Seeker, Soldier, Spies

Odds and ends concerning four of Lordaeron's lost generation, Arcavius Cavandar, Judean Auroran, Quin Adama, and Karinlyyn Ilgrey.   Word of Warcraft - Wyrmrest Accord (US) - Arcavius, Judean, Quinlis, Karinlyyn // Moon Guard (US) - Lyyn // Formerly Sentinels (US) Follows from @graceintheshadows

[lordaeronslost]

Leave-taking

The sound of her sister’s tread came from the hall just outside the door.  She didn’t turn, simply finished twisting her hair into a knot at the back of her head and pinning the braid there.  The room was small—practically a closet—but it was enough for her purposes.

“Where this time?” Jude asked softly.  Lyyn glanced back over her shoulder with a brief frown.  The commander of the Retribution was leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and brow furrowed, as if worried.

I suppose that answers that question—either she wasn’t told or she’s trying to make sure that she wasn’t lied to.  “Arathi.  Stromgarde.”  She reached down and picked up her throwing knives, sliding two into the sheathes in each bracer.  “I leave as soon as I’m ready.”

“Which will be in the next twenty minutes, from the look of it.”  Jude watched as she slid two more daggers into the hidden sheaths along her ribcage, then glanced toward the pack that leaned against the dummy where she stored this armor.  A second stood alongside it, a little broader in the shoulder and chest, made for a man rather than a woman.  That one wasn’t bare.  “Have you told him?”

“Not yet.”  She paused, staring at nothing for a few moments before she turned to her sister.  “Will you look out for him?”

“In what world wouldn’t I?”  Jude smiled sadly.  “I was doing that long before you married him, little sister.”

“I know.”  Lyyn drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment.  “I just—I don’t like—”

Jude straightened from her lean and cleared the three paces that separated them.  Long-fingered hands settled on her shoulders.  “Then why the hell didn’t you tell Shaw no?”

“Because there is exactly one Auroran sister that’s allowed to do that and it is not me.”

One corner of Jude’s mouth curved up into a grin.  “We could have Quin tell him no for you.”

Lyyn choked on a quiet laugh, reaching up to cover one of her sister’s hands with her own.  “I wasn’t talking about Quin and you know it.  Besides, if he’s asked this of me, it must be important, right?  After all the bluster about us being needed here?”  She turned away again, to finish gearing.  Dagger in her boot.  Gloves.  Cloak and mask next.  “He didn’t give me a lot of detail but caravans keep going missing between Khaz Modan and Stromgarde.  There’s reports of bandit activity.  Whispers about ghosts that should be long dead.”

“So he sends another to sort it through,” Jude said softly, her hands falling limp to her sides.  “Promise me that you’ll be careful, Lyyn.”

“I’m always careful,” she said, forcing nonchalance into her voice.  “You know that.  I’ll be fine.  This—it’ll be a few weeks at most and then I’ll be back as if nothing’s happened.”  She fastened her cloak, leaving her mask dangling around her neck and hood hanging down her back, and stooped to pick up her pack.  “I have to say good-bye to Anny.  There’s a portal mage waiting for me at the edge of camp.”

“I’d wondered why they were lingering.”  Jude studied her for another moment, then sighed, reaching to hug her tightly.  “I’ll tell the rest that you’re on assignment.  Nothing else.”

“I’m sure Quin already knows.”

“Quin’s not the rest,” Jude said softly.  “And she’ll keep her mouth shut and make sure your husband isn’t climbing any walls.”

For a few seconds, Lyyn leaned into her sister’s embrace, eyes fluttering shut.  She sighed, breathing in the scent of woodsmoke and arcane dust that always seemed to linger around her older sister.  “I’ll be careful,” she promised softly.

“Thank you,” her sister whispered, then pressed a kiss to cheek and released her.  “Do I get to know the name I’ll be looking for on any rolls or reports?”

“I don’t even know yet,” Lyyn said with a sigh.  “That’s waiting for me with a gryphon once I get back to Stormwind.  Don’t tell Mum and Da.”

“I won’t,” Jude said, stepping aside to let her slip past and out into the hall.  “They’ll only worry.”

“And they shouldn’t,” Lyyn said as she headed down the hall, her sister two steps behind.  “It’s not like I’m bad at my job.”

“No,” Jude said.  Lyyn didn’t have to turn to know her sister was smiling wryly.  “Not at all.”

Lyyn turned, flipping the key to the storeroom to her sister.  “Lock it up for me, will you?  And make sure he doesn’t follow me.”

Jude’s brows went up.  “You think that he—”

“I hope not,” Lyyn said.  “Thought he was pretty happy out.  But let’s be honest.  You never know.”

With a last, weak smile, she turned and continued down the hall, leaving her sister to lock up behind her.

[aerdendios]

Anon-Day!

~ Ask my my character anything you want ~ Confess something you would never say to my their face ~ Send them an anonymous letter ~ Give them unsolicited advice you think they need ~ Tell them one thing you like about them ~ Tell them one thing you hate about them ~ Tell them your favorite memory of them

Anything is welcomed on Anon-Day, as long as it’s on anon!

