The thing about "my" people was that when it's out of sight... It's out of mind.
Gods. I've been way out of sight for some time.
Blood Elves weren't the most... patient race,
for such a long lifespan too.
I've vanished a time or two before.
I wonder if I was filed POW or MIA.
It had been several years since the caravans settled in Mulgore. It was strange for Olathe, for everyone, not to have to scan the horizons all the time to watch for centaur raiders, especially in Mulgore. It was stranger to see a permanent settlement being built on top of the massive mesas in the region. It made sense, she thought, in case the centaurs tried to attack again. Although thanks to the help of the orcs and trolls, it didn't seem likely for a long time.
Rolling her shoulders, she lifted her pack onto her back. Hard muscle bulged under her fur as she did so, tucking her battle mace under her arm as she walked out of her tent. The tall mesa air still made her a little dizzy but she was getting used to it. Unaya followed her out of the tent with a sad smile on her face.
A tidal wave of emerald and scarlet looms over me, gaining height with every second.
As ugly as death might seem, there is a certain morbid curiosity that steals over me - this looming presence might strike with the open hand of nature's wrath...yet the hand guiding that wrath is far larger.
It is the will of a god.
The will of a Titan.
Imbrey's boots crunched on the familiar gravel pathway up to the Deterre house in western Eversong Woods. She really hated disturbing them so late, but judging by the sound of a baby wailing, she guessed they might already be awake.
She paused at the stoop of the massive eight foot double doors that marked the entry of the estate, and knocked loudly.
A small peephole slid open. A few seconds passed.
Then one of the doors swung open. Saviero stood shirtless, clad in loose linen pajama pants. Rippling muscles gleamed in the light...
...and a tiny infant squirmed angrily in his grasp.
Gil couldn't speculate on how things were going on outside of his home.
He couldn't tell you the latest news around the city, he couldn't tell you who had the best thistle on the Row, he couldn't point out the corrupt guards, the dirty Blood Knights.
He was too happy, too focused.
He had a son.
Bramdyn was all he could have hoped for. After losing his firstborn son, he hadn't thought he'd get another chance. However Bramdyn was growing, getting healthier, becoming more amazing to the half-elf each today. He doted on the child, and when he wasn't doting on his newborn, he was doting on his fiance.
The Moonglade is by far the most peaceful place that I've ever been. My best training sessions have been there. It's also the first place I've flown as a Stormcrow. That was an exhilarating day. I also loved seeing the green dragons that occasionally visit. The sheer tranquility of the Moonglade is almost infectious. I've never had the urge to fight or rage for long there. It's the most calming place I've ever been. I also enjoyed visiting the Timbermaw Furbolg that live nearby. Although a relatively simple people, they are very wise. I suppose that comes from their shamanistic traditions. I suppose one might think that the furbolg learned more peaceful behavior from the Kaldorei, but I think that if there was influence going on, it was the Kaldorei that learned from the Timbermaw. There has been many times that I've walked among them. I've often watched as their elders trained their childer to be shaman.
You'd been lying to her for weeks now. It was never your intention to lie, but once you'd started, you couldn't stop. You'd be embarrassed if people you smiling about it now; that silly little grin of yours that was somewhere between smirk and open-mouthed laughter. You couldn't help it, though, once the idea bounced into your head - half baked, frantic, and spur of the moment - you had to realize it. The idea also needed to be kept secret, hence the lying.
Palo isn't ready to settle down either is seems
((This is sort of a mix between my tribute for Mother's Day and also the "Springtime is for Lovers" Prompt. I hope you all enjoy. :) ))
The days within Silvermoon have been quiet lately, but still busy. I have been keeping my shop tidy and limiting my fortunes to take care of my duties at home. It's hard work being a mother, everyone really does say that, but you don't know until you try it yourself. But the day-to-day catches you and sweeps you into the next moon, and before long a year has slipped through your fingers like sand from Uldum.
Another series of hai-pus chronicling the continuing story of the great warrior-poet, philosopher, and alcohol-enthusiast Zhang Bao, the Sleeping Master, and master of the Lumbering Mushan style!
"It is better to love twice than to never lose once at all"
-- Zhang Bao
The Drunkard Bao was filled with excitement! It had only been days since he had received the personalized invitation to a gathering of Pandaria's greatest warriors. The location of the event was not written inside the invitation, as each warrior was given a series of riddles and clues rom which they were meant to discern the location of the temple it was being held at. Our hero, Zhang Bao, being a master of both word and fist, easily uncovered the location of the proving grounds. It was a tall temple, built of thick slabs of off-white stone with ornate bas-reliefs of gold and gems depicting famous battles between mythic warriors and beasts of legend. Its courtyard was a vast square of immaculately white marble, with large jade statues of ji-wielding Shado-Pan warriors situated in each corner. The building was nestled in a valley in Kun-Lai. It was surrounded on all sides by steep mountains, plagued by the most harsh and biting blizzards. It was a journey only the most resilient and tenacious souls could brave, but he did, and was rewarded within the halls of the temple with warm food and flowing brew.
Mara looked over at the fellow priest's robes. He had cleaned up, and was not longer wearing the drab black and white robe with tatters and rips at the seams. She smelled a faint cologne from his person even from him sitting seven inches apart from her. Had he even freshly shaved?
“…and all it cost was a noble suing for peace, my commander, a few hundred soldiers’ lives a month later, my soul and those eyes.” - excerpt from the blog Lest Ye Break
The golden slivers of light caught the kaleidoscope of colors the leaves had to offer, sending reds, golds and vivid emerald cascading down between the trees in the early morning breeze. The lonely cry of the mourning doves greeted me as my footsteps wound along the path I could’ve walked in my sleep. My eyes drifted upward, following the sleek flight of a hawk circling lazily against the backdrop of bright blue sky, no doubt in search of its breakfast. A few fallen leaves gave way beneath my steps, a delicate crunch that was lost against the living soundtrack of Elwynn Forest. It was peaceful here, far away from Stormwind’s gates, tucked into a small copse guarded on one side by the steep mountain incline. I had little concern for Alliance patrols, my heart heavy with one of the oldest aches it’d had to bear.
