Rose for a Thorn, Part 1

This scene has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I particularly like Tyrric’s presentation here.

For references’ sake, this story takes place nearly 3,000 years ago, shortly after the Troll Wars in the World of Warcraft setting. Tyrric and Mirium are maybe 16 or 17 years of age in this scene, while Keelath is approaching his late 20’s. As elves, this means they are all young adults just barely into their maturity, though Keelath has a bit of a gap on the others.

Author’s Note

The moonlight lit the paths leading away from the village square, silvering the hair and hoods of the quel’dorei streaming into it. Its light was overpowered by the lanterns in the square itself however, shining blue and violet, green and gold, from the branches of the trees. Keelath took a sniff of the air, scented with herbs and exotic perfumes and all kinds of food. The Lunar holiday was in full swing.

He had been to the midwinter celebration a few times since their family had moved to Thalas’talah, but his younger brother, Tyrric, had not. Keelath grinned to himself as Tyrric dashed from one vendor to the next, giddy as a boy half his age, and the young quel’dorei didn’t seem to know what to pay the most attention to first: the food, the girls, the drink, the crafts, or all of them at once. It was a haphazard version of the latter he chose, as far as Keelath could tell. He glided along behind his brother, making sure Tyrric didn’t get into any trouble while also sharing the experience with him.

A train of wagons was pulled into the center of the square, though they looked like cheery little houses on wheels more than wagons, painted in reds and greens and yellows. Four of them were pulled into a half-square — two on either side and two forming the back — with their awnings stretched out to create a sheltered space between them. A crowd was forming outside it, waiting with a tense air like they were forming lines for tickets to see an exotic beast. Then someone began to sing, clear and piercingly beautiful.

Tyrric paused in his sampling of a wine older than he was, but Keelath walked around the wagons, craning his neck. On this side, under the awnings, someone had draped curtains, painted and sewn in fanciful colors: a backdrop to a stage. A silver-haired woman stood on a hastily constructed deck, singing older hymns of Elune interspersed with newer songs celebrating the Sun and the quel’dorei’s journey into the Light. This singer was better than many of the priestesses Keelath had heard, though she struggled with some of the pronunciations: not a true believer, or so Keelath took it to mean. She was singing instead for the benefit of her audience, as the dwellers of Thalas’talah were known to be especially devout. Keelath folded his arms and listened appreciatively.

“You know, they’d get more attention if they hired someone younger to take the role,” said Tyrric, suddenly appearing at Keelath’s side with half a pastry in his mouth.

“You’re spitting crumbs all over me,” said Keelath.

“It’s an improvement,” said Tyrric, then seemed to make his best attempt of choking himself by shoving the rest of the pastry in his mouth at once.

Keelath smiled, putting a hand on Tyrric’s back in readiness for having to knock his throat clear, then turned his attention back to the stage. The woman had ended her performance and was taking her bows, and other elves were filing out on stage, preparing it and themselves for a play. It seemed they had taken Tyrric’s advice, as one of them was a young woman, taking the center in a gown that showed off her slenderness without quite being inappropriate.

Then she began to sing, and it was Keelath who needed the help to keep from choking, as his breath caught in his throat.

Tyrric’s Madness, Part Five

“So you don’t love her,” said Keelath, putting his hands on his hips, “but then you love her enough to do that to her. The whole manor could have heard you, if the whole manor had been full.”

“Shut up,” said Tyrric. They had carried him outside to sit in the garden, but months of neglect while he had been in the Black City and the winter chill biting his cheeks had turned the garden barren.

Keelath didn’t mind the cold, and he seemed to think he was being helpful, turning over mounds of dirt — and poking at Tyrric’s emotional sores.

“How does Mirium stand you?” said Tyrric, but the question hadn’t come out as derisively as he meant it. Worse, Keelath seemed to take him seriously. Continue reading “Tyrric’s Madness, Part Five”

Tyrric’s Madness, Part Three

When writing for a character who’s very “out of it”, you run the risk of making the writing an indecipherable muddle for the reader, as well. I can’t quite tell with this one.

