#synthiel

[pyrosophist]

Gifts and Letters

It is a strange thing, when she finally pays mind to the holiday season and feels the impulse to do.. something, for once. It has been many years since she has had more than the smallest handful of people to give gifts to.

Through varying degrees of occult and official means, she sends out a variety of things over the course of several days, when the Archon turns the members of the Sunguard to their own business. Most of the letters are bewitched, unable to be read except by their intended recipients. 

---

Aestus receives a leather armband with elaborate patterns seemingly burned into it, stylish but unobtrusive. On the inside face is inscribed in Thalassian script, “The night does not survive the dawn.”

My friend,

Of the guard, you are the first with whom I spoke besides possibly the dryest interaction I have ever had with the Scion. Though we have not done so in some time, I count you among one of my few steady friends. You have seen the darkness that lurks in the mid of my nights, as I yours.

Trace the script and read it aloud, when it becomes hard. In addition to it, I grant you one favor, to call upon my talents or resources as you will it.

@shampoocommercialelves

Westel is sent a box of pies, professionally made and still-fresh through some minor spell settled over them. In addition, a hunting knife that comes sharpened, its hilt carved and wrapped with artful patterns evocative of woodland beasts, with leafwork embellished along the spine of the blade.

Westel,

You were one of the first to show me friendship among the Sunguard. Three months ago I would not have called it that, but times seem to be changing. I thank you for the kindness, however small it may have been to give.

Where the hell have you gone? I miss Ithruiel. How dare you keep him from me.

@westelfirewing

Nuellen receives a strange, enchanted necklace -- a raven’s skull formed of blackened, petrified wood, attached to a thin, sturdy cord. A note explains its purpose to give the wearer resistance against ambient fel energy or exposure.

Swiftstrike,

Not a week passes that I do not think of my grandfather and how fortunate I was to have him. I have wrestled with feelings about his death for a very long time -- I don’t believe that I am yet done mourning, or that I ever will be -- but I am infinitely grateful to know that I am serving alongside some of the few Farstriders who served alongside him. Thank you.

@thedragonisaprincess

To Thanidiel is sent a cloak of brilliant, blood red fabric. Through some workings of alchemy, the cloak seems to be a remarkable insulator, despite its light weight. Some of the warlock’s sorcery is bound to it as well, and upon investigation it is revealed to be fireproof -- and furthermore, made to deflect magical flame and heat. The underside shimmers against the light with hues of orange and gold. An attached note reads, “This one won’t burn up. Use it well.”

Highdawn,

It has been some time since we have spoken, regrettably. I am still bitter that we did not get to face off at Shadowsunder’s tournament. Though through battle I have regained familiarity with my sorcery and its limits, I would still test it against you when you are available. Consider this a challenge.

@thanidiel

Caelinda is given a pair of boots, sturdy, stylish and well-crafted. Enchantments scribed onto the seams ensure that it will last an eternity of travel -- in addition, the monk feels a little lighter on her feet, when she wears them. To accompany the gift is an ornate brooch fashioned out of gold and ruby to affix to a cloak or scarf, and a batch of festive cookies that are still warm and fresh through some minor spell.

Caelinda,

There are few words to describe the depth of affection and fondness I have for you, however much I may loathe to show it around other people. You have given me a sense of peace and welcome that I have not had in such a long, long time, and I am grateful for your love. I will strive for all my days to be worthy of it.

@superspicedinosaur

Tyleril is sent a piece of everburning coal, infused with sorcery. It is warm to the touch, and a note explains that it can be activated and deactivated through a command word. When active, it effuses strong heat and flame, presumably to be used in the forge or a fireplace. The note warns not to hold it at inopportune times.

Silversword,

Thank you for hosting me in your home the night of the bonfire party. I know that I can be abrasive at the best of times, but it is appreciated, and I wish your business good fortune.

Keep the coal out of Samiel’s hands. That boy has fire in his eyes.