[fyeahrpmemes-blog]

Reblog if your rp partners (and followers) are great writers and you love each and every one of their portrayals!

[aerdendios]

Anon-Day!

~ Ask my my character anything you want ~ Confess something you would never say to my their face ~ Send them an anonymous letter ~ Give them unsolicited advice you think they need ~ Tell them one thing you like about them ~ Tell them one thing you hate about them ~ Tell them your favorite memory of them

Anything is welcomed on Anon-Day, as long as it’s on anon!

[turning-through-the-never]

Anon Day for @dicenne, @xylaes, and @jacelandon

[rylandfalkov]

Will do this for @rylandfalkov and @aerdendios today!

[untitledmemes]

Untitled Headcanon Questions

Part I You can replace the 'your muse' with the name of the muse you're asking. A random assortment of headcanon questions to send to receiver's muse and help both you and them get to know their muse better. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

What can completely break your muse?

What has your muse witnessed in their lives that has fundamentally changed them?

What is your muse's relationship with sex and/or sexual intimacy?

What is a habit your muse has, which they consider perfectly normal, but others think is weird?

Does your muse believe in marriage? Do they ever want to get married?

What is a dream and/or a nightmare your muse had and can't forget?

What is your muse's relationship with their parent/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?

What does your muse do to pass the time?

What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Would their child self be happy with what they are now?

Does your muse have any pets?

In what ways does your muse express their love to someone else (platonic, familial, romantic, sexual or otherwise)?

What is your muse's favorite hobby/ies? Are there any hobbies they tried but never got the hang of?

If they could go anywhere in the world right now, where would your muse go on a vacation by themselves?

What is inside your muse's pockets/bag/purse/backpack/etc. right now?

Where does your muse feel most comfortable at?

What is your muse's favorite quote, and why?

What does your muse do in their routine to take care of themselves (physically, mentally, emotionally or otherwise)?

What is your muse's favorite piece of clothing in their wardrobe?

What is your muse's favorite food dish? Are they able to make it themselves?

How does your muse prefer someone else confess their love to them, if they want to at all?

How would your muse confess their love to someone?

Who does your muse consider as a good friend, and why?

What would be your muse's last words be if they died right now?

What is a promise someone made to your muse and broken it that your muse never forgot about?

What is your muse's relationship with their sibling/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?

[safrona-shadowsun]

For: @safrona-shadowsun @gravekeeper-anna @roselyn-ravenblade

[embklitzke]

That scream you hear

As if every dream has shattered

As if every hope has died

And every prayer gone unanswered

That scream you hear

Is me

[lordaeronslost]

(( I am unfamiliar with your characters -- tell me a little about them, please!))

All four hailing, ultimately, from Lordaeron. All four formerly of the Retribution of Arathor, two of the Servitors of Lothar, one of the Golden Veil. All four currently in service of the Argent Crusade, stationed near the wall in Hallowfall with the 58th Argent Crusade.

Jude Auroran, Commander Frost, Viscountess Greymantle - eldest surviving child of Sam Auroran, Earl of Ware, and his wife, the half-elven Mina Greymantle. Mage of the Kirin Tor, raised between Dalaran and Lordaeron, she has given her service to the Alliance, the Kirin Tor, and the Argent Dawn and Argent Crusade throughout her adult life. These days, she leads a remnant of her former Alliance auxiliary command under the banner of the Argent Crusade—not a terribly far calling from the one her unit started with decades before her joining. Mother of three, wife of a man many would call a barbarian given his origin and upbringing, she is approaching middle age but no less sharp or spry as she was when she first entered Alliance service nearly twenty years ago.

Karinlyyn Auroran Steelshatter - youngest child of Sam Auroran, Earl of Ware, and his wife, the half-elven Mina Greymantle. Lyyn has spent most of her adult life in the service of SI:7, in part at the suggestion of her father. After the fall of Theramore, her friends and family thought her dead for years as she worked deep cover for the organization. She resurfaced after several years of the work and made herself known to a pair of old friends, who kept her secret until she was ready to reveal herself again to her family. She’s still an active agent for the organization, though up until recently made her home base in Dalaran, where she lived with her husband Anthus and their daughter, Sky. A warning from a distant cousin sent the family elsewhere just in time, leading both to fresh service in Hallowfall with the 58th Argent Crusade under Lyyn’s sister, Jude.

Quin Adama - one of the few survivors of an expedition sent in support of Prince Arthas’s mission, returning to the shores of the Eastern Kingdoms after years trapped in Northrend. A former mage turned paladin, Quin gave her service to the Argents after she began to physically recover from the suffering she’d experienced in Northrend before the fresh campaigns in the north. She was raised as part of the Earl of Ware’s household, trained as a mage by Lady Mina, and was the lover of the late Tanitharil Auroran, former heir to the title. She, Jude, and Lyyn are as close as sisters, and Quin was among those that kept Lyyn’s secret when she revealed herself but wasn’t yet ready to approach their family. She and her husband, Connar, have spent a great deal of time in Northrend working for the Argent Crusade in the years since the end of the war with the Lich King, mopping up remnant forces and investigating rumors of problems. Rumor has it she, like Lyyn, also works for SI:7, but she rarely admits such. She is also assigned to Hallowfall with the 58th Argent Crusade.

