire and swords slashed against the home she nestled into the behemoth’s back. Her body twisted into a bastardized spear,incorporeal yet the demonic Kurel seemed to clutch her very soul and whirl it. When she pierced Nethelu’s chest. She felt nothing. 

A sword. Xavier’s? Someone’s had split the last of the seal and Eilithe, in foggy wisps, came pouring out of Kurel’s back and onto the ground. The writhed and wormed across the floor, the sound of breathing echoing through the arena. 

She shattered to nothingness. 

It was not until Clarcius struck the killing blow that Eilithe felt her soul..remade, twisting back like blue lights from the moon pools. Her soul drifted down to the fallen corpse of the behemoth, where the chest cracked and caved. A soul a gold as the sands of Tanaris stretched out to meet her. 

Looping end over end, their souls intertwined like lovers– releasing a ring of golden light that washed over Dead Sun undoing the damage that had been done by them. It was a final gift. 

Side by side, Eilithe and Kurel took shape on the other side of the arena. She could hear them calling and stopped with her husband to glance over her shoulder. Eilithe smiled, so gently. “Take care of each other.”

Three steps and they were gone.  @revthepunchbear​ @kurel-andiel​ @velerodra-valesinger​ @clarcius-blackbirch​ @xavier-sunshadow​ @raven-scorned​ @deadsunharbor​

[raven-scorned]

happy ending I

She didn’t know what hit her. 

When Logan called out over the seal in a panic, Eilithe had responded quickly. As things went further and further South for Dead Sun, the troops were through the portal to Pandaria. 

Eilithe moved like a ghost through the abandoned town, disturbing nothing– until she did. Velerodra was far enough back, but the shadow creature lashed first at Ay’lysae and then whipped around to backhand Eilithe into the walls of a sealed of a temple.  “UKENDA IMILIGO,”Eilithe shouted, lashing to nullify the shadow’s magic but it was for nothing and the creature backhanded her away. She had blown everything else, so the Harbinger’s Spear was her option. 

Something went horribly wrong.

How she had gotten there, where she was did not exactly come immediately. There was a keen sense that she was under attack. But it wasn’t her – it was Kurel. 

Existing inside of Kurel An’Diel was like pitching a tent in the crowded slums of Stormwind. Dangerous and uncomfortable. But when she felt the POP POP POP of three runs on his freshly carved brand, she slithered through him like a snake on water and held that seal. Not for him. Not just for him– but for all the innocent people that were nearby. 

It was not until two pinhole eyes appeared in the darkness that she felt the real terror. 

“You…stole..our son.” She focused. It wasn’t real.  “You…cling to him. You…have always..been weak. You will not survive this.”  Eilithe tried to remind herself. “I survived you.” “You.. did not survive. I…let you…live.”

It’s not real. Yet, she spoke back to it. “You’re right,” she winced as what felt like a hard punch to the stomach came. Somewhere else– her physical body felt the blow. “I didn’t just survive you.” Another punch.

 “I beat you.”

The Sleepers assault was graphic and violent as it always was. Through it, she held the door until whatever had just crawled into Kurel had settled. It wasn’t over, but they were alive. 

It was disorienting to see her body laying, bloody but breathing and be in someone else’s. And as she continued to remind Kurel, she did not want to be there. 

By the time she was breathing again in her own body, it was too late. They unraveled. 

The sound of the the dusty old shelf, filled with half drank bottles hitting the ground broke her. Kurel’s foot stomped the wood, over and over until it was in pieces. 

Eilithe crumpled to the ground and curled up. 

He didn’t let her there long, lifting her like she weighed nothing and pinning her against the wall. Each of the words he said did not make a difference to her. She was sure by the look in his face that what would come next would be his fist.  Her voice was distant. Disassociated. “Just.. get it over with,” she said, limp in his gaze. The fist came– but not at her and not hard. It thudded againstthe wall beside her head. “I am no’ them,” he seethed, then released her to fall to her feet. 

“An’ I didn’ choose to marry a coward either. So when you grow a spine, if you ever do– I’ll be on my ship.” 

In seconds, he woke her up and she moved to protest. Her mouth made words on its own: she wouldn’t be left, not again.

“I’m no’ leavin’ you.“ He did however move around her. Brush her or shoulder her from his path. ”Bu’ I don’t wan’ to be aroun’ you – So go home!“ He barked at her.

”You already did leave me, Kurel.“ And she said it in a way that accounted for every time he had left her, and for the ‘him’ she knew not being who was standing with her now. "You left when whatever happened back there, happened.” She turned to go out the opposite door.“I’ll wait for you to come back. Like I always do." 

That night, neither went home.

