The wind still smelled like smoke and she wondered if it would ever smell clean again. It blew in across the water, flecked with ash that piled into drifts along the beach. Larasina stepped over them, around them, carefully as she made her way to the water’s edge. She didn’t know who they could be. The cold ocean splashed around her boots before she collapsed to her knees in a spray of water and foam, her hands sinking into the wet sand. She clenched her fists, letting the shells cut into her skin.
She had not returned to Darkshore since the war. Ice filled her body, her heart pumping the poison of grief through her veins, killing itself painfully in the process. It thundered in her chest, in her ears, until it was all she could hear.
Staring at the corpse of her home, the perpetually smoldering ruin of Teldrassil, she wept. She wept with her teeth bared, screaming out her pain until it echoed through the now silent forest. She wept until she had no tears left. She wept until she collapsed into the water and quietly, secretly hoped that the waves would wash her out, carry her back to the graveyard of her people.
It was a long time before she could stand back up. Her gear was soaked through, her body caked with sand. She made a token effort to brush it away as she worked her way back up the beach. Her legs felt heavy as she turned her back on the World Tree.
It pained her to walk away, to leave the tragedy behind. So many never had the chance, would never be able to, so why was she allowed to?
Her boots found the road and she turned south, putting one foot in front of the other in slow, solemn trudge. She clutched a hand to her chest, over her aching heart, as if her balled up fist could constrain all the emotions threatening to break her heart. She wondered if it might burst, if the weight that she had been ignoring for so long would finally crush her completely.
As the sun began to rise, as much as it ever did in Darkshore, Larasina found a spot for her camp. It had been easy, in ages long past: there were so many quiet, secluded spots in the woods, so many places to sleep safely. Now they were all gone, the forests decimated to fuel war or simply because they were in the way. She leaned herself up against the rough bark of a pine tree, staring back out across the water towards the corpse of Teldrassil. There was no place in Darkshore from which it was not visible and it would haunt her like a specter for the rest of her life, not only for this journey.
“Sisters. Brothers. Kin,” she whispered softly. “I am sorry. I failed to help. I failed to be there.”
Tears began to flow again, trailing down her cheeks to drip from her chin. She heard a gentle chiming cut through the early morning stillness and looked up, watching a wisp float between the trees and into her camp. The glowing orb bobbed slowly over the grass, pausing as it passed in front of her. She stared at it, not even daring to breathe, not wanting to disturb the soul – wondering if she knew this wisp, if she had known this kaldorei in life.
“Have you come to punish me?” she asked, hating the hope that crept into her voice at the question.
The wisp merely chimed again as it began to float away, continuing its journey through the broken land. Larasina held her hand out after it, crawling toward it, silently begging it to return to her – to judge her for what she had done, for her failures. When it vanished from sight, she collapsed to the forest floor and wept until she fell asleep.
The wind still smelled like smoke and she wondered if it would ever smell clean again. It blew in across the water, flecked with ash that piled into drifts along the beach. Larasina stepped over them, around them, carefully as she made her way to the water’s edge. She didn’t know who they could be. The cold ocean splashed around her boots before she collapsed to her knees in a spray of water and foam, her hands sinking into the wet sand. She clenched her fists, letting the shells cut into her skin.
She had not returned to Darkshore since the war. Ice filled her body, her heart pumping the poison of grief through her veins, killing itself painfully in the process. It thundered in her chest, in her ears, until it was all she could hear.
Staring at the corpse of her home, the perpetually smoldering ruin of Teldrassil, she wept. She wept with her teeth bared, screaming out her pain until it echoed through the now silent forest. She wept until she had no tears left. She wept until she collapsed into the water and quietly, secretly hoped that the waves would wash her out, carry her back to the graveyard of her people.
It was a long time before she could stand back up. Her gear was soaked through, her body caked with sand. She made a token effort to brush it away as she worked her way back up the beach. Her legs felt heavy as she turned her back on the World Tree.
It pained her to walk away, to leave the tragedy behind. So many never had the chance, would never be able to, so why was she allowed to?
Her boots found the road and she turned south, putting one foot in front of the other in slow, solemn trudge. She clutched a hand to her chest, over her aching heart, as if her balled up fist could constrain all the emotions threatening to break her heart. She wondered if it might burst, if the weight that she had been ignoring for so long would finally crush her completely.
