big update to anybody that still follows this account ::
so it’s official. I’ve lost my muse for this character as well as @solastrasz
I can’t force myself to write for either Kina or Sol, I still love them both but if I force myself to, I won’t enjoy them anymore and I don’t want that. So it’s safe to say both blogs will be on an indefinite hiatus. I seriously considered just deleting them but for archival purposes, decided not to. Plus, I may end up coming back to these accounts though the chances of that are very, very slim.
since they’re no longer my main muses, i’ll be transferring their info to my multi-muse account, @felsight and continuing minor rp’s there.
Since this prompt is them as siblings, just imagine Momo is a drake too lmao
Solastrasz shoved Mo’hir out of the way, sending the troll-illusioned dragoness sprawling to the floor in surprise. He made a mad dash for the caravan cart they were travelling on. Once Mo’hir saw where he was headed, she immediately ran after him, dead set on catching up to him. And she did, shoving the elf in return. Sol didn’t waver, however, and the two made a mad dash to the cart.
At the last moment, both jumped for the middle seat in the front. However, unfortunately for Solastrasz, Mo’hir managed to kick him off the seat and he fell on his rear in the dirt, glaring at his sister who now sat triumphantly on the seat.
“That…was totally cheating.” he grumbled, getting up and dusting himself off.
(If you’re taking the sentence starters.) “I don’t care how tough you are. You can’t ignore that.”
(( I am, yeah! ))
Sol rolled his eyes slightly and pouted, pursing his lips. “It’ll be fine, it’s nothing.. Had worse.” He went to laugh, only to have pain dear through his wounded side, where a clear, deep cut was bleeding heavily, armor now stained red. He clutched it with a small groan. When he removed his hand, blood covered it’s entirety.
“…Okay, that definitely wasn’t that bad a few minutes ago…”
“Perhaps it wouldn’t have gotten that bad if you had let the healers tend to it a few minutes ago” Arista said under her breath. She looked around for any more signs of danger before looking at the wounded elf. “Well, we cannot waste any time. A wounded warrior is just as bad as a dead warrior.”
Arista put a hand in her inventory and rummaged around until her fingers touched the cloth of a bandage. She quickly took out whatever she had left and held it out. “Wrap this around the wound until we can find help,” she instructed quickly.
He nodded curtly, taking the bandage from her. He ripped off whatever remnants of his tabard had been left to expose his wound better. As he inspected it, Sol saw that the knife his previous enemy had wielded, some damned Eredar, had managed to find and cut through a weak point in his armor. Sol had returned the favor by piercing it as well, managing to skewer it straight through the heart. He pressed the bandage to the wound, wincing as another wave of pain flared through him. He may not have the steadiest hands and his work was messy but it did the job and he wasn’t exactly in much of a position to do without.
Once that task was done, he used the scraps of his tabard as something to keep pressure on the wound and to wipe up any that may seep through the bandage. The only downfall to this was that Sol was forced to abandon his shield. No matter, he could still swing a sword so that’s all that mattered at the moment. He grabbed his own before returning to his feet.
Looking to Arista, he nodded to her, a silent thank you. “I can still fight. What say you on what our next move is?”
Arista kept her gaze around the battlefield, absently wiping her blade of any Eredar blood on the side of her leg. “I was hired here for one reason, and one reason only. To aid in bringing down the commanding base.” She quickly took a look at his handiwork. While the job was not done as well as a certified healer, if he said that he could still fight then she was under no authority to say otherwise.
“I suggest we take a few able bodies to strike behind the base while another group pushes forward. While the front line is busy with demons, another group can infiltrate the base from behind.” Arista looked into the eyes of the Shieldbreaker. “It is only a thought. Do you have any input? Every voice can, and will be heard. I do not want to fail this mission.”
Sol scratched his chin for a moment. “Perhaps, yes. However, we’ve no clue what lay inside. For all we know, there could be an ambush inside or we underestimated their defences. That’s not to say the plan is completely bust, though. If you believe it could work, ill give you the benefit of the doubt and follow.”
