Each Day, Another Grain of Sand

a multi-character rp blog. wyrmrest accord.

[rainstorm-repository]

"Edrialore. I forbid you to go to him."

She paused, mid-step, back turned to the injured man on the bed. The fierce glare that shone from beneath her brows landed upon one hapless doorguard, leaving no doubt as to how she felt about her father's order - but the voice that replied was calm and even. It bordered on pleasant. "I am a bit old for you to hand out decrees, wouldn't you think?" 

"I forbid you to go to him." 

The elf turned on her heel, veiling her frustration behind a tight smile. "Father. He is blood. My sibling." 

"Hunters were dispatched before you entered." Lord Raincrest's face was impassive. "I will not repeat myself again." 

"He is your son!"

"My son is gone." Though the medic attempted to placate him, Lord Raincrest surged from his prone position and sat upright, eyes blazing, chest heaving. "My son went missing years ago. That fel-soaked beast is not. My. Son." 

Unable to hide her disgust any longer, Edri took a single step towards her father's bed and looked him over, the expression on her face twisting into one of contempt. "Do you hear yourself?! He comes here looking for forgiveness, looking to reclaim the family he left behind, and you-- You all but spit in his face at the door!" 

"I must protect this family before all else--"

"So you nearly kill your own--" 

"HE IS NO SON OF MINE." He was on his feet before anyone could stop him, a blur of power and motion that had snatched the sword from the bedside and swung before most had time to react. Sparks flew as his blade struck his daughter's spear, the polearm’s jagged teeth locking his blade in place. The room was silent. No one dared move, dared breathe as the two kaldorei strained against one another in a silent battle of wills. Father and daughter locked eyes, the tension and rage mirrored. It was common knowledge that the Keeper of Birds inherited her ferocity and perseverance from her father, but there had rarely been a conflict such as this to so perfectly illustrate such. 

A minute passed. Edrialore hissed and shoved forward, bearing down on her spear to lower her father's weapon away from her. With a sharp yank she freed the blade from the spear's maw and stepped back, lip curling in contempt. "You are mad," she whispered, moments away from spitting on her injured patriarch. Once again she turned on her heel before she found the opportunity to do such, letting her spearhead drag sparks along the stone behind her. One doorman looked as if he were thinking  of intercepting her, but a withering gaze made him reconsider. 

"Edrialore!" 

Again she paused, pulling a deep breath into her lungs. Calm, she thought. Steady. 

"If you go to him, you forsake any protection your name affords you. My hunters will not spare you." She began walking again, and was gone before his last words had faded from his chamber. Her reply came echoing from the stairwell, accompanied by a harsh rapport of crowcall: 

"Then you will soon need to hire more hunters."

[tulipnight]

In the Morning Sun by Dasa Ksandrova

[bun-jour]

A surprise birthday commission! ^o^

[green-felflame]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FEATHER @mum-feather

[sidestuiff]

Ask me about my OC!

Character Creation Questions

1: Origins! How did you come up with the concept for your OC?

2: Were they originally well received by the fandom? Or if they’re fandomless, did the RP community take to them right away or was it hard to get attention?

3: Has your OC gone through different incarnations during their stay on Tumblr? Were they reimagined or have they stayed the same all this time?

4: How do you get into your OC’s mindset to write for them? How do you find the muse for them?

5: Were you nervous about putting your OC out there? How long did it take before you decided to play your OC here on Tumblr.

IC Interaction Questions

6: What is your OC’s family situation? Do they get along? Do they fight? Or are they alone?

7: What does your OC look for in a friend? Do they value friendship a lot?

8: What does your OC look for in a significant other? Are they looking at all?

9: What is your OC like when at work? Are they diligent? Slacker? Do they get along with their co-workers?

10: How do they deal with strangers?

Inside the Muse’s Mind Questions

11: Is there a place they go to in order to escape the world, the stresses of life? What’s their favourite place?

12: What scent calms them? Reminds them of home or something soothing?

13: Do they have any favourite foods? Would they eat it all the time if they had the chance? What do they hate to eat?

14: Pet peeves. Tell us what would really tick them off. Do they have a Berserk Button?

15: Does your OC have any awful fears? Do they get paralyzed with fear or can they work through their fears?

16: What are concepts they value? Virtues? What do they look down upon?

17: Do they have any guilty pleasures? They embarrassed about them? Do they flaunt them?

18: Do they have a guilty conscience? Why? Did they ever do something they totally regretted?

Miscellaneous Questions

19: Have they ever been injured? Sick? How do they deal with it?

20: What are Tropes you associate with your muse?

21: Name an embarrassing situation that your muse has been in.

22: If given a million dollars, what would your OC do?

23: Any ships for your OC?

24: Have you ever gotten anon hate because of your OC?

25: What are your plans for your muse in the future?

[rainstorm-repository]

Nighttime over the battlefield.

Overcast, but no rain; Elune's subtle glow behind a shroud of blanketing grey. The air is still, and stale with the stench of burnt flesh, of blood and raw earth churned into mud. Both sides are licking their wounds, regrouping. On one bank of the river, pale blue and violet - a draenei encampment. Sickly green highlights the opposite side of the waters, marking what can only be the Legion. No sounds of conflict here - the only disturbances that currently concern the demons are the snarling of felhunters and the gibbering laughter of imps.

It begins to rain. It’s soft at first. A raindrop hissing as it lands on a felguard's burning shoulder. Plips making ripples in small pools of blood at their feet. The gentle patter grows, becomes a low hiss. The fire sputters, devouring what precipitation dares fall upon it. A few eredar shift, glance towards the far side of the river, but all seems to be still. Silent. Quiet.

Then the thunder begins. 

 Like the rain, it is also soft. And... almost rhythmic. There is a wind beneath it, that seems to keen and cry, floating over the riverbanks. The camp's commander snorts, rising to his feet and staring with sharp green eyes across the river. 

Something is not right. 

 The thunder grows louder. More rhythmic. The wind rises as well - words can be made out among the tempest. Not just wind - but voices.

Whump. A felhunter whines, scratching at the earth. Whump. The eredar exchange glances, reach for their weapons. Whump. Across the water, voices rise in unison as the pulsing thunder of stamping hooves and beating shields rises like a wave in the night. Whump. Lightning. Sparks of violent energy whirling, silhouetting dozens of towering figures against the opposite bank. Teeth are bared to the fel incursion as wind whips around them. Maces strike shields, arcs of energy chain between bulwark and pauldron, from weapon to armor, soldier to soldier. The rhythm grows louder. Whump. Thunder adds to the stomp of hooves, the crash of metal. Storm and Fire and Earth - the elements cry in unison with those that harness their power. 

A single lance of electricity splits the air. For a moment, it is day. Bloodstained draenei, snarling and feral, singing defiance to those that would take their home. 

Not this day, they sing. Not this day. 

[cogblaster]

Unbroken Mammoths @unbroken-wills

[joeykoala]