As the sun began to rise, as much as it ever did in Darkshore, Larasina found a spot for her camp. It had been easy, in ages long past: there were so many quiet, secluded spots in the woods, so many places to sleep safely. Now they were all gone, the forests decimated to fuel war or simply because they were in the way. She leaned herself up against the rough bark of a pine tree, staring back out across the water towards the corpse of Teldrassil. There was no place in Darkshore from which it was not visible and it would haunt her like a specter for the rest of her life, not only for this journey.
“Sisters. Brothers. Kin,” she whispered softly. “I am sorry. I failed to help. I failed to be there.”
Tears began to flow again, trailing down her cheeks to drip from her chin. She heard a gentle chiming cut through the early morning stillness and looked up, watching a wisp float between the trees and into her camp. The glowing orb bobbed slowly over the grass, pausing as it passed in front of her. She stared at it, not even daring to breathe, not wanting to disturb the soul – wondering if she knew this wisp, if she had known this kaldorei in life.
“Have you come to punish me?” she asked, hating the hope that crept into her voice at the question.
The wisp merely chimed again as it began to float away, continuing its journey through the broken land. Larasina held her hand out after it, crawling toward it, silently begging it to return to her – to judge her for what she had done, for her failures. When it vanished from sight, she collapsed to the forest floor and wept until she fell asleep.
The wind still smelled like smoke and she wondered if it would ever smell clean again. It blew in across the water, flecked with ash that piled into drifts along the beach. Larasina stepped over them, around them, carefully as she made her way to the water’s edge. She didn’t know who they could be. The cold ocean splashed around her boots before she collapsed to her knees in a spray of water and foam, her hands sinking into the wet sand. She clenched her fists, letting the shells cut into her skin.
She had not returned to Darkshore since the war. Ice filled her body, her heart pumping the poison of grief through her veins, killing itself painfully in the process. It thundered in her chest, in her ears, until it was all she could hear.
Staring at the corpse of her home, the perpetually smoldering ruin of Teldrassil, she wept. She wept with her teeth bared, screaming out her pain until it echoed through the now silent forest. She wept until she had no tears left. She wept until she collapsed into the water and quietly, secretly hoped that the waves would wash her out, carry her back to the graveyard of her people.
It was a long time before she could stand back up. Her gear was soaked through, her body caked with sand. She made a token effort to brush it away as she worked her way back up the beach. Her legs felt heavy as she turned her back on the World Tree.
It pained her to walk away, to leave the tragedy behind. So many never had the chance, would never be able to, so why was she allowed to?
Her boots found the road and she turned south, putting one foot in front of the other in slow, solemn trudge. She clutched a hand to her chest, over her aching heart, as if her balled up fist could constrain all the emotions threatening to break her heart. She wondered if it might burst, if the weight that she had been ignoring for so long would finally crush her completely.
As the sun began to rise, as much as it ever did in Darkshore, Larasina found a spot for her camp. It had been easy, in ages long past: there were so many quiet, secluded spots in the woods, so many places to sleep safely. Now they were all gone, the forests decimated to fuel war or simply because they were in the way. She leaned herself up against the rough bark of a pine tree, staring back out across the water towards the corpse of Teldrassil. There was no place in Darkshore from which it was not visible and it would haunt her like a specter for the rest of her life, not only for this journey.
“Sisters. Brothers. Kin,” she whispered softly. “I am sorry. I failed to help. I failed to be there.”
Tears began to flow again, trailing down her cheeks to drip from her chin. She heard a gentle chiming cut through the early morning stillness and looked up, watching a wisp float between the trees and into her camp. The glowing orb bobbed slowly over the grass, pausing as it passed in front of her. She stared at it, not even daring to breathe, not wanting to disturb the soul – wondering if she knew this wisp, if she had known this kaldorei in life.
“Have you come to punish me?” she asked, hating the hope that crept into her voice at the question.
The wisp merely chimed again as it began to float away, continuing its journey through the broken land. Larasina held her hand out after it, crawling toward it, silently begging it to return to her – to judge her for what she had done, for her failures. When it vanished from sight, she collapsed to the forest floor and wept until she fell asleep.