Arcavius Cavandar - paladin training as a mage, clerk, secretary, assistant and apprentice to the Viscountess Greymantle, Arcavius has served with the Argents almost since their founding. He was among those assigned to Northrend very early on, suffering a serious injury during his service there which ultimately led to his assignment to Jude’s command. A curious bookworm and researcher, he is well-suited to the role of clerk for first the Retribution and now for the 58th Argent Crusade.

[aerdendios]

Anon-Day!

~ Ask my my character anything you want ~ Confess something you would never say to my their face ~ Send them an anonymous letter ~ Give them unsolicited advice you think they need ~ Tell them one thing you like about them ~ Tell them one thing you hate about them ~ Tell them your favorite memory of them

Anything is welcomed on Anon-Day, as long as it’s on anon!

[turning-through-the-never]

For @dicenne, @jacelandon, and @xylaes

[kharrisdawndancer]

Anon or not, for Khaeris, Tinnaire, and …. Braedyn!

[lordaeronslost]

For Jude, Quin, Arcavius, Lyyn…

[lordaeronslost]

Lucky ones - Part 7

[Part 6 is here.]

Several days ago.

“Master Shaw.  I understand that you have a problem that you’re hoping I can solve for you?”

For some reason, her robes felt heavier than usual as she pushed back her hood, letting red hair cascade free to fall across her shoulders.  Shaw glanced at her, then murmured something to the SI:7 agent at his side.  The agent nodded and slipped past her and out the door.

The lock clicked.  She crossed her arms.

“Was that necessary?” she asked.

“I don’t want to be interrupted,” Stormwind’s spymaster said, dropping heavily into a wood and leather folding chair.  Everything about the room’s furnishings screamed that this arrangement was temporary, that it was meant to be packed up and loaded onto a ship at a moment’s notice.  The building itself was an old warehouse, long fallen from use since the collapse of a few mercantile companies in the wake of the death of Theramore, now nearly a decade ago.  That the spymaster had set up shop here, near the docks, suggested that matters were just as serious as she’d started to suspect they were the night before when word had finally come of what they’d feared.

Shaw waved a hand toward another camp chair like the one he’d settled in.  “Have a seat if you’d like.”

“Will this take long enough to warrant that?”  She crossed to the offered chair anyway, smoothing her robes as she sat.  The emblems of the Argent Crusade and the Kirin Tor were embroidered on the breast, two points of a triangle where the last, on the bottom, was the emblem of the old Retribution—her unit of Alliance irregulars, the one all but wiped out when Theramore died.  They’d tried to reactivate them since but never succeeded.

And yet, here she was, settling into a chair across from Mathias Shaw who was either about to make a clandestine case for the same or appeal to her as a former officer of the Alliance in the hopes that she’d help.

Quin had told her what she’d managed to learn from the SI:7 agent that had been waiting to escort her here.  The idea had merit and left her wondering if Shaw had been paying a hell of a lot more attention whenever a mage was around than anyone had ever realized or if he’d consulted someone on the matter.  The way she saw it, there were equal odds for both.  Shaw watched as she settled, leaned back in her chair.  Jude Auroran met his gaze with a steady one of her own.

“So.”

He took a breath.  “Do you prefer Commander or Viscountess these days?”

“Commander is fine,” she said.  “It’s the title that matters in our current scenario, isn’t it?”

He hitched one shoulder in a slight shrug, canting his head momentarily to one side.  “Maybe.  Maybe not.  That depends on how you decide to look at it.”

“Are you appealing to me as the Viscountess Greymantle, then?  Because I’m not sure how far that will get you.  I know that you didn’t call me here to talk about my father or my family.  Did you?  Because if you did, that will take us into a very long conversation about how you hid the fact that my sister didn’t die from me and mine for several years while SI:7 used her for every deep cover operation it could.”

His brows lifted for a moment and he shifted in his chair to sit forward slightly.  “Your point is taken.”

“Good.”  She crossed her arms.  “Quin said this is about potentially being able to open a portal.  What’s the ask?”

“Would I be way off-base to assume that your family had some kind of anchor at your residence in Dalaran?  One that you used to make it easier to portal in and out?”

She watched him for a few seconds, then shrugged.  “You wouldn’t be.  Go on.”

“Would it still work?”

A chill crept through her.  “Would what still work?”

“Do you think you could still hone in on the anchor?  Open a portal to wherever it is now?”

She stared at him for a few seconds, letting the silence linger as she weighed her response.  “Probably.  Do I need to lay out all the reasons that could be incredibly hazardous given what the reports are saying?”

“You mean the fact that the anchor could have been vaporized or possibly be at the bottom of the sea.”

Jude nodded slowly.  “Those are distinct possibilities.”

