#vaelan

[merxxki]

‘ aaron taylor johnson, cisgender man, he/him, 35 / 350 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems soren vaelan grey (now “s.k. wolfe”) has finally made it to the capital, the third in command from the autumn court (once the night court) is said to be pragmatic and is said to describe themselves with the haunting echoes of a distant wolf’s mournful cry, bruised, bloodied knuckles clenched around a makeshift weapon, the distant, somber echo of a horn signaling a shift in power, and two intertwined silver chains resting on a weathered wooden table and with all of this in mind their volatile nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.

general details.

full name:  singer kaldemar wolfe former name: soren vaelan grey nickname(s): wolfe date of birth:  October 31st gender: cisgender man pronouns: he/him sexual orientation: greysexual romantic orientation: demiromantic occupation:  third-in-command with the autumn court

physical appearance, etc.

faceclaim:  aaron taylor johnson height: 6'3 Scars:   too many - knife slashes, stab wounds, burns. clothing style:  whatever he pulls out of his closet. distinguishing characteristics:  he has the aura of someone on the brink of violence, intensely blue eyes, dark curly hair.

health.

mental disorder(s): mentally fragile, fractured mind with gaps in his memory sleeping habits:  poor unless he has a sleeping draught which he's addicted to sociability: he likes being around people, craves it even, but he does not like too much attention on him.

personality.

label(s):  the lone wolf positive traits:  resilient, cunning, strong and determined negative traits: stubborn, volatile, withdrawn likes:  dogs, books, writing, candles dislikes: the dark, enclosed spaces fears:  reuniting with his brother goals and ambitions: remove any threat to him, the court, or the people that have saved him. primary vice:  isolation primary virtue:  protective

family, relationships, etc.

mother: deceased father:  deceased significant other: none best friend: tbd sibling(s): Kalore | @shvdwscng

pet(s): a large wolf-hound he's named "friend"

head canons and/or backstory.

trigger warning: discussion of isolation, torture, memory problems

there was never any jealousy between him and his older brother, instead - soren grew up wanting to be at his brother's side, just like the typical annoying little brother but also to help him and cheer him on.

his family was not the most openly affectionate, but he had a personal calling to change that. he'd hug his mother, kiss his father on the cheek, and (attempt) to tackle-hug his brother. he was always openly loving and affectionate. he had big puppy energy.

his parents were sent on a mission that he & his brother knew was going to go wrong. this was the only time he spoke in anger towards his brother... he questioned why their family was serving the high ruler when the high ruler clearly thought they were disposable or worth risking. his brother went after their parents... he then went after his brother.

he was captured by a tribe of rogue fae who had a vendetta against the night court & the grey family. at first, he was going to be killed and sent in pieces back to the court... but he wouldn't break. it became a mission by his captors to break him, and it became his mission to survive.

he survived by locking himself away, doing what he needed to in order to make it from one day to the next. eventually, they set him against wild animals and other captive fae ... and he became little better than an animal.

they had broken him but it had taken so long that there was a strange fondness towards him from his captors... so he was given to a family who treated him like a working dog... and his job was to fight.

they thought he was tamed ... he wasn't. one night, due to overhearing a plan to target his brother, he systematically went through the camp and killed as many of them as he could before he ran ... but he didn't run to escape but to lure more to their deaths.

at death's door, he came to autumn. with a broken body, a broken mind -- it took time for him to heal. his parents once thought he would be an emissary due to his gift of mimicry, his skill at befriending, making deals and navigating the social sphere ... but he no longer could be the person he was before. he enrolled in the autumn court military in hopes of finding a warrior's death.

his beserker-like tendencies drew attention. people learned quickly not to ask too many questions about his past. the warning - his headaches - became the red flag to back off and back away. in the army, he operated with guerilla tactics, throwing away any art of war and idea of surrender. through this, he rose through the ranks - depending on those who came to be at his side and through that, they earned his loyalty.

wanted connections.

autumn court members who are willing & able to help him suppress his memories so he doesn't go completely feral.

someone who is able to get him out of his bloodlust and calm him down. (other than his brother...)

open to other suggestions && connections!

[ofcourtfables]

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍. 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏. welcome TAYLOR, TOMMY, CAT, NESTA, & NEWT you have been accepted into ofcourtfables. please have your account in within the next 24 hours or you risk your roles and face claims. also take a moment to look over our checklist.

‘ florence pugh, cisfemale, she/her, 27 / 270 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems caelia caadlawan has finally made it to the capital, the lady from dawn court is said to be genuine and is said to describe themselves with disarming smiles and wholehearted laughter, muddied breeches wet from the first light’s dew, the piercing call of a white bellbird, observant green eyes that slowly rove a room, and sea breeze trapped within a morning mist and with all of this in mind their impetuous nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by taylor

‘ leo suter, cis man, he/him, 320 / 32 , illyrian ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems carden duvau has finally made it to the capital, the general of the night court armies is said to be dutiful and is said to describe themselves with crisp pine and vanilla, stories of battle told beneath starlight, the bitter winds of winter mornings, and leathers that have seen better days and with all of this in mind their destructive nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by tommy

‘ hazal filiz küçükköse, cis woman, she/her, 36 / 360 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems seray tunalı has finally made it to the capital, the lady from spring court is said to be gregarious and is said to describe themselves with endless fields of wild flowers, hiding your manipulations behind saccharine smiles, writing letters on rose scented paper, and a venus fly trap closing around its prey and with all of this in mind their machiavellian nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by tommy