Giving a quick look around, he saw there were only a few of their own soldiers nearby, the rest of the lot more than likely on the frontlines dealing with the Eredar assault headon. From the sounds of fighting and battle cries in the distance, this battle was still far from over. He wished he could tell which side was winning. Theirs, hopefully.
The group around them seemed just as disheveled and bloody as Sol but still had a fighting glint in their eyes. He would have smiled at that if the circumstances were anything but dire. Instead, he faced Arista again. “Perhaps sending one of the stealthier ones to scout ahead? ..Just make sure you’re absolutely sure we can do this.”
Arista took a few deep breaths as she thought. She silently cursed herself for allowing the situation to cause her to rush into the plan without thinking of all possibilities. However, this battlefield was not the kind she was used to. Her preferred battles were quick and quiet. Here, the sounds of fighting and the screams of her comrades assaulted her ears and made it near impossible for her to think clearly.
“You are correct,” she admitted after a few moments. “Although the demons are mindlessly destroying our homes, they are not so mindless. The plan is my own and if it fails, the lives of many innocents will be on my hands. Therefore, I offer to sneak into the place and try to find its weakest point and to look for, as you have said, an ambush inside. I am not going to put another life on the line because of my foolishness.”
“As you wish.” He said. He could completely understand her way of thinking, of putting herself before the others should something happen. Nobody, no innocent person, should have to take a bullet for someone else’s actions, even in battle. For that, Sol would admit he kind of admired her, selflessness seemed rare these days.
“Once you’re in, watch your back. You’ll be on your own.” he said grimly. “In the mean time, we’ll hold them off until you return and we can plan the next step. Be careful.” Sol clapped her on the shoulder. “I refuse to lose another good set of hands on this suicide mission.”
Arista gave a curt nod. She knew what she was going to throw herself into. She knew that it could mean her death. But if it was what it took to complete this mission, then dammit she would do it. “And to you as well,” she said. “I do not want to see the death of another comrade in this battle. Where shall I find you after I’ve been able to inspect the place?”
She glanced over Solalore’s shoulder at the large structure. It was void of any beauty, it seemed to only be suited for one thing. To conquer. It’s dark, ugly green walls were unwelcoming to all who saw it. Guards were scattered around the fortress, if they were not fighting in the fray. It didn’t seem like there was an opening anywhere. No weak point in their defense. Her mind raced as she tried to find somewhere she could go.
Thinking for a moment, Sol let out a deep sigh. They had two options here. Remain where they were and hold this point until Arista returned, hopefully with good news. Or regroup with the front lines and add what little force they could with breaching the face of the fortress from the front. Then again.... They could also attempt to circle the fortress more, perhaps there would be a weak point somewhere behind it.. But the risk that option gave was too much and Solastrasz doubted himself too much to take that risk.
Either way, the options seemed to be against them and it was really down to which one would require less dying. For a brief moment, his eyes traveled to where the bodies lay on this field of battle, motionless and now cold. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, unable to return to their families, their friends. A pang went through his chest, feeling as if some blame should be on him for these lives that were cut too short.
His attention shifted back to Arista as he made his decision. “For now, we’ll remain here and secure this point as best we can until you return. If there’s an opportunity, hopefully we can push them back... But if worse comes to worse, we may have to retreat back to the main group.”
Silveria ran holding her thigh, trying to prevent more blood from oozing out. The chromatic whelpings that hung like a baby bat to it’s mother looked at her with fear it their eyes. Once she can to another tree, she sat down and replaced the whelpings in front of her. She didn’t count on the Scourge to attack while she was visiting Mazthoril. She was able to escape through a different end but fear still coursed through her for the others within the caverns of thier safety. After a moment she got back up with the aid of the tree and letted the whelpings clime on her back injoying the warmth from her cape. Once she had her balance she heard footsteps come close then stop. She turned to find who it was and came across the source.
