#WRA Horde RP

[thevelvetcartel]

TVC Invites you to celebrate Love is in the Air with... Love Takes Flight!

Where: Thaldraszus, Algeth’era (48.75, 40.24) 

When: Friday, February 10th, 6pm server   (WrA) 

What: Art raffle, mount raffle, pick-up line contest, pet battles, and more!

Come enjoy the evening, drink, dance, and make friends! Or more than friends! It is the season for love, after all.

[thecloudcitymarket]

CCM - May 10th, 2023

Below are the list of vendors this week!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sunrise Lattes - Caythaes Mekandawn MENU

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

Glamrock Fashions - Jazzy S. Glamrock of the Cast Company Collective MENU

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

Constellation Canvas - Celeste Runewhisper MENU

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

The Azure Star - Saeni Silverbell MENU

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──��──  

[the-society-circle]

The Society Circle (RP Hub Community)

The Ultimate Path to Elite Connections!

IN-CHARACTER Are you ready to step into a realm where worth is recognized and value is extended beyond measure? Look no further than The Society Circle (IC), the most prestigious and exclusive club that promises to transform your life and catapult your success to new heights. Prepare yourself for an exhilarating journey filled with unparalleled opportunities and extraordinary connections.

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As a member of The Society Circle, you gain access to a realm where true power lies within the hands of those who make a difference. Brace yourself for a world of incredible advantages that await:

Exclusive Access to The Yellow Pages

Free Copies of the Monthly Newspaper Azeroth Times

Free Postage Service

Direct Access to One of the Largest Events Calendar in the Realm

Personal Access to In-World and Out-of-World Artisans

World Renowned Members Lounge

OUT OF CHARACTER The Society Circle, the premier hub that encompasses all things related to MG and WrA. No matter which faction or community group you belong to, our vibrant community welcomes you with open arms.

Promote Your Events and Campaigns: Showcase your creativity and draw attention to your meticulously crafted events and campaigns. Gain visibility within the community and ensure that your stories reach a wider audience.

Daily Calendar with Event Reminders: Stay up to date with a comprehensive daily calendar that highlights all upcoming events. Never miss out on an extraordinary adventure again, as our event reminders notify you 30 minutes before an event begins. You can even follow these channels to receive notifications on your own servers.

Find or Promote Community Servers: Discover or showcase community servers tailored to your specific RP interests. Connect with like-minded players, explore new realms, and forge lasting bonds within a thriving RP community.

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Connect and Collaborate: Forge meaningful connections with fellow players who share your passion for storytelling. Collaborate on writing projects, embark on epic quests together, or join forces in dungeons and battlegrounds. The possibilities for adventure are endless when you're part of our vibrant community.

Showcase Artistic Talents: Artists, this is your chance to shine! Promote your artwork, gain recognition, and seek out commission opportunities. The Society Circle is a platform that celebrates the talent and creativity of artists within the WoW RP community. Participate in thrilling art giveaways and connect with enthusiasts who appreciate your craft.

Elevate your status, seize extraordinary opportunities, and embrace a life filled with unparalleled connections. The Society Circle awaits your arrival. Are you ready to enter a realm where excellence thrives, and success is an everyday reality? Don't wait another moment. Take the leap into a world of prestige, power, and endless possibilities. Join us today and unlock a realm of endless RP possibilities.

Join our DISCORD or In-Game Community!

[wynilthyrii]

Whisper in the Void

The sun painted the very tops of the trees and the slate roof tiles pink and orange as she walked down the overgrown path to the wrought iron gates.  The lock was undisturbed.  The old wards thrummed slightly at her approach, warming, the chill that had once lingered now faded with the passage of time and the end of a war.  Still, she was glad that she’d portaged a distance away, leaving herself to walk the track that had narrowed from years of disuse through the trees and up the hill to the manor where she’d been born, had spent the first sixteen years of her life.