@tyleril-silversword

Vaelan receives a bottle of fine wine, Suncrown vintage. This brand is only seen on shelves practically once in a blue moon -- she must have been holding onto it for some time.

Vaelan,

You’re a fine man to work and drink with, though I fear I tend to grow only more abrasive when inebriated -- but I appreciate your friendliness, and our banter. Put this wine to good use. It’s far too damn fancy for me to drink it myself straight from the bottle, and I’m less inclined to put myself into a stupor on a regular basis, nowadays.

@greatmaulsoffire

A book, old and ornately bound, is sent to Veleth. It appears to be an in-depth study and analysis of extraplanar phenomena, as well as the planes themselves and how they intersect with the material world.

Ashcaster,

I had never expected to find a kindred scholarly mind among the Blood Knights. You are a steadfast ally in battle, and I appreciate your respect and curiosity for my studies. I hope that we both might benefit from learning into the future, with Argus on the horizon.

@veleth95

To Synthiel, a Reliquarian’s sanction for the regulated study and use of alchemically-synthesized anima.

Cloudseye,

It is refreshing to speak with another pyromancer on a level of exchanging knowledge and technique, and for that I thank you -- I have not enjoyed the privilege for a very long time, different as our disciplines may be. My expertise in commanding Wrath hones sharper by the day, and I have you to thank in part for that.

@spiral-seeker

For Ka’ese, a potted Thalassian plant, with delicate leaves in hues that range from scarlet to gold -- it is bright, and fragrant. A piece of home, preserved through magic that is clearly not the warlock’s own.

Brother,

Past our twenty-fifth year I did not think I would ever write to you and say ‘Merry Winter’s Veil’ ever again. I’m still not certain on how to feel that I am doing it now, but I know that I should, after everything. So much has changed since our reunion in Azsuna. Argus yet looms in the sky, and you should know that I intend to see this war to its end. I hope for your health, through it all.

One day we shall spend this time of the year together again, as brother and sister.

@turalyon

The Magistrix Starshard’s gift arrives on the wings of a strange raven with eyes like embers, bearing the warlock’s distinct aura of magic. In a small leather case strapped to its back is a token -- metal fashioned into the emblem of the Sunguard, with its reverse face inscribed with Thinariel’s unique sigil -- and a message of rolled and sealed parchment.

Thradia,

I cannot even begin to presume what you may believe of me at present -- I apparently have an unfortunate habit for disappearing off the face of the world. You have the deepest apologies I may give, and the greatest hopes for your health and success. You are beautiful and strong, more than I could have ever taught you to be.

Know that I survive, and that I had no choice but to take my leave of the Black Harvest when Vataan abducted my brother from Dalaran (yes, I have a brother). Through his hand and mine, no trace of my tower remains in the Twisting Nether. Without my refuge, I serve the Sunguard. So much has changed that I cannot put to words.

Argus looms high in the sky; you know where I must be.

Stay the course.

@ladyliadrin

[eleeria]

Change and Loss

Eleeria folded the tabard and sat it on her bed in front of her crossed legs. Fingers caressed the loving stitching -- the red and black of the phoenix motif was brilliant, spelled against blood and wear. She still smiled at the gift Ethalarian had given her -- it was her cherished armor, worn almost every day at this point. She loved the fierce crimson, the sacrifice it stood for; she loved the way Ethalarian spoke of the Order, how impassioned he could be at times was inspiring. She sighed, pulling the fabric into her lap to brush her hand over it again.

