#Embertree

[farblechar]

The Embertree

Quite fond of the idea of sparks growing as a natural resource on Cybertron - though instead of spawning on the ground like IDW's hotspots, I would imagine them as the "fruits" of ancient trees that are revered by Cybertronians.

These trees would be very slow-growing and long-lived, with roots that reach deep into the core of cybertron. When the sparks become "ripe," they could be harvested for use in the creation of new life, potentially including some of the planet's wildlife.

The various wars that ravage Cybertron would reduce their numbers through a combination of overharvesting, accidental damage from being caught in the crossfire of battle, and intentional destruction by opposing forces to limit their enemy's ability to replenish their numbers.

Very rarely, an Embertree would produce an "imbued spark" with special properties, including the ability to be planted as a seed for a new tree. Alternatively, these sparks could be used to birth an individual with exceptional power of some kind. Some trees may only produce a single imbued spark in their entire lifetime.

Still very much in the spitballing stage of this concept, I'm not sure how exactly I want it to fit into my headcanon.

[pydoodles]

The Lord and Lady of Embertree!

Love love love Esme and Faervell

[jessipalooza]

I made a little winery for Embertree! ♥ The upstairs is where the owner lives. Now I just need a name for the Winery and the owner LOL.

[pywriting]

Tide of Fate VII

A short meal had been had, lukewarm in nature, but tasty nonetheless. There had even been a ripe peach resting to the side, saved for last so that she could let it’s sweet juices linger in her mouth.

Taliorinth was still puzzled as to how she got here, but thinking over the events, she grew more concerned as her memory pieced together what happened. It was troubling, and the feeling of guilt grew in her stomach as she went on. She knew she wasn’t home, and she knew she wasn’t in that mans house either. In fact, after a few moments longer, she realized exactly where she was.

Embertree.

She slowly had lifted from the table, moving to the window to figure what time it was exactly. The display of lands were tinted in that amber glow, the show of the late afternoon she’d awaken into. It made her frown a bit, the lack of memory of getting here troubling her greatly.

Taliorinth sat there, silently wondering to herself, ‘Just what happened?’

There was a beautiful laugh that echoed along the table, and abruptly, attention was demanded with the honey voice of the head of the family.

“Now, this is the moment to speak of it in truth! Please!” Vesthiriel’s gaze drifted to Taliorinth and the man beside her, glowing with pride, “It is official then, and that is why I asked you all here. My dear, darling young sister Taliorinth Rosespear, has officially accepted the proposal of Nesrin Thori’thal, and we are having the ceremony in a matter of weeks!”

She clapped, her delighted features guileless. “Normally we would wait, but seeing as the groom waited so long, and the bride herself was without… haste we thought was the kinder gesture.”

Nesrin smiled at that, rubbing his hand along Taliorinth’s shoulder slowly. “Truly, there is nothing we look forward to more.”

The small woman herself kept a neutral expression, holding back something in favor of a look to the man who smiled to her. Automatically, she lifted her lips and offered a reflection of that smile.

The man with the bushy beard, Taeral Everdawn, lifted his glass in kind. “Ah, such wonderful news. My congratulations to the soon to be happy couple.” A polite smile offered to both.

Gabriel’s expression twitched at the mention of the wedding, his grey gaze drifting over to Taliorinth, watching her reaction. A twitch of a frown on the edge of his lips, no words said at all from his side.

Laenetta took the moment to lean forward slowly, looking like a panther ready to pounce. “No congratulations for the happy couple?”

In a moment, the man shook his head, snapping out of thoughts unheard and focusing his gaze instead on Laenetta, “Forgive me, I was merely… overcome with joy for words.” He tried to smile again, but it was clearly forced.

“Well, here’s your chance. Say it.” Lanetta smiled viciously.

Silence fell over the table, drawing on an almost awkward length, yet it was cut through quickly by that sweet voice of Vesthiriel once more.

“Then a toast! To the happy couple.” She swept back behind Taliorinth, placing a hand on her shoulder, raising her glass with the other, “To Taliorinth Thori’thal, future Lady of Hymethalas, and her adoring and patient husband-to-be.” Her eyes were cast along the table, “Please, all of you, raise your glasses! To the Bride!”

One by one, the others at the table rose their glasses, Laenetta quick to offer out, “Cheers! Gabriel should give a toast too!”

There was clear hesitancy, Gabriel not wanting to say something, but eventually he said, “To your continued happiness and everything you deserve.” Yet his eyes did not fall on anyone but Taliorinth.

The small bride-to-be met his gaze, her smile faltering a bit with that look, one that spoke volumes of it’s own paired with the words he said.

Vesthiriel quickly added, “And to the groom!” Which was echoed along the table from the others. As it fell to silence again, she went on easily, looking to each gathered, “We will be celebrating and enjoying the union for those coming days, and you are all invited to join us in our hospitality. We plan on remaining together for this time-- it would be a shame to part the pair after so long, so many years without each other.”

Gabriel took this moment to speak up, “While you have my congratulations, there are many I am sure would delight in this news of her coming… union. Perhaps she could spare some time to share this news with certain others who have been missing her terribly these past few weeks.”

Laenetta rose her brow, “And we have been missing her terribly these past -years-. They can wait.”

Vesthiriel spoke up then, “Ah, but they are welcome here, Lord Shadowdrake! And in our home they are most, most welcome. After all, we are nothing--” A sharp look was given to Laenetta, causing the other woman to wilt, “if not hospitable.”

Her words spent, she leaned in to whisper to Taliorinth, “My peach, you must smile more and speak more kindly of Nesrin. Your silence is unbecoming this time; I know you so love to chatter, why do you not tell us how much you are excited for this chance to make everyone so very happy?”

Taliorinth blinked at her sister’s words right next to her ear, lifting her gaze and looking about at the table. Just as commanded, she put on a bright smile, truly looking happy as she said, "I am really happy here- being able to spend so much time with everyone. I'd hate to waste the opportunity, especially after so long."

She looked to her sisters... especially Vesthiriel, looking for that approval before she went on, "And especially with all the delicious food and places we've gotten to go experience. It feels nice..." She did slowly look to Nesrin, somehow wanting approval from that man as well.

Nesrin’s fingers still gently caressed Taliorinth’s arm, he nodded at her look, “And there’s still much to see. We’ll, of course, take some time in my own lands… but afterwards we’ll be coming back here to host the ceremony proper, is that not correct?”

“Perhaps,” Gabriel spoke up again, “I can make the arrangements then if that is what you wish. I am sure they would all love to hear you say such. One in particular comes to mind. They don’t like to get out much, as you remember, but they have told me before I came here of how much they have missed you. Quite. Even so, I am sure they would be delighted to have you tell them in person.”

Taliorinth’s attention focused on Gabriel again, the words garnering something in her. She knew he was talking of Quineven, and immediately there was a pang in her heart. Her eyes spoke of her want to see him. Her want was enough that she dared to open her mouth and say, “Maybe… maybe just for a day I could go visit them?” Like a child asking permission, she looked to her eldest sister.

Vesthiriel looked at her sisters, and the woman clucked maternally. "Oh darling, you would ask that after your escapade at the beach?" Her voice had a shadow of hurt to it. "I thought you were being wiser, like we know you can be, my dear."

Taliorinth’s ears pinned down, the hurt felt like a stab through her heart, silencing away any desire to do what she should have know was forbidden at this time.

