#Shan'H'tra

[marcusmettalus]

Vaard gets Lost, again.

@vaard

Vaard grumbles, gently tapping his staff in a side to side motion infront of him, testing the path he is walking. Vaard, is lost. He and Shan were in Aszuna and trying to find some obscure ingredient for Shan’s latest experiments, and Shan it appeard has wandered off somewhere and left Vaard on his lonesome, again.

And its been almost an hour since then, and Vaard is getting irritated. Everything is irritating to him now, the sound of the distant waves breaking on the shore, the birdsong, the roughness of the linen on his face and body, Light-damn it all! Stupid adventures, stupid noise, stupid,, stupid staff! Vaard tosses the staff infront of him onto the ground, grumbling and very much frustrated with his situation. 

His eyesight was still ungodly terrible, barely even seeing the most basic shapes, colors and light blend into a discord of hues and intensities, and despite the help from various Priests and doctors, the eyes refuse to heal. Even Vaard’s strangest ally, Tyran the Red Dragon, was of no help “Ha, your eyes are fine, Pale One. That is not what needs healing. Now go, your friends and family need you. I have a few bones to pick with our ‘Honorable’ Warchief.”

Vaard grumbles as he kneels down to pat at the well trodden path to find his staff again, simmering still, but a little calmer. He moves gently off to the side of the path, his staff bumping into a large tree root that has arced out of the ground. Slowly maneuvering about till he plops down onto it, sighing as relieves the weight off his hooves. “Damnit Shan, where did you run off to?”

As Vaard is catching his breath, and trying to figure out a way to find Shan, he can hear something approaching from down the path. Something heavy, and moving at quite a pace. Vaard tenses up, slowly coming up to his hooves, holding his staff with both hands and taking on a stance his Monk mentors taught him. As the creature comes closer, he can hear more things in the heavy strides, claws scrapping over the torn cobble, the sound of armor and weapons clattering in time with the long strides, low rumbles of something growling.

Whatever it is, is soon upon him, and Vaard gets ready to roll out of the way if the creature turns to charge at him, but the attack never comes. Instead there is a scrapping sliding noise, as whatever huge beast comes to a slow halt, the scales and armor plating ripping up loose earth and stones. For the longest time there is no sound except for the slow heavy breathing of Vaard and whatever creature is there.

“Vaard? What in the name of Ysera are you doing all the way out here?” A soft melodic voice speaks up, followed by light footfall. Vaard sighs deeply in relief and lowers his staff. He recognised that voice and tone, and figured out what the creature was. It was Lira, a Night Elf huntress along with his mount and companion Hydra.

“By the Monkey King’s barrels, I thought something was charging at me from down the hill.” Vaard leans slightly on the staff as he tries to turn and face the tall lithe built Night Elf.

“Pfft, thats just the pace of Haraldra, isn’t that right boy? Aww yes you do you, my adorable green freight train~.” The trio of head lean down to nuzzle into thw friend and master, before one of the heads cranes over to give Vaard a light nuzzle into the white shock of hair. Vaard flinches slightly before reaching up with a bandaged hand to gently pat the massive head.

Vaard is amazed constantly how huge the Hydra is sometimes, from when he recalls seeing the emerald hued creature from Alternate Draenor. Other hunters have always managed to tame the smaller ones, pups or juveniles. But nothing older than 2 or so years old. Lira found one that was roughly 3 years old, and has been nursing it and giving it all manners of food and exercise, to encourage the natural growth these beasts have. Now, Haraldra is almost the same size as the Woolly War Mammoths from Northrend, and is pure muscle and scales. Even if he doe not seem to show it when among people.

“Vaard,, that sweater. Where did you,, sweet merciful Life-Binder, has Winter’s Veil come early ‘cause that is U.G.L.Y! Wow!” Lira starts chuckling as she looks at the grey sweater Vaard is wearing over his usual attire. The light gray sweater has stitched on it the words ‘If lost, return to Shan.’ in a clear black color. Soon though, Lira is cackling and clutching her sides.