If truth be told, this entire day had been bleak and boring. Uneventful. Sol was supposed to be resting up for a trip to…wherever the hell Jasculs had said, but sitting at home was making him stir crazy. He had to move, had to spread his wings. Well, figuratively this time anyways. So Sol decided to explore the forest nearby for a bit. Scare the local wildlife, admire the scenery, the fun stuff. It was enjoyable for awhile until he heard the muffled sound of boots crackling on leaves. Someone was running through the forest and by the sound of it, they were distressed.
Instincts immediately kicking in, Sol followed the noise. Through twisting trees and tripping over a branch or root or ten, he eventually found the source. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see a blue haired Sin’dorei woman, dragon whelplings clinging to her cloak like their lives depended on it. He slowly made his way into the tiny clearing she was in, approaching cautiously.
Silveria looked at the Sin’dorei man. She was to exhausted to questioned if he was alone. Or if anyone was following. “Do you know where the nearest healer is?” She asked. The one whelps poking their head out of her cape. Nuzzling it’s head against her cheek. “I’ll.. pay ..for the healer.” She added, not paying attention to the stinging pain on her thigh.
“There’s a town ‘bout an hours walk back the way I came.. I know basic stuff when it comes to healing, I can help somewhat. Won’t be able to do much but...could mean life or death depending how badly you’re hurt?” He offered.
A quick up and down of her tells him she’s definitely beyond what his abilities allow him, but something’s better than nothing in dire situations. He wanted to ask the usual who, what, when, where, and how’s, especially regarding how she’s come to possess whelplings. The Red side of him immediately burned with curiosity on that matter as well. But the urgency she held made him bite his tongue.. For now. He’d interrogate her later. Instead, he turned the way he’d come, motioning for her to follow.
Sol bared his teeth at Silveria, an aggressive snarl showing tooth and fang. He was an utter mess to anyone that would see him as he is now. Disheveled, dirty, and wild. But at least he retained his guise of an elf, so at least he’d been spared some dignity. Mud and dirt caked a good portion of his body, he’d been stripped of all armor, all except his tabard and black breeches, as well as his usually tied back hair now draped across his shoulders and back, just as wild and untamed as the rest of him appeared to be.
He couldn’t say where he was at the moment nor who she was that was standing before him. His memory did not allow him to permit anything beyond whatever state he was currently in. He vaguely remembered getting a slight fever. Next think Solastrasz knew, he was running rampant and rabid through the trees like an untamed Worgen. Truth be told, he probably couldn’t even tell what his own name was at the moment.
“It’s me!” She had said. Still no memory or any indication that he should know who this woman was. He growled at her. Sol would have lunged but he didn’t have the strength anymore. As it currently stands, he’d been chained to a tree by some other unfortunate being that had come across him. He didn’t know why, other than it had been a magi of some kind. They bound him to this tree, enchanting the cuffs before they left. As far as Sol was concerned, he had been brought and bound here in hopes the drake would die.
He had fought and struggled with his bonds but all it seemed to accomplish was his wrists were now raw and bloody. He gazed at her, waiting for her next action, anger burning hotter than the sun in his eyes.
Silveria watched as the man struggled with his chains. Feeling the rage radiating from him. She was hesitant to aid the man, though he appeared as an uncivilized Sin'dorei, she could sense that he wasn’t a mortal. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt ya, try and relax and I’ll see to you’re chains and wounds.” She said to him, hoping he would somewhat understand her help and not as a threat.
He eyed her warily, even more so at her supposedly soothing words. Whatever this illness that he seemed to have contracted was that had turned him into this wild beast that now sat broken and helpless on the forest floor had given him a heightened bloodlust. As a result, he wanted nothing more than to end this in a bloody, gory mess. But he could not. Would not. The little sliver of his humanity left that was in there somewhere deep, deep down would not allow that. He had been bred as a guardian, not a war machine.
At that silent realization, his expression turned to that of utter exhaustion and he bowed his head, allowing whatever this woman planned to do to “help”. Sol sighed heavily from his nose.
“….It’s best to leave me here. Dunno who put me here or did this but s’ gotta be for a reason. Plus, less likely you’d get hurt with me chained up.” He said bleakly, not looking up to face her this time.