Though Ethalarian spoke of the Order with glowing praise, it was always for what it was -- not what it is, she reminded herself idly. Now it seemed less about spearheading an era of change and more about saluting and offering platitudes to one senior commander after another as they stared blandly at the scenery of Silvermoon. Basically anything that was exciting was relegated to people who were decidedly not her -- those pious fools who worshipped the Light with hands outstretched blindly towards a deity that didn’t exist. Liadrin had hand-picked her forces and marched off to war, leaving the rest behind. Eleeria stretched back on her bed, holding the tabard above her head as she sighed. So much for the great days of the Blood Knights. Now it's the great days of the Bureaucratic Knights. The thought was so depressing that it quite honestly made her want to vomit; long gone were the days of conquest and taking what was rightfully theirs by force or death. Now it was the protection of the homeland that was so central to their philosophy, if one could rightly consider learning the finer points of Silvermoon scenery that. Mostly it seemed to be a lot of standing around and reminiscing about days gone by. Admittedly, to the woman who had crossed continents and traveled between planets in the past year alone, that seemed...remarkably boring.

With a sigh, Eleeria let the tabard drop over her face with the soft rustle of cloth. Perhaps Kiel’lanis was right. She had joined the Blood Knights searching for something they weren’t providing her. She wanted to belong to something completely -- not in the stilted way of the military order she’d left, nor in the awkward, pretend manner of Black Dawn. Why did she even need an Order? Could she not create her own Order, something that made sense for her, if she really needed one? What made paladins’ attendance in some sort of stupid group replete with pageantry and useless titles and grandstanding?

In my Order we’d have none of that. She huffed, the black fabric over her face raising and lowering with the exhale. She was quite fond of the power that had been borrowed, and then had chosen and accepted her in the end. The Light was like a constant, warm companion -- it was hard to imagine waking up without it now. Harder still to imagine going without it, even if she felt a bit awkward that so suddenly she was expected to incorporate it into every move she took. She pulled the fabric from over her face to examine the fresh arcanic runes on her hand. Synthiel had been a boon -- they still were tender, but they glittered with power, hidden just under the surface. I wonder how much power it would take to just transcend being alive into being something...else. Wouldn’t that be something?

That would certainly show those grandstanding buffoons who seemed to think being a paladin was about apprehending jaywalkers.

That thought earned a soft snort from Eleeria as she continued to examine her hand.

She would quit, then. She had watched Ethalarian be betrayed by the Order he had loved so much -- caught in the strings of a larger scheme, unbeknownst to him, trust abused for the sake of Quel’thalas. She wasn’t certain if she could cotton being part of that, herself; perhaps she would keep the tabard and style herself an original Blood Knight. A bit of self-promotion never hurt anyone. There was no reason she could not identify with the original ideas of the Order and yet, refuse to be a part of the changed, boring shell of a thing it had become. Wasn’t that what Larry was doing, in the end?

If only she could fix her problems with Black Dawn so easily.

The Black Candle representative’s eyes glittered in her consciousness. Could she go so far as to kill herself for the power she sought? She could lose the Light, like that...it was a serious consideration, however.

And I want him back so badly. I miss him, so much. The thought was a punch to the gut, and Eleeria rolled over, not caring if her tabard was wrinkled in the motion. So often she had considered digging her fingernails into the hard-packed dirt of that cemetery and digging up her lover; once she had tried to, blood and tears consecrating his grave and the skeletons beneath. She could still see it -- the sad handfuls of grass she’d managed to yank from the earth, the pile of dirt next to it. Not even enough to stick a fist in; she had hurt herself simply trying, curling up into bitter sobs.

One lover was under the waves and far from home; the other was beneath her feet, six feet under -- neither easily attainable and yet, both she would kill herself to bring back.

I miss having someone here. It was an ache she couldn’t soothe. Eleeria had to admit that she was, in the end, incredibly lonely. The Blood Knights had been a stopgap; throwing herself headlong from project to project was simply covering up the parts of her that still ached with his loss. He had never approved of her decision to join the Order, and it had been a point of contention between them until the day he died -- the Lord of Void and his Light-Kissed Lover, perpetually at odds and yet, all odds in their favor. Holding onto the Order meant so much to her, not simply because Ethalarian loved it -- but because it was a link to him.

And thinking of how she had lost Erinius was simply too painful to bear.