@logan-derrington​ @givemetheopensea​ @kurel-andiel​ @velerodra-valesinger​ @raven-scorned​

[raven-scorned]

[raven-scorned]

feast on the weak II

[pt I]

“It isn’t a who, is a what.” Kurel said from the floor in the clinic, with nothing but a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Safely in the current, present, right fucking here and now of Stormwind City. Eilithe was disoriented, the spatial shift– or was it temporal. She remember in flashes. They had been fighting, screaming…she could not recall about what. Or had they just made up? 

Walking.  Then cold.  Then dark. 

As the visage of horrific face materialized before her, Eilithe heard echos of ramblings. “ We eat the weak. Teeth. And Blood. And Bone.” 

Wherever the Sleeper had taken them, they had beat their way out. But not without putting extra holes in Eilithe. Even as life energy pressed into her, she relived it…

The voice was female, and she had deemed to make them play, of all things, a game of seek. Seeking weapons, armor, and trinkets that belonged to them. Eilithe was certain that she had seen the Sleeper’s visage, so who now, was Dead Sun’s jailer in this space between spaces. Stark naked, it was only her and Ay’lysae. 

Somewhere. The rest of the family was searching. “Press forward.” “Keep walking.” “Find your mother’s daggers.” 

Eilithe could still hear the three that haunted her ear, which meant– she hoped she wasn’t dead. Naked as the day she was born, she tore along a cold and damp path, overturning barrels– digging through disturbed dirt. 

The anklet. You have to find the anklet. 

The daggers were almost easy to find, which made her look hard for the thing that mattered most to her. In all her frantic searching, she hadn’t noticed how the Jailer’s traps had weakened her. She did not cease panic until Kurel’s gift was tightly secured around her ankle. 

She could leave without the rest of it. But Ay’lysae was still searching. It happened in seconds. A snap of a spike made of black rock pierced her skin and black veins stretched from the wound. 

If she had died, she did not know how long she was such. What came next was searing pain as Kurel’s hunting knife went hot blade to wounded flesh. Her scream was bloodcurdling. 

In the clinic, Eilithe drew her first breath that wasn’t labored. Tuning back in to Barirn’s heavy footsteps, Kurel’s petulant ‘I’m fines’ and Yurissa’s increasingly impatient ‘sit the fuck downs’. 

Eilithe was sure of one thing– and that was they could not continue fighting what they could not see until it was too late. What they didn’t understand. The night was spent pulled against Kurel in the small space between a wall and a counter top.

“Le’ me get bit.” 

Kurel’s capacity for stupid ideas never ceased to amaze her. And his ability to convince her that his stupid idea was a good one, was something she’d never admit to. It ended in an exchange. 

She would let the small rock creature they had captured bite him, and risk releasing the beast inside of him– in exchange, he allowed her to do this alone. His last words before they left in different directions to put out separate fires was ‘fine’. 

The state of Eilithe’s personal relationships was laughable. Clarcius was busied and loyal, but not constant. Reveria and her had yet to fully forgive each other. Velerodra was..mostly mist. But the worst, was perhaps the relationship with her Quartermaster.  

She could not quite figure out if Hillier was jealous of Kurel’s return, because it meant Hill would never make good on the many passes he’d made at her or because the Kul Tiran merely thought Kurel an unworthy asshole.

Either reason might have been fair, though she grew increasingly frustrated by Hillier’s avoidance of her. Two month ago they were close– not close enough to be anything like what she and Kurel were– but close enough to cry with each other over lost children.

With her attempts snubbed, she was prickly sipping bourbon when Kurel came in. Hillier left for a walk and never came back and the tension in the air was so thick even Kurel saw it. She never lied to Kurel. 

“He saw me in my loneliness.. made offers when you were gone. I didn’t take them. I can only guess he’s jealous or just doesn’t like you.”

“He in love with you?” Kurel had asked her such a thing before. It was in a calm tone that wasn’t actually at all, it was a loaded shotgun and his temper the trigger.

She didn’t know. She just knew it didn’t matter. 

“Old Town is on fire,” the voice of Mairdrin came over the Comms. Of course, it was. Old Town was always on fire, this time literally. 

The argued on the way to Old Town, all the way from the Mage District. With the tea house and clinic there, they stood to lose a lot of coin. Kurel said a lot of things, but all Eilithe heard was ‘before he sneaks into your quarters’. A pang shot through her stomach, when she realized of what he was afraid.

“I’m serious, Eilithe. It’s dangerous.”  “He would not do what you are insinuating.” “I’m puttin’ a stop to it.” “Black smoke..” Eilithe said, as they rounded a bend with Old Town in the distance. It rose up into the sky, but at her range it was impossible to tell where the smoke was coming from. “Before it does become a problem. Before–”

She was glad he didn’t finish. Her feelings were raw and easily forced to her eyes in the form of tears. They got closer to the smoke before he carried on. It wasn’t about that, which was what he called it. It was about ‘us and what we’ve built’. 

