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 Four

This is one of those scenes where I will probably come back to it in half a year and find it completely cringe-worthy.

Also, a minor content warning as Tyrric considers suicide, followed by a romance. (I told you: totally cringe-worthy!)

Author’s Note Continue reading “Tyrric’s Madness, Part Four”

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”

All They Had

He looked at her. He saw her careworn face, her red hair bound up and starting to lose its shine with the onset of her age… He imagined what life could’ve been like, if it was her hand he had held at the summer gala…

This piece was a response to a short writing prompt: write a dialogue in which the two characters are almost having a big fight, but not quite. I chose Tyrric and Mirium for this scene as that’s something they often do! What came out of it isn’t quite a dialogue, but I’m happy with how it illustrates the ongoing tension between them.

As far as canon goes, this scene would’ve been set roughly before Keelath returned from the dead but while Tyrric was still dating Alelsa. It’s not entirely accurate to that timeline though, mostly because I wanted to write a scene that was self-contained –one you could pick up and read without knowing anything about the rest of Sunwalker lore. So, enjoy it as a illustrative piece if not a completely factual one!

Author’s Note

“Lord Tyrric, we really need to talk about your taste in horses.”

Tyrric looked up from the handwritten ledgers spread across his desk. Mirium was standing across from him, hands on her hips, in that “I’m about to make some trouble” kind of way that always set his heart racing.

“Yes. Ah. What about?” he answered, calmly enough despite his distraction. Continue reading “All They Had”

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”

Brothers Apart, Part Six

“Yes, but did you ever think about what it had meant to me?” she returned hotly.

“Isn’t that what I am doing now?” he asked.

When he didn’t think about it, things were fine. 

He had replaced the squires who had left the manor, all with good sin’dorei stock from Silvermoon, who looked up to him with respect and admiration and viewed his indulgences with his warlock wife with good humor or at least with acceptance. The training was progressing even faster than before, and Tyrric was fiercely proud of his students. Once N’Zoth showed his tentacled face to the Horde, these men and women would be among the first to start poking the creature’s many eyes out, Tyrric was sure. Continue reading “Brothers Apart, Part Six”

Brothers Apart, Part Five

There weren’t crickets in Orgrimmar. Or if there were, they were an overly-large, spikey kind that couldn’t sing. That seemed to describe a lot of things in Orgrimmar, Mirium thought, as she listened to the muffled howling of one of the orcs downstairs as he tidied up the Doomguard barracks. The first time she had heard him, she’d come running with a weapon in hand to beat back his torturer. With an offended frown, the orc grunted he was only singing a traditional sweeping chanty and that that the cat seemed to like it. Mirium had slunk back to her room amid more bellows of sweeping off enemy heads and sweeping enemy legs out from under them and even sweeping through a land in conquest, feeling mortified and quite confused. Continue reading “Brothers Apart, Part Five”