It was quiet except for the wind in the trees.  Nothing seemed amiss.  The smell of woodsmoke drifted on the breeze.  Back in the Everlight, in Quel’thalas, it was eternal spring.  Here, in the marches, winter clung with a tenacity that belied the coming turn of seasons.  Beyond the gate stood the house, the gardens, the old stables and more.

The ghosts of her past haunted this place, even if those ghosts were nothing more than memory.

The key ground quietly in the gate’s lock but twisted and clicked easily despite the disconcerting noise.  The gates themselves shrieked softly, briefly as she parted them just enough that her slender form could slip through the gap.

She closed them behind her, but didn’t lock it.  No, that would come when she left, because she fully intended to leave through those gates when she was finished here.

There should be nothing left to fear, nothing left to threaten.  Not here.  Not with the wards repaired, not with the long absence.

It had been years since the last time they’d dared venture here.  Most who knew were dead—or worse.  Those that remained were scattered, hiding—or should be.

No.  They would not be so foolish, not now.

The blood that had once stained the ground in her mother’s garden was all but scoured away, now, but for a few traces still lingering in the gazebo where she’d died.  Still, stepping into it, the memory was there.  Dessera Ilthyrii’s defiance.  Radiaten’s courage.  Her stubborn determination.

One had died.  Two had lived.  A third, believing all were lost.

It still brought a dull ache to her chest thinking about it.

The gardens themselves were a wild, elegant tangle, still maintaining the barest echo of the shape her mother had woven them into.  Leather-shod fingers brushed along a trellis of rose-vines.

They were still alive.  Come late spring, perhaps not until summer, they would start to bud, to blossom into a riot of color and scent.  Butterflies and bees would haunt these wild gardens, left alone as a memorial to those who once had lived here.  Perhaps she’d come to rescue some more of the plants, to move them to the manor gardens in the Everlight, tucked into the woods just beyond the shore.

If she did, she would come alone, as she did today, or perhaps with one of her brothers.

No one else needed to be haunted by the ghosts of House Ilthyrii.

She stood a few moments in the garden, watching the light from the rising sun creep higher against the trees.

Then, taking a few breaths of bracingly cold air, she crossed the courtyard, past the spot where her mother died, and jogged up the few steps to doors of leaded glass that led inside, into the manor itself.

The air was thick with dust, with the smell of old books and weapons oil, pressed flowers and spell components.  It was the smell of her childhood, of home, and it made her chest ache with memory and longing.

When she and Joros were gone, would their children walk the halls of the manor in the Everlight and feel the same ache?  The same distant sting of unshed tears?

What had her father said?  In a perfect world, their deaths would be many centuries distant.

Perhaps so.  She hoped he was right in that.

Her footsteps carried over across the marble floors of the halls and to the well-worn wood of her mother’s study.  The morning light streamed in through high windows, rainbows painted against the highest of the bookshelves here.  The stained glass had helped protect her mother’s secrets in addition to lending a bit more magic to the place.

At least, it had been magic to the child her daughter had once been.

Wyn sank down on the stool that had always been hers, the spot where she’d so often perched with a book or her sketchpad and colors all those years ago, seated there while her mother worked.

Odd, how things paralleled through time and space.

“Hello, mathair,” Wyn whispered into the silence and stillness of her childhood home.  “I’m sorry I’ve been so long away.  I just…”

The excuses died to nothing on her tongue—and what did they matter, anyway?  Dessera Ilthyrii was long beyond hearing whatever she had to say.

And yet, here she was anyway.

“So much has changed,” she said.  “The war’s long over and yet the embers still stir, still flare.  I wonder, did you see what was to come when you were there all those years ago, when Anavela ascended as the Dragonhawk?  Could you sense it even then?  Was there a hint, a whisper?”

She had always wondered that.  Wondered when her mother had begun to realize, had known.  It was long before the day she’d died, but how long?  Years?  Decades?

Centuries?

Did it truly matter anymore?

“I’ve come to love that place.  Those lands.  I’m sure you understand why.  The Wanderers are my family as much as anyone else could ever be.  And my husband is both Wanderer and Warden.