Clarity came then. When people turned on him they turned on her. And when they turned on her, both of them ended up shot by traitors to Dead Sun and with a whole mountain of problems. 

On the bridge between the Trade District and Old Town, she stopped. Flame and smoke raising beyond the stone she stopped and faced him.

 "The day that letter came  I fought with Reveria in the Reach’s court. Velerodra left nearly in tears and Clarcius could barely look at me. Do you know why?“ 

She paused, but not long enough for him to answer. ”Because I vetoed the vote to oust you as a  Sun Speaker on a technicality.  And I knew it was a technicality. When you were gone.. there were times when I was angry. When I was so alone that other things looked good. But when I got that letter, it all hit me in every word within that letter that I love you. I love you in a way that I cannot stop. There is nothing. Nothing you could do. No amount of time you could leave. No line, no rule, no nothing. That would make me reconsider. How appealing a gentler man might look in my loneliness is nothing  when held up against you. I cannot love another, I will not. I tried and we both know what happened.  It’s only you. And the fucking lot of them can hate you, they can hate me, they can kick and scream but nothing will ever change us. This. Or what we have built together.“

She struck him with every word– and she knew she had, because he was as quiet as ever. His lips came to hers needy and firm against hers. Eilithe savored it, because this was his I love you. It was not long after though his lips mumbled against hers, “Our town’s on fire.” 

She had nearly forgotten.

@kurel-andiel​ @velerodra-valesinger​ @revthepunchbear​ @deadsunharbor​ @clarcius-blackbirch​ @raven-scorned​ @barirnshadowwind​ @xollowalliance​ (source of said fire)

[raven-scorned]

Holiday Dress

The candles had all been carefully lit.  The presents had all been wrapped and arranged beneath the tree.  The stockings had been labeled and filled with various treats. The fire was lit without incident, and an ordered fresh breakfast had been laid out on the table just before Gideyn and Sapphyre were expected to wake.  On any other day training began just after dawn, but today Yurissa had different plans for the pair. 

Notes were slid beneath their doors informing them they were to report to the common room instead of either the training grounds or her training room within the compound.  In the center of the breakfast table, she left a note that read, “Enjoy your day off! Love Yuri.” All of her planning for the past month in setting this surprise for them had finally come together.  They were her two most loyal friends, and she intended to do well by them.  The surprise was intended to let them know, if nothing else, they meant something to her.  It had been years since she celebrated any holiday, but this year something had changed. 

The glow given off by the embers in the fire twinkled in her eyes as a warm smile presented her cherry painted lips.  The room was certainly not perfect.  The presents were crudely wrapped by an unpracticed hand, and the tree was decorated with various odds and ends found around the compound, including small blades and silverware, but she had done the best she was able with what she had.  It was the best she could offer them from herself at least. Paying another to do this just simply wasn’t enough.  Her eyes scanned the room one last time before she plucked her bag from the floor and turned for the door.

She was not the type to loom as they opened their gifts to see if they approved or not, at least that is what she told herself as she made her way down the path away from the compound.  In truth, she wished to avoid an anticipated dispute with Gideyn before undertaking this particular trip. She assumed he would be irritated by the various purchases she had made for him.  She also expected nothing in return, as she was certainly not their family. However, they were hers. 

On her journey, she stopped to change her attire as she neared her destination.  Workout gear simply would not do, not today.  It was Winter’s Veil after all. Slowly she unzipped the garment bag to reveal a beautiful red beaded holiday dress that had been favored of hers growing up.  As a child, she dreamed of the day she could wear it to a holiday party just like her mother had before her.  She would dance and listen to the sounds of the beaded train glide across the floor as she spun around dimly lit patio beneath a starry sky just like the stories her mother had told her all those years ago. 

A sigh escaped her lips as she listened to heels click against the stone of a dimly lit path with a bottle of Howling Oak Whiskey adorned with a bow clutched in her hands.  The beaded train of the dress swished behind her creating its own melody as she strolled along the cobblestone. Dangling from her arm a beaded clutch swayed to the rhythm of her steps. Her eyes turned skyward and observed the dark blanketed sky that held an endless sea of stars that seemed to twinkle just for her. 

She ran her gloved hand over the curvature of smooth cold stone brushing the various leaves from atop it.  She slipped around to the front reading the name engraved on the stone, Grewyn Duskstride.  “Happy Winter’s Veil Grey,” She whispered as she lowered herself to her knees next to his final resting place.  Opening her clutch she pulled a shot glass out and opened the bottle of his favored whiskey pouring a sing shot into the glass.  The glass was set on the stone that marked his placement.  Her gaze fixated on the glass and the amber color of whiskey that reflected in the dim light nearby. 