“What, what about my sweater? Its just gray sweater isnt it? Shan said,, oh no.” Vaard frowns and tilts his head, wondering why his friend is keeling over in laughter. Lira was a strange Night Elf to begin with, an obsessive love for firearms, tamed and grew a Hydra to a clear wild size, lives out in the wilds for lengthy periods of time. Though given her laughing and pointing out the sweater, he guesses what is on the garment.

“Yes, oh lords yes. Hooo hoho,, spirits be, I love Shan so much more now. She has humor, praise be,” Lira slowly gathers herself back up, giggling still and walking over to gently place a hand on Vaar’s shoulder “Come on, let’s get you back to Dalaran, and then we can shout at Shan together. You pissed cause you got left alone, and me asking why she never told me she had humor. Imma count this as yet another saving your pale ass.”

“,,, this is how many times you’ve saved me now? 5? 6 times?”

“Pretty much, that mount of yours is useless, running off cliffs and jumping into enclosed pits. May I reccomand you sticking to flight paths? And a chauffer?”

“,,, just get me back to Dalaran you strange Elf.”

“Rude. But still love you, Pale Boy.”

Lira(strasza), Night Elf Huntress.

[vaard]

The slowest escort quest in Northrend.

@teechew (Teechew owns Shan, I only own Vaard)

[teechew]

DRAECEMBER 2018 - Day 07 - Grief

Shan lifted her head from the parchment she was studying. She moved, slowly, her heavy head. Her horns were heavier each day that passed, her poor neck could barely hold straight anymore. She looked in front of her and her eyes caught the glimpse of something behind several other painting and diverse objects against the wall. She blinked once and stood up from her desk, walking toward the wall, avoiding the dangerously unstable piles of books and grimoires. A simple levitation spell and the paintings were off the path. It was a stained glass. Old, shattered in some place and the colors were fading.

For a moment Shan'H'Tra was back in Shattrah, in that little shop of hers. A library with the familiar smell of paper and dusty old books. The discreet ringing of arcane crystals lighting the shelves accompanied the almost religious silence, only broke by the brush of a turning page. Shan'H'Tra inhaled, expected the usual difficulties of her corrupted body to keep her from doing so efficiently but no. Her lungs were perfect. And so was she.

Her figure was straight, thin, elegant. Her neck now strong again was holding her head high, displaying her impressive crest and horns to anyone that looked at her. Her features, chiseled in a skin of moon-like hue were perfect again and she knew it. Her heavy hair, as dark as the void itself, falling gracefully on her shoulders. She looked down at her hands, holding a book but more importantly : thin and small fingers. She delicately took the corner of a page and turned it. A smile decorated her face for a split second before being interrupted by the ringing of the front door bell.

But it was her gnome assistant. Bringing more books in, she had knock over a metal artefact that made the noise, waking up Shan out of her daydreaming.

« Oops ! Sorry ma'am H'Tra ! » « You are excused. This room is cluttered after all. »

The gnome trotted over and put the books on a pile that waved a bit before miraculously stabilizing itself.

« Wowwy That's a beautiful stained glass ! Where did you get that ? » « It's mine. I had it recovered from Shattrah's ruins. » « Who does it represent ? » « … A simple bookseller. »

[marcusmettalus]

What a Wonderful Dream (Part 3)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Shan and Vaard looked between one another then back at the huge Orc who was in the process of cleaning off his knife, the butchered and quartered Talbuk set aside to be grilled later.

“You? A red dragon? Puh-lease, if you think you could fool us you might have come up with something a little more convincing. Quel genre d'idiot me prends-tu?“ Shan’h’tra scoffs softly, leaning on her staff gently, while Vaard has finally managed to sit up somewhat straight, resting an elbow on a folded pile of clothes.