“I know you saw them, then.  They were all Dawnroses, selected for Dawnglory scions from birth.  I wonder what you thought of it all.  Perhaps there’s something in a journal that I haven’t scoured yet, haven’t found.  I know you must have had opinions on it all, wondered.  It wouldn’t be like you not to.  Gan survived the lot of them, though I doubt any of us would have expected it.  Did you ever speak to him, I wonder?  What was he like all those years ago?  I never asked if he’d ever met you.  I don’t know why.

“Were you here, you’d tell me to come to the point, since you’d know that none of that is what’s truly eating at the heart of me.  You could always tell with all of us.

“I’m troubled, Mathair.  But of course, you’d know that.  I just don’t know what to do.  It’s not like it was in the old days in the Everlight anymore, when Wardens were always Dawnroses and their charges were always of House Dawnglory.  We lost so many in the war, the Dawnroses began to train volunteers from beyond their blood, beyond their House.  Joros was one of the first volunteers, even before we were married.  I know that he’s always intended to take me as his charge.  But I don’t know if I can do it—I don’t know if I should.  It’s never been done like that.  There’s never been a pairing between—how did athair put it?  Romantic partners.  And perhaps the way things have always been done explain why.  But maybe not.  I just don’t know—none of us know.

“There’s no answer I can find.  Athair said don’t do it unless you’re absolutely certain.  Randhir’s been telling me for years that it—that it would destroy what Joros and I are without the Bond, that neither of us would ever know if his love was the bond or him.  I know we both hope that we would know the difference but I can’t help—it scares me.  It scares me so much that he might be right.  But if I say no, then what will it do to us?  Will he regret it, becoming a Warden?  He says he won’t, he said he was sure when he took that step, but I—”

She stopped, tilting her face up toward the shafts of colored light that filtered through from the stained glass above the high shelves.

“He’ll have to take a charge someday,” she finally said.  “Even if I never take a Warden, he’ll have to take one someday.  I don’t know how I’ll handle it.  My gaze always goes to him unconsciously after a fight.  I look for him unless I actually think about looking elsewhere first.  When I gave him my vows, it wasn’t until death.  It was for as long as love lasts.  I look for him because I can’t imagine my world without him anymore.

“I know part of the reason he wants to be my Warden is because he wants to always know, to sense that I’m all right, that he hasn’t—that something hasn’t happened.  I understand it.  Part of me wants that, too, to always know.  But I don’t need obedience or subservience or magic-fueled devotion.  I don’t want it.

“I just want him.  But how do I tell him?  How do I find the words to tell him that and not shatter us both?  How do I watch as he takes someone else for his charge and know that it wasn’t in his plan?  That now his duty is to someone else, not just us—not Lea, nor Jude, nor me.  And if he tells me that if he must take a charge that he wants me to take a Warden, can I stomach it?  It would feel like a betrayal.

“I’m just so afraid, Mathair.  I don’t know what to do.  If we take the bond and something happens to me, then he won’t survive it.  But I won’t survive losing him, either.  I know that I won’t but I’m sure anyone who hears me say it would think that I’m just being dramatic.  But I know.  It would hollow me out inside until there was nothing left but a shell.

“Would it be fair to take the risk, not knowing what it would do?  I’ve been trying for years to figure out how to modify the spell, to strip out pieces and change them and even it all out but it’s—it’s not so simple.  It’s not that it’s beyond me, I’m just not sure it’s possible.  And not knowing the whole story behind why and how the Wardens came to be—only having pieces of that puzzle—that just makes it harder.  There’s something about all of it that’s planted this fear and doubt deep inside of me that I’ve never quite been able to ease or uproot.  There’s something important that we’re missing.

“Something important that I’m missing.  Maybe that’s also part of my hesitation, why he and I have only talked about it briefly in passing.  I love him with my whole soul and I would want us to be equals in this—to be partners, complimentary, not with one subservient to the other.  But for some reason, that’s the way it’s built and I need to know why.  I need to understand.

