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[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

AFK

THE FOLLOWING IS OUT OF CHARACTER!

Hello friends and readers!

I’m going to be offline and busy for a little bit. It could be a few days. I could get busy and not be around for a few weeks. Hard to tell! I’m doing a very important move with a great deal of stress and, most importantly, trying to get my life back in order after treading water and feeling completely useless for a bit here.

Message me here if you want to say Hi! Or wherever you see me and know me from!

<3

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Pratchett in Fives

Names:

1. Willaude

2. Pratchett

3. "Bard"

4. "Boy"

5. The Shadow of Westfall

Emotions:

1. Anxiety

2. Shame

3. Compassion

4. Sadness

5. Vengefulness

Colors:

1. Purple

2. Brown

3. Red

4. Gold

5. Black

Scents:

1. Acacia Sap

2. Iron

3. Sweat

4. Lavender

5. Sulfur

Vices:

1. Magic

2. Performance

3. Brandy

4. Funnel Cake

5. Poppy Tears

Clothing:

1. Sleeveless Silk Shirts

2. Loose Leather Pants

3. Leather Belts and Straps

4. Leather Boots

5. Mageweave Wraps

Body Language:

1. Arms folded over his chest

2. Right thumb tucked in a belt loop, left hand on his sword

3. Intense shrugging

4. Firm nodding

5. Broad, dopey smiling

Aesthetic:

1. The Fel

2. Music

3. Tungsten and Mithril

4. Writing

5. Bloody Sacrifice

Objects:

1. Leather-bound Journal

2. Ruby Ring

3. Imitation Mageblade

4. Acoustic Guitar

5. Glass Inkpen

Songs:

1. Antoine Dufour - Ashes in the Sea

2. Nujabes - The Space Between Two World

3. Tokyo Rose - Cursed

4. Type O Negative - Blood & Fire

5. Eric Prydz - Call On Me

[ Thank you @k-sunrael for your Character in Fives post! Your taste in prompts is fantastic. ]

[ Tagging for: @daerenbenneth @tirasiantrouper @mozelledeliond @karthe-surick ]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

From George Chapman’s fencing manual of 1861 (it was the standard foil fencing guide for the British Army for a few decades thereafter). Whilst foil fencing was seen as a purely gymnastic exercise by this date, it was regarded as a good basis on which to go on to study military swordsmanship with the sabre. Many of the best military swordsmen of the day, including Burton, Hutton and Waite, had a firm grasp of foil fencing.

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Somewhere Out There On That Horizon

Chapter I: Troublesome

The third edition was fresh off the printing press; a return of an underground sensation. Sultry and risque.

Simple wood covered in cheap faux-suede leather, the lettering done in blue ink with an imitation gold drop shadow extending down and to the right. A thin spine with simple bindings held by glue along the edge and bound up along the edges with waxed nylon string. Pages with a rough surface and ink in a dull midnight blue.

The Adventurer By Salomon Arpels.

Many years ago the first print run of this trashy little novella series graced the back-alleys and taprooms of Stormwind.

“Heartfelt tale of Carrie Coldwell, native daughter of Stormwind and adventurer extraordinaire. Her daring exploits, wild nights, and passionate exploration of Azeroth, all through the eyes of a woman learning about herself as much as others and their surroundings.

Smut. Porn. A steamy romance novel in the guise of a harrowing series of novellas examining the troubles across the kingdom of Stormwind. Social injustice, the plight of Westfall’s homeless, the arrogance and excess of the Nobility; all through the lens of graphic sexual encounters between men and women. And women and women. And men and men. And combinations beyond.

The first novella, simply titled The Adventurer as a first run, has begun to show up in Stormwind in a fresh batch. Beware, good citizens of Stormwind and proud members of the Alliance! Beware the siren call of such tawdry literature! Beware the inappropriate, offensive message within!

And beware the author, hiding behind their pen name like the craven coward they are!

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Somewhere Out There On That Horizon

An Interlude - Something’s In The Air

A pair of boxes lay on their sides, hastily opened with their contents scattered across the wooden dresser. A little bead of light metal sat against a pile of brilliant blue enchanting dust, while the rest of the contents of the other box were collected in a little pile beside it. Chocolates, with a bite taken out from one already. The center of the confection was a blended, sugary paste of fruits fit for baking into strips. The hint of lemon juice helped it to smooth out, making a fine little gift that would survive outside of a cold box.

The young man tilted his head to the side and left a bit, trying to get a look around his hair to the leather thong tying it up. Thickening braids and dreadlocks interwoven with tungsten beads, clips, and rings made for a unique style; an ever-changing assortment of jewelry and hidden spellwork on each piece.

His fingers shot back finally to the leather thong, untying it quickly. He shook out his hair slowly, avoiding bruising his face with any vigorous motion from the heavy metals, before working to add the latest piece to his collection.