The orc laughs broadly, the heavy plate armor clanking gently in time with his din. He slowly stands up and with a gentle snap of his fingers, his body begins to change under a gentle golden glow.

A small cloud of gold light and black flames rush down the green skin’s body and armor, peeling away the guise. Heavy plate armor gives way for flowing silk robes and embroidery, thick greying braids and hair giving way to long golden locks and chest length beard. The squared and brutish jaw line gave to the sharp lines of a Highborne elf, but those golden piercing eyes remain, the pupils simply black slits, deep and hungry gaze.

Shan and Vaard seem dumbstruck for a moment, as where once a huge Orc warrior stood, was now a High Elf noble in black and red robes. A majestic being, where once a brute stood.

“So, High Arcanist Shan’H’Tra and Vindicator Vaard, does this form seem more convincing? Or would you prefer I take on something more,, scaled?” The High Elf spoke now in Draenic, and barely a hint of an accent is found in his speech. The Elf glanced down, and sees some of the Talbuk blood has lingered on his fingers. He lifts up the long talon like finger nails, and with a short sharp flick of his forked tongue, cleans the nails of the intrusive blood. Once clean, he brushes the long thick beard with his manicured fingers.

“Wha-how, but,” Vaard starts before interrupted by Shan “You are a High Elf? No,, those robes and iconography, those are of the Red Dragonflight. But, who are you? Why would you not be among your people at Wyrmrest Temple?”She immediately switches also to Draenic, her emerald eyes glaring and examining the tall noble across the fire pit.

“Because I do not desire it,, and because my Queen does not desire me to be her mate again, not yet at least. I have not made enough amends yet. And,, she is still healing from the wounds inflicted by Neltharion. As for who I am, well.” The High elf grins gently, revealing those pearly white teeth, gleaming in the fire light.

“I go by the name of Tyranastrasz, The Scholarly One, Prime Consort to the Life-Binder of Azeroth. Though, most of the world believes I am dead, killed at the hands of Deathwing at Grim Batol. The Dwarves, in their audacity, think that my skull resides in their capitol of Ironforge. Ha! The nerve,,” Tyran grumbles softly as he waves a hand, the dimming flames of the fire pit flaring up again.

Vaard gapes at Tyran, still trying to put things together in his mind. Here, in the same room as him was a Red dragon, but claiming to being probably the oldest dragon who isn't even an Aspect. Vaard recalls Senegos from Aszuna, who is millennia old, who was seemingly at the end of the life cycle of dragons, even with the aide of the mana pools and ley-lines coursing through the Broken Isles.

“Then what are you doing, masquerading as an Orc warrior?” Shan asks the obvious question hanging in the room. A Red dragon who died at the hands of corrupted orcs and Deathwing now being a part of the Horde.

“Twas not the form I chose. Twas what the Titans gave me. To humble me and teach me an important lesson. Judge not the Mortals by only a select group of individuals. Were I to judge your people as a whole, I would call you fel-addicted heathens who aide the Burning Legion in the conquest of the Stars. But you aren’t. You are a proud misplaced people who want to try and save your new, and old, homeworld.” 

“And, despite your thoughts, I do not serve the Horde. I aide those who try and better the Horde, not to turn it into the war-mongering people they once were. If Garrosh was still alive, Id be putting him on the chopping block. But I also aide, in a part, the Alliance. I curb those who would try and fan the flames of war, but I fear humans are a mortal race who enjoys stirring the pot and up-ending tables.”

Tyran grumbles gently, toying with his beard with his sharp nails, while Shan sputters and scowls at the dragon who dared call her people fel-addicted heathens. “Why you little,,” Shan looked ready to drop an Arcane Bomb on the man before Vaard speaks up.

“Wait so,, you have been living among us, and tried to help both Factions into co-operating? To what end though?”