“I can’t be the only one who wonders, who it bothers.  But it’s been this way in the Everlight for generations and no one questioned it before now.  No one’s asked except for me that I’ve come across.

“Another question without an answer.  There are just so many.  I have to wonder how it’s all bound together.  The long war.  The caverns, the Everlight, the Vault, the Wanders and the Eye and the Shard and the Keeper and all of it.  Every piece of it.  The threads are there I Just can’t figure out how they’re woven together.  It seems like they should be but maybe they’re just the same color, or a similar pattern, they’re not part of the same tapestry.”

She hunched forward, then, burying her face in her gloved hands.  She was alone here.  There would be no answers, at least not from her mother’s lips.

Her mother was long gone, just a memory.  While her presence seemed to linger here, in this place where she’d spent so many hours, it was just her daughter’s imagination that painted that into being.

Still, sitting there in the silence of a winter morning, the legends woven into her mother’s stained glass painting the shelves and the tomes behind her, Wyn let her control slip.

There, in her mother’s study, she cried, sitting on the stool where she’d spent so many hours of her childhood, the green velvet stained with traces of jam and honey and tea and juice left behind by the child she had been.

The answers she sought could not come from here, not her childhood home, nor the ghost of her mother, nor the memories of this place.

The answers lay in the lands where her mother had once witnessed the ascent of a Dragonhawk so many, many years ago.

The lands that were now her last surviving daughter’s home.

The sun had fully crested the horizon by the time she dried her tears and took a deep, slow breath.  Her eyes ached, but she stood, surveying the room for a few moments, letting her heart calm and her breathing even out again, hiccups and hitches fading.  She would need to wash her face before anyone saw her when she returned home.

Home, to the Everlight.  To the family she’d made after she’d buried so much of hers.  Her sisters.  Her brother.  Her father and later her mother.  Tali.  Lexsi.  So many others.

But she had Joros, now.  She had Jude and Lea.  She had the family she’d forged in fire and blood and steel and war.

And she loved them fiercely.

That, in the end, was all that mattered.

[houseildanan]

Sunrise

The sunrise came later and later these past few mornings.  He knew that was a side-effect of both latitude and the change of seasons but somehow it still felt oddly like a herald of things to come.  He tried to shake the feeling of creeping doom, the dread that sometimes curdled his stomach, but it was hard—harder than it had been once upon a time, harder than it had been during his last stint here with the Argent Crusade, now a decade and more past.

The chill of the salt wind ran its fingers through his hair, but the medic did not shiver.  There was a freshness to that wind, one that chased the lingering smell of death away.  The last group had gotten far closer than they should have and in numbers larger than they’d expected.  There was no lingering doubt, now.

Something intelligent and powerful was out there in the wastes and was testing their defenses.

“Are you all right out here, Grimstryke?”

He didn’t turn toward the sound of Frost’s voice, instead letting his gaze sweep over the fog hanging over Valiance’s harbor.  One slow breath and then another before he answered the question.  “Zen’tavi and Maracuso should be recovered enough in a few days for light duties.  We should ship Starwhisper home.”

“He’ll argue against that. His sister’s still on patrol.  He won’t want to leave.”  She came to stand beside him, dressed in slacks and a leather vest over a woolen shirt.  The mage rested a hand lightly on the pommel of the blade hanging at her side, following his gaze out toward the water.  “Will it hurt to let him stay?”

The medic sighed softly. “Not if he stays put and we don’t have to evacuate in a hurry.”

“The work you did with Roiya on the wards suggests that we’ll have time for something more orderly if that moment comes,” she said.  The wind tugged red hair free of her braid, whipping them around her face.  “Path of least resistance, no?”

“I suppose,” he said, then shook his head.  “He won’t be able to fight for weeks—at least he shouldn’t.  Hell.  He shouldn’t be out of bed for at least a week.”

“Are you going to be able to keep him there?”

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”  He glanced at her sidelong, frowning slightly.  “No new orders?”

“Nothing yet,” she said. “Either it’s only a matter of time, or we’re the ones being left to hold this post while they martial forces for some kind of counterstrike—not that any of us seem to have any idea what we’re counterstriking against.”