Silveria face went from a concern to annoyed. “That’s it.” She thought to herself. “A red.” She concluded. She closed her remaining eye, and took a breath, opened then spoke. “You’re hurt, dirty, hungry and tired. I’ll heal you and keep you under watch until I can get to the bottom of what is going on with you.” She told walking behind the tree to study the chains. Upon glazing them she noticed the magical ruins on them. “Simple.” She mumbled under her breath. And cast a spell to undo the chain. “Before you get up however, this may need to be done.” She said summoning vines to wrap around the man’s wrists. “This should do.”
The vines circled his wrists in the stead of chains. Not that they were exactly more comfortable but he doubted greatly they were supposed to be anyways. Even though he was free to move now, he found it ironic that he had essentially become this woman’s prisoner. Maybe not in the same sense but it was a laughable thought as it was.
“Good luck with that. I don’t know shit about what’s been going on with me. Or why it happened…. I do know I’m not the only one that’s been targeted, though. So watch yourself.” He explained. “I’d offer my assistance but I’m not sure how much use I can be in this….current state.”
Silveria thought then spoke “Where were you with you turn like this?” she questioned. Thinking that maybe it’s the place that was turning people like this. Or someone there.
He opened his mouth to speak but eventually closed it, furrowing his brows. "...I don't remember.. I was sick, I know that. To the point I was bedridden for days. Then I woke up at one point in the midst of a hell of a fever dream and .... I was like this." He forced his mind to go back, to remember anything, any little detail he could.
"Wait. I remember I was taken to a healer at one point. And while I was there, a Forsaken visited. I don't know his name or much about what he looked like. But I remember him standing over me, casting some...spell, I'm assuming. Dunno, never been gold at the magic thing. But since then, I've been.... Not right. Perhaps the spell, or whatever it was, is the cause?" He explained.
Sol bared his teeth at Silveria, an aggressive snarl showing tooth and fang. He was an utter mess to anyone that would see him as he is now. Disheveled, dirty, and wild. But at least he retained his guise of an elf, so at least he’d been spared some dignity. Mud and dirt caked a good portion of his body, he’d been stripped of all armor, all except his tabard and black breeches, as well as his usually tied back hair now draped across his shoulders and back, just as wild and untamed as the rest of him appeared to be.
He couldn’t say where he was at the moment nor who she was that was standing before him. His memory did not allow him to permit anything beyond whatever state he was currently in. He vaguely remembered getting a slight fever. Next think Solastrasz knew, he was running rampant and rabid through the trees like an untamed Worgen. Truth be told, he probably couldn’t even tell what his own name was at the moment.
“It’s me!” She had said. Still no memory or any indication that he should know who this woman was. He growled at her. Sol would have lunged but he didn’t have the strength anymore. As it currently stands, he’d been chained to a tree by some other unfortunate being that had come across him. He didn’t know why, other than it had been a magi of some kind. They bound him to this tree, enchanting the cuffs before they left. As far as Sol was concerned, he had been brought and bound here in hopes the drake would die.
He had fought and struggled with his bonds but all it seemed to accomplish was his wrists were now raw and bloody. He gazed at her, waiting for her next action, anger burning hotter than the sun in his eyes.
Silveria watched as the man struggled with his chains. Feeling the rage radiating from him. She was hesitant to aid the man, though he appeared as an uncivilized Sin'dorei, she could sense that he wasn’t a mortal. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt ya, try and relax and I’ll see to you’re chains and wounds.” She said to him, hoping he would somewhat understand her help and not as a threat.
He eyed her warily, even more so at her supposedly soothing words. Whatever this illness that he seemed to have contracted was that had turned him into this wild beast that now sat broken and helpless on the forest floor had given him a heightened bloodlust. As a result, he wanted nothing more than to end this in a bloody, gory mess. But he could not. Would not. The little sliver of his humanity left that was in there somewhere deep, deep down would not allow that. He had been bred as a guardian, not a war machine.
At that silent realization, his expression turned to that of utter exhaustion and he bowed his head, allowing whatever this woman planned to do to “help”. Sol sighed heavily from his nose.