Gabriel, however, would not stay silent, quickly saying, “I hardly think a mere day would hurt anything, with all due respect, Lady Rosespear.”

Vesthiriel merely let her face show a moment of emotion, her words dripping with the wound the simple request had caused, “You promised, Taliorinth…”

Laenetta had cast a sharp look to Gabriel, putting a comforting hand on the eldest sisters arm before slowly looking away from Gabriel to Taliorinth instead, “We… only want to spend these times with you. Your promises mean a lot to us, Taliorinth. We love you.”

Before a response could be given, Vesth just shook her head, “It is not to be considered, my dear. You must remain here. It’s only the wise decision.” She reached forward, placing her soft hand against Tali’s cheek, “It is what father would have wanted for you, you know how he loved us to be happy together.”

Taliorinth’s eyes widened a bit, looking worried… and then hurt at her own words. She swallowed down, leaning against the hand slightly before she said, “Ah…” hesitant, yet quick to put on a smile, “I won’t go anywhere… I did promise. I’m sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to offend.”

An approving glance was given to Vesthiriel over Taliorinth’s head, Nesrin’s intense gaze settling instead on Gabriel then, “You’ll have to tell these… friends… that she simply cannot do such. If they miss her so, then surely they can come to her. If not, then perhaps they are not as true to their friendships and commitments to her happiness as they make themselves seem.”

Silence was cast over the table, the moment giving Gabriel the chance to speak, “Very well. If even one day is asking far too much in order to see the other people in her life that love her, a question would have to be raised as to when she might be able to leave to go see them.”

Lanetta scoffed, “We said that they could come here. She can see them just fine that way.”

“After the wedding, of course.” Vesthiriel smiled, as though it was the clearest thing in the world.

Taliorinth’s brows twitched together, “The wedding isn’t… too far off. It’s not too much longer, so…”

Nesrin shifted, “Of course… Such a shame it could not be sooner, hrm?” He brushed his hand through some of Taliorinth’s hair, offer out the idea to the table.

Taeral cleared his throat then, rather loudly so as to drew attention to himself. "I can see this family is nothing if not close and loving. A refreshing thing to witness, in these trying times. If only more families were such." A subtle glance was spared Gabriel, before turning that polite smile to the hostess and her family. "If you might permit me, however, I would like to walk off a bit of this wine and observe your lovely gardens in the process." He set his now empty wineglass upon the table and shifted to stand. "Perhaps this other guest of yours might occupy me? I would very much enjoy the company." He turned then, setting his gaze upon Gabriel with a sharpness.

Gabriel opened his mouth to object to Taliorinth's acceptance of this matter, but his words were silenced once the other man spoke. He looked to Tali pleadingly before swallowing and drawing his attention to the man that now hovered over him. "I am not familiar with these grounds, I am afraid. Perhaps one of the ladies here would be better company to you?"

Vesthiriel just smiled, motioning them on, “Please, Taeral, Gabriel. We’ll join you in the gardens momentarily, but the new family needs a moment together.”

Nesrin’s eyes lidded a bit, watching the two with a secret pleasure. “I would agree. Do not be so very rude to our good friend here, Gabriel.”

Taliorinth could only watch as they all pushed Gabriel away. She wanted to apologize, but no words would rise from her throat… not now.

Taeral Everdawn narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, holding the man in place for the time. “I’m afraid I must insist, Gabriel,” A certain sharpness to his tone, before tightening his grip on the man’s shoulder. “There is a question on my mind, if you would allow us some time, Lady Rosespear. With all due respect.”

Vesthiriel merely smiled indulgently, “Please, go on.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed, and he looked back to Taliorinth… only to lower his eyes in defeat soon after, “Very well, Lord Everdawn… if that is what you wish. I will comply.”

She stared out of the window still, her eyes glazed over in thought as she pieced together her memory of things again. It was like an itch that she was finally getting to scratch, yet the more she went at it, the more she felt pangs of pain.

Like something was wrong.

Gabriel being there.

Everyone leaving.

Her being here.

Something had happened, and as she remembered more and more of it, Taliorinth was realizing just how much was truly wrong. Just how much trouble she’d be in.

It scared her, a bit, making her wring her hands in the loose gentle skirts of her dress.

What was she going to do?

They were alone.

Gabriel. Taeral. Her sisters.

All left her with her husband-to-be.

Taliorinth wanted to get up, and truth be told, there'd be a little shift in her position to try and do so.... ahhhh but that would not happen. Not with Nesrin there, holding her shoulders close. When Vesthiriel and Laenetta wandered off, she felt that dread well up inside of her again, knowing that left her to whatever Nesrin wished.... but was it really all that bad? She had to stop thinking the worst of it. Having Gabe here.... reminding her of all those things... it just made it all the worst.

She had those doubts swirling about her mind again that troubled her so, torn between wanting to comply to her sister’s wishes, to Nesrin’s wishes... to be offered everything, or to go with Gabe... to argue against what the sisters offered and go back to the ship, the grungy life that she'd grown to love and care for and all the people that came with it.... People like Quineven, that Gabriel so wished her to remember in times such as this. Truthfully, she felt immense guilt for such, but what could she honestly do? What could anyone do in this position?

Nesrin, to his credit, was well and patient as the pairs all too their turns wandering off. Slowly, he glanced about to the empty chairs, his fingers teasing through the curls of the blonde that he still had a possessive hold over. Eventually, without turning his gaze to her, he stated, "So this is the man that you were so adamant about abandoning us for."

Taliorinth blinked, looking to Nesrin, and then to the side with a guilty look. She didn't know what to say to that…

"I can honestly say i'm disappointed in it. The way he speaks of us, he is clearly a bad influence in your life, Taliorinth... Much like that man that stole you away from us all those years ago. I had thought you to be smarter than to fall for such lies from the man? Do you honestly think he cares about you? Do you not realize how valuable you are?" Nesrin stated in a calm and even tone.

Taliorinth's ears wilted further at the words, feeling the stinging of each syllable. Swallowing down, she muttered, "He is just worried, Nesrin."

He snorted, showing a break of that neutral expression, "Worried? Do you really believe that? Honestly, Taliorinth, listen to us.... listen to those that you've known all your life to be true, to be wise. He is not good for you. He is merely using you for something more..."

Nesrin frowned, looking down to her and shifting his hand, moving to grab hold of her face 'gently' and force her to look up at him, "I care about you, Taliorinth.... and I will not allow you to be lost to some man that thinks himself smart enough to pull the wool over all our eyes. He is bad for you, do you understand?"

Taliorinth didn't resist the hand that pulled up her chin, looking to Nesrin right in that intense gaze of his, frowning as she did so. His words made sense... too much sense. She cursed herself, curled her hands into fists... She was so conflicted, but she knew.... she knew she couldn't trust herself with it. "Nesrin..." She started, failing to finish.

Nesrin's fingers twitched, tightening ever so slightly on her, "Taliorinth. Trust me. You know I would not do anything to hurt you, yes? I have taken care of you all this time... just let me take care of you again." There was a genuine tone there in his voice, watching her closely.

Taliorinth wanted to pull her gaze away, yet she couldn't as was so often the case. She just watched into those sharp eyes of his, seeing that honesty, that commitment. She reminded herself that he was a good man. That he did mean well, and that her discomfort was perhaps just was an overreaction. Slowly, her hands uncurled from the fists and she nodded her head, "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I know you care. I do trust you, Nesrin."