‘ hafsanur sancaktutan, cis female, she/her/hers, 27 / 270 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems miray aydin has finally made it to the capital, the spy from day court is said to be resourceful and is said to describe themselves with colours bleeding into one another as the sun rises on a misty morning, a whispered 'sh' with a finger to red lips, "look like th’ innocent flower, But be the serpent under ’t.", cursebreaking expertly only because you know curses and with all of this in mind their reticent nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by cat

‘ dai gao zheng, cis man, he/him, 30 / 300, high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems ZHŌU MÙYÁNG was teleported to the dusk court, the lord from THE DUSK COURT is said to be INTELLIGENT and is said to describe themselves with A LONG CHAIR THAT'S FALLEN OVER, ALL THE LIES THAT LIVE WITHIN YOUR SOUL and GOLDEN FLAMES FLICKERING IN A CRUMBLING STONE CASTLE and with all of this in mind their DEFIANT nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; sibling to the high ruler. dragon's name: deigh, color: yellow & bonded for two years. ; written by nesta.

‘ aaron Taylor Johnson, cisgender man, he/him, 35 / 350 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems SOREN VAELAN GREY (now “S.K. WOLFE”) has finally made it to the capital, the THIRD IN COMMAND from THE AUTUMN COURT (once the night court) is said to be PRAGMATIC and is said to describe themselves with the haunting echoes of a distant wolf’s mournful cry, bruised, bloodied knuckles clenched around a makeshift weapon, the distant, somber echo of a horn signaling a shift in power, and two intertwined silver chains resting on a weathered wooden table and with all of this in mind their VOLATILE nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by newt

[kirriu]

oh baby, you’re a tragedy in the making

[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

[vaelanthorne-blog]

@kaloyanserdarov ( continued. ):

“In my experience when someone’s complimenting a dragon, they aim to distract. Are you trying to distract me, fahdon?“

"Depends,” Vaelan voiced mused along the edge of his cup, though it was piqued in tease at the dragon’s retort. In all fairness, he did mean what he said; it was easy to be lost in those eyes if one stares long enough. But if the dragon was going to make a game out it, Vaelan was all the more willing to try. 

     “------is the hoard better than the dragon that guards it?” 

[strxhd]

✋ + reverse

The sound of his heart beat is magnified by arousal. A constant lapping and ebbing of sensation drove into a carnal hunger that demanded to be sated. He couldn’t recall how the pair of them had arrived to this point but it hadn’t matter much. He felt the warmth of his skin under his fingertips and the way their blood rushed beneath the skin. Lysander’s lips eagerly chased it. Clothes shed between them until there had been nothing but skin and coarse hair. He fed from it as if his fangs were drawing out the blood that called to him. A polite waltz of bodies and touch. He worshiped the pulse in Vaelan’s throat before he curled his fingers around his spectacular ass. Strong grip pressed against the fragile flesh and brought him closer.

The witch’s skin tasted of herbs and earth. A strong mixture that drew him in deeper. Lysander wanted more; he wanted to taste his name on the others lips as he drove his cock deeply inside of him. He had enough of the slow teasing he had started. He knew in strength, he was the more powerful but respected that the witch could snap his fingers and destroy him. It didn’t stop him from swiping his leg and tripping Vaelan into the bed. Rapid speed had him on top of the witch with his wrists pinned. Vaelan’s legs were wrapped easily around his own lithe waist as his hardened cock, thick and full, pressed eagerly against the witch’s taint. His hips rolled against him with his fangs bared. 

Leaning down he pressed his body hard against the witch’s. He pressed his hand, after he moved one, against the witch’s hip to hold him down. “I’m going to fuck you,” Lysander purred calmly, “and cum inside. And then fuck you again.” He leaned down to nip at the witch’s ear. “I’m going to fill you so thick that all you can think about is coming back to me every night just for me to empty myself inside of you all over again.”

MEME THING.

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Context: Our pathfinder game had us deliver a friend to his hotel room, and one entrance was boarded with a coach. Modern setting with magic reintroduced to the world.

Jack(Skinwalker): “Barricades. That’s always a good sign.”

Nogi(Kitsune Bard): “Hm, well, they seem to have locked this place down.”

Irisveil(catfolk sorcerer): “…D-does that mean there are zombies or something?” 

Later, while being held at gunpoint by an inhabitant… 

(Guy with the gun) “People came here in hopes to be safe from the outside… but someone was sick and then someone bit another person… and the next thing you know there’s former living people here.” 

Irisveil(ooc): *rolls a performance check to moonwalk the fuck outta there, rolls 18* 

Vaelan(GM): “Irisveil casually moonwalks his way out of the hotel, trips on a rock, and takes 1d4 damage.” 

Caused plenty of reasonable chuckles.

[beneathstarryskies]

Arranged Marriage (General Hux x OFC)

Summary: General Hux gets a wife, although neither of them are particularly thrilled about it. 

Word Count: 3,127

A/N: This is edited from the previous version I posted. There are pretty mild differences, mostly just adding detail and clarity here and there.

Supreme Leader Snoke considers himself above entertaining offers from desperate leaders who are desperate to be in his good graces. When he receives these holotransmissions, they rarely have anything worth his time to offer him. His assistant doesn’t understand why he even accepts communications from planets looking to strike up a deal with him. He won’t admit how much he enjoys watching them grovel. It reminds him of how far the First Order has come when kings and senators are on their knees begging for protection. 

Although, even Snoke is surprised to receive a transmission from the small forest planet of Vaela. It’s one of the few planets which hadn’t aligned themselves with either the Resistance or the First Order yet. Snoke lounges on his throne while his assistant accepts the transmission. 