Slowly, she pulled her tabard into her hands, buried her head in it, and cried.

[blindmageseyes]

The parchment is barely legible beneath the blood and char. It strains the spell upon her eyes to decipher it, to overlook the traces of tantalizing mana to focus on crude ink and symbols.

From one of her mentor’s words, it has been eons since blood was shaped like breath, like dreams, at least by the living. It is rare to find practitioners- the ancient masters still live, to be sure, venerable elves made fey and gruesome- and nigh unthinkable to find any willing to impart their knowledge. Settling for lower aims had been galling, but one of the few choices left open. Breaking and entering into vaults something… complex, in her current state.

Her false leg twitches. It no longer bends the wrong way; the intruding touch still lingers, sharp and cold. Vulnerable. The cost of the parchment currently occupying most of her desk, along with tomes half faerie-tale and half dark grimoires. Synthiel would have preferred to pay in blood, in exhaustion and the pitying looks of Dawnmenders. Anything other than this. It has not been so long that she has paid too high a price, for far too little.

Enhancements, drawn from lifeblood. Sacrifices. Plots to assault an Alliance settlement while they still reel from the Legion, the broken planet above everyone’s heads taken as an omen. There is nothing about regeneration, nothing beyond wild souls and spirits that could be bound to enact the will of fighters and hexers. Useless, invaluable. Fuel for a short lived flame, sparked by anger. The fate of some outpost is not her concern, and while she longs to fight...

A crystal turned within her hand, between slim fingers that need to be as nimble and dexterous as the rest of her is not, dims with each heartbeat. Faster, when flame is breathed in and out, dead in about as much time. The threads and runes that weave her limb are costly, as much as her eyes once were before she took up blood. Before she chose to breathe ash and have ribs of glass protecting empty space. She would not bear to pay that price then, when what she wanted was only the world; now that she can claim to at least walk it, she refuses to pay it still.

A touch. An arrogant invitation, couched in riddles, tempting. It would only take venturing south…

If she has fallen for brighter stars, she can lay no claim to them now. Not even as guides, as lights held close to heart. But she refuses to yield so very easily. It has only been a single prey.

She can hunt another.

She can fall further, and nature will not take her back, will not recognize her. Not now, not with her wish; what does one more sin matter.

(If it is not her hand that does it, Synthiel does not know if it counts. She is unsure if it is worth it, if it is not her hand that breaks it all.)

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

Numbers meme: 8052, please?

I love how descriptive you are in your writing. You say it's because of Synthiel and how she views the world, but it is part of every character that you write, not just her. Please don't ever stop, because the imagery is just phenomenal, I can't put into words how good it is.

[starcunning]

Hey guess what I appear to have never posted. I think I was waiting to finish one more, but it’s already been several weeks, so this can go up on its own.

Synthiel as Sombra for @spiral-seeker

[pyrosophist]

(it's Avada I FORGOT TO SEND AN ASK BACK) Does Thina have respect for other forms of fire magic (like Avada's highly controlled technique)? Where/how did she learn to cast the way she did? What makes her different from the Illidari?

Thina does have a respect and genuine fascination for all forms of fire magic -- the differences in flames across different kinds of magic is a point of interest for her, whether it’s Avada’s flames or Felo’thore’s astral fire or Synthiel’s bloodfire. She knows that her own hellfire has benefits and drawbacks in comparison.

She learned hellfire through a mixture of gaining the knowledge from demons and studying by herself, but the specific way she casts -- in terms of wielding it as an extension of herself, as sorcery -- came about during her time on Outland. Her “inner flame” is a mote fallen off of something much, much greater than herself, which she doesn’t fully understand and is afraid of what she’ll learn when she does.

She’s different from the Illidari because she never gouged her eyes out or bound a demon soul to hers or pick up a pair of swords -- but in all honesty, she has become a very, very effective hunter of demons over the years. Had she felt strong enough to go with Kael’thas to Outland, she would have been a Demon Hunter. Probably a charhound-bind. Nice fiery boy.