Shaw exhaled, leaning forward with elbows against his knees.  “I had.  Clearly.  But would you know that before you opened the portal?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she admitted.  “Depends on how we go about it.  If it’s been vaporized, obviously we won’t be able to locate it.  If it’s at the bottom of the sea, well.  That’s a different can of worms.”

“But if it’s not?  If it’s neither of those things?”

“Then it should be doable,” she said.  “To open it.  I’ll need a few mana stones so I can hold it open long enough for my forces to get through.”

Both of his brows went up.  “Your forces?”

“Shaw.  You don’t get to ask me to do this without it being my people going through and me with them.”  She held his gaze steadily, expression growing grim.  “But you’re not a fool.  You already knew that.  What’s the other part of the ask?”

“You already know what it is.”

She nodded slowly.  “And if I’m unwilling to bend knee to the High Exarch?  What then?”

Shaw paused, studying her for a few moments.  “Who would you answer to, then?”

“Master Shaw.  This isn’t our first dance and I sincerely doubt that it will be our last.  Who would I bend knee to?”

Her regarded her a few moments more, then leaned back in his chair.  “And if I can find a way to make that happen?  Somehow?”

“Then you’ll have us, such as we are, under all the old rules.  Assuming that’s acceptable.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need us, Mathias,” she said, standing.  “I’ll figure out if there are any surviving anchors I can lock a portal onto.  Send a messenger if you’re able to make the arrangements.  You’ve got five hours before my people are on a boat under the Crusade’s banner.”

“Something tells me that’s a banner you’ll fly regardless of the arrangements made.”

She smirked.  “That’s because you’re a very astute spymaster.”

“Thank you for noticing.”  He stood and moved to unlock the door with a small key from the cuff of his sleeve.  She drifted behind him, waiting as he unlocked the door, his hand on the knob as he caught her gaze one more time.  “You are allowed to say no, Commander.  I’m not an idiot.  I know the price you and your people have paid over the years.”

“Someone just destroyed a place we called home for a very long time in many different ways, Master Shaw,” she said quietly.  “In this world, in this life, the paying never stops.  I’ll talk to the rest, but I imagine whether you can make it happen or not, we’ll still do it—just not under the official banner the Alliance would probably prefer.  Send the messenger to tell me either way.  I’d like to know which way the wind is blowing.”

He nodded and opened the door.  “Thank you, Commander.  For your time and discretion.”

“The pleasure was mine, Master Shaw.  I look forward to hearing from you.”

She walked out of the warehouse with her head held high, ignoring the looks and whispers that she caught from the corner of her eye as she made her way back to the docks, to the others.  Whatever happened, whatever word Shaw sent, if she could find an anchor, they’d go.  Damn the man, though, he’d known that already.

They’d played each other, but she had the feeling that somehow, he’d gotten the better end of the deal.

[lordaeronslost]

Lucky ones – Part 6

[See @isryael for part 5, @tenebreashember for part 4, @wynilthyrii for part 3, @graceintheshadows for part 2, and @lordaeronslost for part 1]

Several days ago…

“Adama! Where’s your CO?”

Quin pivoted toward the sound of the voice, her brow furrowing at the sight of the soldier who approached her, dressed in a mix of Alliance blue and gold with splashes of brown. The harbor at Stormwind was sheer bedlam, with soldiers and sailors everywhere, some collected into cohesive units that had been called up, some still being sorted. “Who’s asking?”

“Paranoid, are we?” The soldier flicked some hair from his face and for a moment, she thought he seemed familiar.

He knew my name. That accounts for something, doesn’t it? Then again, it wasn’t as if her face was unknown amongst at least a dozen military and auxiliary units across the Alliance and otherwise.

“She’s got enemies and so do I,” Quin said, her voice cool, controlled. “If you were us, you’d be paranoid, too. Who’s asking?”

The soldier grimaced and glanced around, then stepped closer. It wasn’t until he did that she recognized him as one of Shaw’s men. “Master Shaw needs a word with the Commander. Trying to get a small force in quickly to get the lay of the land and her name came up as maybe having an anchor point for a portal in.”

“Ah,” Quin crossed her arms, her Argent tabard bunching for a moment as she did. “She’s with the rest of the unit that was called up, over there by the Lady Grey. Surprised that Shaw is looking for an Argent unit for this.”

“He’s not,” the man—Riley, if she was remembering correctly—said, starting to move past her toward the dock where the brigandine Lady Grey lay at anchor. Quin fell in with him, her brow arching in invitation to continue. He glanced at her and made a face, but said, “You’re all still technically in Alliance service.”

“Technically,” she said crisply. “Now ask me how long it’s been since we acted as an Alliance auxiliary.”

He winced. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit that Shaw might’ve mentioned that he thought we could count on the support considering…”

“Considering it was Dalaran,” Quin said. “And up until recently, many of our families were there.”

“I won’t lie and say that the sudden departure of the Earl of Ware’s grandchildren and the scouring of his mercantile’s offices there wasn’t noticed by SI:7, Adama.”

“He would be a piss-poor intelligence service if that was missed.” Quin smirked. “You’re dying to ask, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Riley admitted. “But I won’t. I imagine someone already knows.”