"I must admit I didn't expect to be hearing from your pathetic planet," Snoke says when the king's image appears. The king bows. 

"These are politically tumultuous times, and I must protect my people," the king begins. There's hesitance lingering in him that Snoke can sense. "I would like to extend Vaela's loyalty to the First Order. That would open up trade, the land, and of course troops."

Snoke's rasping laugh echoes through the throne room. His assistant lets out a nervous chuckle as well.

"That seems very beneficial,” Snoke fakes disinterest. Vaela was a rich, albeit mysterious planet. Having access to their resources would put the First Order even further ahead. 

"As a sign of good will, I offer my daughter's hand in marriage to yourself or any First Order leader in want of a wife. This would unify Vaela with the First Order."

Now, this was interesting. No leader has made him such an offer so far. He surmises the he himself has no need for a wife, but the usefulness of emotional bonds in his underlings was not lost on him. If he let the girl marry one of his generals, then he would have that much more hold on them.

"What kind of king offers his own daughter up like a shipment of goods?" Snoke taunts the king.

"A king looking to protect his people, and as princess that is her duty as well."

Snoke lounges back against his throne. A twisted smirk plays on his deformed face as he thinks of a certain general who is desperate for attention, who would easily be controlled even further by using a pretty young lady. 

***

Bedelia doesn’t speak to her father for days after receiving the news of her upcoming marriage. The Vaelan’s ship lands on Starkiller Base and they both exit the ship without so much as looking at one another. She knows nothing of the man she is to marry, only a name:  General Armitage Hux. 

“A husband to be proud of,” she had been assured over and over and over by her mother, sister, servants, anyone who could be trusted to manufacture the right words. 

As she watches the movements in the hangar out the window, she thinks of the day her fate was revealed to her. There are no distinct memories of her reaction, only details. The cold blood running through her veins. The pressure on her knees when she fell down in tears. The whole scene painted in crimson as her sadness turned to rage. She had to be dragged out of her father’s throne room by three servants. She woke up in a cold sweat, having apparently worked herself up to the point of passing out. She’s not proud of pitching such a terrible fit, but never in her life could she imagine this would be her fate. 

“Hello, King Hordar, Queen Tabitha, and Princess Bedelia. I am Captain Phasma, and I am to escort the princess to her quarters where she will get ready for the ceremony,” a chrome plated Stormtrooper spoke, effectively pulling Bedelia out of her memories. Phasma turns to Bedelia, “Follow me.” 

Bedelia could feel the Phasma sizing her up despite the captain being completely covered. She wonders if the woman disapproves of her, and whether or not she will ever find a place in this strange new world. Phasma walks two steps ahead of Bedelia in order to guide her through the dark, winding corridors of the base. She walks with light, quick steps. Like a soldier. 

“I must say, this marriage comes as a shock to us all,” Phasma speaks suddenly. 

“I agree.” 

“You’re lucky Snoke chose to marry you off to General Hux instead of himself as your weak father offered. Hux is more your age.” Phasma’s words were littered with condescension and distaste. 

Bedelia fought off the urge to argue with her. Instead deciding to save her words for a different time. Phasma stops in front of a sleek black door, she types a security code into the panel. 

She speaks as the security system gives her clearance, and the door slides open, “Here is where you will get ready. Your gown was delivered as directed. Your maid will be joining you soon.” 

“Thank you, Phasma.” 

“That’s Captain Phasma.”

“Yes, I am sorry.” 

Phasma turns on her heels and walked back down the corridor. Bedelia enters the cold, sterile looking room that was to be her quarters (temporarily she presumed.) A black vanity with a large mirror sits against one wall, a bed is in the middle of the room, and another door leads to a small bathroom. She goes to the bathroom and starts running a bath for herself. She removes her travelling clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor. She hears the door open, and turns to see a handmaid enter the room. The woman was young, but looks tired. 

“You have two hours,” the handmaid informs her. 

“I don’t understand the rush,” Bedelia comments absently as she sinks into the warm water. 

“I suppose they want this deal finalized,” the handmaid offers. 

Bedelia sinks further into the water, so it’s almost over her mouth. Suddenly she sits up. 

“What’s your name?” she asks the handmaid. 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” 

“It does.” 

The handmaid sighs, “Shela.”

“Shela, I am-” 

“Princess Bedelia. Yes, you’re the talk of the base!”

“I assume we will be spending a lot of time together,” Bedelia relaxes again in the tub as Shela nods. “So, you don’t have to call me Princess. Just Bedelia.” Shela bows, and Bedelia lets out a small giggle. “And none of that either.” 

***

General Hux isn’t nervous, at least that’s how he presents himself. He stands in front of the large window overlooking the hangar with his hands clasped behind his back. He had watched with piqued interest as his bride landed, and was led away by Phasma. Although he hadn’t been able to see her, the way she carried herself was mesmerizing to him. There was confidence, but not the same kind of practiced confidence he had. It was natural, as if nothing in this universe scared her. He stands tall and falsely confident in his formal uniform, his red hair neatly combed back. He had to resist the urge to ask Phasma a million questions about Bedelia when she returns. 

He was, of course, surprised when the Supreme Leader told him of his plans. He still doesn’t understand why he had to marry the girl. Snoke had a king grovelling at his feet, and yet he accepts a rather pointless deal from him. 

“We could have had land, more troops, a whole bloody planet,” he sighs. “Instead I get a wife.” 

“We still get access to the planet’s resources,” Phasma reminds him. “And you get a wife.” 

 “I don’t need a wife.” 