Tyran stops and looks at Vaard, blinking a few times before doing the ‘Are you serious face’. “To what end? To. What. End? To save this sorry excuse of a planet! To make a world safe enough for my children, my children’s children, and their children and their children to live in it of course! I am the father of almost an entire dragonflight, and spouse to the frakking ‘Life-Binder’. Why would I not fight to save this world and it’s people? I have seen the wars you mortals fought, the tyrants and abusers, plagues and the undead, demons and Man’ari. This is my home just as much as the other creature on this world. To what end. Aman’Thul’s Beard!”

[marcusmettalus]

What a Wonderful Dream (Part 2)

Vaard laid on the makeshift bed in the cave, still trying to get his bearings and go through his mind what just happened. Yesterday he and Shan'H'Tra were trying to rid of some demons, more there to keep an eye on the newly Lightforged friend of his. But then, he was home in Shadowmoon Valley, with his family. Thinking about them sent a ting of pain through his body, gritting his teeth as he tried to move away from that part. A part of him felt glad to have met them again, but knew he would not meet them again for a while. After he awoke in this cave, he saw that huge Orc barely 8 feet away, armored to the teeth.

“How did that beast know our language,,?” he mutters to himself, trying to figure out this strangest bit. An orc who spoke fluently Draenic, and spoke in riddles. Saying he had seen and spoke to Vaard’s family, that he brought him back from the dead. How would a warrior be capable of healing him, and if it was true, resurrecting him. And the last bit,, High Elf? Old body? What nonsense was that?

“Some mad orc who is way past his days no doubt,,” Vaard mutters to himself as he takes another swig from the large waterskin, before he tried to move again out of the bed. A jab of pain tears through his body again, gritting his teeth firmly as he clutches at his side. “Faaaaa,, what in the name of the Light? What is the-”

He looks down and peels the bandages away to see a huge gash running across his lower ribs towards his hip. The usually pale skin is mottled and faint traces of fel green taint is pattered around the crudely stitched up wound. It looks more like the Orc has taken bits of shredded sinew and closed up the wound. The antiseptic bandages are slick with half dried blood, and peeling it off from the torso has aggravated the wound now.

Vaard curses some more in both Common and Draenic. Then, wincing, he ties up the bandages again, growling under his breath. As he lies back ground, gnashing his teeth as he tries to not cry out again as he tries to lay flat on the sleeping bag, he hears heavy footsteps coming down the cave tunnel. A few moments later, he sees the armored orc coming round the bend, a huge talbuk slung over one shoulder, carrying his massive axe in the free hand.

“Ha, you are still alive, that is good. I brought food, though Argus is not as bountiful as it once was. Venison it will be. Though your friend will have to make do with what rations she has with her.” The orc gestures behind him to where Vaard sees Shan in the faint fire light.

“Vaard? Is that,,? No, wait. Is this some sort of trap foul beast? How can I tell if that is Vaard? And what kind of Orc does not kill Draenei and Alliance members?” Shan goes through a variety of expressions before settling on a furrowed brow, scowling at the huge Orc. Finally having a comparison, Vaard can see that the orc is easily a head taller than Shan, easily making the beast 8 feet tall.

“Pah, honesty must be a rare commodity among the younglings. Interrogate your pale boy to your pleasure, I will be butchering this Talbuk.” The orc growls down at the Lightforged woman before slamming his axe into the opposite wall, leaving it there to sit. He moves off to a far wall with the carcass to butcher and skin the kill, while Shan walks over slowly, holding her staff tightly in her hands, her golden eyes boring holes into Vaard. 

“Shan?” Vaard slowly sits up up, grasping at his side to try and ease the ache and try and keep the stitches from popping free. The woman lightly baps Vaard on the shoulder. “Quiet. Who is the current Highlord of the Paladin orders?”

Vaard winces at the smack from the staff “Ow! Its,, its Pachu’a Grimtotem. Oow, why are yo-?” He receives another quick smack from the staff. “Who leads the Council of the Six?” “Khadgar of course cause that Jaina woman ha-” *Whack* “And what is my favorite fruit to eat?” “F,fruit? Uhh Stranglethorn grapes, they reminded you of a fruit you ate on Argus.” *Whack!* “And what musical instrument did I use to play?”