“Likely,” she agreed. “Where does Shaw want to meet her?”

“I’m to escort her back to him.”

He stopped walking as Quin circled around to block his path, holding up a gloved finger. “Then wait here. I’ll bring her to you and I’ll brief the rest.”

He blinked. “Wait, brief? What do you mean?”

“Like you said. We’re still technically Alliance auxiliaries and what I heard was that if the commander can do what Shaw is going to ask, then we’re going ahead as an advance unit to get the lay of the land and do what we do.”

Riley started at her, some of the color draining from his face. “But—”

“No buts,” Quin said. “And Shaw thought anything other than that was going to happen, then we’ve been gone too long. Wait here. I’ll bring her to you.”

With that, she pivoted and walked into the controlled chaos that was the dock itself and the dozens of people preparing to ship out into the unknown.

[lordaeronslost]

Lucky ones

The warning had saved their lives.

From his small desk in their shared office at Valiance, Arcavius watched his longtime commander turned mentor as she read the latest report for what was now the third time.  Outside, the wind keened with a storm that had swept in off the water, leaving the windows and exterior walls coated in ice.

Somehow, given the reports that kept coming in, Northrend’s gales seemed far preferable to the fate that had come to so many who’d been in Dalaran instead.  Grimstryke’s warning had saved them to be certain, though the chill that crept down Arcavius’s spine had nothing to do with the cold.

Two more days and they’d have been back in Dalaran.  Half of them had been due to go and meet with some colleagues there ahead of their next duty rotation.  He had no doubt that whatever the plan had originally been for that, it was about to change.

He cleared his throat.  “Is there anything new in that one, Commander, or is it the same as the rest?”

“No,” she growled.  “No, not really.  No one seems to—blast it all.  No one seems to know anything beyond something apparently going terribly wrong just after the teleportation.  Some kind of attack.  This one at least suggests that more information could be forthcoming but I’ll be damned if—”

“Jude.”  Quin stood in the doorway, fully armored and cheeks ruddy from the cold.  Some of the snow and ice from outside was melting into her short-cropped hair in the warmth from the stove in the corner.  In her hand was an envelope bearing an Argent seal and she held it out toward the red-haired mage.  “Another report.  Orders were for your eyes first.”

Brow furrowing slightly, Jude came around the desk to take the letter from the paladin.  “Who delivered it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

Jude winced at that before she slid her thumb beneath the seal.  “Of course I don’t.  Do you think that—”

“I think that everything is coming at us very quickly and that every side is going to need every level-headed commander that they have at the ready,” Quin said, folding her hands behind her in a parade rest.  “Present company included.”

Jude winced again, reading the report once, then again.  Lips thinning, she handed it back to Quin.

“What is it?” Arcavius asked.

“We’re to leave a skeleton garrison here and immediately report to Stormwind for imminent deployment,” Jude said quietly.  “Alert the others, Cavandar.”

“Of course,” Arcavius murmured, feeling his heart start to crawl up into his throat.  “But why is the Argent Da—Crusade sending us to Stormwind for deployment?  Where are we going?”

“Seems that the attack on Dalaran involved nerubians,” Quin said, folding the report.  “Curious, that.”

“Very curious,” Jude agreed.  “But it does explain why they want us.”

“Yup,” Quin sighed.  “Because if there’s one thing that we’re as good at dealing with as undead…”

Arcavius winced.  “…it’s nerubians.”

“Spread the word, Arcavius,” Jude said again.  “Portals up at dawn.”

[presentlydean]

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 3)

The former Ebon he’d met on the trail still hadn’t given him her name, but she’d told him enough to win enough wary trust for him to return to the outpost with her.  The enterprise had been aided by a sudden ache that began somewhere deep inside his knee and a shift in the wind.  He’d lived in Northrend long enough to know what those two things together heralded.

Stormclouds swept down onto K3 as they reached the inn, led by biting wind that stung his face and made his eyes water.  The inn at K3 was decidedly worn, weather-beaten, but in good repair.  The windows looked like they’d been replaced recently and the floors and tables in the common room were decidedly clean, though they still carried a timeworn, hard-used charm, battered and scuffed as they were. Its warmth and shelter—and the smell of venison stew and cider—were a welcome comfort after so narrowly dodging the storm.

The table his newfound companion led him toward was tucked into a shadowed corner and was already occupied by a figure tall enough that he guessed it must be another Kaldorei.  The figure had both hands wrapped around a mug of something steaming, beringed—and there was something else, something he didn’t quite see until the figure lifted the mug to drink, a glint of silver.

His heart slammed into his throat and he stopped in his tracks.  His companion put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“She won’t harm you,” she said softly.  “You have nothing to fear from her.”

“There are—”

“Yes,” she said.  “But something tells me your face will strike her familiar.”

“I’m not—”

“It has nothing to do with your resemblance to Ildanan Sunstar.”

He swallowed bile, but started walking again.  The figure—a woman, and unless he missed his guess, the woman called the Mistwraith—was looking at them now, argent eyes gleaming in the shadows of a drawn hood. He swallowed again as he carefully drew one of the chairs out from the table and sank into it, glancing back over his shoulder to see where his companion was going to sit—and found her gone.