“No, you’d rather risk having to carry the shame of an illegitimate son just like your father,” Kylo Ren taunts him. Kylo knew the Supreme Leader’s purpose for allowing Hux a wife was because of the ginger’s need for attention,  a wife would make him that much more malleable. Still, he couldn’t help but antagonize him. Hux turns quickly with fire burning in his eyes.

“At least I don’t have rebel scum for parents,” Hux spits back.  Kylo is at attention, his hand grasps his lightsaber hilt. Phasma breaks them up. He didn’t even know why Kylo was here except to revel in Hux’s predicament.

An officer tasked with helping to organize the event enters the room to announce that there’s only half an hour until the ceremony. Kylo and Phasma excuse themselves, leaving Hux with his thoughts. Only when he’s certain of being alone does he release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Now the insecurity slips into his mind. What if she’s disappointed in being stuck with him? Or she’s terrible or thinks he’s terrible? He doesn’t trust Snoke to be completely honest with him about her. 

He finally makes his way outside. The troops stood neatly in arrangement on the parade grounds. On the balcony stood the highest ranking First Order officers and his future wife’s family. The clergyman from Vaela who would be officiating the ceremony indicated to Hux where to stand. Any second now, she would emerge and they would be married. His heart pounds in his chest. 

***

Bedelia walks through the blast doors. The cold air hitting her face causes her cheeks to turn red. At the end of the aisle formed by the First Order officers and the guests from her own planet stood the man she assumed to be General Armitage Hux. He was tall and thin with a stern yet handsome face. She is surprised by how young he is. Her worst fear had been to be married and bedded by an old man, although at least the chances of an old man dying and her being able to escape were much greater. She makes her way down the aisle looking proudly ahead despite the fear bubbling within. Once she’s close enough, he offers her his leather gloved hand. She takes it wondering absently if he always wears them. They stand facing one another distracted by studying the other closely, only knowing when to speak because of memorizing the vows. However, their attention is caught by the last line. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Her breath catches, and Hux clears his throat. The look on his face revealing his hesitancy. He leans in slowly as if expecting her to pull away before  placing a chaste kiss upon her lips. Both of their cheeks are flushed. There’s loud applause as he leads her back inside. 

“We are still preparing the dining room for the event,” a member of the kitchen staff informs Hux as soon as they walk in. 

“Fine, fine,” Hux waves him off. 

The wedding guests file in behind them. Each officer walks by to congratulate Hux, even if some of their words are half-hearted. Her family welcomes Hux and they give him the traditional Valean kiss on the hand to signify family loyalty although it seems rather half-hearted. 

“Let us go to the dining hall, and give the newlyweds a chance to speak,” someone announces, causing Bedelia’s heart to pound. The two of them are alone together for the first time.

“You look very beautiful,” Hux says. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

She looks down at the floor with a sadness in her eyes that make Hux feel nauseous. He can sense the distance in her voice, and it sends an unexpected pain in his chest. She looks down at the ground, her gloved hands clasped together in front of her. He reaches out to take her hand making one final attempt to forge some kind of bond, but she pulls away from him. The pain shoots through his chest again. He feels disgusted by his own hurt feelings. Ashamed that he even tried to win her over with tenderness, he decides to at least force them both to get through this day. If she wanted to be talked to like one of his inferiors, then he could deliver. 

“They will be receiving us in the dining room now. It will be us, your family, and my officers.” He steps closer to her, fire burning in his eyes. His next words are spoken through gritted teeth, “I expect you to act more hospitable to our guests.” 

“There are no guests to an arranged marriage,” she spits back. She finds herself liking the anger in his eyes, the way his jaw tenses as he calculates his next move. 

“Call it what you will, princess. But I expect you to at least make this day easier to get through for both of us.” He turns on his heels and leaves her standing alone. When she doesn’t follow him, he stops. “Come now.” 

She hurries to catch up, surprising them both. He offers her his arm. She hesitates, and he grabs her hand instead. As they’re seated side by side, she looks around the dining room at all the eyes on them. She tenses up, and feels Hux do the same. Thinking about their previous conversation makes her feel slightly guilty. He had tried to be hospitable and she responded with coldness. Although she couldn’t imagine what else he expected. 

She pushes the food around on the plate in front of her, but happily sips the wine. She’s on her third glass when Hux leans over to whisper in her ear. 

“At least try to eat something,” he whispers. There’s a touch of hostility in his voice, but she can also sense genuine concern. She takes a few bites of her food. 

***

 For the second time, they’re left alone. Now in her new home, she looks around the large quarters. There’s very few traces of personality in the otherwise clean room. A large orange cat lays in a nearby chair, and she reaches out to stroke the top of its head. The cat lets out a surprised chirp, but then purrs happily. 

“She usually doesn’t take so easily to strangers,” Hux says. His voice surprises her. 

“Neither do I.” 

Hux almost is offended until he looks up to see an understanding smile on Bedelia’s face. Instead he lets out a sigh. He takes his gloves off and sets them on his dresser, then slips out of his coat. He walks past Bedelia to hang his coat in the closet. 

“I believe your personal items were delivered. Everything should be put away.” 

Bedelia sits on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes, she sets them neatly to the side then stands again. She moves easily across the room to him. 

“Will you help undo my dress?” she asks him. He nods, and she turns her back to him.

 His nimble fingers untie the laces holding the back of her dress together, cold fingertips brush down her spine as he does it. He wants to push it off her shoulders to let the lace and chiffon fall to the ground. His animal desire is curious about what the delicate materials hide. Never had he had the opportunity to be this close to a woman before. Sure the maids and kitchen workers would be willing, but it was a risk and it wouldn’t have been very genuine. She holds the dress up, and makes her way to the bathroom. She was correct in assuming that her light pink satin robe had been hung up neatly on the back of the door, and her night gown had been laid out on a small chair in the corner. 

