Veldrinas talks with Tharion to better understand his purpose after defeating the Burning Legion and in the greater scheme of the war between the Alliance and Horde.Read More
Veldrinas stood on the outer grassy edge of the city of Dalaran with his hands clasped behind his back, and though he stood stock straight, his posture was relaxed.
He gazed south with a stony expression towards the wide open ocean as the sun began to set. It was a beautiful vista. But he did not smile and take pleasure in the rare moment. His thoughts were preoccupied with the recent happenings. Sraath, the Burning Legion, the rekindled faction war, the burning of Teldrassil, and the subsequent siege and Alliance pyrrhic victory over the Horde in Lordaeron.
Unbidden, an old memory came to the surface. One from so long ago, it could have been from a different person.
Then again, I was. Veldrinas thought wryly.
* * *
The sun was nearing the horizon and Veldrinas had awoken early. He stood outside his abode in Ashenvale, watching the sun give way to the coming of night. Standing next to him, leaning on his shoulder, was his wife, Faelivren. His arm was around her, and they were both smiling, blissful even.
* * *
The memory faded and Veldrinas was brought back to the present. At last, the demon hunter indulged in a little smile. After a few more moments, he spoke softly.
"We succeeded, my love. The Burning Legion has been defeated. At long last, your spirit may find peace."
As the hunter continued to watch the day fade to the onset of night, he could have sworn that someone was standing next to him, leaning on his shoulder, her silver hair flowing in the gentle breeze.
Ary looks at the full, heavy boots and wrinkles her nose. "Isn't there something... lighter?"
"Ary, if you buy sandals, you may as well just go barefoot, again. Boots." Sedra sighs.
"They make my feet hot and my toes feel constricted." She reluctantly takes one boot from Sedra's grasp looking at it. "What about a normal shoe or slipper?"
Now it's Sedra's turn to wrinkle her nose, the expression a little more hidden under her cowl. Making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, she looks around the shop's wares once more and wanders a few steps away to look at a shelf of shoes.
"No slippers. Useless things, those fabric footwraps..." She sighs and picks up a pair of sturdy shoes, really low ankle boots in a light leather save hardened and shined toes. Though she gives them a bit of a dirty look, she holds them up to Ary. "These might still save your fleshy bits."
"Yes," Rephaia sighed. "I am aware that the Soulthorn's wards make things difficult. I am the one who warned you about them, architect. Just do the best you can."
"Confessor," the large draenei replied, exasperation lining his voice more so than any other emotion, "many of my workers have been injured already. The path near the tower has claimed blood from at least four of my own. I have left one there to look for other triggers, but we cannot keep working under these conditions. Those wards need to be taken down!"
The Lightforged paladin shook her head with a deep frown. "No. We have received word that the Horde is moving on Ashenvale, and they may already be here. We cannot afford to take down any of the defensive wards."Read More
Far to the west of Blackrook Hold, hidden in the dark and fog, the little island that has been all but swallowed by a large, truncated section of the wreckage of a Legion warship hunkers atop the churning ocean, helpless victim of yet another demon invasion. Once a teardrop of near-barren rock nearly half a league long and wide, now it is only a little hill of Azerothian stone left strewn with Argussian rubble, dirt and rock and plants, and the massive bulk of the wrecked Soul Cleaver from mid-bow to near-aft. The last quarter of the vessel falls off with the land and submerges, shimmering with fel-green light just under the water's edge and evoking the thought of a beached, dying Leviathan. Here and there around its perimeter, shadow power still wafts free of the perfect, void-stained cuts through its bulkheads and through bits and pieces of the foreign rubble that snuggles against it, wisps of dark that whisper and writhe.
Everyone gathers at the Site of Lessons and talk as others arrive. Once everyone has arrived they head to the Site of Remembrance and each offer up something in remembrance of the lost. Malfias appears and informs everyone about that the Outer Gate is breached and offers to works with the Netherbane to protect against whatever might be on the other side. The Elishtars, seeing the need, rejoin into one person again. And Rephaia chases Araatris back to the Site of Lessons.Read More
It started as silence; a stillness that longed to feel movement, like a tired muscle forced to remain unmoving for too long. There was an energy behind this silence--a sense of urgency and a build-up of anticipation. The underlying tension increased with each passing moment, with each passing breath.
Though, there should have been no breaths here. There was nothing but scattered wreckage from a battle recently fought and won. Or perhaps it was lost? That depended on which side you were on, of course.Read More
Veldrinas is seated in front of a small campfire near the ruins of Forest Song. The heat of the summer evening coupled with the heat of the fire causes sweat to trickle down the side of his face, but he pays it no mind. No, instead the demon hunter is reminiscing about how close he and his friends came to annihilation at the hands of Sraath the Eclipse. The doom lord would have succeeded were it not for the sacrifice of one brave soul, Taldarion. Though Veldrinas was not personally close to the hunter, they shared a bond through affiliation with Tharion Greyseer, which would have made him a brother-in-arms, and perhaps even family.Read More
About an hour later, Vasedra stands just inside the door of the simple quarters, watching as Ary wanders the room, inspecting the organic bed with a mattress of some sort of spongy, liquid-rich membrane and the storage shelves of bone and sinew and the chair and desk arrayed against the wall.
"You'd be near enough to mine to reach me easily, here. Also, it takes a little bit of time, but the room furnishings can be rearranged to your tastes."
That very moment, a deck below and half-a-ship to the aft, Cazas cocks a saucy hip to the side, watching the brig's seamless door stretch open. The room beyond is oddly truncated with the cell closed, a six-paces-wide control strip all that's left of the 20-paces-wide space. She saunters in, tilting her head to the side and snapping her tail back and forth as she examines the draenei prisoner with sharp, calculating interest.
Her voice is light as a cloud, at odds with the malice behind her smile as she says, "How fortunate are you, lovely blue thing! Here I am with your dinner, compliments of my darling captain. It's still luke-warm."