Nesrin Thori'thal stayed silent for a few moments, letting the words she spoke hang in the air for a few long moments.

"Tell me you understand, Taliorinth." He'd finally say, commanding her such.

Taliorinth took in a slow breath, and without hesitation she said, "I understand, Nesrin."

Nesrin waited a few moments after as well, once again letting the weight of her words settle. Eventually, his grip on her chin would loosen, his knuckles brushing along her cheek, "That's my good girl. That's all you have to do, yes?"

She nodded her head, still feeling uneasy. Yet soon after, he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, heavy and wanting. Trapping her there for an endless time against him in some form of romance and affection.

Suddenly there was a voice, “Sorry to interrupt…”

The voice pulled her from her thoughts, pulled her from the memory of the chilling touches she felt like she could never escape, leaving her only with the sight of what was in front of her. What was outside of the window she still sat in front of.

Taliorinth glanced over her shoulder, turning her gaze back to the doorway that had recently opened and allowed in a visitor she’d not heard from in so long. A tall man, clothes hanging off of his frame in a lazy fashion that made him always look more a traveler than anything. One stark blue eye contrasting against his tanned skin and his blonde locks.

She knew him like she knew no other, and to see him there, she felt some wash of emotions run over her. Like so many times, she tried to hide it away for a time. To hold back just how much just seeing him affected her… so much within her that she could say, yet her tongue failed to allow escape, her lips shut defiant against her mind.

“Quineven…” she finally uttered, turning herself about to fully face him.

Taeral had come back, his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face. “We did not mean to intrude on your moment.”

Taliorinth immediately felt shame for having been caught, her cheeks turning red and her eyes dropping down.

Nesrin had pulled back from Taliorinth as soon as the others returned. Straightening up, he adjusted in his seat and looked forward to Taeral and Gabriel. "It is fine. Absolutely fine." He waved his hand. "There are more moments to be had. Many more, in fact, in the future."

Taeral looked between the pair, but still carried that smile. "As I am sure, considering your fast approaching engagement."

He looked around a moment, seemingly looking for the pair of women that were absent. "I had wished to show my appreciation for the fine dinner this evening before departing." His eyes gave a side glance to the man he held onto. "It appears there are dire matters that require my immediate attention, if you would forgive me."

Gabriel’s voice rose up with a bitter tone, “It would appear… I cannot stay long as well.”

Immediately, Taliorinth found her voice to weakly say, “No.” at the mention of him leaving. She didn’t want him gone… she didn’t want to be alone again. Not yet.

Nesrin nodded his head to Taeral, "Ah of course... of course." He hesitated at the sound of her Taliorinth, frowning, "There is no reason for you to stay any longer. I'll be sure to pass on the appreciation to the Rosespears myself."

Taeral blinked a moment, but without missing a beat, he nodded. "My thanks, Lord Thon'dil, and soon to be Lady." He bowed his head before turning to the man at his side. "Come along then. It is a long journey." That grip never faltering.

Gabriel perked his ears as Tali spoke up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He spoke up quickly, "If I may request you show us out, Tali?" He watched her hopefully. "I am not certain when next I may return, as it may not be before the wedding." His eyes only drifted momentarily to the man whom gripped Tali, before fixating on the woman herself again with that plead. "I would like... one last moment, if I may?"

"I'm afraid that won't be an option," Nesrin shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

Taeral made a low sound of disappointment. Even still. "Unfortunate, but I am sure you both would like to continue your privacy. I can respect that."

"We would, yes," the man said, his arm still around Taliorinth as he watched the pair.

The air was tense, and it seemed as if it would pass with the departure that would surely follow… but instead, Gabriel’s expression changed. He narrowed his eyes, and in a gruff tone he said, “I won’t.”

Within a heartbeat, he darted forward as Taeral released him from the grip. The man vaulted the table, pushing aside finery and foods all across them, his hand slipping into a hidden pocket and pulling out a small stone.

“NO!” Taliorinth tried to stop him; tried desperately to avoid this collision that was going to happen… to stop before something was truly ruined in this delicate balance.

There was a buzz of magic rose up, both from Nesrin himself and the stone that was held between Gabriel’s fingers. It was a quick moment that felt like an eternity, watching in a slowed manner as the spell activated against the stone and collided directly with the man’s skull. A shock of arcane went through the body, leaving him to slump back uselessly against the chair.

There was a miscast of a half-baked spell to the side, loudly tossing dishes along the floor and chairs, breaking them and leaving a scorch mark across the table’s surface. Deadly and meant for the man that was now standing to Taliorinth’s side.

Taliorinth had moved quickly, trying to check to make sure that Nesrin had not been killed by whatever magic was let loose. She couldn’t tell, pressing her fingers rapidly to his neck to find the pulse or sense he was still breathing.

Yet, true to his name, the shadow was standing there with her, and the last words she heard were from his gruff, familiar voice. One that so often warned her of the dangers of this situation or filled her thoughts with arguments against what she so desperately wanted…

“I’m sorry about this Tali…”

And the world darkened.

That was what was missing, she realized. That was what truly had happened.

That was why she was here…

That’s why Quineven stood before her now.

In a moment, she realized the weight of the actions that had transpired. The amount of troubles had been caused because of her and her decisions.

She had ran away again… just as she promised not to.

Already she felt the disappointment from her sisters.

Her sisters…

Her family…

All that she could do now was look to the man who surely gave that stone to Gabriel. Who surely knew this would all happen. Who surely requested her to be brought back here.

All she could do was ask that simple question that rang through her thoughts.

“What have you done?”

Tide of Fate Story Index Here

@sakialyn @stormandozone @jessipalooza 

[bronzblade]

joyous mantle

for @hollowlightadventures Crafting System

The estate’s door is locked by the same wards that have protected it since she was a child; she remembers her mother teaching her how to unlock it - which runes to touch of the schemata in order, and then a quarter turn to the left. Of course it was left - Momma had been left-handed. It made things just barely strange for her or for anyone else to unlock the estate’s doors. No doubt that had been the point, when they had been locked into the wood. It kept the family within safer. When Melori finishes the sequence, the spellcircle sends a light purple glow washing across her features.

The halls are quiet and dark, lingering with memories over two decades old by this point. They’d been happy, hadn’t they? The four of them, and then the five when Tanni came into the world - wiggling and screaming. Whatever had happened to Momma after, it had come so suddenly. She’d go quiet or disappear, and then she was gone.

Momma’s not coming back, sweetling. I’m so sorry.

She’s never sure in the memories who had told her - which of them had been the one to take her face into their hands and kiss her hair and apologize. It was fuzzy, she’d been so young and none of it held the way her later memories did. Sometimes things about Momma were hazy. Ma Vhelas’an and Wren had helped in ways: piecing memories held by so many people into a more perfect picture of her mother, one that she could replay and was less subjective to her own doubts.

Momma had been beautiful, and a good person, and there had been so much reassurance of that. Some of the things she had learned didn’t connect to those pieces perfectly, but it just meant that her mother had been a person, all her own - flaws and virtues and so many other things. It at least made her more real than an idealized aspect of motherhood; even if she was stained by the knowledge of her darkness or melancholy.

