warden-duskrunner - Tumblr blog

[warden-duskrunner]

Miroth Ravenburst, Serianne Talredon, and Udeyail Duskspyre :D

Commissions for @straita <3

[warden-duskrunner]

together.

( instrumental )

“Now I must ask you - are you certain you want to continue down this path?  The force you will create tonight is not a thing to be controlled. To earn its loyalty you must promise it what it wants, and if someday you decide that this path of vengeance is no longer what you seek, the avatar will turn on you. It will kill you.” 

Iyenysae swallows hard, watching Aeondra’s face carefully. “I cannot help you with this process, aspirant. You must convince the avatar of your sincere desire for justice. For reprisal. These runes - ” Iyenysae gestures around them, “ - are not for your safety. They are to ensure that if the avatar kills you tonight, it will be snuffed out instead of unleashed on the world. Do you understand what I am saying? Do you understand what you are about to swear yourself to?”

With a look of callous determination, Aeondra lifts her chin. “It can try,” she boldly states, unwavering in the face of even the most intense of potential adversaries. “I will not abide unrestrained, unabated vengeance. I will control it, and I will use it when best. Lest this order become a cult of vengeance itself, lest this order enslave itself to the spirits of long-dead souls seeking rest. I swear myself to their protection, their rest, and their justice. But I will not let their sorrows and their pain run rampant. They will know restraint. No matter how long it takes. No matter what it takes.”

Iyenysae steps forward and gently cups Aeondra’s chin in her slender, calloused fingers. “Excellent. Tell that to her,” she exhales, lips pursed in thought. Then she drops her grip and moves backward, one step at a time, until she stands outside the circle. “When you are ready, invite them.”

Aeondra looks her in the eye, a tender touch to her chin eliciting a twitch of her lips. She lowers her head as Iyenysae retreats, and calls out. “Spirits of Teldrassil! I am no one to you. I am an outcast, a stranger. But I am your family. I have always been your family. I do not seek for an equal exchange - for we are united in our purpose. You seek rest, and I can give it to you. Vengeance for Darnassus, for Shadowglen. But we will march together - and we will sate this hunger not in a great, famishing feast, but slowly. Fulfilling. In our restraint, we will bring peace. We will know peace.”

For a long moment, nothing happens. The only sound is the wind through the trees and Aeondra’s voice echoing off the stone ruins. But then the fire flared up, and in an instant eight pairs of glowing silver eyes surrounded the aspirant.  In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to make out their forms - if there was anything there to be seen at all. If Aeondra were to attempt to focus on any particular being, they would seem to fade away, like nothing more than a trick of the light.

All at once, a thousand-thousand voices seemed to speak:

“We will never know peace. We are the spirits of vengeance, the harbingers of violence. We are suffering. We are despair. Would you rob us of our purpose, stranger? Would you deny us retribution?”

Aeondra keeps her head bowed, only sparing passing looks to the eyes she now feels permeating her being. She again takes a long, steady breath. “I would not,” she answers firmly, simply. “But you will only know violence, only know suffering and despair, if you feast so readily, so rapidly. You, like I, will learn restraint. If you do not, I will not be the one to end you. You may strike me down here, you may kill me for my arrogance, but your despair, your suffering, will continue. Rest does not come with revolution. It comes with time.”

It began at the edges of her vision, a slow encroachment of true blackness, until Aeondra stood alone in an endless void. Was she blind or was it truly possible for a place to be this dark? Whispers, like secret convening voices, swirled around her, and the sensory deprivation was such that she could almost feel them brush over her skin.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the details of her surroundings began to emerge as though her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Stone walls. Musty. Abandoned. Bones scattered the floor - a crypt? But these were not kaldorei skulls, no. They were larger, with prominent brows and…tusks? Aeondra might recognize this place. 

“Time. You know time well, don’t you stranger? Tell us truly, what did time do to you?”