“….It’s best to leave me here. Dunno who put me here or did this but s’ gotta be for a reason. Plus, less likely you’d get hurt with me chained up.” He said bleakly, not looking up to face her this time.
Silveria face went from a concern to annoyed. “That’s it.” She thought to herself. “A red.” She concluded. She closed her remaining eye, and took a breath, opened then spoke. “You’re hurt, dirty, hungry and tired. I’ll heal you and keep you under watch until I can get to the bottom of what is going on with you.” She told walking behind the tree to study the chains. Upon glazing them she noticed the magical ruins on them. “Simple.” She mumbled under her breath. And cast a spell to undo the chain. “Before you get up however, this may need to be done.” She said summoning vines to wrap around the man’s wrists. “This should do.”
The vines circled his wrists in the stead of chains. Not that they were exactly more comfortable but he doubted greatly they were supposed to be anyways. Even though he was free to move now, he found it ironic that he had essentially become this woman's prisoner. Maybe not in the same sense but it was a laughable thought as it was.
"Good luck with that. I don't know shit about what's been going on with me. Or why it happened.... I do know I'm not the only one that's been targeted, though. So watch yourself." He explained. "I'd offer my assistance but I'm not sure how much use I can be in this....current state."
Double date goodness ft. Sol, Jasculs, Mo’hir and Zatna in which they get drunk and start telling stories. @warcraftingfox
Loud laughter could be heard throughout the entire Inn as the four told stories about their adventures. They had spent the better part of the day, and night, drinking, laughing, and more importantly, relaxing. For once, they had nothing to worry about. At least for this night, the outside world wouldn’t bother them.
In their down time, the two couples had gotten together at a local inn where they could all be comfortable. Somewhere in the floating city of Dalaran, they’d met up and made their way to where they are now. Of course it was Sol’s idea to get a round of shots for the each of them, though Jasculs opted for water instead, making Sol feel the need to down Jaculs’s shot “in his honor” he had said.
Needless to say, it wasn’t long before they, with the exception of the Illidari, were completely smashed. Their topics of discussion had started with what they had been doing since the last time they had met up and how things in their personal lives had been playing out. Somewhere along the lines, they delved into the topics of complete and utter dumb assery.
“Speaking of dumb asses… Did I ever tell y’all about the time my cousin got shitfaced and tried to fight a herd of Tauren?” Zatna mentioned.
“….Is dis an Aoran story?” Mo’hir couldn’t help but laugh as she put her face in her hands.
“You bet your ass this is an Aoran story.” Zatna smiled widely.
“…What’s an Aoran?” Sol and Jasculs simply looked at each other with an equally lost expression.
“Aoran Dawnsworn. The biggest fucking loser you will ever meet. How do I know? He’s my cousin and no one’s bigger losers than my family. Especially that guy. He’s a drunk transient that wanders around Orgrimmar. He’s dating this blood elf prostitute. A monk, I think but I’m not really sure. Never bothered to ask. They say they’re not but, really, they’re not fooling anyone. The sooner they realize they’re pining after each other like moon struck children, the sooner we can all live better lives without living in second hand embarrassment from their subtle-but-not-at-all flirting.
Anyways, so, Aoran’s a huge flirt. More than Sol- yes you are, shut the fuck up- and so he starts flirting with this Druidess. And poor girl was getting so uncomfortable. Eventually, three other Tauren show up to her defense. One of them, I think it was her girlfriend judging by the kisses they gave each other. Or her wife, who knows? Definitely not me. So, the four tauren start going off on Aoran, trying to scare him off. And this dumb ass ain’t catching on at all. So one of the others, a pretty heavyset Warrior guy, ends up decking Aoran so hard he flies so hard and so fast across this bar.
I don’t know how the fuck he didn’t break his everything but this motherfucker gets up and is about to walk back over, thinking he can take four grown ass Tauren. If I hadn’t been there and forcibly dragged him out of that place, I’m pretty sure he’d be an elf pancake by now.” Zatna told her story, using very vivid hand motions as she spoke. At the end of her story, the rogue folded her arms across her chest, seemingly pleased with herself that she had saved her cousin from impending doom that particular night.