For a while, she sat in silence sipping from the open bottle as she studied the craftsmanship of the engraved lettering.  No real interest held her attention there, but it was better than allowing her mind to wander.  Although her purpose for the trip was to unload the guilt she had rooted herself in since his death so she could think clearly, and allow those around her to breathe.  She had become nearly suffocating to those around her keeping careful watches over them out of fear they would end up alongside Grey… Finding their deaths because of her.

“I am sorry, Grey.  I know you are here because you wished to protect me from Krawson and his men.  You did what you thought was best at the time, and while I will never be able to wrap my mind around why this was the better option… I forgive you.” She said as she pulled the bottle from her lips and lowered it to sit next to her on the ground.  “At one time you gave me hope that perhaps everything I had ever wanted was within reach.  A cottage on the outskirts of town where I could raise my daughter with you at my side, and it was for a time a very beautiful gift.  For that I thank you, but the simple life as some would call it has always been out of reach for me.  I tried to tell you that…” She paused raking a hand through her hair a somber sigh escaping.

“I did love you, and I know it was not in the way it should have been.  It was not in the way you deserved, but I’d have never betrayed you. I loved you the best way I knew how, and had I known it was not enough I’d have cut you from me sooner to spare you this.  Hindsight holding the nature that it does is a rather cruel beast I guess.  I cannot say what led to you deciding to take my place under the ax, but I know things changed after I turned myself over to spare Gideyn from an attack intended to end his life.” She took a large swig from the bottle and lowered her eyes to the beading on the dress.

“I know you blamed yourself for what happened, and you believed you failed me because Gideyn found me before you were even aware I was missing… but you didn’t need to do this. You didn’t fail me that night… I failed you. I guess it’s too late to really apologize now, but for whatever it’s worth I am sorry.  Gideyn has always had a special place in my heart, and I know that got in the way of a lot between us… I would not change sparing him from what they had planned, but if there was some way to make you understand the fault that night was not your own… I would do whatever it took to make that clear.” Silence fell again as she swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Whatever the reason you decided this was the better option, I forgive you.  You were sentenced to death, and I was sentenced to life.  So, I must live Grey… whatever that means.  I cannot dwell on the choices you made for both of us.  I know my part in this, but you weren’t blameless. As they say, what’s done is done… there is no turning back for either of us now.” She pushed herself to her feet plucking the small shot glass from the stone she poured it over where his body rested.  The glass was returned upsidedown on his headstone alongside the half-full bottle of whiskey she recorked. “I hope at least now you have found some peace.  I am sure I will find mine soon enough… it’s time to stop running.” She turned to move away from the grave but looked back one last time. “Goodbye, for now, Grey, perhaps I will see you soon.”

@fromoblivionwra​

[raven-scorned]

In the Waning Hours

Her footfall woke him for the groaning of the floorboards.  He heard the door to her room shut and sat up on his elbows, searching the crack of light that cut like a knife through the dark of his rooms.  He waited, listening after her goings on briefly noting the quiet.  For the tavern was quiet at that waning hour and he couldn’t help but wonder at the nature of her late return.

With brief and lackluster effort, Rhys rolled over and tried to return to sleep.  But he would not find relief from the waking thoughts that plagued him for the woman next door.  He rolled back over onto his back and folded his hands behind his head and neck, staring into the dark rafters thinking.  Pondering where his place was in this season of her loss - if he had a place at all.

“My friend.” he hummed, ruminating. “…whatever shall we do with you.” he wondered with a sleepy kind of sadness.  The kind one wears when there are no good answers and the only way forward carries the promises of further suffering.

In a sudden-shooting action Rhys whipped the bedding from his pale flesh and lept from his slumbering calm with quiet-deftness.  He rolled a pair of clean-violet slacks up his corded thighs then pulled a thin linen shirt over his head and made for the thin seam of light that cut across the blackness of his paid space.

Reaching for the handle he paused, listening again for an assurance she still stirred.  He found it in the hollow creak of the floorboards buzzing in his bare feet as well as his ears.  With a flick of the wrist he turned the knob and light flooded into the dark of his rooms and he could hear the light conversation of a few late stragglers down below.

He stepped across the foyer-floor between their rooms and offered a light rapt at her door, looking back into the muted twilight vacancy of his own. 

“Yurissa…” he called in a sleep-deep but humble-quiet tone.

(Setting for a new discord RP with - @raven-scorned)

[raven-scorned]

The Waiting Game

Moonlight stretched from the blanketed sky gifting its warm glow to the dew speckled earth below.  It was surreal splendor that Yurissa perhaps would have enjoyed had her mind not been elsewhere.  It was simply hard to appreciate the appearance of the glittering fields when one knew what this night could bring.