Aeondra slowly pushes to a stand, and upon seeing the reality she’s been shifted to, her heart skips a beat. Her breath catches in her throat, for just a moment - but all it takes is a moment. “I do,” she answers to the first question, “I am ancient. I have been alive since the earliest days of the Kaldorei Empire.” She fixates her gaze onto a nearby skull.

 "What did time do to me? In truth… nothing. I did this. I did it all - I made these decisions. I… I was the one to take these steps. Time, alone, can do nothing put pass, but march forward. It takes…“ She looks back out, "It takes commitment. When I made the decision to… to hunt these… people, I did so for my own survival. Time did not force my hand. In truth, nothing did. But had someone else been there - had I had a partner, a friend, a confidant? Perhaps they could have changed things. That is what I offer to you.”

A low-frequency rumble washes over the scene, and the voices grow deeper. "But you have made a partnership before, have you not? You have sworn pacts and you have broken them, have you not? Are we to trust you,” A voice, a single voice, in Aeondra’s ear. Familiar, but impossible to place, "Stranger?”

Aeondra’s ears pin, though despite this, she emboldens in the face of these accusations. She squares up, draws her chin on high. “You can, now. You, and I. We can make things right. All that I’ve done, I’ve done in your name. In the name of the Kaldorei. For your protection, for your well-being. Because you’re my family. You all are.”

Tainted.

Soiled.

The whispers echo around Aeondra, and then cold steel is pressed against her throat.  The familiar voice is still there, its breath like electricity over the nape of Aeondra’s neck. “Are they right? Can you ever wash your hands clean of the black stain?”

Aeondra bares her neck further, tilting her head back, a daring gesture as she holds her hands out to either side of her, empty and open-palmed. “I will try. That is all that matters. That is all we can do. Any of us.”

“Very well.”

“Aspirant!” Iyenysae’s voice cuts through the blackness. Not panic, no, but still desperate. Aeondra would find herself standing in the middle of the runic circle, directly over the black flames. But the flames do not burn, they only cast a shadow. At first it might seem like the shadow is Aeondra’s own, but soon she would realize that it moved independently. A second later, the shade begins to wail, a deafening, miserable cry. “You’ve brought her into this world, Celestare, now calm her! Convince her to rest until you call upon her again!”

That creeping panic sets upon her again as she finds herself above fire - even fire that did not radiate heat, did not crackle. It was fire all the same to her, and it took focus to get herself back on track. Holding out her hands, she calls upon her goddess, attempting to pull celestial powers out of the night sky. Reaching for the spirit, an attempt is made to connect her to the calming presence of Elune’s light.

The shade stretches its arms out wide, its hands clawed and glowing purple in a strange mirror of Aeondra’s own Elunite claws. Still screeching, the shade rushes forward, one arm bent back in preparation to take a wild swipe at the Aspirant. But before she comes within reach, the wailing fades, and the shade disperses into the darkness. In its place stands Warden Duskrunner, her pale face standing out amongst the black foliage, her eyes shining wide. “You’ve done it.”

Aeondra slumps onto her knees, putting her hands atop their bony caps. She expels a breath, deep as the ocean and heavy as steel. The air is slow to return, and this results in a sputtering cough from the aspirant. “Nhh– I– I have,” she utters, raggedly.

“Take your time, aspirant,” Iyenysae’s voice is cold as ever. Gone is the concern, the urgency, that had suffused her tone only seconds before, “When you are ready, stand. Stand and be honored.”

Wherever skin is exposed - her arms, her feet, her fingers - Aeondra feels a cold chill scatter across the expanse of her sensors. She could only stand resolute in the presence of a thousand-thousand tortured souls for so long, and the toll is taken now. It’s a solid minute before the ecclesiarch steadies her breathing once more, and stabilizes herself. She stands once more.

Iyenysae stepped forward and around Aeondra’s flank, drawing something from within her cloak.

“Your armor is waiting for you at the inn. Your commission will arrive by owl within the next few days. A formality.” She put one hand on Aeondra’s shoulder, and with the other she draped a long viridian cloak over Aeondra’s back. “But I thought I would informally congratulate you with this, the symbol of our order and the final rite of your training.” With that, she stepped softly around Aeondra until she was looking her in the eye once more. Then she bowed to her student, her equal. 

