#sylvenfield

[sylvenfield]

Periel - Journal Entries #1-2

1. Horizons

The hustle and bustle of the Broken Tusk tavern was something I could never explain - the experience was truly something else. I knew it’d be better down in the cleft to get any real jobs, but with mid-summer fire festival going on, even the shadows could come out and play for the week. Patrons drink themselves half to death, some quickly making their exits as they laughed to hardily and decided to make fine art of the small stoop while others sulk in the corners. Like me - casually observing the chaos that’s drowning out the flutist that the bar had hired for entertainment. I watch the Tauren sway side to side, holding the flute awkwardly between her hooves and couldn’t really keep a proper tune. I felt bad for her. The few sober patrons tossed a few copper and silver in her tip jar. 

I wasn’t here to listen to this poor rendition of ‘Spirit Stone’, I came here because the last gig gave up the ghost, and solo gigs just weren’t cutting it anymore. If I wanted to retire away from all this fucking war, I needed to find something fruitful and find it fast. Jin hopped up on the table and curled himself around my forearm, as I still held the half empty glass of gin I had been sipping on for the evening. He chirped and then walked up my arm to go to his nest within the hood of my cloak. His head popped out near my opposite shoulder, with a folded note between his teeth, I grabbed it and looked over my shoulder, scanning the room for who could have wanted to message me, and use my own pet? A restless and annoyed, ‘Hmmm...’ erupted from the edge of my throat, as I carefully unfolded the note. The handwriting was familiar, the cursive script all high-and-mighty - pretentious piece of shit.

P.

You are beginning to test my patience. If I have to wait any longer for this gold to arrive at my office with the recovered documents, then we will have no choice but to put you on our list. You know what happens when we put people on our list. 

We are waiting. We are watching.

-R.

‘Stupid fuc--’ I gripped the glass, knocking the half down, wincing at the cheap booze setting fire to the back of my throat and stomach, as I breathed out a shudder of anxiety. I should have never come to this continent - ‘Oh, the money’s good in Ol’ Orgrimmar!’ - well they lied. Not unless you join a company... ‘Light be damned, I’m really going to have to do this?’ I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head. It had been forty years, of ‘my way or the crossroads’ - to have to forgo my freedoms... fuck me sideways. It’s the only way. I’ve already dried up most of my connections back east and south. This was it. End of the road. Onto other horizons.

2. Steelrune

As I exited the tavern I dodged a goblin’s masterpiece on the third step and stretched, the city was far from dull this afternoon. Everything was decorated in vibrant red and yellow banners and braziers still smoldering with hot coals lining every corner of the crowded streets. Tourists fled from every corner so that they could witness the opening ceremonies of the mid-summer fire festival and then flock to the airships to Uldum where vendors, raffles and shows would line the ancient streets. I told myself that I would not be attending. But I knew that I’d be able to find things from this uneasy truce for festivities. War was still in full swing, and yet neutral parties on both sides still could come together with two capitol cities either on fire or decimated in blight. The war did not interest me; that’s why when I filtered through the crowd over to the bounty board to see if any companies were hiring that weren’t directly tied to zealots or ‘honor’.

Pondering the weather worn board as I got side-glanced by a brutish orc, adorned with steel plate and a two handed ax on his back, I threw him a polite smile, not sincere in the slightest before finding a fresh piece of parchment.

Hiring:

Trackers, Archivists, Runic Students, Mercenaries

‘The fighter relies on strength. The scholar relies on knowledge. The wise do not choose.’ 

Steelrune Company

Meet in the hut south-west of Ratchet

My eyes lingered on the word ‘Trackers’ - I felt my insides groan slightly. Fate was a fickle thing - and as fate would have it, my reputation as a tracker was spread wide throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, to those that could find me, that is. If this was my key, then so be it. Jin popped out of my hood looking towards the orc and he grunted towards the sunfur panda looking curiously in the orc’s direction. I nodded politely pursing my lips as I committed the notice to memory making my leave outside the city walls.

Urano, my wolf companion, looked like she needed to run out into the plains, she wasn’t used to being trapped in the stables for days on end, no matter how well they treat her. I took the striped leather reins and flipped a silver piece to the attendant, riding out into the setting sun.

I arrived shortly before dusk, as I hung the reins to Urano onto a nearby tree to the hut in question. As I made my approach up the tiny hill, I could hear the banging of metal and that familiar smell of a forge. I knocked twice casually on the open door frame, as little light illuminated the space, but what I did see was an orc, but not the green kind. This one was not tainted of the same Fel energies his forefathers drank in. He looked up to the door frame with a pointed look, “What do you want?” He spoke gruffly, like I was nuisance ready to be squashed.