She shifted her eyes back to the dwelling as a regretful sigh escaping as she watched Gideyn move out of sight once he had completed his preparations for the night.  A cold chill ran along her spine as she returned her focus to the field ahead trying to forget what this was costing him, and this had been the last place she had felt entirely like herself.  

The thought of Gideyn pushing the button to destroy the thing in life she had desired perhaps above all else turned her stomach and she was ill with it spinning in her mind.  She had done everything she possible to protect him from losing this… even turning herself over once to the inbound minions to spare him an attack.  He scolded her for such action, and oddly she bore it.  It was a freedom Gideyn had with her few others would ever be allowed.  Even as his irritated tone reverberated in the walls of her mind she was not sorry for the choices she had made. She would do it all again without a single question and almost had.  However, Gideyn being the man he was could read her. He always seemed to just know… and when asked she would not lie to him about what was coming.

His general irritation with her attempting to protect him became a comedy in her mind for the moment as she kept a watch over the field just outside his gates.  Considering they stood here tonight ready to utterly destroy his home due to the minions who had only been after Yuri until Gideyn chose to get involved to protect her, it was almost laughable.  What a hypocrite he was at times, but that was just the nature of the beast she assumed. He could protect her but how dare she attempt to do so for him… It was an equality in their friendship he had simply disregarded after she had been taken previously in an attempt to spare him. 

The hilarity of the circumstances soon faded as she remembered bits and pieces of the night he pulled her from her former Master’s minions.  He had said not a word as he entered the cave making his way to where she was bound.  She had been tortured and there was little she remembered but his tone when he reached her remained sealed in her memory… she remembered him carrying her as he ran, and waking in a room where he sat nearby keeping watch as medics worked over her broken form. She imagined it was similar to the morning he had fallen in her door near death… but she could not be certain of his observations only her own.

She shook her head as another sigh escaped.  Sapphyre would return soon from scouting and it would be her turn again.  Waiting was the hardest part… something in her gut constantly kept her alert to the fact that her former Master’s minions would come, and it was only a matter of time.  Yurissa relied on her training to keep herself from pacing as the hours faded into one another. Standing and doing nothing but keeping watch had never been difficult for her but tonight anticipation of the expected brawl was starting to get the better of her.

Yurissa nodded to Sapphyre as she approached from her scouting, and happily left the post to scout around the property herself.  Nothing, and more nothing she thought to herself circling the area while wrapped in shadows concealed by the night.  A refreshing cool breeze swept through the area forcing the blades of the tall grass and leaves to dance under the moonlight. Yurissa took in a deep breath appreciating the small burst of air through the fabric of her mask when her gaze halted on figures the wind had not swayed. 

Expertly she quickly hid to keep watch because even being within the safety of the shadows themselves was no guarantee they would not sense her.  She was not in a position to get a proper headcount that would have to be done as they neared the gates. However, a face in the group stalking toward the dwelling forced a startled gasp to escape her lips.  This was not the normal detail her former Master sent for this type of work, and she felt her heart begin to race as she made her way back to Sapphyre. 

@fromoblivionwra​

[raven-scorned]

Guilty

“I will ask that while I give my statement that you all wait until the end before asking further questions of me. I will try to keep this as brief as possible, but it is my goal to aid you with all the information I have on Mister Walter Krawson and the executioners.”  Yurissa took a deep breath in preparation for the tale. Her eyes closed as she exhaled her tiny frame began to tremble. “I am known as the Maven, my name is Yurissa Scarletleaf today is the sixth evening in November and I have come of my own free will to submit myself before the guard so that judgment may be passed in regard to my dealings, and knowledge of Mister Walter Krawson.”  Her eyes peeled open and she cast her gaze over at the Magistrate Theodore Bennas one last time before she began.

She set into the explanations going over the various threads that had woven the tapestry they were forced to view.  The world she had been left with painted in the harsh tones of black and white accented with the frigid familiarity of loss.  She no longer cared what the outcome would be for her part in the events that had led to Grey’s death.  However, even now the facts left a lingering bitter taste of guilt as her words filled the empty air.

Yurissa spilled that Mister Krawson and the executioners were a group that fixated on their own perceptions of guilt as a precursor to what had followed.  She told that in calculated conversation the group would attempt to acquire a confession from their targets, and after submit the individual to their own brand of justice.  Death was the only outcome they saw suitable for anything from a minor infraction to treason which was the highest of crimes.  They awaited no official order to enact their self-appointed task and no trial was held for those they subjected to their sentence.

It was not until she met a particular member of Krawson’s group by the name of Mister Haines she had any real concern of the executioners and their tactics.  Mister Haines suffered a particular form of derangement where he believed himself something of an inquisitor. He was armed with vials he would force targets to drink in order to compel a confession.  Yurissa had raised her concerns with Krawson himself of this male on two separate occasions. She could see him toeing the line of even Krawson’s own self-prescribed morality.  Yet, her concerns were ignored and the man was allowed to continue to roam the streets freely as a risk to the public.