[lady-of-the-emberwood]

Placing two sealed letters on the engraved gold tray next to her bed Ereniel laid back against her feather pillows. Confined to her quarters for several months was beginning to wear on her patience, not because it was becoming intolerable but because of what it forced her to remain from searching on her own.

The parchment was made of the finest quality with a gold trim outlining the page and in the center the crest of house Emberwood painted in gold. Written with blue ink that did not stain or smudge each word was carefully placed.

Synthiel,

Danarius has gone missing since he sailed out to the broken shore. I do not know if he is alive or dead, no body was returned but neither has one been found. I fear that I have lost my only son and that the Emberwood will have to be given into the hands of Sabastriel the Forgotten. If Danarius’ title is stripped from him and given onto Sabastriel because he has managed to convince the courts of his brother’s death, I will not be able to fight the will and testament that was put forth. 

I know that it has been months since we’ve spoken and that fault rests on my shoulder’s, a few moons to one my age is a blink of the eye in comparison to the youth. The north was cruel and the cost was high, my health has not returned and I am under the constant watch of the High Priestesses from within the Emberwood. I can not search for my son, I do not even know if he still draws breath. He carries his father’s strength and it is because of that, that I pray he still lives, but he is all I have that remains of him. I could not forgive myself that I allowed him permission to leave on this venture and before it even began his chance to prove himself and complete his task was stripped from him. 

I know of the care you bare him, the loyalty that has been etched into you, please keep him in your thoughts and should you find him bring him home to me. There are few in this world that i can tolerate, fewer that I even like, and less then that which I love. 

I’ve trusted him into your care before, has that ever left you? My oath still remains, and it is my hope yours too has not faded. 

Please help me find him....

Lady Emberwood, Matriarch of house Duskmere, Ereniel

The second letter was placed on top several packages that were bound in embroidered silks wrapped with an elegant bow. The letter was crafted with the same materials as the first, with three parcels in total. The first was larger and contained all the notations and briefings that were spoken of within the contents of the letter. The second was a smaller rectangular box wrapped in a soft blue material with a gold sheer ribbon. Within held a hand crafted anklet that was made in gold with sapphire gems that would connect to a sword that was shaped like the one she carried on the battlefield. 

Lady Kateriel Morningstar,

It was recently discovered within my sons quarters that he was looking into a personal matter that no doubt touches your heart. I have included several documents that he had placed away in hopes of finding a resolution for your matter.

 I write to inform you that Lord Duskmere has gone missing from the war front of the Broken Shore, there has been no news of his return and without a body present they neither know if he breathes life or has succumb to death. 

For now the militia has listed Lord Duskmere as missing in action, presumed dead. As many bodies did not return from the war front and no witnesses which live or have come forward to seeing his flight or fall from the battle there is no more that can be done from within Quel’thalas. 

As a mother I write to you now so that you know he did not forget about your personal matter nor did he forget about you. Please accept this gift which he had purchased in hopes of gifting onto you upon the successful outcome of your great matter. I hope these documents and notations help aide you in the months to come and that you may gain peace of mind. 

Lady Emberwood, Matriarch of house Duskmere, Ereniel

@lissanaria @spiral-seeker

[eleeria]

focus;

@trained-trainwreck @spiral-seeker @notdavidbowie @jessipalooza

Focus.

It was the word of the hour, it seemed. Esme had alluded to as much -- needing *focus* to dig herself out of this hole -- and Shahin had as well. Eldriana had never had a problem with focus before, but the past few months felt muddled, thoughts spiraling into a lazy respite.

She would not let them do so again.

The sun was not yet up when she dragged herself away from her present lover. The man -- pirate, she whispered to herself, ruthless as he was amusing -- curled into the warm space left behind by her small body. Fingers clenched sheets instead of her slim frame as Eldriana dressed in leathers and left the building, already at a run. Training had been slightly neglected lately, and she planned on remedying that immediately.