Hux is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking more unkempt than when she had left him. He wore his black pants still and a white undershirt, but his jacket was tossed carelessly in the laundry bin. His shoes were in their compartment neatly. The bathroom door opening catches his attention, and his heart begins pounding when she emerges from it. Her dark hair curls and falls down her shoulders against the pink robe she wore over a matching nightgown. The robe did nothing to hide the hourglass body beneath it. She sits beside him on the bed. 

“I know what is expected now,” she whispers. She looks down at her feet against the black tile floor. Hux is almost certain he sees tears welling up in her eyes.  

“It’s not expected,” he assures her. His earlier rejected attempt at tenderness is long forgotten as he attempts it once more. The relief washing over her features assures him he’s taking the correct course of action. 

“General-” 

“Call me Armitage.” 

“Is that your name?” she blushes, “Of course it is. I knew that.” She shakes her head in embarrassment, and is surprised when he laughs. 

“Indeed it is my name.” 

She moves closer, “You can call me Bedelia.” 

“Okay,” he smirks, “princess.” 

“That works too.” 

She moves even closer to him. She intertwines her warm tan fingers with his cold pale ones. 

“I am sorry about before,” she confesses. “This isn’t exactly the wedding day I had planned. I’ve been acting like a child about ever since my father told me about our betrothal.” 

“I admit I wasn’t entirely pleased with it myself,” Hux confesses, although he keeps to himself how the prospect of not being alone excited him after he had more of a chance to think it all through. Instead he focuses on the insecurity he felt. 

“I have no idea about marriage or even coupling at all. My parents were, well, not married. My mother died when I was very young.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The horrors of his childhood flashed through his mind, but he pushes them away. 

“I would like to try to make this work,” he whispers. He feels more vulnerable now. 

“We haven’t got much of a choice,” she sighs. “Of course it would be nice not to be miserable forever.” 

“Of course,” he agrees. 

Relief washes over them both. As they sit in a comfortable silence, he finds himself staring at her wine stained lips. Then his eyes trace down her neck, stopping at her perky cleavage. He cups her face towards him, and leans close to take her lips with his own. The kiss they share is different from the one they shared at the ceremony. Now they’re more curious, and receptive. She sinks against him, surprised at his gentleness as his arms snake around her body. She pulls away from him shyly. 

“I’m afraid,” she confesses. 

“I told you, nothing is expected.” 

She looks up at him, an appreciation filling her eyes that made Hux want to always make her feel this way. He pulled her against him, holding her tight against his chest.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he promises. She hums in acknowledgement. 

As the newlyweds settled into bed together, doubt was replaced by hope.  

[madphantom]

Somebody here named their WiFi bae-lan (WiFi is WLAN in German, and it's pronounced Vaelan)

[dhawkesnest]

Mend - Part I

Warning: NSFW! Characters: Ellemeare Sergenaux (oc), Estinien Wyrmblood (ncp), Aeldenoix Sergenaux ( @theblackserpent ) & Vaelenanat Sergenaux (no tumblr) Note: This is an AU and does not occur in Ellemeare’s actual storyline. Anything after this post is going to have to go on AO3, but the work is not completely finished so for now I will only be posting part 1.

The three had been there for a few hours, huddled together with the fire at their backs. Ellemeare was accustomed to the boys antics, and wasn't at all shocked when they had insisted on taking her out. To a degree, Ellemeare had always felt this was a type of game that Aeldenoix and Vaelenant Sergenaux enjoyed playing with her as an adopted member of their unusual clan-like family, but she knew it was also out of concern for her that they had dragged her from her inn room and into the main room of The Forgotten Knight. Over the next several hours, they had watched the comings and goings of those who frequented the establishment, with one or both boys giving opinions and offering encouragement. The family worried she isolated herself too much when they were not around, and had always encouraged her to take a lover. As she was sandwiched between the pair of twins, she chuckled and listened to what they had to say, occasionally offering an exasperated shake of her head at their assessments of each and every gentleman, as well as the women, who passed through. Ellemeare was honestly grateful that they had at least chosen to keep their voices down, whispering conspiratorially in her ear. Admittedly, she wasn't an unwilling participant in this. She had lost a game of Triple Triad with the boys earlier, and in her infinite wisdom (not really) had promised them whatever they wished. It shouldn't have been difficult to predict what their answer would be. “Really, you two.” She chided them with a warm smile. “I'm fine. I don't need a-” Her voice faltered when she caught sight of a familiar face amongst the crowd that caused her brows to knit softly and her lips turn down into a mild frown. The boys immediately took notice of the change in her behavior and both of their gazes were drawn to where she was looking. Had Ellemeare been paying attention to the boys, she would have noticed the wordless exchange between the two of them as they turned back to one another. Aeldenoix was the first to speak up. “Pick that one.” He purred near the shell of her ear, motioning with his eyes to the man she had just been frowning at. Vaelenant nodded his agreement sagely, breaking into an ear-to-ear grin. They both began whispering to her again as her eyes widened at them and she shook her head back and forth. “No. Oh no. I couldn't. Not that one.”

“What's wrong with him? What's the matter, Elle? You haven't been this timid in a long time.”

“I'm not being timid.” She objected quietly, looking between the two of them. “I called him a prick. To. His. Face.” Elle enunciated the words in a hissed whisper. “It's very likely that he would want nothing to do with me. I'm willing to bet, by the look he gave me when I said it, that he hates my guts.”