Vaard is getting a new bruise from where Shan keeps whacking him “Oooow. Frakking hells woman, you played the harp and I still have not seen you play it ever. But you have talked endlessly about it between prattling on about your stupid theories and books.” This time the whap comes down onto Vaard’s head before Shan hugs Vaard tightly. “Thank the stars,,”

Vaard winces at the hug before gently starting to return the hug before Shan composes herself again and standing back up again, dusting off her robes and ornaments.This leaves Vaard flailing a little as he tries to sit up straight again. “How in the name A’dal are you alive? You were dead, 100% dead. Your soul had left your body,,” Shan glares down at Vaard before looking over to the orc briefly.

“Huh, how do you think? I resurrected him. Reached through the primordial Dream and brought him back to his body and gave the boy Life. Even for an aging beast like me, I can still perform such basic spells.” The orc looks up from his butchering, he had removed his gauntlets and was wiping them clean. The Talbuk is cleaned and quartered already.

Shan scoffs “Elekk-shit. You are a warrior, there is no way you can perform even the most simplest of spells, and impossible to perform such a high level ritual.” The orc grins and bares his predatory teeth, too clean for any green skin. “Were I an orc, mayhaps you are right. But I am no orc, I am what you people call,, a Red Dragon.”

[marcusmettalus]

What a Wonderful Dream.

@vaard (I'm writing feels, be warned. But this is my payment for that Tyran drawing you did a few nights ago. I can't draw that well, but I can write helluva story.)

Vaard felt cold, as if he laid in a pond on a crisp spring day. He did not feel numb, he could feel water pressing all around himself. But slowly warmth spread throughout his body feel suddenly jerking awake and opening his eyes, and he saw,, home. The rolling hills of Shadowmoon Valley sprawled out below him, the long wild grass flowing in the morning breeze. He could see the stars beginning to fade in the sky, giving way to the bright blood red sun rising on the horizon.

Vaard basked in the rising sun, feeling the cold slowly fading away like the morning mist down in the valley below. Suddenly he felt two soft hands slide over your back and around his waist, holding him lovingly. A familiar bump against his back signalled the owner of the arms "Good morning my husband.~"

Vaard stiffened up, his mind suddenly cold again. "Namya?" He looks over his shoulder to look into the eyes of his wife. They glow brightly, just like the stars in the heavens, warm and full of love and mirth.

"Of course ka'ra. Who else could it be?" Namya laughs tiredly, a laugh Vaard has not heard for many years. Namya leans up and kisses her husband on the cheek, humming warmly "Welcome home. How has your latest adventure been? How is Shan'H'Tra doing? Is she still causing problems for her fellow Mages?” Namya hold the rough hands of Vaard gently, her smooth fingers running over the faded scars and worn skin. Vaard is still trying to figure out how he is back home, and holding hands with, with,. With his dead wife. Namya looks up at Vaard, tilting her head “What is the the matter ka’ra? Surprised to see me? To see our old home again? Me and the children were too when we came here.” Vaard’s heart sank to new depths. They were dead,, and so was he. Something happened, and now,,. Namya smiles sadly before gently cupping her husband’s cheeks. “Ka’ra, my love. Do not look sad. We still love you, and remember our times together. They were the best years of my life. We have two beautiful daughters, who learned a great many wonders of life. They had an amazing Father, who was a Paladin of the Naaru. Ka’ra, do not be sad.” Vaard closed his eyes tight, holding the soft gentle hands of his wife in his. The soft sounds of smaller hooves are heard coming from within the house. “Pappa!” Nauna comes running over and clings to Vaard’s side with her free hand. The other arm is holding the youngest, Rulna who giggles and clings as well to Vaard. The poor paladin is fighting back tears. One part of him is angry and sad, that he could only meet his family again in the afterlife. The other part is so, so happy, to be finally with the people he truly loves. And for a time, he is happy. He holds onto his family, and he can feel them, their warmth, their touch, its all real, not some figment of his imagination. “I, I missed you all.” He manages to get the words out, faltering in his words.