They all took a moment to look around their small group before laughter erupted again.
“Well… Your cousin seems…Charming?” Sol joked between bouts of laughter before downing another shot.
“Charming isn’t exactly a word I’d use, but..Sure.” Zatna joked back.
“At leas’ I’m sure Sara appreciates you rescuin’ his damsel in distress.” Mo’hir had commented, making Zatna snort and wheeze out her own laugh.
“On the topic of damsels in distress, and while we’re telling entertaining stories, Jasculs here once got his horns impaled into a tree.” Sol said, pointing a thumb at his partner next to him. In response, Jasculs just drank his water and looked away, hiding his face behind his free hand as he did so. The sin’dorei and troll across from them just leaned in more, a devilishly childlike smile on both their faces.
“I don’t remember why but we were in Crystalsong Forest. We being myself, Jasculs, and Kina. And Kina was being particularly hyper that day and convinced Jasculs to play with her. Monsters and Mortals seems to be her favorite. So Jasculs pretended to be this monster, storming around and pretending to eat everything in site. It was kinda cute, actually.” Sol added, sending a sultry look at the Night Elf who’s face turned a bright shade of red at the compliment. The girls across from them just giggled before Sol continuted.
“So that left Kina being the mortal who would save the day. So they go back and forth chasing each other, pretending to hunt each other, pretending to fight, you know how it goes. And I think Jasculs got too into it as he ended up charging at Kina. She ducked just in time and he ended up getting those fucking antlers of his stuck in this tree. And boy were they stuck. At one point, I was sure they would have to be amputated.”
He paused as the table laughed harder, much to the Demon Hunters annoyance. “I knew what I was doing, I wasn’t aiming to hurt her! I just….miscalculated my speed and …. Projectory…and ended up becoming a tree kebob.” Jasculs defended himself.
This just made the entire table laugh harder. Zatna was wiping her eyes, Mo'hir clutching her gut, and Sol was laughing so hard he'd managed to give himself hiccups. "Dont worry -hic- Kina was fine. The only hard part was getting this giant baby unstuck without him bawling that his horns hurt."
"That's the most Jasculs thing I've heard all night." Zatna replied to which the entire table nodded their agreement.
"Don't I at least get to defend myself?" Jasculs spoke up.
"No." The other three said simultaneously.
The night elf crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, sticking his tongue out. "Damn kids and your damn....Hooliganism."
"Says de one dat got 'is 'orns stuck inna tree." Mo'hir snorted.
"Okay, fine. If this is ‘Embarrass Jasculs’ night, I'm dragging Sol'alore down with me." Jasculs said, throwing an arm around the blood elfs neck.
"Oh no." Sol muttered, scrunching his face up playfully as the Illidari placed a series of small kisses on his face, pecking his cheek.
"Oh yes. So I'm gonna get the lovely pleasure of telling you two about the time me and Sol were, ah, fooling around and-"
"NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT THAT STORY." Sol yelled, lunging over to cover Jasculs's mouth with his hands and spilling both of their drinks in the process.
"Aw but it already started off so interesting!" Zatna piped up.
"There's nothing to that story except pain and misery.....And lots of whipped cream..... Mostly whipped cream..." Sol replied. He removed his hands from Jasculs's face after he deemed it safe that the demon Hunter would absolutely not continue that particular story.
"That was....a very eventful night to say the least. But, okay, fine. Different story. Sol got smashed and ended up on the auction house roof in Orgrimmar. He really gave the Valley of Honor a strip tease. I'm glad I decided to visit for a few days. And even more glad Kina didn't see anything. She's got better things to worry about than one of her guardians shaking his plump man ass for the entire Horde. So thankfully she was with Keizi at the time. Or Eka'mi, I can't really tell them apart." Jasculs told his story.