Author’s Note

Keelath let him up — it has been he whom Tyrric had been grappling with. Alelsa had hurried inside, perhaps to get more medicine, and Tyrric was left outside alone with his brother and his sister-in-law. It didn’t make him feel any better.

Though the lies he had told them had been lesser than that he’d told Alelsa, the pain he had inflicted wasn’t. Continue reading “Tyrric’s Madness, Part Three”

Tyrric’s Madness, Part Two

More and more, as days went by, hunger kept Tyrric from slipping off into that private realm of peace that he maintained between consciousness and sleep. Instead of day-dreaming of a land far away, where no monster of the Void could ever reach, he found himself dragged back into reality by hunger pains. Continue reading “Tyrric’s Madness, Part Two”

Tyrric’s Madness, Part One

Inspired by a roleplay scene, as what was going through Tyrric’s head while the Sunwalker crew discussed how to cure him of his Void corruption. This would take place shortly after Tyrric was rescued from Ny’alotha, the Black City of N’Zoth.

Author’s Note

Alelsa poked him in the ribs. At first he was merely annoyed: he wanted to sleep. Then, as she continued to poke, talked over him, he came more alert. Memories about who and where he was started to coalesce.

The expedition into the Black City had ended poorly. Everything had made sense until then. Now, nothing did, and the danger was — seemed? — constant.

Alelsa gave him another poke, but was it really her? Could it not be the probing tentacle of a n’raqi, the scraping claw of a silithid? Continue reading “Tyrric’s Madness, Part One”

A Knight’s Purpose

“Are we just both naive?” asked Keelath, a note of forlornity in his voice.
“I suppose you have to be, to want to keep living,” said Mirium. “When we stop striving for something, for anything at all, we die.”

Yes, I looked it up. Forlornity is indeed a word.

Author’s Note

“Sylvanas was sighted in Ardenweald.”

Mirium looked up slowly at his words. Keelath stood in the doorway. There was something about his stance that in a living man would have suggested having run a marathon. A living man would be panting however, holding onto the doorframe like it was the only thing holding him up. Keelath, being undead, didn’t tire, and he didn’t breathe. Still, she could imagine him gripping the doorframe so tight he would have ripped it from the wall if he took a step forwards. Continue reading “A Knight’s Purpose”

(NSFW) And Then There Were Three

This post is NSFW (Not Safe For Work) due graphic scenes related to childbirth and sex. More on the level of PG-13 than R I think, but you hath been warned! Continue reading “(NSFW) And Then There Were Three”

The Second War

Even before the Farstrider turned towards her, his mouth a line of regret, before Tyrric gave a ragged cry and dashed forward, Mirium knew. Mirium knew, and suddenly her world would never be the same.

I had written this many months before, but the dramatic wording of it caused me to not post it until I could go back and edit the tone down a little. Months later, the tone isn’t edited down by more than a few word changes, but I’m calling it good enough to post despite my misgivings.

Though not an exhaustive look at the Sunwalkers’ doings during the Second War of the Warcraft universe, this hits the major happenings: Keelath’s death, Evelos’ departure south to join the Alliance, and Mirium’s downward spiral into losing her Light magic.

Author’s Note

Evelos tossed and turned. The grief was still too raw, sharp edged, and his mind fled from it Continue reading “The Second War”

A Meeting Observed

Character Icon of Talthan, Old God minion. Talthan Dawnspell sat back in his chair, fingers steepled as he finished observing the outcome of the fight on the shimmering disc floating in front of him. He opened a ledger from his desk and flicked through until he found the relevant entry.

“Well, well, well. It seems we have a new player to consider. And one with a connection to a particular friend of ours. Perhaps it’s time to arrange a meeting… ” Continue reading “A Meeting Observed”