“I know you did, Ka’ra. Your friend told us.” Namyu smiles softly, caressing the pale skin. “My,, friend?” Vaard frowns softly, tilting his head slightly.  “Yeah! He’s huuuge! He is even bigger than you pappa! He smells like warm metal and has braided hair like the Rangari girls.” Nauna rattles off quickly in one breath, bouncing slightly on her hooves. “Rulna played with his braids, and he was cool with it, said every whelp he has had did the same when he was younger. Pappa, what’s a whelp?” Nauna pauses in her rambles, tilts her head when asking the question. Namyu laughs warmly, a laugh that has always brought a smile to Vaard’s face, and put him at ease. Though the question does make him wonder “Who was this? I do not know anyone with such features,,” Vaard looks down at his wife with a curious frown. “You will find out yourself, soon enough ka’ra. I think you are needed elsewhere.” Vaard blinks confused, starting to open his mouth to ask for a better answer. Namyu doesn’t let him, leaning up and kissing him deeply, slowly, savoring lips she hasn’t touched in years. “It is good to see you again, my love. I hope you may visit us again sometime in the future. Though maybe, not by dying.” She chortles softly before patting Vaard on the shoulder. Vaard feels the cold again, wrapping about his body and slowly pulling him away. “W,wait, what are you..? No, no, no, nononono.” he tries to hold onto his family tightly but he gets pulled roughly through the hair into the sky, as if a Titan grabbed him and tore him away. “Nooooooo!”.

“Nooo!” Vaard sits up violently, an arm shooting out to try and grasp the after images of his family. He is panting heavily, a cold sweat covering his body, looking about with wild eyes. Beside him in arm’s reach is a small campfire, and on the other side of it, sat an armored orc. Vaard tries to find a weapon, trying to move from his spot, only to be rendered imobile by a shot of pain racing through his body.  “Easy, pale one. You are still recovering. The Eredar did a number on you, and my powers are still not quite as powerful as they were.” The Orc growls softly, his pale gold eyes peering over at the gasping Draenei. “What, h,how are you speaking our language?” Vaard groans out, clutching his side as he sits up crookedly. “Ha. I can whichever language I choose, pup. What was your dream about?” The orc chuckles gently as he picks up a water skin, tossing it into Vaard’s lap. The paladin looks about as he fumbles the water skin open, seeing the small camp is hidden in a deep cave, no outside light could be seen anywhere. “My,, dream?”, he thinks for a short while, trying to find the words “, family. And my home.” “Family and home eh? Hmmm,, a wondrous dream indeed. I hope I did not scare your family too badly, the spirit realm is a strange place to visit, and I had to use my old body to visit them. I do not think Draenei had met High Elfs before.” The old orc sits up slowly, his armor and bones creaking, and Vaard can see more features now of the warrior. Thick braid hang from his hair and jowls, decorated with loops of gold that contrast his graying hair. “W,wait, who are you? How do you know about my family? Spirit realm?” Vaard tries to stand up, before crying out in pain, grasping at his side, finding antiseptic bindings and drying blood.

“Pah, told you to sit still pup. And to answer your questions. I am just an old orc who has seen too many tragedies to let you slip away. I met your family once when I was visiting Outland and came upon their graves, they wanted to know what became of their Epolto'eros, the girls’ father and her husband. Know that they are proud of you, and hope you find some peace and happiness in the future. They do not blame you, pup.” The orc laughs gently as he walks past Vaard, grabbing a massive axe that was embedded in the wall, yanking it free as he starts making his way out of the cave. Vaard is left there by the fire, holding his wound and trying to figure out what he just went through. (To be continued? Muahaha)