Hours passed as she worked through forms: magic, first. The control of mana and energy was still tricky for her, but Synthiel's instruction certainly helped. She felt less like she was throwing all of her mana at every problem. Perhaps, in a few years, she could consider herself an actual mage; for now, however, Eldriana contented herself with the basics and parlor tricks learned over hundreds of years. Next was the easier routines -- hand to hand. Dagger work. Swords. Even her bow and pistol were taken out and practiced. She could easily spend the day here, if she wanted. But there was more to be done -- late morning was cresting, judging by the position of the sun. With a sigh, the woman jogged her way back to her apartment. Out of leathers, into proper clothes suitable for a meeting or two, and out she went again to her study.

Running an estate was no small task -- fingers ran over the lines of text and numbers carefully. Each line equated to a decision she would have to make for the hundreds of people who depended on her. Eldriana did most of the accounting herself, with a head for numbers; the more social decisions, she left for her steward, grateful that most people did not expect her to be a social diplomat any time soon. There was other paperwork too -- reports for the Pathfinders on scouting she had done. Carefully coded missives for the Uncrowned.  All of them were dealt with, lunchtime coming and going with only the delivery of a sandwich and a kiss from Waraylon noting the time.

As she sat back in her chair, the small woman contemplated the last item on the list. Fingers drummed on the desk as she thought. The strange magic still curled in her stomach -- burning, lazily for now, but still a reminder of what she had rather accidentally and yet, entirely intentionally signed up for. With a hum, she stood up, dusting her inked fingers off on her pants. Well, magic was nothing she couldn’t handle. The woman was a quick study -- arcane came easily enough, fire as well. Certainly the light -- or whatever they wanted to call it, angry and churning -- wouldn’t be so hard. People who doubted her could certainly go fuck themselves. It was merely another weapon, to her -- if it could kill, in unexpected and surprising ways, then it was worth learning. Morals and religion be damned. No one was going to make her believe in shit.

I’m fine. It’ll be great! I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?

The woman walked to her kitchen to prepare dinner with a satisfied hum.

[blindmageseyes]

One week, and she had earned having her most wounded arm freed from its protective sling. Two weeks, she handles standing on her own. If any mender chanced to look too closely, they would have bound her arms behind her back, returned the magic suppressors. It is dangerous to channel what blood she has left so freely, so soon. It is foolish to spend it outright now. Burns bloom again along her skin, neatly kept to runic lines and fierce desires; Synthiel readily accepts the judgement, but fails to care for it.

The Novastorm twins had not noticed, so it is good enough to pass any muster. Perhaps not their perception- it is glaringly obvious exactly what she hides, beneath her long mage’s skirts. But she thinks they never met her beforehand, when she wore a darling mask and a sorceress’ costume. They have only ever known this one, pretense cast away along with the shifts worn by the Infirmary’s wounded. A dress is only meet to wear to a celebration. Elegance demands one sits sidesaddle, even astride a phoenix, even when one laughs and throws sparklers for the wolves to chase like prey.

‘Tis far better than to have them look too closely.

As it is, the only thing that keeps her from collapsing is stubbornness. The celebration was an outing that no one had deigned to deny. Then, it had been just standing and parlor tricks. It is a bittersweet mercy that she is renowned for her sharp edges, best left alone.

Fighting alongside a branch of the Silver Hand had proved more taxing.

It had been an age since she had felt faint, her mana fading from her chest. The leylines pressing far too close, consuming, unable to latch onto and feel as she should have. Oh, she had survived- how odd, how welcome- but it had none of the victory. Her attacks little more than sparks against fell plate; her runes barely holding her together, let alone anything else. But it is progress.

As it is, she stands. Her weight is near-evenly distributed; she will never get accustomed to blood magic being literally what binds her together if she doesn’t force herself to. If she doesn’t make herself want it, be it, as much as she swore she would. It has been an age since she last wore robes; it has been two weeks since she last stood.