Vaelen burst out laughing. Aelden's expression broke into a grin. “Then take this as a perfect opportunity to make it up to him.”

Elle groaned internally. The likelihood is the man wasn't going to take her up on anything she had to offer after she had blatantly insulted him days earlier in the Jeweled Crozier. If she had taken a guess, she would have expected that at the very least they would be thrown out of the bar. The one relief is that the man seemed to be devoid of the lance he had been carrying previously. At least it's not likely to end in a fatality, she conceded. However, she had been willing to come with the boys and had promised she would make an effort to find someone for the night. They had come to The Forgotten Knight with the intention of finding someone suitable to warm her bed, and they had made every attempt to find someone that would fit her picky standards. Mind you, standards that the two had helped to set themselves. They had been patient, and she had promised. Ellemeare gave the man another look, her light blue-green eyes focused on every detail from his silver hair to the way he clenched his jaw. The way he holds his jaw actually reminds me a bit of Aelden, she mused. With a sigh, she looked back between the twins, taking in their grins. “You're not going to let me pick another one, are you?” Both of them shook their heads in tandem. “You've had enough time to choose, sister-lover. You promised when you lost, anything we wanted.” “This can't possibly work.” Ellemeare shook her head back and forth once more. “He likely hates me.” “Oh it will work. When you say this.” Vaelen said with a smile, curling his finger to beckon her to lean in closer to hear what he had to say. As Vaelenant uttered the phrase he inteded for her to share with the man at the bar, Elle's mouth actually dropped open and she looked at them both with wide eyes.

“I'm not even going to ask where you picked that up from.” Aeldenoix laughed heartily and motioned with a tilt of his head. “Off you go.” Offering another exasperated sigh, Elle pushed herself to her feet carefully after extracting herself from between the boys. She couldn't help glancing back at them carefully once before making her way across the creaky wooden floor towards the direction of the bar. The stranger in question's deep set vivid blue eyes zeroed in on her almost immediately, and she almost felt as if he were staring through her. When she finally stood at his elbow, she could see his eyes had narrowed faintly in suspicion, lips pulling into a thin line.

“You. You're the woman from the market.” Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she leveled her gaze with his own after a nod. Their last words were spoken in anger, and so it was no surprise that her appearance would have sullied his already grumpy mood. “Yes, the one who called you a-” “Prick.” Though his expression was still guarded, there was a faint uplift in his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth as they both finished her sentence simultaneously. He took a drink from the glass the proprietor had placed before him, offering her a faint tilt of his head in question. “Well, come to insult me again, milady?” There was a bitter edge to his voice, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. There was no doubt he was not drunk, but he wasn't completely sober either. “Actually, I was hoping you would grace me with the chance to make it up to you.”

He grunted. “Indeed, and how do you believe you can do that?” He lifted the glass in his hand to have another sip, regarding her over the rim. The man stiffened visibly but didn't move as Ellemeare closed what remaining distance there was between them and shifted up onto her toes to whisper the words Vaelan had told her to say. The silver-haired man choked on his sip of alcohol, looking into the glass before leveling his eyes at her once more. “You aren't serious.” The words might have stung, had she not expected them. But his words didn't match the hint of color that tinged the tips of his ears. It was time for another breath to steel her nerves, and she took it before continuing. Mentally, she was already beginning to prepare her 'I told you so' speech for the boys, yet she pressed on for now. “I am completely sincere.”

He regarded her, the gears in his mind plainly turning as he considered what she had said. Finishing what was left in the glass in one swallow, he set it upon the bar. “Lead the way.”

Ellemeare's own mind stalled for a moment, and she had to resist the urge to glance back at the twins. Having the stranger see them would have led to questions, and there was reason to wonder if they were even still sitting upon the hearth. Knowing the both of them, it was entirely possible that they had dipped out and were now getting comfortable somewhere in Elle's own inn room so that they could watch from a hiding place. She hadn't expected the words to actually work, and so it took her a moment to react while he stared at her expectantly. Though she knew very little of the Ishgardian native tongue, Elle was familiar enough with some of it to know that what Vaelen had taught her was a witty yet elegant double entendre that she didn't know the translation for. Swallowing thickly, she turned and began to lead the way towards the double doors that separated the inn rooms from the bar. All the while, she wondered what she might have gotten herself into. Elle allowed the stranger to precede her into the room, preparing herself mentally for who only knew what. As she pushed the door shut with a click and turned the lock, she was aware that his eyes were still on her, as if they bore into her back. Taking a breath and letting it out slow, she turned around to find he had put more than an lance's length worth of distance between them, his posture having become awkward. “This was a stupid idea.” He muttered under his breath. “Why did I agree to this? It's obvious there is no love lost between us. Was this merely some trick to get me alone?” Ellemeare blinked and leaned gently against the door, regarding him in confusion. Now that they were alone, suddenly he had doubts. What was this about? “I don't hate you, if that's what you think.” He had begun to pace, his expression pulled into a frown and his shoulder muscles rigid. “We are not friends. I do not even know your name. Why have you enticed me here?” He shook his head and dragged his fingers through his silver hair. “And more important, why did I let you?” “Why did you follow me if you weren't interested?” Ellemeare asked softly. He almost growled the words as he made his way for the door. “Like a fool, I keep listening to those around me and it's making me soft. I told him I don't need anyo-” The selfsame door that Ellemeare currently blocked with her body, leaning against it almost for support as she tried not to get whiplash. As he approached, she shored up what defenses she had, grasped his collar, and using his surprise at her sudden action, turned them both so that he was back against the door. Not expecting her to bar his exit let alone pin him against the door, his lips parted as he looked at her momentarily in utter shock. Now was her chance, and she wasted no time. Moving up onto her tiptoes once more, she covered his parted lips with her own. Ellemeare plucked at his mouth softly, catching the unsteady breath that escaped him at the action. One hand reached up to grip her arm, drawing her away enough to break the contact. She watched him as he visibly swallowed hard, staring at her as the gears seemed to be turning in his head again.