The kaldorei stalked through the underbrush, silent despite the size of her. Of course she was, she was kaldorei. The only ones who made noise in the woods were children.. There was simply the creak of her leathers, the sound of her grip tightening on her axes as she prepared herself. These things were carried away by the wind, vanished into the air as background noise of the forest. As she approached the clearing, peering through the leaves, her prey had no idea she was there.
The orc stood alone over the corpses of the fallen, the last of his squad to leave. A dozen human bodies, intermingled with a few of the orc’s comrades, lay sprawled against the bloodstained grass. He hesitated over the body of another orc, muttering words in his guttural language. He knelt, his back exposed to his unknown stalker, as he preformed some unknown ceremony over the corpse.
Her feet moved silently across the grass as she moved forward from her hiding space. Her axes were raised as she approached, sweeping across the open clearing like the breeze. She was nearly on him, axes beginning their downward stroke, when the orc grabbed his weapon and spun around to face her. Her shadow had fallen across him, her shadow had betrayed her. She hissed out an angry breath as her axes clashed noisily against his sword. He roared in her face and she growled back at him, her fangs on display, as she was shoved away.
The fight was short, as they always were. Metal slammed against metal until she made her mistake. His sword deflected off her ax, shearing downward. She cried out as she felt the flesh being cut away from her arm, carved from her forearm from wrist to elbow. Dark blood sprayed against the grass, the meat of her hitting the ground with a wet noise. Her ax hit the ground a moment later and she staggered back away from her foe. The orc grinned at her as he stalked forward. Her mocked her in his tongue. That was his mistake.
She swung her remaining ax up suddenly before he could react, cleaving into the flesh and bone of his ribs. He stumbled but did not fall, the bulk of him looming toward. His sword fell atop her fallen ax with a clatter and his hands went to the weapon lodged in his side. She was on him before he could remove it, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. She wedged her head under his jaw and bit down on his wide throat. She tasted dirt and rancid sweat before her fangs sank in deep. After that. all she could taste was the hot, metallic blood filling her mouth. His cries turned to pitiful gurgling as he weakly tried to throw her off, but she held on too tightly. She tore her head back suddenly, ripping the flesh from his throat.
She stood over him, chewing the meat in her mouth, as he went limp on the ground.
--
Larasina awoke, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was full of saliva and she swallowed hard to try clear it away. She wiped a hand across her lips, her cheek, and it came back wet. She had been drooling and she realized still was. Larasina sat up sharply in bed, hunching forward as her feet hit the cold bedroom floor. Long strings of spit splattered across the ground, dripping from her mouth.
She looked around sharply, panic still building up hard in her chest. It began to falter when she saw she was home, that she was safe. She looked at her arm, feeling the sharp burning pain of the sword scraping through her skin. It was healed, long healed yet it hurt as if it was fresh. She held it to her chest, grasping at her forearm with her other hand, feeling the long smooth scar beneath her fingers.
She bared her teeth against the pain, staring into the dark. Alone, and in silence, she waited for the memories to pass.
The kaldorei stalked through the underbrush, silent despite the size of her. Of course she was, she was kaldorei. The only ones who made noise in the woods were children.. There was simply the creak of her leathers, the sound of her grip tightening on her axes as she prepared herself. These things were carried away by the wind, vanished into the air as background noise of the forest. As she approached the clearing, peering through the leaves, her prey had no idea she was there.
The orc stood alone over the corpses of the fallen, the last of his squad to leave. A dozen human bodies, intermingled with a few of the orc’s comrades, lay sprawled against the bloodstained grass. He hesitated over the body of another orc, muttering words in his guttural language. He knelt, his back exposed to his unknown stalker, as he preformed some unknown ceremony over the corpse.
Her feet moved silently across the grass as she moved forward from her hiding space. Her axes were raised as she approached, sweeping across the open clearing like the breeze. She was nearly on him, axes beginning their downward stroke, when the orc grabbed his weapon and spun around to face her. Her shadow had fallen across him, her shadow had betrayed her. She hissed out an angry breath as her axes clashed noisily against his sword. He roared in her face and she growled back at him, her fangs on display, as she was shoved away.