Sol hid his shame behind his hands and eventually made the excuse that he was going to replace the drinks he had spilled, promptly leaving the table. Zatna and Mo’hir’s laugher followed him throughout the bar. When they settled down enough, Zatna had to ask, “What happened afterwards? That can’t be the end of that story!”
Jasculs chuckled. “I’m afraid there’s not much to that one afterwards. The poor guards just seemed so completely fed up with that entire day after having to fish a drunken, naked Blood Elf off a roof. Not like they were angry just... I hope the guards at least got a bonus of some kind after dealing with that shit.”
“Dey saw Sol’s butt. Dat seems like a good bonus ta’ me.” Mo’hir joked. Even Jasculs laughed loudly at that.
“It is a pretty nice butt so I see your point.” Jasculs mused, eyeing Sol from across the bar.
“All I’m getting from this story is that Sol and Aoran would either hate each other or get along so well.” Zatna chimed in.
Mo’hir nodded but stopped midway. “....Dose two togetha’ is a recipe fo’ disasta’...”
“...True. Okay, scratch that, never let Sol meet Aoran, Jasculs. For all that is good and holy in Azeroth. Do. Not.” Zatna told Jasculs, practically begging.
“Don’t what?” Sol said, walking back to the table and placing his own drink, and Jasculs’s water, on the table. Jasculs took his with a quick nod in thanks before sipping the water.
“Don’t worry about it.” Zatna said a little too quickly. Sol narrowed his eyes slightly at her before sticking his tongue out at the rogue.
“On a change a subject before Sol gets 'is panties in a wad, it be my turn to tell a story.” Mo’hir said, coming to the defense of her partner. Everyone turned their eyes to her as the troll began her story, “So I planned ta visit my bruddah. Surprise visit because it was close ta’ his day a’ birth. Wanted ta do somethin’ nice for ‘im, so dere I am. I got ‘im a new staff ‘cause de dolt done went an’ broke ‘is other one. So den I make way ova to his ‘n his fiance’s hom-” Mo’hir was interrupted by a loud snorting laughter by Zatna.
“Sorry, sorry! It took me a minute but I know exactly which story this is. I still feel so bad for Cel..” she laughed again.
Mo’hir laughed with her before continuing. “Anyways. When I got dere, I knock. An’ knock. An’ knock. An’ I’m startin’ ta get pissed ‘cause I know dat damned troll is in dere an’ I’ll be damned if he think he be ignoring me! So I knock ‘arder. “n then I hear it. De loudest scream I eva heard. So I think someone done broke in an’ is hurtin’ my bruddah an’ his boyfriend. I manage ta break da door open, nothin’ a good ol’ kick from my bear form won’t fix, and I scramble in, expectin’ ta see dead bodies of Nezza and Cel.. An’...Well..” Mo’hir fluttered her hands, not sure how to continue for a moment.
“Were they dead? We need details, Momo!” Sol exclaimed before an elbow was brought to his side by Jasculs. “Don’t be fucking rude, Sol.”
“It was an honest question!” Sol defended himself, feigning looking hurt.
“Dey were fine.. Uh, but it seems I jus’ misjudged what exactly I had heard. Turns out dey were locked at da hips, if ya know what I mean. De scream had been from Cel, my bruddah’s fiance, an’ he looked like he’d seen Azeroth ‘erself by de look on ‘is face. Pure ecstasy. ‘course, I gave both a’ them a heart attack breakin’ down dere door an’ whatnot so I mighta seen a few bits ‘n’ pieces I neva wanna see again. But it was ma’ own damn fault so I ain’t puttin’ the blame on dem for dat one. An’ dats de story of how dey now have magic based locks instead a’ normal, mechanical ones.”
“ohmygod momo.” Sol laughed hysterically to which the entire table followed
Silveria ran holding her thigh, trying to prevent more blood from oozing out. The chromatic whelpings that hung like a baby bat to it’s mother looked at her with fear it their eyes. Once she can to another tree, she sat down and replaced the whelpings in front of her. She didn’t count on the Scourge to attack while she was visiting Mazthoril. She was able to escape through a different end but fear still coursed through her for the others within the caverns of thier safety. After a moment she got back up with the aid of the tree and letted the whelpings clime on her back injoying the warmth from her cape. Once she had her balance she heard footsteps come close then stop. She turned to find who it was and came across the source.