“Ellemeare.” She uttered the words quietly, barely above a whisper.

“What?” He seemed to have trouble focusing or understanding what she had said, attempting to gather his thoughts as he was. “My name is Ellemeare.” “Why are you doing this? We do not know each other. We are not lovers.” “I would like to get to know you better, if you would let me.” Carefully with her free hand, she reached up to cup his chin, her other arm still firmly held in his grip. He seemed completely unaware that he still held her, just out of reach to kiss him again, and yet still so close that their body heat mingled. Though he stiffened, he did not jerk away, he didn't shrink from her, but neither did he move to close the distance. Cautiously, she ran the pad of her thumb along the sharp angle of his cheek, noting the hint of a tremble in the hand that gripped her and a touch of color he attempted to hide as it rose into his cheeks. His expression went from guarded to conflicted. “If you would allow me nothing else, allow me one kiss.” “Why?”

“Because I want to know what it feels like.” It was the only explanation that fit how this sudden interaction made her feel. Before, she had thought him an arrogant prick, but this cagey behavior indicated there was more to the man than she knew. Elle watched his jaw work as he stared her down with those deep blue eyes, something brewing just beneath the surface. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision and his grip loosened. “Fine. One kiss, but don't expect anything to come of it.” He grumbled grudgingly, leaning forward to account for the height difference. He stopped shy of pressing his lips to hers, a part of him still hesitating. Reaching up to cup the sides of his face in her palms to coax him closer, she closed the distance and captured his lips again, this time a bit more fully than before. As her lips met his, Elle let her hands continue upward, fingers tangling gently into his hair as her mouth pulled sweetly at his own. The sound that the action elicited from his throat was one that sent a shiver down Ellemeare's spine. With a shuddering breath, the man's lips began to timidly mimic her own. She felt his hands move to start to grip her shoulders, then stop and reached to cup the back of her head, then stop short again and move back to her shoulders once more. It was as if he could not figure out where to put them. Letting go of the grip she had on his hair, she moved to take his hands in her own and coaxed them to her hips before settling herself flush against him, pinning him between herself and the door. When their breath became labored, she broke the kiss but did not immediately put distance between them, choosing to wind her arms carefully around his neck instead. This action drew another shaky breath from him. Gods, he needs this. Why won't he just accept what I am offering him? She couldn't bring herself to ask the question aloud. He did not move to extricate himself from her embrace. Elle took that for a sign, and ran her hand along his hair. “Why...” He asked quietly, his voice thick with what she could only discern was choked off emotions. “Why are you doing this?”

Not answering for the moment, she pulled back enough to cup his face again, placing tender kisses upon his face as she gazed into his eyes. Something shifted in that gaze, and this time he closed the distance, his mouth catching her lower lip, teeth nibbling softly. The action drew a gasp from her, and he pulled back immediately. “This is stupid. What are we doing? We-” Unwilling to let him retreat again, she gripped her fingers into his hair gently and pulled him back to her.

(( TO BE CONTINUED... ON AO3 ))

[thesunguardmg]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[boiledbeanjuice]

All three of these characters I’ve designed for one of my mates for some of the D&D campaigns.

The first on is: Yojimbo - Oni/Wizard  (I got to play along side him, very fun)

Second is: Lex - Lycanwolf Bloodhunter (He’s for my campaign, only one to care about the story)

Lastly:  Vaelan - Wizard (Got the backstory, unfortunately don’t get to play with him)

[remesqueen-blog]

                   HOUSE REMES OF VAELAN ROCK, REMESPORT

located west of the capital along the western borders of valtolia, remesport is nestled in the heart of vales bay. the house of remes originated in remesport, their seat is a magnificent castle called vaelan rock or often just “the rock”, which is situated on top of a great stone hill that stands next to the sea. the hill is a natural defense that has been expanded and drilled into with several passageways that lead in and out of the castle to the beaches below that only the family know about in case there are ever invaders. the castle has several towers that traditionally have been used as watchtowers to the islands to the west and sollians to the south. 

when house remes claimed the throne, some believed vaelen rock would be given to one of jullen remes’s closest comrades but instead he gave it to his kid brother and the sister branch of house remes was born. vaelan rock is located outside of the city of remesport, which is the largest port city in all of metia. if anyone wishes to trade via boats with valtolia, they must go through remesport which is part of the reason the house is so rich as well as why the city is so big. it has grown in the last hundred years or so as trade has grown - more people flocking to the city for jobs and a thriving economy. 

the city faces the ports and is walled off on all other ends with only three ways to get into it - the gates coming in from the east, the road leading to the ports, and the road leading to vaelan rock. it was built a hundred years ago when nomadic thiefs traveled the continent and sacking cities and villages, after this a wall was built to protect it and all entrances are guarded at all times. 

antonin remes was born to the sister branch as its heir, assumed to be the heir to the castle and seat but early in his life he was picked by his father and uncle to be the future queen of valtolia and marry his cousin. vaelan rock is his favorite place to be, often traveling to return home and the beautiful scenery that comes with it. 