A shiver crept down his spine.  “Well, that sounds familiar.”

She snorted softly, a wry smile kicking one corner of her mouth skyward.  “Business as usual, isn’t it?”

“For some,” he admitted. “More or less complicated for others.”

Her smile faded, her brows knitting.  “I never asked—”

“I’m fine.  I’m fine, they’re fine, it’s all fine.”

“Even with—”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, looking her square in the eyes.  “Leave it. Please.”

A trace of pain washed through her expression, one that vanished behind a stern mask a moment later. She gave a firm nod, then pivoted. “Come inside before you freeze.  I put some coffee on and the scones should be ready shortly.”

His chin dipped slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him one last measuring look before she turned and walked away, back toward the inn that had become their headquarters.

Tyr’s breath steamed in the chill.  His hands curled into fists.  He held his breath for one count, two.

Then he exhaled, closed his eyes, and bowed his head.  From one duty to the next.  There was work to do.

There was always work to do.

With one last glance toward the first rays of sunrise, he turned and followed her back to the inn.

[lenuslenus]

@indifferentminds’ Vesiriel Skyfire— Confessor, baker, heart of gold, (occasional) stubborn mule.

[cactusapple]

i have two (2) character boosts just sitting uselessly on my account but i just can’t commit to a class

[zeehva]

Reblog this if you are an active Alliance WRA/MG  or Horde WRA/MG Character Blog!

My dashboard has been a little quiet lately so I'm looking to find more WoW RP blogs to follow, support and interact with! Let me see those amazing OCs!

[turning-through-the-never]

RP in Wyrmrest Accord SMC?!

Nature is healing!

There are people RPing in Silvermoon City on WrA again! Please my fellow Horde RPers on WrA, let's continue to nurture this trend and keep it going!

You'll find me there on various alts on various days!

[wyrmguardsecrets]

Dear Mg Alliance please take your trash back and tell shitty accent constant sexual innuendo eyepatch elf the reason people avoid wra horde is because there's rumors of him coming back here. Just becus they dont want you there doesnt mean we miss you here the real crime rp is you writing.

-

[kharrisdawndancer]

Announcing the 14th Annual Scary Cakes!

Join us for the 14th annual Scary Cakes Costume Contest!

We will have prizes and a relaxed RP event for you to mingle at and enjoy.

Where: Dalaran (NORTHREND), Underbelly

When: Oct 22, 2023

Time: 5pm WrA / 7pm MG

Who: Neutral event for all Horde, Alliance, and Neutral characters.

Join the Fancy Cakes Community for anchors:

https://tinyurl.com/FancyCakesCommunity

For more information about the Fancy Cakes Roleplaying Event please visit https://fancy-cakes.carrd.co

[thevelvetcartel]

TVC Invites you to celebrate Love is in the Air with... Love Takes Flight!

Where: Thaldraszus, Algeth’era (48.75, 40.24) When: Friday, February 10th, 6pm server   (WrA) What: Art raffle, mount raffle, pick-up line contest, pet battles, and more!

Come enjoy the evening, drink, dance, and make friends! Or more than friends! It is the season for love, after all.

[sarlaros]

LFC: Sarlaros Brodeur

(Art by @nehku)

BASICS

● AGE: Adult (300+) ● RACE: Shal'dorei ● PRONOUNS: Male He/Him/They ● SEXUALITY: Bisexual ● ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good ● AURA/DIETY: Celestial

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

● HAIR: White with a couple strands of dulled silver ● EYES: Silver with blue around the edges ● HEIGHT: 7'2'' (221cm) ● BUILD: Slender with wide shoulders. Long fingers and big feet. ● DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Dark blue skin with shimmering arcane lines which are connected by white tattoo dots as if stars keeping together a constellation. ● COMMON ACCESSORIES: Trusted lantern, dagger, and a metal and wood scroll case with a purple silk ribbon.