A little spiral-shell pendant, larger by far than the rest of the metal in his hair. With the shape of a nautilus and a loop to help keep it in place, the young man quickly set about to weaving it into one of his dreads in a spot that wouldn’t jingle or rattle too hard. Around a third of the way up one of his longer dreads off from the back of his head, just underneath the matted-down crease where he tied his hair up. A bit of twine and some careful tying with the aid of a mirror led to the finished result; tucked away against the thick dreadlocks.

Retying the leather thong around his hair and making sure he had room to shift and move his hair a bit, the young man adjusted and fret over the appearance and facing of the tungsten shell before finally dropping his hands to the edge of the dresser. He nodded once, firmly, at his own reflection in the silvered glass. Well, aluminum. It was the Keg after all; no dwarf would waste the silver without good cause.

He spent a few long minutes there, just looking at himself in the mirror. There wasn’t any sense of vanity or admiration to it; he knew those were emotional traps for himself to fall into. The little divots where his glasses once rested were finally gone, though his nose was still off by a few degrees. The bags under his eyes had disappeared as well, with the general luster of his complexion coming back from such a long time of being abused for the sake of work.

Work, he thought. Gallivanting across the countryside. Getting in trouble where I should simply avoid it. Risking my life needlessly. It drew an exasperated sigh.

The young man’s hands moved to the side finally, past the enchanting dust and spent bead of tungsten and runes, to pluck up a small book from a pile of papers and scrolls. Weathered leather, a spine which no longer held the title, and bindings which had seen better days. He promised to rebind the book for the owner, in exchange for studying it.

Silverblade’s Guide To The Modern Duelist. A dry read in his own opinion, but ultimately another of many resources. Penned in Thalassian, written in the time since Deathwing’s Cataclysm, it was a fine study on the current use of a single blade in combat against the countless foes of Azeroth.

And for the next few hours, it was Pratchett’s entire focus.

... save for an occasional chocolate, resting as he read through the codex on a little parchment note card with a brilliant ruby red lip print on it. Beneath the lipstick read, “Happy Love is in the Air.”

[ Mentioned: @tirasiantrouper ]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Came for the protection.

Stayed for the penis.

Have some Valentines cards, courtesy of yours truly. Guaranteed to at least start a conversation.

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Willaude’s writing is concise and clean, all sharp angles and uniform characters. Black-navy ink on a new set of parchment in a new journal, it has all of the hallmarks of a student taking notes for future study.

Pratchett’s Journal January the 13th

To-Do:

Sword Research

House Hunting

Metallurgy

Dueling Instruction

Enchantment Research

Backchannel to Deadhead (re: Metallurgy)

Crystal Focus

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

[ Image ]

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[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Willaude’s writing is concise and clean, all sharp angles and uniform characters. Black-navy ink on a new set of parchment in a new journal, it has all of the hallmarks of a student taking notes for future study.

Pratchett’s Journal January the 13th

I was working on something, before everything went sideways. Thandir. A blade. Something fitting for the person I thought I could be. Something heroic and just.

I think about it and feel like an idiot. But with everything happening in Azeroth now...

Rose and I talked about our heroes, ages ago. Turalyon was mine; someone whom stood up for what was right with all the conviction to back it up. Lady Mara Fordragon was hers; a patron to the refugees she grew up around and helped care for, before coming to Dalaran.

We burned the candle at both ends, each of us, to make good on our promise. We swore we would do right by people, no matter what we ended up as. A pair of troubled, misfit kids in the City of Mages being instructed in dark magic by a literal demon did nothing for our chances at being respectable, but it wasn’t something we needed. The world was already full of nameless heroes. We just wanted to do our part.

I can still feel her nails digging into my skin. I survived, and she was the first person I put my everything into. To save.

Our magic is a tool. It doesn’t define us. It doesn’t make us terrible, any more than a sharpened blade makes a man a murderer.

But I need more sharp blades.

[ Music ]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Magic is not just something you do. Magic is something you are.

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Willaude’s writing is concise and clean, all sharp angles and uniform characters. Black-navy ink on a new set of parchment in a new journal, it has all of the hallmarks of a student taking notes for future study.

Pratchett’s Journal January the 11th

Back in the city.

Took some time out to go out on duty with a caravan; merchants and aid heading to Westfall. For all the good it seems to do them in the long run. It was something at least, and a good chance to clear my head.

Since leaving Alearah’s Company, I have worked over a hundred caravans for the sake of relaxation. Hardly the sort of thing most people would consider a break from day-to-day life, but it has been a way of centering myself. To a degree, at least.

This latest trip to Westfall was a stark reminder that I do not fit into the conventions everyone else holds dear. Playing dice and gambling has its perks, and the occasional duel or rowdy brawl helps take my mind off from things for a bit. But ultimately, I come back to everything that has happened in the last six months.

Light, I’m just tired of it. And I think that’s the real problem I have now. The Moonfangs, Doukaas’ girls, Deadhead, Donny, the Grill Boss; even that bastard with his tempting offer. Unsolicited advice abound. But it helps shine a light on what everyone else thinks is wrong.