Melori’s footsteps echo in the silent walls of the estate as she moves. It’s kept clean, perhaps too clean - sterile, almost. It’s near exactly as they had left it all those years ago when Minn���da had taken her and Tannisal to their new home. Smaller, cozy - “It’s just the three of us now, we don’t need all of those things,” - but maybe it wasn’t as much home; sure, it would grow to be, but it wasn’t the estate. She runs her fingertips along shelf in the hall, adjusts her bag at her shoulder, and continues to the study - to find that it’s just as immaculate. Even the bookshelves - lining each wall on both floors of the study, are perfectly kept. Her mother’s desk is empty (too neat, she remembers piles of papers and books at almost all times, and her mother hunched over the desk late into the evening).

She settles on the floor at the center of the study, spreading the contents of her bag around her. A hawkstrider skull, the jar of Eternal Waters - glowing a bright golden from her work with Wren in the dim room - her scrimshaw tools, all placed within easy but significant reach. The skull is placed against her lap, careful in her examination.

Once it had been a strider of Dawn’s Reach - bred for speed and agility and unique coloring. She couldn’t tell that from the skull, but she’d found the remains of the creature on a visit to the Reach - ranging near the edge of the Aldmarsh to report its findings - and the leg bones that she’d find other uses for could have told her that even without the context. It must have escaped the keeping grounds further north and fled south, content with its freedom. A piece of the skull near the lower jaw was missing, as if something much stronger had ripped the poor thing apart. Near the Aldmarsh she didn’t find that surprising. 

The last moments had been terror, and she feels that so deeply that it resonates in her own bones and heart and soul. Fear. But no, before that - it had been joy, overwhelming and engulfing as the creature found its freedom in the sprawling fields and hills of Dawn’s Reach. That brought a smile to her face, settling then on clearing the memories in the skull - leaving a blank canvas to work with. It made the runes stronger when she retrieved her scrimshaw tools to carve them down the center of the skull.

The water was next with the skull set aside. Refinement of magical substances to an essence wasn’t something she was exactly trained with, but she had seen it done by her mothers - in labs and through alchemical and magical processes. She didn’t have the labs - Momma’s lab had been cleared just like the vault - unless she wanted to head back for the Ridges or Embertree. She did have magic, and the will to make things so.

Li had asked her about that - how she drove her enchantment. Melori had answered the only way she knew how at the time, she simply did it. Magic felt internal and ingrained and natural to her, even without academic study she knew how to take what she wanted and make it so. Refinement of the Eternal Waters to one precise essence, glittering gold and warm to the touch when it rested in her palm and full of the joy and radiance that they had imbued in it, was simply something that she worked for. Magic did the rest, even if the how’s weren’t quite so clear to her.

The small essence fit neatly into the curve of a rune on the skull - slotted in as if it were made to go there. A small hum left the elf, pleased with her work.

Still, for all her sureness with magic, some things could still surprise her. Perhaps it was the touch of Ma Vhelas’an’s magic - where Life and Death and Memory all intersected - or perhaps it was the power of the Eternal Waters. Maybe it was both. She couldn’t have anticipated the flowers that wound out from the skull, dropping from the sockets or slipping from cracks in the bone and hanging in cascades of bloom as if they had always grown there.

Day lilies, lilacs, wisteria, prarie-fire, and - amongst them all - a small sunflower. Flowers she’d grown in the garden for each of them, for her family.

There was joy and sorrow in the memories here. Perhaps before she would have fled from anything but the joy, but she’d been reminded that in all memories there was a power to be held. 

[korkrunchcereal]

A Farewell to Bitterness

Irkalla was gone.

Aurelian was certain of this the moment his feet touched solid ground. The withered and rotten dust of the dead realm had vanished to the verdant grasslands of Quel’thalas. Overheard birds he had not heard in what seemed like months chirped. The wasteland of decay was behind him now both figuratively and perhaps literally, to be lost forever.

And yet much like that empty realm, he felt hollow. He had shed his tears over what he believed lost already. He had gone through the sorrow of loss and had burned out his vengeance against the orchestrator of his humiliation. Yet revenge he was denied against the Palecrown, robbed of it by the Oracle in her final moments and leaving Aurelian alive with nothing.

No, not nothing. He had his life though that was small comfort. He had wanted to die in Irkalla; to be buried amidst the forgotten memories of that place rather then face the destruction he had unwittingly aided in. The Blackbloods had marched against a Gilded Lands unprepared for the calamity of such monstrous hatred before he had stepped foot in Irkalla. Yet he did not die, and now he was forced to face the price of his schemes.

Above him the spires of Silvermoon loomed, as tall and proud as they always were. They cast a long shadow over the city and over Aurelian, eclipsing the low hanging sun. Beyond the shade of the spires he soaked in the warmth of the sun, for Irkalla was a cold place in its entropy and held only a black moon. Light it was almost unfamiliar to him now to see so much life.

Citizens, soldiers, merchants and more strolled through the city in their busy lives. The aftermath of conflict always held that tense rush to the steps of the ordinary. Aurelian saw all manner of people in the streets and had to avoid in one case medics carrying a wounded soldier on a stretcher. That was curious. Was Aurelian wrong, and the war not truly over? Had there been more fighting in his time away?

“Excuse me Mister.” A soft voice called behind him for attention, a faint tug at the hem of his cape. Curious, Aurelian turned around, and upon spotting no one at eye level looked down. A small child was gripping his cloak, the cloth bunched up between her fingers. She looked up at Aurelian with wide eyes, letting go when he turned to face her and taking a step back alarmed.

Aurelian raised a brow at her reaction, until he realized the blank faceplate of his helmet had probably startled her. Reaching up, he undid the straps of his helm to slowly remove and tuck under an arm. He had not shaved in some time and his goatee had nearly become a beard and he made a quick reminder to trim it down at the first opportunity. Offering the child a smile he squatted down, the fabric of his war-robes pooling on the ground.

“Hello little one. What can I do for you?” His voice was friendly, the child slowly stepping forward and brushing blonde locks from her eyes.

“C-can you take me back home?” She stalls, glancing around nervously. “I got lost and...I don’t know where the Matron is and there’s lots of people.”

“Matron?” Aurelian blinked in confusion before he understood what she meant; home was the orphanage. He extended out a hand to her, still holding his smile. “Of course.” The child grinned, running forward to grab his hand. His own hand dwarfed her own though despite both the size and harsh metal of his gauntlets, he gently wrapped his fingers around her hand.

Aurelian had to stoop somewhat so as not to lift the little girl as well as shorten his steps to match her own. Together the two walked through the busy streets, the sun seeming to follow them in its descent as they moved. Few paid attention to them for they were busy with their own lives and did not spare the armored warrior and the child little more then glances as they passed.

“Are you a soldier?” The little girl’s voice finally broke the silence of the two.

“Big battle?”

“Yea, with the monsters! My friend said they were fighting monsters. Do you fight monsters?”

“Why yes, I do.”

“I thought so.” She nodded matter of factly, smiling in triumph.

“How long ago was this battle?”

“Uhhhh...” Her face scrunches up in thought. “Just a couple days.” Two days ago. He had been in Irkalla for months it had felt like! Absentmindedly he scratched at his growing beard, a habit he had picked up since it had begun to sprout. No, not felt. It had been months.

“Are you sure two days?”

“Mhmm! There was a big flash of light, and then some soldiers came back! They said the others disappeared! I heard them talking about it.” She grabbed his hand again, once more walking.

“Do you know what’s happened in the south?”