In the best presentable voice I could muster - which came out more condescending than I would have hoped, “I heard of a company based out of Ratchet - Steelrune, if I have the name right? You wouldn’t happen ta’ know of ‘em?”

The Orc looked down, banging out the steel plate he was working on, still red hot, I could feel the heat permeating towards the entrance as the spark began to lay at his feet. Once he felt it was ready, he quenched it in the oil, flames licking the sides of the tongs he held onto before looking back up to me, “What is your interest in us, Elf?” His eyes were smoldering as much as the forge at this point, and my poker face was melting from the heat, but I carried on casually, “So, I did find the right place, said on the bounty board you’d be lookin’ for a tracker. Well, I managed ta’ track ya’ down.”

The Orc didn’t seem all that amused by the joke, “Yes. It seems you have. What is your interest in join the company?” I had to think for a moment, I wasn’t sure if lying was going to get me where I needed to be, not like it had in the past. I decided on the truth, without giving too much away. “Mercenary work seems to be only good when you’ve got people by your side, and because.. Well, I normally fly solo you see - I decided, why not? Money’s tight as it is, and the only ways of surviving financially is ta’ join the war, or ta’ be rich already. And I ain’t rich already.”  He scoffed at my jest, still not amused. “We have rules.” He said this as if it were a deterrent, hopefully to get me to leave. I blinked, furrowing my brow, “And I realize that I had ta’ make some compromises going into this, but the pros certainly outweigh the cons.”

He looked at me for a moment, appraising me, Jin popped out of my hood and gave the Orc a quizzical look, “Whose the the rat?” he posed, I gave Jin a chin scratch, “This here, is Jin, he is a panda, not a rat - got em’ damn near close to death in the Dread Wastes, he was most likely the runt of the litter left behind by his family.” I was being sincere with my words, Jin had sought me out, injured and alone with no home. The Orc smiled at the last line, “I have a feeling we will get along just fine.” He set the tongs down by the crucible before approaching me, looking me square in the eyes, “A tracker, you say?” He nodded his head slightly. “I suppose your in. Long as Kelarion approves.” 

I could feel my ears twitch from behind as a Sin’dorei apparated out of thin air, a portal to what looked like a Silvermoon magister’s office was barely visible - I shuddered at the thought, as the long robed, older blood elf waltzed up the hill. His shoulders were made of ethereal scrolls floating in the air, and his eyes still shined in arcane energies. His essence was warm, and his smile was polite as he looked me over, the Orc gestured towards Kelarion, and Kelarion tilted his head in a short bow then turning to face the Orc, “Korrgosh, I hope you are not scaring off any potential recruits.” Korrgosh scoffed again, “This one is the tracker you’ve been looking for. Hopefully he won’t screw up, we’ll need him for the Ashenvale mission.” 

Kelarion looked to me with a stoic look about him, “A tracker by the name of...?” I quickly stopped petting Jin, “Oh, oh right, Periel Sylvenfield. At your service.” I extended my hand and he gingerly took it, “Well I am your Runekeeper, Kelarion Bloodveil, and who you have had the pleasure of meeting is Korrgosh, your Steelmaster. Welcome to the Steelrune Company.”

[haimeart]

Periel Sylvenfield for @kainfamilyfortune

[ellyiahv2-0]

Charge: Periel Sylvenfield

[The paper has been added fairly recently, stuck into the journal. It’s carefully folded into four sections, with one of the corners stained with a teal color. When resting in the journal, it sticks out along the side, the color peaking out.]

Charge has chronic condition of extreme and sudden onset hypothermia and leads to eventually fatal freezing of the body if left unchecked.

Current Treatment: Self-made tincture that heavily is based on the use of fireweed. Recipe calls for 3 leaves of fireweed, half vial of milk of Rain Poppy, thorns and petals of Twilight Jasmine*. Takes approximately a week to cure. Of as early August, takes weekly or when side effects occur orally.

*requires plant liquid to be bled and burned off or risk hallucinogenic effects

Cause of Condition: Spine replacement. New spine heavily enchanted with ice magic. Charge believes as time went on, the more the enchantment seeped from replacement into the body, causing chronic hypothermia that will eventually lead to death. From observations, may be enchantment seeping on top of the páliar not being able to properly process the excess magic into a safe form. Side effects seem to more readily manifest due to stress. Currently no permanent cure.