PERSONAL

● PROFESSION: Soap Maker & Tailor ● BUSINESS: Ross | Soap Boss ● HOBBIES: Studying stars, exploring creepy places, collecting novelty items where he's been, and wine tasting. ● LANGUAGES: Shalassian (Fluent), Orcish/Common (Conversational) ● RESIDENCE: Currently staying at his established spa in Pandaria ● BIRTHPLACE: Suramar ● FEARS: Idea of no afterlife, falling to his death from a flying object or creature, making speeches.

RELATIONSHIPS

● MARITAL: Widower ● SPOUSE: Randei Brodeur (deceased) ● CHILDREN: None ● PARENTS: Arialah & Thealaes Ishel (MIA) ● OTHER RELATIVES: Two sisters, one brother. Multiple cousins and a niece

MENTALITY

● SOCIAL LEVEL: Ambivert ● ONE POSITIVE PERSONALITY TRAIT: Very giving/generous ● ONE NEGATIVE PERSONALITY TRAIT: Willingly oblivious. Bad judge of character. ● ONE PERSONALITY WARNING: He doesn't understand feuds - he'll expect people to get along if they are near each other no matter what ● RANDOM QUIRK: Everything he is doing will be dropped if he can try a new food. ● ADDICTIONS: Wine and bubble baths ● HABITS: Keeps notes on anything and giving people soap as gifts for every holiday (even not gift giving holidays)

RP HOOKS

● Brodeur was a well respected tailoring family in Suramar ● He's got trade deals with many spas to carry his soaps and towels ● Works with relief efforts to help displaced peoples have cleanliness needs ● Frequents astronomy towers and observatories - his aura is that of celestial magics.

( Face reference: Vengo Gao)

OoC Contact Info

Discord - Lynx#3745 Tumblr - Likes/Follows/Asks come from @kavtari​ Bnet - please message me privately for this one In Game - Sarlaros-Wyrmrestaccord (Horde)

About the Player

I am in EST (Michigan) so I’m 3-hours ahead of WrA and 1-hour ahead of MG. Age 35 with more than half my life in roleplaying experience. I will interact with all RPers 13+, but no romantic or sexual interactions with anyone under 18. I recommend messaging me on discord if you’re interested in some RP - which can be in-game or on discord!

[ronqueesha]

Profile - Kallian Tabris

It's been a while since I did one of these. And I've been having a lot of fun adapting my beloved Dragon Age OC into wow, so this felt like a thing to do.

The Basics –––

Full Name: Kallian Tabris Age: Chronologically 37, physically 31. (19 when the Illidari were formed, 6 years frozen in the wardens' prison) Gender: Female (She/Her) Race: Sin'dorei, partially demonic Alignment: Chaotic Neutral In-game Names: Kallibris (WrA)

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: Very dark brown/black Eyes: Born with vibrant blue/grey eyes. All that remains now are empty sockets that glow with unsettling fel energy. Height: 4'9", 1.4m Build: Wiry, thin, almost emaciated Common Accessories: Her warglaives, smaller blades hidden in her clothing, a tiny book with small pressed flowers in the pages Voice Claim: Cree Summer

Personal –––

Birthplace: Silvermoon City Residence: None Profession: None Hobbies: Still figuring that out, now that the legion is no longer a threat. In rare times when alone, she finds flowers she finds to be pretty and presses them into her book. Languages: Thalassian, Common, Demonic, Orcish. (but only the basics. She will not have an extended conversation in the latter language) Religion: None. Not anymore. Fears: Losing control, drowning, her own mortality

Relationships –––

Spouse: None Children: None Parents: Cyrion Tabris (father, deceased), Adaia Tabris (mother, deceased) Siblings: None Pets: None