“The matron says lots of bad things, and last night she was talking to someone who said they were from the south and she was crying.” Aurelian’s heart sank at that, though he kept his smile for the child. He had to maintain strength to an infant.

“I fear there will be lots of that in the days to come.” His voice cracked for a moment, before he took a deep breath and changed the subject. “To answer your original question, yes I was a soldier from the big battle. I was one of the ones that disappeared.”

“Really?!” She gasped, looking up awe struck at Aurelian. “Where did you go? What was it like? Did it hurt?”

“I went to a strange and faraway land, where the moon was black and the ground was grey. Monsters lived there, the very same ones that came here. It was…cold.”

“Wow. What happened?”

“Well, I defeated the monsters and stopped them from ever coming back here.” A partial truth, but one the child accepted.

“Wow.” She repeated. “I thought you were good. Only good guys wear white like you! That’s what the stories say!”

“I…” he paused, unsure how to respond to that. He maintained the illusion of good quite well, but his entire life had been illusions. He appeared good, but it was an entirely different matter to say he was truly good. Many called him arrogant, prideful and selfish and even he could not deny the accusations. In his plots and schemes for power he had ensured the fall of many people, some he might consider better men than himself. But it had all been for the betterment of house and nation, right?

“Huh?” She questioned, breaking his train of thought.

“I am good.” He offered her a smile that did not reach his eyes, though the answer pleased her. “Tell me, what’s your name little one?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Ada! And I’m not little. I’m taller than everyone else at the orphanage…except for Mika, but he’s five years older than me.”

“Well, I am pleased to meet you, Ada. You may call me Aurelian.”

“Ah-rel-ee-an.” She sounded out his name, growing accustomed to it by repeating it several times. “Aurelian! That’s a long name.”

“My full name is even longer.”

“What is it?”

“Aurelian Viraxon Indaris.” She gasped at that, eyes widening.

“That is a long name!  You must be super important. Only important people have long names like that.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Do you know Lor’themar?”

“I have met him before, yes.”

“Is he nice? The matron says he works very hard and always does his best to protect us.”

“Yes, I suppose he is.” He didn’t execute Aurelian for his stunt in the South right away, which made him considerably nice all things considered.

“Good. Nice people should be in charge.”

“I would have to agree. Now tell me, is that your home there?” Aurelian nodded his head forward towards a small building built into the frame of a much larger structure, spotting the Mia’s Orphanage sign outside. It was not the only orphanage in the city, but it was one he had seen before and so he had taken a guess.

“Yea! Thank you mister Aurelian!” As the two approached Aurelian saw a woman step outside, her orange hair showing the first signs of grey. She looked at the two with surprise, the woman waving her hand rapidly.

“Ada! Haven’t I told you not to run off from me. It’s dangerous right now…” she paused, glaring at Aurelian. “And there are dangerous men here.” Aurelian caught her look, though offered a smile in response.

“Go, little one.” Aurelian turned his attention to Ada, letting go of her hand. “The matron is waiting. You’ll be safe there.”

“Thank you again mister Aurelian!” Ada waved rapidly, before taking off for the orphanage. She turned to give Aurelian a smile as she entered the building, though the matron did not follow her in.

“How dare you.” She spat at Aurelian once Ada disappeared, the vitriol clear in her tone. Taken aback, Aurelian blinked in surprise, a hand to his chest.

“How dare I? Ma’am we have not even met and yet you already cast scorn at me.”

“No we have not met but I know who you are, kinslayer. Joining with the invaders…” She spat at him in disgust. “My nephew is dead because of you, all to protect your castle from the things your friends allied with.”

“Ma’am, I am sorry for your loss but- “

“Sorry!? Bah, an Indaris apology is as venomous as a snake bite. There is only poison behind your words; always has been with your family. My poor nephew gave his life to save the Gilded Lands. I hope you remember that next time you feast in your halls, kinslayer.” She did not give him a chance to respond as she stepped inside the building and shut the door, but the expression on his face was not that of anger.

“Save the Gilded Lands?” He sprinted to the door, rapidly pounding his fist against it. “Ma’am, wait! What do you mean save the Gilded Lands!” There was no answer. “Bah! Damn witch.” He pushed himself away from the door, his mind racing.

Save the Gilded Lands.

Could it be? It was impossible to believe and for a moment his heart fluttered. Had the Gilded Lands survived the Blackbloods? Had by some miracle the elves beaten back the tide of darkness that had swallowed Embertree and the Ridges? He let himself have the dangerous belief of hope, something he had not had for some time. That spark would kill him if it was false, but he could not help the ember that smoldered within.

“A mage! I need a mage!” Abandoning all sense of protocol and civility he ran away, sprinting through the streets and ignoring the curious looks thrown his way. His cloak waved behind him as he ran, making him seem a purple blur in his movement. The Sunfury spire loomed overhead, its shadow engulfing Aurelian. Save the Gilded Lands.

By the light, could it be true?

[thesunguardmg]

With one fell swoop, the Alliance has come to Quel’Thalas and in their fury, they have dispatched an entire fleet of Thalassian Warships, taken a province of the Ghostlands, nearly taken Sunstrider Isle, besieged the Sunwell, and locked Quel’Thalas in a barrier of magical nullification. Armies from Stormwind, Kalimdor, Gilneas, Kul Tiras, and even reclaimers of high elves and void elves have landed to bring Quel’Thalas into submission. 

Just as the ink was signed for the Sunguard to become a fully fledged regiment within the Royal Thalassian Army was the battle called. An army of Three Hammers moves onto Silvermoon City and the Sunguard moved to intervene. Thane Fergus Mountainbeard and regiments of dwarves position themselves to fight head-on with the elven host. The Sunguard, moving to the fields south of Silvermoon make into battle array for a pitched battle while Gilnean forces close in on their rear and ready to reave into the Dawnspire.

Off the coast of Sundial Anchorage, a Stormwind and Kul Tiran Fleet led by Commodore Lucious of Lordaeron takes command as soldiers from Kul Tiras, Stormwind, and Arathor are ready to disembark. 

Near Sunsail Anchorage, Admiral Drake dispatches his Kul Tiran marines onto the shores and brings the Citadel of the Last Ember, home of the Phoenix Guard under siege. 

Attempting to make some sort of headway on the Isle of Quel’Danas, Fleet Commander Esme Sunshard and Commander Faervel Bael’nar ready themselves with Stormwind 3rd Fleet and a garrison of undead that hold the beach landing. 

Further south, a new nation sparks into the hearts of all former exiles of Quel’Thalas. The Kingdom of Quel’Thalas Reborn, a thalassian enclave has reclaimed the former Windrunner Holdings. Their elven regiments move onto Embertree of Shallowbrook and further into Havenblaze port. 

With the war sounding out in the deep Amani trolls swept out of the mountain passes and surround the Emberlight. Dispatching General Idrya Blacksun to the Blacksun Gates, the Emberlight prepares for the carnage. Sailing north, Severus Blacksquall engages with the Stormwind 9th fleet off the coast of Sundial Anchorage.

The night was not without some victories as the Sunguard was able to dispatch squads of agents. Monax the Undying was successfully able to raise new soldiers in Autumnvale while the scout Thinariel was able to show the Sunguard main force a position of an ambush on the dwarven column. Finally, the bard Vaelan Cindercloak gave a rousing song to the Mage-Guard under Azriah Thelryn’s command.