Besides her, the phoenix chirps. She thanks it with a soft press of her fingers along the plumes of its forehead.

[brothersemberfell]

TSG Mage Squad is ready for patch 7.1.5. #PYROBLAZEIT Synth, Felo & Ava @spiral-seeker @emberfallen

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

[Your Affairs] The Last Will And Testament of Ithranicus Redarrow

“Elleynah.  I am sorry that I have to leave this to you.   We haven’t always been on the best of terms, but you are the only one I trust to ensure that my wishes are fulfilled.  I could say the usual “If you are reading this, then I am dead,” trite, but I’d rather not focus on that.  While my life was extremely short by our standards, it was exciting and full of adventures.  Growing old, having kids and running an estate would have been interesting but it lacks a certain...spice or flair.  To that end, I would ask that you and anyone else try not to shed too many tears over my passing (assuming you shed any at all, I suppose I shouldn’t be so arrogant).  I am going to ask you to be the executor of my will, and should anyone give you any issues please let my sister know and she will be glad to straighten out any disputes.  Though I doubt there would be, it’s not like I have a lot to give.  

Before we get the official part, Elleynah.  I know that I have a relationship with Tassandria.  We are close, and I love her very dearly.  There’s something in the will for her below.  But I want you to know that I don’t stop thinking about you, and if it’s possible to love more than one person then I...love you.  I love you, Elleynah.

Anyways, on to the official part.  To my sister, Tannisal Redarrow, I leave nothing.  She is dead, lost to me in Northrend.  To Siildore Frostlotus, I extend the same offer I have since we kindled our relationship and learned of our relationship: To take the Redarrow name and become a part of our family.  You may not be the same person you were, but I believe that you are still my sister, you are still Caeliri’s mother.  You belong among your family.

To Caeliri Dawnsworn, I leave The Ridges to you to oversee.  If it proves too much for you to manage, enlist my mother to assist you.  She doesn’t sleep, so I imagine she’ll have all the time in the world to do as you ask.  

I wish I could have been a better uncle, been there to support you through all that you have experienced, and all that you will.  Your knighthood, marriage, children.  You deserve a family that cares, and I have failed you in that regard.  Even now, I saddle you with more responsibilities.  So, additionally, it is my wish that you take a portion of the funds that you will inevitably find put under your name and take a majority of my companions, and find homes for them on The Ridges.  You may not have family in elves, but your ancestors shared a connection with the wilds that was almost primal.  I hope that you can find one among them again.

To Eldriana Fairlight, I leave Cuddles, Toothless, and Toothy in your care.  Hopefully they don’t bite Lazarus -too- much.  And yes, I know you already have three companions too many.  But they suit you, and unlike Velianor I know you will take proper care of them.  

To Synthiel Cloudseye, I leave to you the mantle of the Red Arrows.  I have found only scant traces of what they were in the few books that mentioned them, but from what I have found I think you would be the best candidate to find out what and who they were.  The books I have will be delivered to you upon the reading and execution of this will.  From there, you will have access to every tool that The Ridges can provide.  They still have their secrets, lost to the ages.  Find them, and maybe you can find yourself.

To Pyrar Delithmere, thank you for helping me with the writing of this.  I haven’t stopped drawing or map-making, and as such leave all of the originals I have made to you.  It is some twenty odd maps, with three full journals of my drawings.  I don’t know if you’ve gotten out from behind your desk, but if you haven’t then hopefully this will bring the outside world to your desk.

To Tassandria Dor’Wynn, I am sorry that we never...really seemed to go somewhere.  I hope-No, I know that you found your daughter.  I leave to you the engagement ring that I had made for when I eventually had the courage to ask the question.  And though I doubt you will take it, I invite you to find a place in The Ridges to call your own.  Siildore and Caeliri should have no issue with it.