“She’ll be getting you something bracing,” the hooded woman said.  There was a faint rasp to her voice but the familiarity was unmistakable. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

“I—”

“You’ll be needing it, Lord Kyvare.”

He rocked back, eyes widening.  In the shadows of her hood, there was a flash of a smile, almost but not quite feral.

“Yes.  I’m aware of who you are.  I’m also aware of what you were taught.”

“How—”

“I’m not certain the answer to your question matters overmuch, but if you really want an answer, I’ll give you one in exchange for an answer to a question of my own, first.” She leaned back and he could feel the weight of her gaze hanging heavy upon him.  “Why are you, of all people, seeking them when you have a family and responsibilities that should preclude a mission like this—one, I might add, that has been forbidden by the organization that saw you bound to them? Of all the sorts seeking those lost, you were among the last I would have imagined to see here.”

“What of you?” he blurted. “Why are you two looking for them?”

“Because she is my mother,” she said.  “And they are her family and I should think, with all that’s happened, I should owe her that much.  And you?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone else was and I wasn’t about to ask my family to come unless—unless I knew.”

“Whatever goes into that gully doesn’t come out,” she said.  “But they’re not dead.”

“No,” he confirmed.  “No, they’re not.”

“You’re certain?”

“Your cousin is.”

She fell silent.  The former Ebon returned to the table, setting a mug slowly down in front of him as she looked between him and the hooded woman.

“Well,” she said dryly. “I see you’ve gotten started without me. I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

The hooded woman reached up to push back her hood, smiling up at the Ebon.  “One time.”

“Near unmitigated disaster one time,” the Ebon said, seating herself.  “And a lesson learned.  What have you told him?”

“Likely no more than whatever you did to get him to come back with you.”

He coughed politely and wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth bleed into his fingers. “My apologies, ladies, but I think we’ve missed a few things.”

“You already know who I am, Lord Kyvare, and I know who you are,” Mistwraith said, studying him.  “Unless it’s not pleasantries you’re getting at.”

“I—well, it was, yes, but also no.  How—how long have you been looking?”

“Long enough to know there are two sites of interest,” the Ebon said.  “You stumbled across one.  The other is a frozen waterfall and a river that don’t seem quite right.”

The mug between his hands shattered.

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 2)

The trees thickened as he followed the game trail up into the foothills, a trail that doubled back on itself twice to take a more easy grade.  That was enough to make him begin to wonder if perhaps it wasn’t a game trail at all but an old patrol route or a hunting trail.  The ground was hard, though there was little snow on the path as the trees grew thicker, blotting out the light as much as the weather as he climbed higher into the foothills.

His leg ached, though ignoring it was easier than usual.  Perhaps it was his level of focus, or knowing that perhaps he was on the right path.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that no one back home knew he’d come here, that the Crusade didn’t know he was here, that if something were to happen to him, it could be days or longer before someone managed to sort it out if Arius didn’t find the note amongst the bottles on his workbench.

But he trusted that Arius would find it soon enough if it came to that.

Wind worried the treetops above him, setting needles and branches rustling.  He exhaled slowly, squinting upward for a moment, then into the gloom of the path that continued onward, upward, for at least a hundred yards before it curved again.  Somehow, the mile described by the trapper seemed longer than any mile he’d walked before.

But they, too, would have come on foot.  The trees were too thick and they would not have risked missing anything by attempting to teleport or fly.  Perhaps they would have deployed some aerial patrols later—or had scouted from the air before starting their trek—but looking at the branches above him, even with the change of seasons, he couldn’t imagine that they would have been able to see much from above the treetops.

No.  No, they would have walked this same trail.   He was sure of it.

There was a small clearing beyond the bend in the trail, one where he could see the sky.  A few rocks jutted up from the snow and he sat down on one of them, stretching his bad leg for a few seconds and taking a water bottle out of his satchel.  He watched a few fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky as he drank, taking slow, deep breaths of the cold, clean mountain air.

It was so, so quiet.

“About two hundred more meters down that way, there’s a switchback.  Beyond it is a gully and anything that goes in doesn’t come back out.  I can’t let you go any farther.”

It was a woman’s voice, her Thalassian carrying a slight accent and the weight of age.  He twisted toward it, saw her emerging from the trees behind him, far enough from the mouth of the trail that he knew she hadn’t followed him along it.

“Why’s that?” he asked softly, studying her for a few seconds.  A kaldorei dressed in armor reminiscent of the Watchers and Wardens of old, complete with the glaives strapped against her back.  Her hair hung long and loose but for a pair of thin braids that kept it back from her face and there was a pallor to her flesh that he recognized. A Death Knight—or a former one.

“I won’t have the death of one of Sunstar’s brood on my conscience,” she answered, resting her wrist on the hilt of the blade at her hip.  “No matter how many generations removed.”

He stood slowly, capping his water and putting the bottle away.  “You knew him.”