The fight was short, as they always were. Metal slammed against metal until she made her mistake. His sword deflected off her ax, shearing downward. She cried out as she felt the flesh being cut away from her arm, carved from her forearm from wrist to elbow. Dark blood sprayed against the grass, the meat of her hitting the ground with a wet noise. Her ax hit the ground a moment later and she staggered back away from her foe. The orc grinned at her as he stalked forward. Her mocked her in his tongue. That was his mistake.
She swung her remaining ax up suddenly before he could react, cleaving into the flesh and bone of his ribs. He stumbled but did not fall, the bulk of him looming toward. His sword fell atop her fallen ax with a clatter and his hands went to the weapon lodged in his side. She was on him before he could remove it, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. She wedged her head under his jaw and bit down on his wide throat. She tasted dirt and rancid sweat before her fangs sank in deep. After that. all she could taste was the hot, metallic blood filling her mouth. His cries turned to pitiful gurgling as he weakly tried to throw her off, but she held on too tightly. She tore her head back suddenly, ripping the flesh from his throat.
She stood over him, chewing the meat in her mouth, as he went limp on the ground.
--
Larasina awoke, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was full of saliva and she swallowed hard to try clear it away. She wiped a hand across her lips, her cheek, and it came back wet. She had been drooling and she realized still was. Larasina sat up sharply in bed, hunching forward as her feet hit the cold bedroom floor. Long strings of spit splattered across the ground, dripping from her mouth.
She looked around sharply, panic still building up hard in her chest. It began to falter when she saw she was home, that she was safe. She looked at her arm, feeling the sharp burning pain of the sword scraping through her skin. It was healed, long healed yet it hurt as if it was fresh. She held it to her chest, grasping at her forearm with her other hand, feeling the long smooth scar beneath her fingers.
She bared her teeth against the pain, staring into the dark. Alone, and in silence, she waited for the memories to pass.
The kaldorei stalked through the underbrush, silent despite the size of her. Of course she was, she was kaldorei. The only ones who made noise in the woods were children.. There was simply the creak of her leathers, the sound of her grip tightening on her axes as she prepared herself. These things were carried away by the wind, vanished into the air as background noise of the forest. As she approached the clearing, peering through the leaves, her prey had no idea she was there.
The orc stood alone over the corpses of the fallen, the last of his squad to leave. A dozen human bodies, intermingled with a few of the orc’s comrades, lay sprawled against the bloodstained grass. He hesitated over the body of another orc, muttering words in his guttural language. He knelt, his back exposed to his unknown stalker, as he preformed some unknown ceremony over the corpse.
Her feet moved silently across the grass as she moved forward from her hiding space. Her axes were raised as she approached, sweeping across the open clearing like the breeze. She was nearly on him, axes beginning their downward stroke, when the orc grabbed his weapon and spun around to face her. Her shadow had fallen across him, her shadow had betrayed her. She hissed out an angry breath as her axes clashed noisily against his sword. He roared in her face and she growled back at him, her fangs on display, as she was shoved away.
The fight was short, as they always were. Metal slammed against metal until she made her mistake. His sword deflected off her ax, shearing downward. She cried out as she felt the flesh being cut away from her arm, carved from her forearm from wrist to elbow. Dark blood sprayed against the grass, the meat of her hitting the ground with a wet noise. Her ax hit the ground a moment later and she staggered back away from her foe. The orc grinned at her as he stalked forward. Her mocked her in his tongue. That was his mistake.
She swung her remaining ax up suddenly before he could react, cleaving into the flesh and bone of his ribs. He stumbled but did not fall, the bulk of him looming toward. His sword fell atop her fallen ax with a clatter and his hands went to the weapon lodged in his side. She was on him before he could remove it, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. She wedged her head under his jaw and bit down on his wide throat. She tasted dirt and rancid sweat before her fangs sank in deep. After that. all she could taste was the hot, metallic blood filling her mouth. His cries turned to pitiful gurgling as he weakly tried to throw her off, but she held on too tightly. She tore her head back suddenly, ripping the flesh from his throat.
She stood over him, chewing the meat in her mouth, as he went limp on the ground.