Traits –––

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

RP Hooks –––

Former Servant Girl - Kallian's family have served the Sunstrider royal household for generations. Although they were commoners with no noble blood, they had always lived among the wealthiest and most elite of High Elf society. Kallian's old life was one of luxury and hard work combined, ensuring the estates, clothes and households lived up to the luxury expected of the nobility. A Very Angry Elf - Kallian suffered from intermittent explosive disorder before becoming a demon hunter, which made her life difficult enough. During the scourge invasion of Silvermoon, she watched helplessly as the undead hordes tore her family apart, only to immediately raise their corpses so they could attack Kallian. She had to destroy their shambling remains multiple times as they continually rose again, more disfigured and desecrated than before. Until all that remained were piles of meat and Kallian's broken, vengeful psyche. A Life Returned - The Illidari were formed to fight a very specific enemy. That enemy is no longer a major threat, and demon hunters all across Azeroth have had to find new purpose. With the Legion and the undead Scourge kept at bay, Kallian has found that her rage and singleminded fury have begun to dim, and she's found time to engage in hobbies and activities that once only existed as faint memories.

[wynilthyrii]

Scars and Souvenirs

A gray sliver of dawn appeared through the trees that lined the road through the Everlight. For a few moments, she watched that slice of sky shift its color, growing lighter with the sunrise. A mist hung thick and heavy, as was common this time of year, threading through the trees the same as it would hang over the markets at the township, at the Reprieve, as it would drape itself over still-rebuilding Whiteblade and lay like velvet over the fields outside of Anu’shalah.

Thoughts tangled, images from the previous night’s nightmare mingled with the conversations of previous days. The argument with Tyr. The discussion with a stranger near the steps. Then Aison Bloodwrath the previous night, with a ranger’s teasing to break the brittle ice that might have settled without it. Maybe that had been the spark that set the fuse that led to the terrors that had plagued her sleep.

“You’re quieter than usual for a morning you’ve asked me to ride with you,” her companion ventured softly. Tenebre sat easily in her saddle, body swaying with her mount, bow hanging from a hook near her knee. The ranger watched her for a few seconds, then glanced away, tracking the motion of one of her foxes as it veered off toward the edge of the road to investigate something, only to return a moment later.

Wyn noticed, too. “Anything?”

Tenebre shook her head. “No. So what is it?”

She winced. “Just a lot on my mind, I think.”

“Ah, well. Join the club, there.” A wry smile curved her lips, then faded. “So what piece is it? The thing that has Tess wargaming, the fight that no one is supposed to know you had with Tyr, or something else? Sleeping giants stirring?”

Wyn winced again. “How did you know about—”

“Ardus is worried,” Tenebre said, her voice even even as her tone remained light but almost wry. “When it comes to the two of you he falls into that brotherly role pretty easily. His only saving grace is that he didn’t inherit the same drive to fix things for everyone all the time.”

“I don’t do that. Not all the time.”

“Only sometimes,” Tenebre agreed. “So is it that, or…?”

“No,” she said. “Not just that, anyway. “More than that, and less. It’s a lot of things.” Wyn paused, eyes roaming across the road ahead of them. They’d clear this section of the forest soon, emerge into fields near the lake. “Maybe it’s just the weight crashing back down again.”

Tenebre was silent for a few seconds at her side, following her gaze. The forest grew lighter as the sun climbed into the sky. “I don’t know. It seems like the balls are in the air.”

“For now,” Wyn said softly. “I was talking to someone yesterday about the Order. Something he said…I don’t know. It just brought everything back. The choices you try to make to make things better until suddenly there’s no more choices—the choices are all bad.”

“Service teaches us to obey orders in those situations,” Tenebre said quietly. “And command teaches us to make them and damn what it might do to us.”

“I can’t let the Order turn into some kind of meat-grinder again, Tenebre. But that almost seems secondary to here, to this place and these people. And at the same time, what kind of person would I be if I stood back and just let the old patterns take hold again?”

“Not the person any of us know you are.”

The brush thinned. The gray light of a misty dawn folded around them. Tenebre nudged her horse closer, reached across the gap to squeeze her knee.

“I had nightmares last night,” Wyn said, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the mist-shrouded wood. “My mother. The war. The aftermath. That—all of it.” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes for a second. “If he hadn’t been there this morning, I’d have woken up screaming.”