She first met Mister Haines while keeping an eye on the elder brother of Lady Aredhele who was having a conversation with her dear friend Velerodra Valesinger, someone Yurissa had known many years.  Haines spoke nonsensical jibberish as far as Yurissa was concerned presenting the vials before Vele and herself uttering the words, “Drink of me.” It was clear even then that the unhinged man was going to be an issue but that night passed without incident.  However, it was the following encounter that had set into motion the events that would forever change the course of Yurissa’s life.

Yurissa enjoyed the game of darts and so in the evenings when she found herself with little else to do she would head to the Golden Keg to unwind.  It was here that Mister Haines without his handler found her. On the upper floor of the facility, he pinned her against the banister and rolled one of his concoctions over her shoulder.  The lunatic ensured Yurissa that she would drink of him and confess her sins soon enough, but the time was not now. He disappeared into the night as Jax the bartender having witnessed the scene checked on Yurissa. 

It was not long after the incident at the bar that Mister Haines was spotted lurking near Yurissa’s offices.  Spying perhaps to see if he could overhear anything he could contort to guilt no doubt. Yurissa admitted she approached him to try and dismiss the male from the area, but it was this night that the confession he was looking for was her own.  It was on this night that Yurissa’s hand would be forced.  Drugged and in the midst of interrogation the male asked of her lover, and it was this that sparked the fight that resulted in Mister Haines death.

She admitted to hiding the evidence and disposing of the body as she feared Krawson and his men seeking her out in revenge for the fallen.  Yurissa in a drugged haze wandered the streets after locating her dear friend Velerodra in order to hide until the effects of the male’s concoction wore off.  It was the following day she reported herself to the Magistrate and warned him of the executioners as she knew an investigation would soon be launched.  Public service or not Haines was dead and Krawson was coming.

For a while, she managed to stay ahead of the suspicions of her involvement.  As she predicted Krawson and his entire team were investigating her organization as they were the last to pique the group’s interest. Circling like vultures getting closer and closer to the truth of the matter, and it was this that must have led them to Grey. 

Grewyn and Yurissa had been together for the better part of a year.  Their relationship beginning over a game of darts Grey had lost and her curiosity got the better of her.  Krawson was aware of their involvement, and this must have been what was used to coax Grey into a confession to the murder of Mister Haines. She explained how she thought Grey in an effort to protect her confessed before the executioner and was marched from the city where his imposed sentence was carried out.  Grewyn Duskstride had been put to death on the second of November. 

She silenced for a long moment as the guard and Lord Bennas discussed the events and where Yurissa stood for her deeds throughout.  They asked where they could find Krawson and it was here the night of Grey’s death played vividly in her mind. “He told his men they would return to Strom.” She answered absently as Grey’s eyes in the last few moments of his life haunted her. “Will I be arrested?” She asked as the discussion of what was to be done with her continued.

Mentions:

@theodorebennas​, @velerodra-valesinger, @aredhelvaltieri, @rhys-valtieri

[raven-scorned]

Stare

(Mature themes: Death, Execution, loss)

“You could have stepped in.  You could have changed places with him, or we could have killed them all. Yet, you stood there like a limp doll and did nothing but stare.”

He was right, she did stand there and do nothing.  She had her reasons, she had combed through the options, and the best possible outcome at that moment was for her to just endure it.  It was no real surprise, in the end, this was just the way her life worked. The lights she saw in the distance were always fires placed before her to walk through, and she was burning now more than she ever had before.

There was nothing left to lose.

She took another drink from a bottle and wandered down the ally barefoot in not but a pair of linen pants and a tank top which she wore beneath her armor.  The heavy armor with the added weight of her inaction made breathing impossible, and she had torn it off as she wandered ahead.  She stumbled as her feet became too heavy to lift and she leaned on the nearby walls of the buildings as she passed… just to keep moving. 

It always ends the same.

Memories of their time together flipped through her mind like an endless picture book.  Each seared itself into her core in a vibrant flash of agony she was all too familiar.  His laugh, his smile, the familiarity of his hand upon her own… their routines, dinners they had all too often, the smell of his favored drink…. His scent…. It was an absolute torment, and it was all she had left of him. She fell to her knees as it all began to circulate through her entire system.  How much more could she take?

He chose this.

Weakly she pushed herself to her feet as she escaped the crowded city and made her way out into the woods.  She wandered ahead with no particular direction, just to find somewhere… anywhere to be alone.  Everywhere she turned there were people conveying their condolences and speaking about how she’d get through this how they understood her pain. She knew it all the while impossible.  He confessed to a crime she had committed to protect her from the deranged executioner who seemed intent on killing them all.  Without an arrest, a trial, or the proper authorities being brought in his sentence was carried out at once.