--
Larasina awoke, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was full of saliva and she swallowed hard to try clear it away. She wiped a hand across her lips, her cheek, and it came back wet. She had been drooling and she realized still was. Larasina sat up sharply in bed, hunching forward as her feet hit the cold bedroom floor. Long strings of spit splattered across the ground, dripping from her mouth.
She looked around sharply, panic still building up hard in her chest. It began to falter when she saw she was home, that she was safe. She looked at her arm, feeling the sharp burning pain of the sword scraping through her skin. It was healed, long healed yet it hurt as if it was fresh. She held it to her chest, grasping at her forearm with her other hand, feeling the long smooth scar beneath her fingers.
She bared her teeth against the pain, staring into the dark. Alone, and in silence, she waited for the memories to pass.
The kaldorei stalked through the underbrush, silent despite the size of her. Of course she was, she was kaldorei. The only ones who made noise in the woods were children.. There was simply the creak of her leathers, the sound of her grip tightening on her axes as she prepared herself. These things were carried away by the wind, vanished into the air as background noise of the forest. As she approached the clearing, peering through the leaves, her prey had no idea she was there.
The orc stood alone over the corpses of the fallen, the last of his squad to leave. A dozen human bodies, intermingled with a few of the orc’s comrades, lay sprawled against the bloodstained grass. He hesitated over the body of another orc, muttering words in his guttural language. He knelt, his back exposed to his unknown stalker, as he preformed some unknown ceremony over the corpse.
Her feet moved silently across the grass as she moved forward from her hiding space. Her axes were raised as she approached, sweeping across the open clearing like the breeze. She was nearly on him, axes beginning their downward stroke, when the orc grabbed his weapon and spun around to face her. Her shadow had fallen across him, her shadow had betrayed her. She hissed out an angry breath as her axes clashed noisily against his sword. He roared in her face and she growled back at him, her fangs on display, as she was shoved away.
The fight was short, as they always were. Metal slammed against metal until she made her mistake. His sword deflected off her ax, shearing downward. She cried out as she felt the flesh being cut away from her arm, carved from her forearm from wrist to elbow. Dark blood sprayed against the grass, the meat of her hitting the ground with a wet noise. Her ax hit the ground a moment later and she staggered back away from her foe. The orc grinned at her as he stalked forward. Her mocked her in his tongue. That was his mistake.
She swung her remaining ax up suddenly before he could react, cleaving into the flesh and bone of his ribs. He stumbled but did not fall, the bulk of him looming toward. His sword fell atop her fallen ax with a clatter and his hands went to the weapon lodged in his side. She was on him before he could remove it, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. She wedged her head under his jaw and bit down on his wide throat. She tasted dirt and rancid sweat before her fangs sank in deep. After that. all she could taste was the hot, metallic blood filling her mouth. His cries turned to pitiful gurgling as he weakly tried to throw her off, but she held on too tightly. She tore her head back suddenly, ripping the flesh from his throat.
She stood over him, chewing the meat in her mouth, as he went limp on the ground.
--
Larasina awoke, her eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Her mouth was full of saliva and she swallowed hard to try clear it away. She wiped a hand across her lips, her cheek, and it came back wet. She had been drooling and she realized still was. Larasina sat up sharply in bed, hunching forward as her feet hit the cold bedroom floor. Long strings of spit splattered across the ground, dripping from her mouth.
She looked around sharply, panic still building up hard in her chest. It began to falter when she saw she was home, that she was safe. She looked at her arm, feeling the sharp burning pain of the sword scraping through her skin. It was healed, long healed yet it hurt as if it was fresh. She held it to her chest, grasping at her forearm with her other hand, feeling the long smooth scar beneath her fingers.
She bared her teeth against the pain, staring into the dark. Alone, and in silence, she waited for the memories to pass.
I got covid the last week of the year ( because that's when I always get covid ), and I'm going to have been out of work for a week. This is absolutely devastating for me and I cannot be out of funds for this long. If I were to open emergency commissions, would anyone be interested?
I'd really only be offering shoulders-up, and pricing is not really finalized since I haven't done commissions in a while, but I'd probably keep it around $30 for flats, $45 for full render? And maybe $20 if you just want a shoulders-up sketch.
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