 “Anu’dorini talah, Warden Celestare.”

( mentions: @warden-duskrunner ) ( adapted from a discord RP with @paragon-interrupt )

[warden-duskrunner]

Greater Sooty Owl

[warden-duskrunner]

[warden-duskrunner]

“You are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind.”

— Venetta Octavia, excerpt of “THE BURNING”, from my chapbook, “What We Left Behind” (via venettaoctavia)

[warden-duskrunner]

Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe.

[warden-duskrunner]

Sanctum of the Watchers

A remodeled Warden Tower.

[warden-duskrunner]

NAMES: Iyenysae Duskrunner, Iyen, The Huntress EMOTIONS/FEELINGS: Anger, anguish, disgust, apathy, bloodlust, love COLORS: Purple, green, silver SCENTS: Leather, oil, blood, sweat CLOTHING: Warden plate, leather OBJECTS: Blades, owl, more blades VICES/BAD HABITS: Close-minded, cruel, alcoholic (recovery), suicidal BODY LANGUAGE: Stiff, statuesque, glowering, nostril flares, baring fangs AESTHETICS: Owls, crescent moons, shadow, fog, bloody knuckles, bandages, spit and dirt, claws SONGS:  An Angry Blade - Iron & Wine // The Wolf - Fever Ray // Youth - Daughter // Work Song - Hozier 

Tagged by the lovely @celestare!  Making me feel feelings!  I resent it!

[warden-duskrunner]

When you’re proud of your Elven Barbarian

[warden-duskrunner]

Robin Wright behind the scenes of the photoshoot for The Edit by Net-A-Porter (August, 2018).

[warden-duskrunner]

Send me the FLAWS or QUIRKS you've noticed my muse has.

Let’s see who’s been paying attention.

[warden-duskrunner]

*looks at the moon* well arent you gonna help me bitch

[warden-duskrunner]

[warden-duskrunner]

i love one (1) disaster wizard

[warden-duskrunner]

Warden Duskrunner’s Combat Style

In gif form!

idk that’s supposed to be her avatar of vengeance lol

Tagged by @wardennerd!

[warden-duskrunner]

[warden-duskrunner]

Fear Gives Courage Wings

She sat on the steps of the temple, sullen and lonely as she’d ever been.  A short, thin little thing with dirty nails and oversized robes, she felt like a mark on the sisterhood - a chip out of the smooth, polished marble temple.  Motherless.  Useless.  Burdensome and in the way.

In the distance, someone screamed.  Tamorin felt heat on her face and cold in her veins.  She leapt to her feet but her body felt heavy - so, so heavy.

She was wearing armor now- her Sentinel uniform.  But she wasn’t strong enough yet; she was only a child, arms and legs like twigs, frightened eyes round like the moon in the sky.  Ahead, framed by the blood-orange light of a burning forest, Tamorin watched a huge orc throw Huntress Ever-tear from her mount.  Tamorin screamed, tried to lift her glaive, but the weapon wouldn’t budge.

Weak.  So weak.

The orc turned on her and charged, freezing her in its fiery gaze.  Tamorin could only stand still, like a terrified little rabbit, while the orc lifted his monstrous hammer high over head and brought it down with a savage roar….

Tamorin woke with a start to the soft hooting of an owl.  The creature was perched nearby, its golden eyes glowing in the night - watching her.  Tamorin stared at it, and the owl stared back.  Then it hooted once more and flew off into the trees.

Blearily, Tamorin rose to follow it.  She wasn’t sure why, but she suspected that’s what it wanted her to do.  Was she still dreaming?

Her question was answered when she spotted the motionless silhouette of a night elf waiting in a small clearing.  She wore large, crescent moon shaped spaulders and a helmet with glowing viridian eyes.

“Tamorin, come,” said the shadow, “It’s only me.”