Research into Militia Training and Advance Seafaring were completed by the human Gideon and the Pathfinder Caelinda respectively while a force was sent to Suramar to assist in retrieving allies. A troop of consisting of Caeliri Dawnsworn, Melori Bronzeblade, and Elovriel the Wyrm were successfully able to find and meet with the Matron known as Ayra, a rising figure within the city-state. 

On the southern front, an elite force consisting of Oosaarn Bloodaxe, Sibelia, and the Spellbreaker Thordemar were able to cross over the Thalassian Mountains into the Ghostlands and link up with a battalion of elite Forsaken soldiers known as the Queen’s Hand. 

With the battle lines drawn, the Sunguard prepares for its next adventure in the PHOENIX WARS!

[pyrosophist]

🌈

I always enjoy reading your writing! That doesn’t mean much on its own, but for the year and a half+ I’ve been in the Sunguard you’ve been a genuine inspiration to me in that avenue. I love the stories you tell, with Esme and Embertree or Karsteth, and it's clear how much thought and skill you put into crafting them. It’s really cool for Thina to have gotten land and built a house in Embertree, and I wouldn’t have done that in such an organic way without the storyline you made for TSG.

[pyrar]

“Make the stars for me again, Faervell.”

“Of course, my love.”

Commission from the ever so wonderful Alteya

This was something Faer and Esme did and have done over the years. It started with a date between the two and he was showing off magic to garner her interest. And now, four years or so later, she stills asks him for the ‘stars’ and he still gives her them. 

I really really really am happy with this. This sort of scene was the first commission @jessipalooza got for me all those years ago, and now, I finally get to return the gift to her with them in Embertree... around all of our story that we’ve both written together. This means so much to me, and i’m sure it means so much to you as well.

Thank you for the years, and to many more!

[thenaaru]

The letter would be delivered to Embertree by courier, left for the mistress of the house whenever she had time to see it. It was written on fine paper and sealed with a silver wax with the Silverbooke crest pressed into it.

“Esme Sunshard and Faervell Bael’nar,

I write to congratulate you both on your recent engagement and upcoming nuptials. We have met but a handful of times perhaps in the last year I have been a soldier of The Sunguard and I wished to pass on my well wishes should I not get a chance to at your reception. I will likely be accompanying Iiloridan Sunshard for the evening, someone has to keep him out of trouble.

Kindest Regards,

Avie Silverbrooke.”

@jessipalooza @pyrar @edaigoa

[gwynealin]

A Magical Gift

Aeleara stared down at the carpet she had just finished sewing. So many hours had been poured into its creation. She glanced at her fingers, riddled with a few sewing needle pricks here and there. She had just finished adding the final touches to the carpet by sewing additions to its corners that could snugly fit an enchanted orb into. The paladin placed all four of the orbs in their respective corners and took a step back, watching curiously as the carpet sprung to life. Or at least it appeared to.

 She glanced over it, appreciating the colors she had dyed it with. The colors were that of Embertree Courts. Its crest, a sword piercing a crown, was embroidered neatly in the middle of the rug. Aeleara got down on her knee and proclaimed “Report to Embertree Court. You are to serve Esme Sunshard, and her husband, Faervell Bael’nar.”

 Atop the carpet she placed a bag, filled with other sewn goods made from Shal’dorei silk. There was a circular pillow and a comfortable blanket, and nestled in the middle was a bottle of red wine. The carpet hovered off the ground and began to fly toward Embertree.

 Hours later, it had arrived and found a nice patch of shade outfront of the Court to rest at until it was found.

@jessipalooza @pyrar ))

[pydoodles]

This was my zine piece for the @artistsofazeroth book. The first Zine i’ve actually been a part of and I was super excited for it.

The theme originally had been about the legion expansion, but it became more of a book of our experiences through wow as a whole. I wanted to continue forward with this piece because this expansion was not only one of my favorites, but it also held a lot of great things for me and my rp partner @jessipalooza throughout it.

The scene is set in Embertree, the lands that were made and thought of by not only our friend @forever-afk but also furthered on by Jessi herself. I’ve been blessed by getting to write my own character and his time in these lands, as it’s been where he’s lived now for two-ish years.

It means a lot to me, because it was such a leadup to one of the key points in both my story and my rp partners story. Not to mention, it was something that we were brought to together after now five years of writing with one another. That’s a damn long time.

I have so much appreciation and love for these stories that we explore with our guild @thesunguardmg, the lands, and our characters Faervell and Esme (seen at the edge of the lake). I hope that, no matter what awaits the story and this fantasy land in the future, that we continue to have a fantastic time playing a game and a story we all love.

Love yall so much.

my patreon - my twitter - my ko-fi - my artstation - my picarto

[jessipalooza]

Journey to the Vale

Esme woke before dawn. She had always. It was something that lingered, even when unnecessary. Over a century of the same sleeping patterns is hard to shake, even if she tried to do so. Her eyes opened easily and she took in a deep breath to distinguish it from the rhythmic breathing of the man beside her. He was fast asleep and radiating warmth. He was also snoring every few seconds. 

Quiet and as light-footed as ever, she slipped out from under the covers and went about her morning routine. She stretched. She washed her face. She brushed her hair. She pulled on dark brown pants of supple leather and a thin, white cotton blouse. She shrugged herself into a blue silk vest and laced herself into knee-high boots of an even darker leather. She stretched again. 

With a glance back to the slumbering felmancer, he was granted a small smile even if he did not know it. Then she left. Down the east wing she walked, casting a small frown towards a few of the cracked windows and crumbled molding. The intricately weaved rugs in sun-bleached blue and muted gold had been washed and brushed, but there were parts that remain singed and damaged. The east wing did not take the brunt of the damage from the Black Bloods, however.

Esme turned to wander down the grand staircase and felt the kiss of the cold wind. No longer was there a large glass wall with double doors to go through and enter the aviary. There was nothing. It was shattered as was the dome of the aviary itself. Some of the foliage inside - large, weeping willows, tall and far-reaching oaks, fluffy bushes, lush grass - had been saved, but much of it had been eaten away as though by acid. Not even branches were left among the black, crisped ground. The pond in the middle had been drained of all its water and the forge in the center that used to be home to the phoenixes, Little Prince and Sprout, was crushed under the large gold statue of what the birds were in life. 

Eventually, the aviary would be rebuilt, but the rest of Embertree was more important and needed to come first. It was a decision that Faervell did not disagree with. It was a decision that Captain of the Guard Baclen Highstar would have been proud of. 

If he were still alive. 

Esme crossed the marbled threshold of the grand entryway, careful of the chips and gouges, and made her way down the west wing to the kitchens knowing full well that Teresa would not be there.

Teresa was still alive, but had been assisting with the towns, ensuring that the few workers they still had were well-fed. In order to do so, she was out of the estate even before Esme woke up. She was best suited to the house and complained about not being in Embertree Court, but Esme never asked her to go to the towns. Teresa did that of her own accord. She complained, but she found it important and Faervell had floated the idea to Esme that Teresa did it as a way to honor Baclen. Faervell whispered that he thought Teresa might have been a little bit in love with the Captain of the Guard. 

As suspected, Teresa was not in the kitchens, but there was still a cup of coffee that had been enchanted to remain warm. It was sitting beside a small cup of fruit and a plate with broiled fish with lemon curry butter and a slice of toast meant to soak up the butter. Another place setting sat across the butcher block island, and it was clearly meant for Faervell: biscuits smothered in gravy and chopped up thick slices of bacon, fatty sausages, and two large eggs sprinkled with chives and garlic. Next to the plate were two glasses that held water in one and milk in another. 