[pywriting]

The Suncaster Meeting 9/18

- The reprieve from battle is coming to a close, and everyone should tend to any lingering personal matters before we have to march out again. We will not be making runs back home to take care of last minute business.

- The demons have been pushed out of the Plaguelands for now with no signs of renewed activity in the region, however our focus is going to change to other potential invasion points. Be prepared for the change of scenery.

- No complaints have been received in recent times about the Suncasters from anyone else in the guard, although it should be warned that should such change, punishment will be swiftly dealt out to those who deserve it.

- Dawnward Bael’nar has once more brought up the topic of the march against the demonic plane of Daznook. He passed on further updates on this, and sent out a request for aide from those that are knowledgable in fel matters and diplomacy to come with him to help convince the demons to fight against one another in this battle to come. Any questions were to be directed to Dawnward Bael’nar if there was interest.

[This is the Trail of Ashes campaign that Faervell is running. It will be coming onto the calendar in the next couple of weeks. Please be aware this is primary a warlock/demon hunter event and we are keeping it to restricted attendance. This, however, does not mean that you cannot bring your mages/otherwise to be involved in other ways if you are interested.]

- Introductions for the newest Suncasters were made. We welcome the following into our ranks:

Initiate Ouron Nethermoon

Emberward Vaelan Cindercloak

Emberward Thinariel Farmight

- Promotions were made to the following Suncasters:

Initiate Cindercloak took the oath to Emberward

Initiate Farmight took the oath to Emberward

- The Scion is putting out a request for anyone who wishes to volunteer proposals to the Academy. This will be used to help diversify the curriculum and grounds. A notice will be sent out in a few days with further information about this, but any queries should be set out to the Headmaster of the Academy, Scion Cynel Sunfire.

- Dawnward Novastorm set forth the report from the Pathfinders own meeting, stating that there was some reports of disturbances with trolls on the border of Eversong and the Ghostlands. The Pathfinders will be scouting the area in the coming weeks. The child of the Duskward Tassandria is being sought as well, though the matter will be handled mostly by the Pathfinders present at the meeting to offer their aide. If anyone wishes to offer aide to the Pathfinders, please direct all questions or comments to Dawnward Novastorm so that he might properly pass on them to the Pathfinders.

- As a reminder, please act professional at all meetings. Be mindful of your actions and words during official gatherings and be aware that any unprofessional actions can and will be punished by either the Scion or the Grand Arcanist herself.

@thesunguardmg @cynfuldax @azriah

[vaelanthorne-blog]

@strxhd ( cont. )

The sound of his heart beat is magnified by arousal. A constant lapping and ebbing of sensation drove into a carnal hunger that demanded to be sated. He couldn’t recall how the pair of them had arrived to this point but it hadn’t matter much. He felt the warmth of his skin under his fingertips and the way their blood rushed beneath the skin. Lysander’s lips eagerly chased it. Clothes shed between them until there had been nothing but skin and coarse hair. He fed from it as if his fangs were drawing out the blood that called to him. A polite waltz of bodies and touch. He worshiped the pulse in Vaelan’s throat before he curled his fingers around his spectacular ass. Strong grip pressed against the fragile flesh and brought him closer.

The witch’s skin tasted of herbs and earth. A strong mixture that drew him in deeper. Lysander wanted more; he wanted to taste his name on the others lips as he drove his cock deeply inside of him. He had enough of the slow teasing he had started. He knew in strength, he was the more powerful but respected that the witch could snap his fingers and destroy him. It didn’t stop him from swiping his leg and tripping Vaelan into the bed. Rapid speed had him on top of the witch with his wrists pinned. Vaelan’s legs were wrapped easily around his own lithe waist as his hardened cock, thick and full, pressed eagerly against the witch’s taint. His hips rolled against him with his fangs bared.

Leaning down he pressed his body hard against the witch’s. He pressed his hand, after he moved one, against the witch’s hip to hold him down. “I’m going to fuck you,” Lysander purred calmly, “and cum inside. And then fuck you again.” He leaned down to nip at the witch’s ear. “I’m going to fill you so thick that all you can think about is coming back to me every night just for me to empty myself inside of you all over again.”

It wasn’t even wine or mead, not any concoction that rendered him into the blur that harrowed through him as if a cask came hurled into the fires and flared beyond control. There he was in that rush; hot and mighty—one that crept under his skin like a warm river that even surged within the taut cords of his muscles and even through his bones that had demanded for pleasure enough to rid himself of his own command. No. Weighed on and pinned, Vaelan was his. That with the ghost of the sensation that prickled—that claimed—at the skin of his neck, the warlock could only writhe against the hard form that kept him in his place, breath labored and cloyed at the scent of their sweat-soaked heat; something awfully familiar that even flashes swim within the haze of Vaelan’s need.

“Y-you can try—” the warlock was quick to taunt through a breathless sigh, blue eyes set onto the other through heavy lidded eyes as the burning lust within had him lick his lips while damp fluster bloomed on at his features under the wet tousle of his hair. Everything felt hot. Hard. Sticky. Supple. The threat clawed at something primal within him that his legs parted on as the ring of his entrance fluttered in the mere thought of having be filled. “—then maybe I’ll consider…” he taunted on, though his words—and what he could muster in chuckle—was already raspy in its breathlessness.

[narghargs]

Vaelos. Mila vaelan. Ben tenen ni voara meretun. Sar, en zofi ast. As sinda ben gaedta, diram men li tesmu pertat. Smeanat. As endirisa. Bebinat. Kae spilan, skrae komiska ni ast.

25 february 2017