This time in a Mine.
How the mighty have fallen.
All for Love.
I might deserve my fate at this point.
I lost my Rose.
I lose my children.
I even dragged the damn dragon down with me.
Limbs about to be charred off.
Elwynn Forest, Present Day…
“How exactly did you do that?” Lirriel asked, watching Aerella wrangle both Lirriel’s infant and Cerwis’ toddler, getting both diapers changed and clean clothes on in the time it took Lirriel to clear the table and put lunch’s remnants away.
“I had a lot of practice,” her mother blithely answered, holding up Sameth and blowing on his round belly. The little boy giggled, lunging forward to leave a slobbery kiss on Aerie’s cheek. The baby, lying on the blanket, kicked his feet while he watched with a smile.
Lirriel eyed Aerie, skeptical. “I couldn’t have been that much of a handful.”
Oddly enough, continued from All the Wrong Reasons
The beer bounced on the table, rings of ripples captured in mugs, droplets splashing, ivory foam staining hands and gloves. The heady scent filled the room like the raucous music piped up from the band and the singing and yelping from the dancers in the center of the tavern floor, all in a twine of smoke and flickering golden light. Echo tipped back her pint, watching over the rim as she took it all in.
She entered the little farmhouse, closing the door behind her. She propped the windows open, but kept the curtains down; the Valley air was warm, even at nightfall.
She lit one lamp and set tea brewing as she cleaned her armor and weapons. She took a quick bath and then dressed again in a tank top and tiny shorts, much cooler than the gear she’d been lugging around all day.
Elwynn Forest, roughly 20 years ago…
“Light help me,” Aerella muttered at the virtual caravan approaching the little farm, her mother in the lead, head held high as she examined the tiny cabin, its garden, the small barn out back and the rented out fields. The neighbor’s farm hands paused in their work to eye the wagon and pack mules coming up the short lane.
“It’s Grandma!” Lirri squealed, dashing across the yard, old Uncle Hal hobbling behind her.
Moirina Magrall swung herself off the wagon seat to hug the little girl. “Good to see you, missy. My, how you’ve grown!”
Maras stood upon a hill overlooking a small, human village. He and two other elves had been called away from their people's blood war with the trolls to perform a secret task by their military leaders. News of what had happened to Lordaeron had spread rather quickly, and the leaders felt sending groups into the forest to try and slow the Scourge and its plague down might pay dividends.
His thoughts drifted to Aelberyn, who would have been in Lordaeron at the time of its sacking, but he pushed such thoughts from his mind. There would be time for searching after Quel'thalas was safe. The town was quiet and devoid of life. He looked down upon the bands of undead that roamed its streets, shaking his head. He then turned back towards the treeline behind him, a faint smile curving his lips. "Report, Averyl."
Brill, somewhere between 45 and 50 years ago…
It’s one of those days, Moirina realized as her headache intensified.
The baby was fussy. Bryce was being defiant and noisy, wanting his mother’s attention. Little Aerie followed a half-step behind Moirina, getting knocked over or tripping the woman numerous times, staring wide-eyed with a tiny lip wibble whenever Moirina scolded her. At least the child wasn’t a crier; Moirina couldn’t handle more than one.
The laundry needed done and breakfast still needed cleared away. Carson had left early for the shop; a large shipment was coming in from Stratholme. Moirina wished she could be there to help him. She reflected not for the first time that the shop was much easier than three little ones between six months and six years.
(( Around this time of year in 2008 I created a RP-Haven profile for my first characters on Shadow Council, hoping to find some roleplay after being told about the community. I decided to write a piece of my characters memories through the years instead of the May writing prompt about relationships. Due to my lack of being in game, it has been almost a year since I have progressed any of the stories my characters were involved in and I feel a bit lost when trying to write as them. Hopefully this doesn't turn out horrible. Also, my comma usage isn't perfect, but I don't think I will be fixing it right now. ^_^ ))
I was a maiden, newly bloomed, with Spring's flowers woven within my hair.
He was some noble's boy, with eyes as curious as mine.
To be honest, I really don't know who you are beyond the fact that, as my recent inquiries at the Anchorage have led me to believe, you fit the bill of the hunky sailor type. Which is fine, really, because you undoubtedly know me, what with me being the second-most beautiful woman to ever have graced/will grace the face of Azeroth, and in all probability the faces of whatever else there is out there. I have also been led to believe that apparently you possess a boat that is larger on the inside than it is on the outside. I don't understand how this is possible what with this being in defiance of simple common sense, but I am (it must be said) a firm believer in impossible things and generally find common sense a real nuisance. So if this (the matter of your magical boat) is in actuality the case, feel free to consider yourself a very fortunate man, for I have need of your vessel, and quite possibly you as well.
Rhaala stood at Ki'in's door.
The key held in her hand, her eyes on the lock.
I moved through the jungle, Krasarang Wilds groaned with the background noises of predators and strange birds. My shield and sword in hand, heart thudding, Calen was no-where to be seen. He was just here I could have sworn. My eyes darted about the forest as the tree’s seemed to move and shift about in a dark inky haze. For a moment I could have sworn that one tree gained dark sinister eyes before reverting to stillness. Feeling my blue skin crawling as I turned away as if behind my back those trees had grown toothy maws and were leaning forward to swallow me whole while I wasn’t looking.
Alynore walked along the shady path, picnic basket in hand.