Esme shook her head, still incapable of understanding how Faervell could eat so much, but she filled herself up on her fish, ate the toast, saved the fruit for last, and drained the cup of coffee. By the time she finished and left, dawn had come and the sky began to tinge a beautiful purple and orange. 

Standing outside of Embertree Court, she cast a glance back towards the tower in the distance, the Hunting Lodge. It was normal. The building itself took minimal damage from the Black Bloods, but of course, it was enchanted to be a strong hold. No longer did it serve the purpose of housing hunting parties of drunken men that celebrated their managing to take down not one, not two, but three stags. The building’s purpose was no longer to have animals butchered in its lower levels and hung as decorations in its upper levels. It had a darker purpose. 

Esme had gifted it to Faervell as a place to practice his magic. Whether it was practice with fel fire or summoning demons - something she especially hated - it was built to last and contain whatever was within. In doing so, the wards on the building were strong. They had strained against the Black Bloods, but had held all the same. Faervell was always good with curses and wards, and the building standing was a testament to that. 

But Esme was not interested in how the building still stood. Her thoughts trailed off to what lie within. On the bottom floor, tucked under what looked like glass, was a drop of sludge. It looked like the remnants of the Black Bloods - black and purple in color with a consistency of congealed blood. But it was not wholly of the Black Bloods. It could not be. The rest of whatever was left from those creatures had gone away. They had all but evaporated when the Sunguard had defeated them. All of the lands that had held any trace of such things were clean. Wounded, injured, yes, but clean. 

How had this bit, enough to hold in one’s hand if one were stupid enough, remained? Faervell had claimed he felt something more than just old gods. Shadow and void both, he had said. He knew best, of course. Magic was his field. But Esme could not help but feel as though there was more to it. She could not help but feel that while Faervell was right, neither was he completely right. 

With a deep breath, Esme turned away from the Lodge. It was something they were working on together. Something that Faervell would no doubt begin to look into as soon as he woke up. It was not something she needed to think on for now, even if the worry still crept in the back recesses of her mind that whatever the thing was, it was dangerous and oh so very close to the place she now called home. 

She shook her head and lifted her fingers to her mouth. A sharp whistle followed, carrying over the meadows and echoing through the expanse of the surrounding field. She only needed to wait for a few moments before she saw something shift in the tall grass. A flash of orange darted between purple and blue flowers. The tall wheat-like grass parted and bounding towards her was Amon, his fur the color of her hair, the color of sunset. His large bushy fox’s tail wagged and he excitedly rounded her a few times before nudging his nose against her hip so that he could slip his head beneath her arm. 

He was much larger than any fox. It was no doubt a side effect of the curse that had lay over Embertree before, as were his blue eyes that appeared to hold a glow not unlike her own. But he did not have any of the animosity that the controlled animals had before. He was free, and he had been domesticated before his long stint of being in the wild and being changed by magic. His saddle was still in place, soft and made specifically for him. And as soon as Esme reached for it, he obediently crouched down so that she could slip onto his back with ease. 

He enjoyed being ridden, and though Esme would not admit it aloud, she enjoyed riding him. Holding on to the thick fur of Amon’s neck, she said in Thalassian, “Go.”

The two went east. He was as swift and slippery as a fox ought to be, weaving through grass and over hills with ease. He did not have to stick to riding paths like many horse’s favored. It made the journey to the border easy. It made the ride shorter, easier, and quieter. The two went into greater Quel’thalas and kept going into the mountains, slowing only whenever a party of travelers might stop by. 

Most of the time, such travelers were not looking for conversation much less trouble. Every so often, one would recognize Esme and call her Fleet Commander or Pathfinder of the Sunguard. Sometimes she corrected them, sometimes that took much effort. She had found a way to tell if they were being polite or if they were scared. If she saw relief in their faces when they referred to her as Spectre or Sunward, she allowed them to do so. She had not the heart to tell them that her oath was gone, that the Sunguard was disbanded. Let them think she is still there as a soldier to protect. They would not be wholly wrong. 

“Almost there,” she said to Amon, offering the fox a pat to his neck. He was panting, but happily so. He had been running for hours, which was no doubt a treat after her had been stuck in Embertree for the last few weeks. He sniffed almost everything they passed and seemed so excited by it all that Esme allowed him to wander off course more than once before easing him back. 

As they continued to ride, she saw their goal over the rise. What used to be large gates of what might have been gold were crumbled and leaning against the mountains around them, tired and destroyed and burned. Whatever ‘acid’ the Black Bloods had, it had tarnished what used to shine. Miraculously, the doors still stood and they also remained closed. Likewise, guards dutifully flanked either side of the gate with spears in hand, and they immediately turned their eyes onto Esme as she approached. 

Esme knew suspicion and could sense it in the air. It was a familiar emotion to her and she did not blame either of the guards for feeling it. She did not look like a normal visitor. She had no party with her, nor did she bear any seal. Had it been a month or so before, it would have been easier. They would have seen the crimson and gold tabard and let her in without a second thought. Of course, they would have been crawling with Black Bloods as well. 

She took a breath to shout a greeting, but a whistle rang through the air, getting louder as it got closer. Thankfully, Amon moved of his own accord and jerked to the side - just as an arrow sunk into the soil left behind. Two more whistles and Esme gripped onto the fox, entrusting him to dodge the arrows. 

Ah, so that was how it would be. Fantastic. Never were things easy.

“STAY YOUR BOWS!” Esme shouted as Amon whipped to one side and bared his teeth at the guards, even though they had not lifted a single hand between them. Archers must be hidden in the mountains. 

“Stay your bows!” she shouted. “I am--”

Another two arrows whistled through the air and landed. One was only a few inches from Amon’s back paw and Esme felt a small spike of anxiety and a flash of anger. 

“STAY YOUR BOWS!” she yelled louder. “MY NAME IS KNIGHT-CAPTAIN ESME SUNSHARD OF EMBERTREE! OF SHALLOWBROOK!”

As Amon readied a dart to the other side, the guards conversed and one - a woman with a deep pitch - called out, “Hold!” but too late. Another arrow swept through the sky, arching, and landing in front of Esme and Amon.

The same guard lifted her chin. “Zalin Shadowsunder wrote ahead of your visitation.”

“And you still shot at me?” Esme shouted back, exasperated. 

Neither guard looked bothered by the question, nor what spurred it. The other guard, a man, said simply, “We did not know that you were she. Now we know. You are expected. The Lady Voidsunder will see you.”

Esme’s brows twitched. She was annoyed at the reception she had been given, but her curiosity at the title eased it somewhat. She imagined Seileran. She had met the woman a few times while they were in The Sunguard together. She did not recall her using that title, however. Something must have changed in order to have her take on such a moniker. 

“Go through the gates and follow the path,” the woman guard said. “Do not stray from the path.”

Esme could not help but huff out a breath. The guard did sound much different from Esme when the Embertree lands were laden with curses and crawling with monsters. She did not argue, though she could tell the woman was bracing herself for such. 

“Aye,” Esme answered. “Do not stray from the path. Are you sure the Lady Voidsunder is expecting me? Or should I expect to be shot at even after the gate?”

The guards exchanged glances. Beneath the helmet, the man’s smirk was visible. The doors opened.