We were too late.

She stumbled through the trees tripping over sticks and debris the littered the ground as she pushed herself to keep moving.  Her body trembling as she fought to keep herself upright as pushing onward. Her skin bruised and scratched from her various falls, and yet she felt none of it.  She could still see it vividly in her mind and it would be an image that would never fade from her.  It had dug itself into the very core of her being and rooted itself to her soul. The line was formed by Krawson’s men blocking her from him, and the executioner himself.  

His final words began to filter in through the haze of her shock. He spoke to Sapphyre first, “Keep watch over her.”  To Gideyn who was holding Yuri’s arm to prevent her from running forward, “Keep her safe.”  To Ared who stood somewhere nearby, “It has been a pleasure working alongside you.  Till next we meet to remember the few words we shared.” To Yurissa herself he spoke last. “You know I love you Yuri, don’t let this stay with you.” 

From this point, the memory replyed over and again in slow motion. She walked forward collapsing at the water’s edge of a small pond outside Goldshire just as the sun began to rise.  She could hear the sound her daggers made as they hit the ground after his final words.  She could feel the last lingering look he cast her before turning to kneel before the executioner.  She could see Krawson’s ax raise as her heart raced and she fought for breath internally pleading this would be stopped. As the ax fell a flurry of moments shared between them flashed before her.  As his body slumped before her the internal scream she had held back at the time escaped her in this private space at the edge of the pond in the middle of the woods.

Grewyn is dead.

It was here away from prying eyes she allowed herself to shatter, and be broken by the events that had unfolded the previous evening. All of her hopes, dreams, and plans for the future scattering before her to be carried away into nothingness. She cried out for mercy to a universe that simply would not let up. What else did it want from her? What else was there to be taken? She wept until she was unable to make a single sound more until there were no more tears left within her. She collapsed upon the ground into a heap of hopelessness.  He was gone… he was just gone from her life never to return.  He had been sentenced to death, and she… she had been sentenced to life.  

[raven-scorned]

“Your temper will be your downfall.”

During the early morning hours of September 10th, the Duke of Cindervale found himself in the gym of Cindervale’s Wellness Centre. The past several weeks had been some of the most stressful in Lebryn’s life and he needed a way to get some aggression out.

Due to it being early morning, barely any of Cindervale’s populace were up and about, let alone working out at the Wellness Centre. Lebryn preferred it that way; any time to himself lately was a blessing.

The Lord Marshal spent some time lifting weights before making his way to the single punching bag in the back of the gym. Carefully, Lebryn taped his hands before unloading on the hanging bag.

THUMP! Sergeant Major Ichebod Grimm’s loose lips had put the upcoming invasion of Kalimdor in jeopardy.

WHAM! Lebryn’s wife Olivia Edain’s understandable frustration and anger towards...

WHUMP! Lady Aredhele Valtieri. Lebryn found himself conflicted between her and Olivia. He loved his wife with all his heart but Aredhele was snaking into his veins, consuming his thoughts.

SLAM! Woke Felo’dorah. What a piece of trash. The man’s very existence was an insult to people everywhere. A try-hard insect who thought his minuscule accomplishments were worth anything more than ridicule.

PHOOF! Lebryn sent his full force into the bag, hard enough to send pain shooting up through his arm. Grimacing, the Duke shook his hand in an effort to alleviate the pain.

Yurissa was right. Lebryn was letting things get to him and he needed to better control his temper. There was a lot to be gained and even more to lose. The Duke had the power here. He just needed to let his actions speak for him in a less explosive manner.

The punches resumed, this time with more practised finesse. A sly smirk began to crawl across Lebryn’s face. He was beginning to understand what he had to do.

Without realizing it, Lebryn had lost his way. It wasn’t the first time but he was grateful to have people who grounded him in his life. Slowly the confidence and self-assuredness returned. Every punch on the bag was another obstacle destroyed in the Lord Marshal’s mind.

Sweat began to run down Lebryn’s face and his arms began to ache but his assault remained as ferocious and strong as his desire to succeed. Through heavy breaths, Lebryn set in stone his determination and knew that he’d no longer let anyone or anything stand in his way. He’d fight and he’d win.

[raven-scorned]

Again

The giggle that had been ignited as she gathered her things in preparation to leave the guest house had slowly grown into a full-blown fit of laughter.  Grey had been missing since they had arrived back from the 47th’s camp.  It was only upon arrival at their cabin she remembered he held the key.  Unwilling to break into her own dwelling, and frustrated by his absence she turned her focus on other things and opted to stay with a friend.