“Not as well as some,” she said.  “But yes. I knew him.”

“I came looking for the Argents—”

“—that vanished along this trail.  We thought perhaps you had.  Come. We’ll go back to K3 and tell you everything we know.”

“We?” he echoed.

She smiled.  “Yes.  We.”

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 1)

Snow crunched beneath his boots and his breath steamed in the frigid air.  The air was still this far down in the valley, but as he glanced up toward the cliffs above, he could see the pines bending against a stiff wind. He adjusted his gloves and scanned the area, then tugged the map out of his pocket.

I’m close, now.

He folded the hand-sketched map again and resumed walking.  The trek from K3 had been less arduous than he’d expected and so far, he hadn’t run into anyone but a grizzled trapper who’d smirked at his trimmed beard and clean hair and asked if he was on vacation.  It wasn’t until he’d told the man why he’d come that his demeanor had shifted.  Teasing had faded and in the end, the trapper had been able to give him a better idea of where he needed to go.

Apparently, the remains of their last camp had still been visible long enough for some trappers to come across it.

And to come up with ghost stories about what lay a mile beyond it.

He wasn’t sure how much of the story he’d believed, but there was an air of truth to enough of it that he’d known that it bore checking.  Even though the air was cold, the sun was high and bright, no hint of coming storms.

He’d picked a good day to take Lumeal’s advice.

It was another half an hour of walking before he reached their last base camp.  Rings of stones and patches of ground cleared for fires and tents lingered here, freshly used, bearing out the trapper’s tale of some of the area’s hunters and trappers making use of the abandoned camp long after the last time the missing Argents had last used them.  The only sign that this had once been an Argent camp—was a pennant hanging limply from the branch of a fir tree at the north edge of camp, marking the beginning of a game trail that started a winding trek up into tree-shrouded foothills of the Storm Peaks.  The pennant’s colors were marred by months in the weather and wind, dulled, but occasionally there was a glimmer of gilt or argent, a flicker of deep blue against dark wood and bright snow.

It was an old style of pennant, the pennant of the old Argent Dawn rather than the silver and white of the Argent Crusade.  No, this was the dark blue and silver with white and gold, the pennant he remembered clearly snapping in the wind above Light’s Hope, the tabard he’d worn for years. His throat tightened.

This wasn’t just a camp.  This wasn’t just the camp where one of the three lost units had been.  This was where the last lost unit had been.

And he remembered that exact pennant snapping in the wind over the barracks at Valiance not terribly long ago.

This had been their camp.

“Light help me,” he murmured under his breath.  “Please still be alive.”

He turned for the trail and kept walking.

[lordaeronslost]

Wrinkles

“Da, did Mathair write to Quel’thalas about this?”

Sam Auroran looked up from the scattered papers on the desk, brows knitting as he regarded his younger daughter.  Karinlyyn stood a few feet away, an unfolded letter in her hand, the envelope tucked between her fingers bearing the seal of the Argent Crusade.  If she had been in a dress instead of the gray leathers, it would have been like looking at both of his daughters at once.  “No,” he said slowly.  “Your mother hasn’t written to anyone there since—hell.  I think since your cousin’s wife had their last child.”

She nodded slowly, frowning at the letter in her hands, violet eyes skipping over the page again as she read it a second time, then again.

Sam drew himself up straighter.  “Why?”

“Do you know if the Crusade reached out to anyone that might have served with them?”

He didn’t like the strange note in her voice.  The elder Auroran rounded the table, moving toward where his daughter stood just shy of a patch of sunlight that streamed through the windows at their townhouse in Dalaran—their primary home these days, with Lordaeron long lost and Theramore gone.  “Lyyn.”

Her gaze flicked up from the letter, regarding her father with a quiet, probing gaze.  “Do you?”

“Everyone I’ve spoken to—everyone that you and Anthus have spoken to for that matter—have been fairly firm about keeping it quiet and refusing to send  another contingent for fear of panic.  Three units in a matter of weeks without warning?  There hasn’t been anything quite like that since the war.”

She didn’t ask which war.  It didn’t matter.  Her gaze drifted back to the page.  “If no one is supposed to know and no one reached out from the Crusade, then why are there being inquiries made by someone else?”

“Who?”

She relinquished the letter to him, starting to pace as he scanned the missive, getting the gist.  His mouth soured, stomach twisting.

“Do you know these names?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said, leaning against the windowsill and staring out at the courtyard below where her husband did his best to keep their nieces and nephews distracted from everything going on.  Her daughter’s laughter echoed off the walls, cheering on her eldest cousin as he squared off against his uncle with practice swords.

Sam waited, but she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.  He exhaled.  “Lyyn.”

“You know them, too,” she said.

“Not quite the way you do, I imagine,” he said quietly.  “You serve with them?”

“That is a complicated question, Da.”

The ghost of a smile curved his lips for a second before it was gone.  “I meant in the Crusade.”

“It was the Dawn, then,” she said.  “Grimstryke and Brightborn, yes.  Cieltus I knew by reputation.  It was at Light’s Hope, mostly.”

“Strike forces?”