The Moonfangs think I just need to mature. They aren’t wrong, exactly.

Doukaas and his girls are... disappointed at my abandoning the Silver Hand and their training.

Deadhead thinks I’m just wussing out, in his words.

Donny thinks I should just quit. That I’m taking on too much at once.

The Grill-Boss wants to see me keep up whatever I’m doing, if only because it’s better than rolling over and dying.

Cyaxagyr agrees with me. Light fucking help me.

I feel as though I need to keep doing what I have been doing thusfar, and simply throw myself into city life until I get the right opportunity. Wait for the stars to align.

Cyaxagyr thinks it is a magnificent plan, and that taking my time is the only way I can begin to achieve my goal. A ‘worthy’ goal. He was there for what started this entire mess. I know how he operates. There are no altruistic offers. Nothing is without strings. The entire thing could be a demonic gambit for the sake of adding another indebted mortal soul to his list.

The more I think on it? The more he seems right. For the wrong reasons, but right all the same.

I am going to sleep on it. More. Drink some. Eat some. Find somewhere in Stormwind to start performing, maybe nightly.

Can’t hide forever.

[ Music ]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

“See,” the young man continued as he took the copy of the Courier and tossed it down on the table between them. “This is why I stopped printing pieces entirely.”

His companion took the paper and gave it a few minutes consideration. She was a beauty among mortals; soft, youthful features untouched by the ravages of war and time with almost luminescent white skin and stark white hair in a straight-shorn bob.

Her response was concise. “You are too impulsive, Willaude Pratchett.”

“I-” the young man started, protesting for the briefest of moments before leaning back deflated. “Light, this was the result after -waiting- and seeing what was to come. Imagine if I had thrown myself in bodily, swinging my blade and throwing fire at everyone! Impulsive! I...! It...!”

“A day among days; the inimitable Shadow of Westfall is at a loss for words.” The playful edge of her words worked to mask how serious a circumstance it was, the kaldorei woman giving the young human and lengthy few minutes of genuinely serious and concerned looks as they went through discussing the finer points of the paper’s vigilantism.

This, she thought to herself, is why you are constantly in trouble. You think yourself too clever for the consequences to ever find you unprepared.

Performer Injured in Attack

By Sky Stoneseat

On Saturday evening, a pop up performance by the famed Tirasian Entourage saw a crowd of contortionist Sarah Hadley fans gather near the Slaughtered Lamb. As the crowd dispersed and Miss Hadley prepared to depart to a meeting, she was approached by a Ren’dorei and two Kaldorei who attempted to abduct the famous performer. 

Director Kat Hawke, however, was attending the performance and attempted to defuse the situation assisted by several civilians. Director Hawke stated, “I was on the scene first. The situation was contained following hostage sitiuation protocols. The attackers were open to negotiation, at first. It wasn’t until the crowd arrived that things escalated, becoming violent beyond the point of negotiation. The acts of vigilantism resulted in several people being injured, two critically so. I remained on the scene to contain the situation as best I could, as well as to ensure Miss Hadley remained safe. This just goes to show that random acts of vigilantism in Stormwind can do more harme than good. Not everyone needs to play hero.”

Another witness, Captain Wieda Ashcroft-Kiden gave a statement indicating how quickly the assailants struck. “I was having a drink with some friend in the Lamb after the performance, when we heard a cry. Came out to find Miss Hadley being accosted by some elf folk. Druids, since they were bears for a bit and then birds. Last I saw of her, one of them snatched her to a nearby rooftop. I lost sight of them after that. I sure hope she’s okay. Her performance was quite something to see.”

Miss Hadley sustained critical injuries, as well as her assistant to the show Tidesage Gennesy Crestwell.  Both have been taken into private care and are expected to recover.

No arrests have been made at this time and anyone with further information is asked to come forward.

The Royal Courier wishes a speedy recovery to the performers.

@tirasiantrouper @kat-hawke @wiedaashcroft  @tidesage-crestwell

[thetheshadowofwestfall-blog]

Willaude’s writing is concise and clean, all sharp angles and uniform characters. Black-navy ink on a new set of parchment in a new journal, it has all of the hallmarks of a student taking notes for future study.

Pratchett’s Journal January the 5th

Ask a dead man for guidance.

I watched a man gripped by unholy energies and an unquenchable desire to inflict suffering on others strive to be a beacon of hope and honor among monsters reflected in his circumstance, if not his nature.

If he could be a paragon of the Light, I can at least be a decent human being.

She’s not the first Sarah I’ve disappointed. I just hope this one doesn’t hold it against me for as long. I don’t think I have years.

Something keeps bothering me. Something in the back of my head.

Who said they fled? The kidnappers? Which of the many people that left Daeren and I behind in the alley claimed ‘Oh no, they turned into birds and flew away!’

I intend to remove that person’s teeth. Better than Alurius would do. Decapitation is harsh, if not effective.

[ Music ]