Tamorin stepped forward and the shadow removed her helmet.  A long, curly braid tumbled free, and the woman beneath the steel managed a small smile.  Silence stretched between the two women while Tamorin fought with her instincts to rush forward and throw her arms around Iyenysae.  She wanted so badly to congratulate her shan’do.  She needed the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re injured,” Iyenysae observed, closing the distance herself.

“The Horde are marching on Ashenvale.  We held them off at Maestra’s Post, but we’ve lost Astranaar,” Tamorin explained.

“Yes. I know,” Iyenysae said, “I came to Darnassus for your mandala ceremony, but the priestesses told me your cadre had responded to a call for aid.”

Tamorin lifted her chin to look Iyenysae in the eye, mouth slightly agape.  “You…came?”

Her heart began to ache.  She had been looking forward to her mandala ceremony, to celebrating with her sisters and closing a chapter of her life.  Now that would have to be put on hold.

“Of course I did,” Iyenysae said, almost bitterly, “Now sit, child.  I have much I must say to you.”

Tamorin’s lip trembled, but she dropped herself into the grass all the same.  Iyenysae’s words sounded so dreadfully final, and fear gathered in her belly, twisting and roiling.  Iyenysae sat beside her and, much to Tamorin’s shock, took her hand gently.  The moonlight hit her face, and Tamorin noticed three new scars stretched across Iyenysae’s jaw.

“Your face…” she said.  Iyenysae lifted her hand.  Tamorin flinched.

“We match,” Iyenysae said gently, cupping Tamorin’s chin.  She ran her thumb along Tamorin’s cheek, where she had once struck Tamorin in anger, leaving a scar of her own.  Iyenysae’s breath shuddered.

“Oh, Tamorin – I thought I could raise you as a weapon, turn you into something I could wield against the creatures that took your mother from me.  From us,” the words caught in Iyen’s throat, but she recovered quickly, “I was wrong.  I should have raised you as a child.  I’m sorry for that.”

“You — you knew my mother?”

“I did,” Iyenysae began, but she hesitated.  Tamorin pressed immediately.

“Tell me!  Who was she?  Why did she…” Tamorin’s voice was little more than a whisper.  Why did she leave me?  Iyenysae looked at her for a long time, her nostrils flaring, her thin lips pressed into a bloodless line.

“She’s dead, Tamorin,” Iyenysae said, “But surely you knew that already.”

Tamorin nodded.  Deep down she had known that all along, but it still hurt to hear it.  Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her gaze to the ground.

“What is my name?” Tamorin asked.  Another long pause.

“Your name is Dawncaller,” Iyenysae told her, “Make it what you will.  Tamorin, listen to me.”

Tamorin had turned away and buried her face in her hands.  

“Listen.  The women who came before you?  They don’t matter.  Legacies are nothing more than a burden.  You have nothing to live up to but your own expectations, do you hear me?”

Tamorin scoffed, dropping her hands into her lap and looking up at the moon.  It was almost gone - just a thin crescent hanging overhead, almost as though Elune was closing her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to witness the pain of her beloved children.

“And so, when people speak the name ‘Dawncaller’ centuries from now, it will be you they remember,” Iyenysae continued, gesturing around them, “It will be this, and whatever is still to come.”

The two elves sat there in silence, watching the stars, for what seemed like hours.  At last, the ache Tamorin felt began to subside, giving way to calm.  To conviction.  Iyenysae seemed to sense this, because she released her grip on Tamorin’s hand and rose to her feet.

“Go back to camp,” she said, “Know that I will be close by.”

Tamorin shifted, trying to stand, but her injury pained her and she struggled.  Iyenysae bent to help her, concern cracking through her stony visage.

“Will you fight?” Iyenysae asked.

“I must,” Tamorin replied, indignant, “I will not allow the Horde another inch of ground.  This attack is unforgivable; they will pay for it with blood.”

Iyenysae smiled fiercely at that, her fangs bared.  “Good.  Do you still have the bow I gave you?”