Tenebre’s fingers tightened a little more on her knee before she let go. “You’re not the only one with nightmares like that. More of us have them than don’t, I think. It’s…it’s another part of what we are, I guess. Part of the kind of life we live. I think…” her voice trailed away.

The silence lingered for long enough that Wyn began to wonder if the Farstrider by her side would say anything at all, would finish the thought. She nearly told her that it was all right, that it was just that she needed to wrestle with some things, to sort through them, and all would be well. It was perhaps only half a lie.

But Tenebre eventually continued, as they cleared the edge of the forest and began up the road that curved toward the lake and the Caverns, green grass rising on either side of the road. “I think the fact that some of us find a way to keep on, to keep trying to make it all better than it was for us for those that come after—it’s good. Maybe it’s not all good for us, but it’s good. It’s something. Somehow it’ll make a difference even if it doesn’t make everything worth it.”

The nod came slowly, but it came nonetheless. Wyn reached across to squeeze her arm, then let go, turning her attention back to the road, to the stillness and quiet around them.

”There’s more coming,” Wyn said, her voice nearly inaudible.

”I know,” Tenebre answered. “There always is.”

Somehow, the way she said it didn’t leave her stomach clenching or her blood cold. It was just an acknowledgement. Not something to fear, to run from.

It simply was.

Just another thing that would leave them bent, but not broken—or, if broken, remade. Perhaps it had always been that way, would be that way, until cycles were broken.

They’d already broken one. How many more would there be?

“Thanks, Tenebre,” Wyn murmured.

“Yeah,” the ranger said softly. “Of course. Anytime. You all right?”

“I will be,” Wyn said, one corner of her mouth quirking toward a smile. “Probably. Eventually.”

Tenebre laughed. “The story of our lives.”

Wyn grinned, then kicked her horse into a trot. Tenebre kicked hers into a gallop, setting off across the dew-damp grass.

Laughing, letting go of some of the weight, Wyn followed.

[houseildanan]

A letter sent to the Everlight - 20 October

[This letter is written on good parchment, if weather-stained at the edges, in navy blue ink. It bears the seal of House Kyvare.]

My friends,

I know if I simply write this and send it home, unaddressed to any single soul, it will make the rounds and all who are available to read it likely will at some point or another in the coming days. I apologize for my widespread lack of communication, the reasons for which will become clear soon enough. I’ve had little enough time to write since returning to Northrend with the contingent of the Crusade to which I’m assigned.

The sky above the citadel is healing, but slowly, but I admit that is of lesser concern to my fellows and I than what we are currently bearing witness to out here. It is far more like it was a decade and more ago when we landed on these shores to take one last battle to Arthas and avenge his fresh invasion of our homes, to deal with the threat represented by the Lich King once and for all. The Scourge walk and there is little enough that any can seem to do to stem the tide. Mostly, we try to contain them, to redirect them from the villages that dot the landscape, to shore up the defenses left behind.

I fear it is only a matter of time before…

Before.

I pray I am wrong.

Our main station is at Valiance—for my contingent, in any case—though there are others. Adama took a group north to the tourney grounds two weeks back. She reported that their defenses are much better than they were when any of us were last there, but the situation is not ideal.

As if the situation anywhere is entirely ideal, I suppose.

Still. There is much work to be done here and a threat to address. The current theory is that because the Lich King’s crown was broken, the Scourge have begun to both devolve and evolve in a way that none of us would have quite expected or theorized.

I am worried—worried for what this will mean for the Ghostlands, for the Plaguelands, for Tirisifal and Lordaeron and Gilneas. I’m worried about what it means for Northrend.

There is something stirring. I can feel it in my bones and I am not the only one. It’s a feeling I don’t like.

I pray I am wrong.

My love to all of you—be safe. Letters sent by way of ship or courier to Valiance Keep will reach me. I am currently attached to Commander Frost’s contingent and I do not foresee that changing anytime in the near future unless something drastic occurs.

I will write as I can, hopefully more often. We shall see.

Yours faithfully,

Tyr.