Tassandria, I am sorry for so many things.  That I didn’t come back, that I didn’t help you find Velayn.  I did say that you’d find her, not we.

Elleynah, there is nothing that I can give you that shows how important you are to me.  If you ever need a place to call your own, you can feel free to claim any place in The Ridges.  Get out of that office, and live some.  There’s a lot of open county in The Ridges, consider this an invitation to explore it.

And that’s me.  The last thing that I will do, my last actions on this plane.  It seems comically trivial, in the scope of things.  We are supposed to last near forever, to leave our mark on the world.  I will have to be happy with leaving my mark on a select few.

At least I can use my real name now.

Ithranicus Redarrow

@stormandozone @dorksworn  @pyrar @sparklepriest @spiral-seeker @thesunguardmg

[starcunning]

Sad Forest Girls - what's our song?

I amTaintedAnd happiness and peace of mindWere never meant for me

“And All That Could Have Been” // Nine Inch Nails

Somewhere there’s a Sunday in the fall,Where you everything love is safe and warm,Where everything was right,But I’m never goin’ home.

“Gone to Sleep” // Moby and Kelli Scarr

Billie, you’re a miracle and God knows I need one.Sing me something terrible that even dawn may come.You and me, we don’t believe in happy endings.Hey, Lady Day, can you save my life this time?Can you cry so beautifully you make my troubles rhyme?Hey, Lady Day, can you save my life again?My only love has gone away.Will you be my only friend?

“My Only Friend” // the Magnetic Fields

[curiouslich]

Responses

Synthiel,

In regards to the personal matter of my trials, I find that all life is a trial. We move from one day to a next surviving the tasks assigned us and given a chance to succeed and fail. While some are more dire and some are less so the chance to grow can be found in any moment. In regards to progressing to my next rank I believe I am managing the best the tools I have at my disposal allow me too. I have learned a great deal about myself and the perceptions and hopes others have for me. It's been an enlightening experience.

In terms of protection against magic, I have been instructing a few students to learn to control the energy but its not a universal process. Much of my ability seems to manifest through my vision allowing me to see the maelstrom of magics and find the sense of energy. Magic is like a second skin to the Sin’dorei, and although many attempt to hide their strength, few are skilled in concealing their flow of energy. Then again that very act is typically just as apparent as doing nothing but I digress on my own personal bias.

If you have any question or interest in learning any form of defense then please seek me out after this campaign has concluded. If I am not claimed in the process I will be more than willing to assist you in any way I can.

~Zalin Shadowsunder

Advisor to the Sunspear Battalion

Heir to Duskfall

@spiral-seeker

[lady-of-the-emberwood]

Sealed Missive

Miss Cloudseye,

Now that the war has ended and we have been gifted a few moments of peace back within our lands, and the period of mourning has ceased within the guard and we take red again I would like to invite you to the Emberwood to continue your studies within our libraries.

Lord Duskmere has been away for a time dealing with a personal matter however he should be returning within the next few weeks and has requested that I have copies of texts that would interest you created to help further along your aspirations with blood magic.

I will have a set of rooms made at the ready upon your confirmation.

Regards,

Lady Emberwood, Matriarch to house Duskmere

@spiral-seeker

[isei-silva]

way overdue gold art for spiral-seeker of Synthiel!

[blindmageseyes]

Low quality sketches of some tattoos Synthiel now has. To make a long story shorter: the runes around her eyes are blood magic runes, with the dual purpose of improved scrying and an increase in damage dealing. As a sniper, they are essentially her very-HQ-vision goggles and something that makes her shots pack even more punch. After being captured and tortured by demons, the fel magic threw the enchantments off kilter. Rather than being something she could toggle on and off again, they remained visible at all times. Not necessarily active- they are glowy then- but she cannot hide that she does use sight-enhancement spells for at least some tasks. ... Well, those sight enhancers at least :) In any case, now she is literally covered face to heels in blood mage runes. Not that the others are visible easily.