She shook her head.  “Usually not but every so often they’d deploy a combat medic with us.”

Sam nodded slowly.  “But that doesn’t solve our mystery, does it?”

“If Mathair had written—”

“But she didn’t, like I said, not since his wife had their son.  Grimstryke must have found out another way.”

Sam sank down into one of the heavy leather reading chairs near the window.  “Then how?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “I know Anny hasn’t written to anyone in Quel’thalas.  I haven’t had contact since the incident here a couple of months ago, but that was before any of this happened.  I hadn’t heard even a whisper since.”

Sam frowned, glancing toward the window.  “Then how would they know to make inquiries?”

“Perhaps it’s nothing,” she murmured.  “Perhaps it’s—hell.  Coincidence.  Grimstryke’s well-placed, it could just be something he caught a rumor about and pressed on.  The other two are associates of his.  It would track.”

“Does it really feel like it’s nothing?”  Sam glanced up at her with an arched brow.

Karinlyyn exhaled a sigh and leaned against the sill.  “No.  No, it doesn’t.”

Sam simply nodded, gaze drifting toward the window.  “Then I’ll leave it to you.”

“Another wrinkle,” his daughter murmured, taking the letter back.

“There always is,” he said, smiling reassuringly, the expression lingering for only a few seconds before it faded.  “We’ll find them.”

“Of course we will,” she said softly, folding up the letter and tucking it into her leathers.  “We don’t have a choice.”

[houseildanan]

In Which He Prepares Brunch

The oven door latched with a soft click and he straightened, surveying the stovetop, the pans and pots on the burners, the counters with the cutting boards marked with the juice from the fruit he’d cut and the butcher block surface dusted with traceries of flour and bits of pastry trimmed off to even out edges.  The pastries were not a usual project, but this morning it felt right to make some even as he tended to more savory fare to accompany them.  A proper brunch seemed right this morning, despite everything.

Perhaps because of everything.

“It smells good in here,” his commander’s voice said from the doorway.  The red-headed woman stepped into the kitchen, glancing around and finding them alone.  “When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago,” he said.  “I stopped in the market before I came back.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Knowing how well whatever you brought back will serve morale?  No, never.”  She joined him at the stove, reaching over the pots and skillets he tended for the one of coffee set at the back to stay warm.  Her glance in his direction held the very vaguest hint of concern.  “What emergency sent your wife here to fetch you back at half past one in the morning?  You didn’t have to come back so quickly.”

He frowned briefly, using a spatula and a firm hand to toss some sizzling greens in their pan.  “What makes you think it was Seni?”

She favored him with a level look tempered by a wry smile.  “There is a very particular flavor to Senithvia Dra’zar’s magic that I am more than well acquainted with, Tyr.”  She filled a mug and then settled the coffee pot back into place.  “Come on now.  Are we going to do this dance?”

One corner of his mouth kicked into a grin as wry as hers.  “That depends on you.”

She stepped away, sinking into one of the chairs at the table, one that creaked even under her relatively slight weight.  Age and the temperatures were starting to wear on so much up here.  So much would need replacing and repair if they were to stay for much longer, to make everything into a proper garrison.  They both knew that—his commander better than most, since her contingent of Alliance forces was the most likely to remain on-station here even if the Crusade moved on.

She took a sip of coffee, her brow arching.  “Does it?”

He shrugged and turned away, checking the hash.  “It wasn’t Seni.”

“Then who?  And why?”

“My nephew.”

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning, but he knew it had registered as soon as he heard her mug against the table, rattling slightly in a way that suggested she’d hastily set it down.  The chair creaked as she leaned forward, almost but not quite rising.  “Is everything—”

“Everything’s fine,” he soothed.  “Honestly, they didn’t really even need me there, I think.”

“You wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you hadn’t been.”

He stared down at the stove, at the array of cooking vessels and food he’d begun preparing.  It was probably too much, but better too much than not enough.  The urge to do it was half habit and half therapy.  As bitter as some of the memories were, far more were good.

His eyes stung.  “You’re right,” he murmured.  “I wouldn’t have.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why you’re already back.  Unless…?”

He laughed.  “She told me to and some habits in that regard die hard.  Orders are orders, right?”

“Everyone’s healthy?”

“She and the baby, yes,” he said, shaking his head.  “Everyone else may be in some kind of altered state, but she said it was fine and I trust her to know.  Told me not to borrow trouble when she shooed me off.  I was glad to have been there, though.”

“I’m certain she was, too.  You’re as much her brother as her actual brothers.”

Tyr laughed quietly, eyes stinging, but he nodded.  “I suppose you’re right.  She’s seemed to collect those over the years.”

“Tyr, if you want to—”

“No,” he said gently, reaching for the coffee pot to pour himself a mug.  “No, Commander.  She’s right, my place is here right now.  I have a job to do until you and the Crusade find someone who can do it better or until I’m actuallyneeded back there.  They know where to find me, how to find me.  I write when I can.”

“Did you leave them breakfast, too?”

He barked another laugh, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“What do you think?”

In answer to that, she simply smiled.