At the lack of an answer, Esme huffed again. She glanced down at the arrows that surrounded her and Amon sniffed at one of them before offered the guards his own little huff. She counted eight in all before she patted Amon’s neck. “Come on. Let us go. The Lady Voidsunder is waiting for us and we have work to do.”

Behind her, the doors shut and the sound of the metal lock sliding into place echoed behind her.

---

@pyrar | @stormandozone | @curiouslich for mentions

[pywriting]

Shadows Cast

Taliori had been in a rush of sorts as soon as she had gotten the call. It had been brief, but clear. The man that was so far away calling out to her and telling her news that was terrible in it’s own.

She had to bring it to the Lord of the lands. A man that she rarely had conversed with, yet deserved above anyone else to know of it.

Esme Sunshard was dead.

At least, her soul was dead. Her body was still alive somehow. Even Quineven had struggled to explain that.

It had been hard news to pass along, yet one she had to be honest with. She struggled with answering the stream of questions and a man breaking down with anger and fear. She could only offer so much, and before she could so much as try and explain that Quineven was working to fix it, the man was gone. Off to the mountains that the mage resided in.

It left Embertree empty. Barren of leadership and left with a woman that knew it couldn’t remain so. And thus, Taliori and made a decision.

After speaking with the staff, she finally made her way to the wide and open library. There was a desk there- the owner was the woman herself who was subject to such a terrible fate.

Tali glanced over the table of neat stacks and the few papers that had been dropped off. Work that had been left behind and surely to be attended to after the woman came back. 

That was, she meant to do it once she came back. No longer would that be possible.

There was a sigh that was released from Taliori, and she slowly slid into the foreign chair. She kept looking through the desk till finally she found blank paper and the ink required to write with. Preparing herself, she set out multiple sheafs of the paper and began to dip the pen to the ink. 

After a long moment of consideration, the pen was brought to the paper and the monk began to write with her oh so nice script. 

 Captain,

You know that usually I would come in person to deliver news, but i’m afraid the time it would take for me to make my way to your home personally would be far too long. I don’t know if you will find this as urgent as the warlock Faervell had, but I need you to know all the same.

Esme is gone. By such, I mean that she appears to be dead, yet her body remains alive.

It is far more complicated than I can adequately explain, however I will try.

According to Quineven, a spell had been cast not but a day ago. It was some sort of spell that sent her spirit or soul to somewhere that is beyond our physical reach. A surge of energy abruptly cut the tether that kept her attached to the physical plane, and from that point on, she no longer remained there. It is as if she is a shell with nothing inside. 

This led to a theory that she may have gone through what a few others appear to have gone through. There’s word around that there may be some sort of connection to the dead. I’m not sure how it works, and I don’t dare to assume that I could understand complex magic, but it may point us to where she went.

As of right now, I am assuming over whatever matters is needed here at Embertree since Faervell is gone as well. I can handle what affairs need to be, but I know that you would wish to know this news just the same.

I am sending for the others as well.

If you have any need for me, I am always at your disposal and will be here for you.

Be safe.

Taliori

Glancing over the letter twice over, she finally folded it up and set it aside. All prepared for the delivery that was to come. Yet, she didn’t go immediately. Instead she went to begin writing two more letters. Both were the same in their own ways, yet addressed to two different men.

It was short. Simple. Easy to understand.

“Come to Embertree.”

Both were folded and sent to the others of the crew. 

The small woman slid back the chair and swept up the letters. Making her way hastily off, she’d find herself going to pass the letters on to the carriers. From there, directions were given and the messages were sent. 

She watched until she could see no more, then gave a brief nod to herself as her eyes closed. She knew plenty of what she needed to do, but this was far more out of her range. She felt hesitant and a bit scared of herself. She never was good at this game that needed to be played in the absence of the Lady and Lord of Embertree, but at this point she felt obliged to take care of things.

Hopefully the others would come.

Hopefully she could maintain what needed to be done.

Hopefully Esme and Faervell came back.

Hopefully... Hopefully...

---

@sakialyn @raserus @jessipalooza @vaelrin

[thanidiel]

@jessipalooza embertree?

Swamp - by Allen Song

“Mushrooms, moss, lichen, and mold;

They grow afresh on things long past old.”

—Vagabird

[ryther-writes]

Doubts

The Sunset Parlor was filled with life as various patrons of the Dawnspire participated in all sorts of activities, whether it was gambling, or perhaps a drink with a friend, or making use of one of the men or women to relieve themselves, there was always something to do there. The sounds of glasses clinking, gambling chips clacking against each other, laughter, and the sound of voices all filled the air in the high class brothel.

Kyranyx, however, was nowhere to be found in the merrymaking. She had quickly made it past the patrons and the tables, her swiftness drawing a few curious glances which only lasted for a moment before the various patrons turned their attention back to whatever was in front of them. Kyranyx stopped in front of a bathroom, giving a quick knock, and upon hearing nothing back she quickly entered.

It was only then she felt herself having held her breath, and Kyranyx quickly exhaled as she lowered the mask covering her face, and lowered the wolf hood before undoing the buckle that kept it from falling away, and she hung the hood and mask on the hook which was on the door. Next, she removed her gauntlets and placed them beside the sink, and ran the water cold as she cupped her hands, and Kyranyx splashed her face. A sigh of relief came out as she did so, and the rogue quickly dried her face and then her hands. Kyranyx slowly began to undo her body armor, her arms still sore from the excursion not that long ago in which she aided Dawnward Dawnsworn to help reclaim her house from ghosts. As she finished undoing the straps, she merely allowed her armor to drop to the floor.

Underneath laid her undershirt, as well as bruises and some minor cuts which had begun to heal on her arms, along with a scar that ran along her upper right arm in the shape of a bear claw, which she had earned in her first excursion to aid Esme Sunshard help reclaim her lands in Embertree, and another, fresher scar, although slightly smaller, which was on the left side of her arm, close to the top side of her wrist and ran to just above her elbow, which had been earned from assisting Caeliri and the others. The human looked over the scars for a few moment, and the soreness and slight pain continued to course throughout her body. Doubt plagued her mind as she continued to run her gaze up and down the various injuries, most of which had been accumulated with the Sunguard.

How can you continue to do this to yourself when some seem to actively dislike you for being what you are, and most couldn’t care less if you lived or died?

The thought made Kyranyx uncomfortable to say the least, having been with a group that had the latter mentality, with a few members having the former as well. She wrapped her arms around her body for a moment, being lost in thought as she ran her hands up and down her arms, careful to be gentle as she did so.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been at odds with myself over something like this. It was the same thing with --

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a muffled voice called out.

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

Kyranyx turned her head and quickly called back.

“Yes, I’ll be a minute.”

She turned her head back to the mirror, giving one last glance before she reached down for her chestpiece and began to secure the straps on her armor.

Perhaps in time, they’ll get it. A saying Kyranyx had told herself at the first night she stayed at the Parlor. It had been a few months since then, but it was one of the few reasons she stayed. They’ll understand that I am worth as much as any of them.

She placed her gauntlets back on, and reached for her hood and mask.

One can only be defeated so many times, right? The Pathfinder placed the hood on her head, securing the buckle that rested just below her neck. The mask laid just above it, and she quickly raised it to cover most of her face.

You’re the Dreadwolf. I’ll find a way to make all this pain and shunning, this doubt and distrustfulness, all of this...hurt...worth it.

Won’t I?