Somehow only a day later she found herself where she had begun, but that was the way of most of her life.  Striving to move forward but never moving ahead in all areas but one, her work.  She had this unnatural talent to help others progress and achieve whatever they desired, but for whatever reason, it never quite worked for herself.  The pattern was such a repetitive theme in her life that there was simply nothing else she could do except laugh at her own circumstances.

Over the past few days, her thoughts had been in complete disarray but perhaps it was needed to find clarity.  The future her and Grey spoke on now fell into a pool of doubts she had always held when it came to family.  Though most remained unaware Yurissa subconsciously was still screaming in the pond where she had been found the night her family perished. She never believed herself capable of having another family, even as she aged. 

In her own mind, certain things were just out of reach for her, and much beyond her work was in fact just that.  Not one person she had encountered after that terrible night had ever convinced her otherwise although they were all given the opportunity to try.  Each time she opened herself for the possibility it only ever ended reaffirming this belief.  A tragic but normal cycle that repeated over and again in her lifetime.

She left a note to her gracious host in gratitude for the place she had been offered to stay the previous eve.  While she had not been asked to leave she thought it best as she had caused enough trouble for the poor man in the past.  Her eyes drifted skyward as rain droplets began to fall from their shelf above.  Of course, it was raining.  

Another laugh escaped as she wandered along the path at how typical it all was. Rather than allowing herself to be consumed by thoughts of her own misfortunes and how things always seemed to play out. She instead, allowed her memory of home to stir within her mind.  She could nearly hear her mother calling to her as she inhaled the scent of the rainsoaked earth. “Life isn’t about learning to dodge the storms, it’s about learning to dance in the rain. Come dance with us Yuri.” 

As a child, she delighted in hearing those words and would rush to her mother's side to dance in the puddle marked yard outside their cabin. However, today… today for whatever reason it did not call the usual smile to her face. Something inside her just detected something was very wrong here. 

“YURI DANCE!” She heard the whispers scream forcing her to turn just in time to see a throwing blade pass in front of her face.  She was not alone, and yet at the same time that is where she knew herself to be. Figures began appearing around her in almost the same instant she turned, and slowly the understanding came… she was being ambushed.

[raven-scorned]

More of the Same

It was more of the same.  Every evening she curled on her side seeking a restful sleep, and every evening she found none.  Her eyes locked on the bedroom window and she watched the raindrops trailing down the glass.  The soothing sounds of the storm unable to comfort her tormented thoughts.

The dream always began where she felt at peace because she was home.  The vividness of her surroundings was so intense she could taste the sea-salted air.  She longed to return in the waking world, but it was impossible for she was Ren’doeri now.  Exiled from the place of her birth, Aroth’ash Harbor.

She found herself standing in a grand ballroom enchanted lights dancing across the ceiling like stars twinkling in the night sky.  An orchestra plays a lullaby she once sang as a child, and people she had met all along her journey through life danced across the floor.  Their figures spinning in and out of view as the music swelled filling the room.  

She entered through grand double doors and she wore a beaded white gown that had to be lifted for her to move forward.  It was only after she began to step forward that she noted the room had fallen silent leaving only the sounds of her heels as they met the stone.  A breath catching in her chest as panic took over, and she stopped.

There was no more dancing, no more music, and all eyes had turned to her expectantly.  She searched the faces of the crowd quickly before she saw him standing in the center of the room.  His hand extended towards her, “Yuri…” He said calling her forward. 

She swallowed a lump in her throat as her heart began to race.  She wanted desperately to go to him.  She tried to force herself to move forward but suddenly everything was … wrong.  She looked around the room frantically repeatedly combing through the various faces in the crowd, but they weren’t there.  The ones she sought were not there.

Still, she tried to move forward but she was unable to move at all.  Her feet were rooted where she stood.  She looked down to see that she was standing in the middle of a pond.  It had spawned beneath her without her notice.  Her eyes moved back to him and his hand remained extended.  She began screaming with all of her might as loudly as she could. 

The observers continued watching expressionlessly.  He called again, “Yuri…” a soft smile still on his face.  She struggled in an attempt to reach him again but her muscles were frozen.  She continued to scream.  Would no one help her?  No one noticed, not a single one.  It all boiled down to a singular fact, they were not there.  They never would be again.

It was at this point that she was ejected from her dream to the waking world but she could still feel it, taste it, smell it.  She closed her eyes tightly taking a deep breath and exhaling it to once again find calm.  Perfectly counted breaths in... two... three, out... two... three.  She did this until her heart no longer felt it would find its way outside of her chest cavity, and she was awake again.

Her eyes trailed around the small rented cottage she was alone.  Not wanting to dwell on the dream any longer she brought herself to her feet and fumbled her way through the cottage gathering her bag and clothes.  She would head out early today.  Work, after all, was the best distraction.  She would try to rest later knowing it would be more of the same.