If truth be told, this entire day had been bleak and boring. Uneventful. Sol was supposed to be resting up for a trip to...wherever the hell Jasculs had said, but sitting at home was making him stir crazy. He had to move, had to spread his wings. Well, figuratively this time anyways. So Sol decided to explore the forest nearby for a bit. Scare the local wildlife, admire the scenery, the fun stuff. It was enjoyable for awhile until he heard the muffled sound of boots crackling on leaves. Someone was running through the forest and by the sound of it, they were distressed.
Instincts immediately kicking in, Sol followed the noise. Through twisting trees and tripping over a branch or root or ten, he eventually found the source. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see a blue haired Sin’dorei woman, dragon whelplings clinging to her cloak like their lives depended on it. He slowly made his way into the tiny clearing she was in, approaching cautiously.
Sol bared his teeth at Silveria, an aggressive snarl showing tooth and fang. He was an utter mess to anyone that would see him as he is now. Disheveled, dirty, and wild. But at least he retained his guise of an elf, so at least he’d been spared some dignity. Mud and dirt caked a good portion of his body, he’d been stripped of all armor, all except his tabard and black breeches, as well as his usually tied back hair now draped across his shoulders and back, just as wild and untamed as the rest of him appeared to be.
He couldn’t say where he was at the moment nor who she was that was standing before him. His memory did not allow him to permit anything beyond whatever state he was currently in. He vaguely remembered getting a slight fever. Next think Solastrasz knew, he was running rampant and rabid through the trees like an untamed Worgen. Truth be told, he probably couldn’t even tell what his own name was at the moment.
“It’s me!” She had said. Still no memory or any indication that he should know who this woman was. He growled at her. Sol would have lunged but he didn’t have the strength anymore. As it currently stands, he’d been chained to a tree by some other unfortunate being that had come across him. He didn’t know why, other than it had been a magi of some kind. They bound him to this tree, enchanting the cuffs before they left. As far as Sol was concerned, he had been brought and bound here in hopes the drake would die.
He had fought and struggled with his bonds but all it seemed to accomplish was his wrists were now raw and bloody. He gazed at her, waiting for her next action, anger burning hotter than the sun in his eyes.
Silveria watched as the man struggled with his chains. Feeling the rage radiating from him. She was hesitant to aid the man, though he appeared as an uncivilized Sin'dorei, she could sense that he wasn’t a mortal. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt ya, try and relax and I’ll see to you’re chains and wounds.” She said to him, hoping he would somewhat understand her help and not as a threat.
He eyed her warily, even more so at her supposedly soothing words. Whatever this illness that he seemed to have contracted was that had turned him into this wild beast that now sat broken and helpless on the forest floor had given him a heightened bloodlust. As a result, he wanted nothing more than to end this in a bloody, gory mess. But he could not. Would not. The little sliver of his humanity left that was in there somewhere deep, deep down would not allow that. He had been bred as a guardian, not a war machine.
At that silent realization, his expression turned to that of utter exhaustion and he bowed his head, allowing whatever this woman planned to do to “help”. Sol sighed heavily from his nose.
“....It’s best to leave me here. Dunno who put me here or did this but s’ gotta be for a reason. Plus, less likely you’d get hurt with me chained up.” He said bleakly, not looking up to face her this time.
Jasculs stands with bended knees, wide space between his feet, and arms out. “Sol, it’s me, it’s okay,” he says, voice cracking. It pains him to have to be ready to be pounced at, to protect himself, and to restrain Solalore. His heart aches, but Jasculs can’t think of anything else to do.
Solastrasz growled at the Night Elf. “Get away from me!” He roared, baring his teeth menacingly, spit flying everywhere as he spoke. He had a wild fire in his eyes as he glared at the night elf, visibly and obviously not quite himself to anybody that knew him on a personal level. Sol didn’t, or rather couldn’t, recognize whoever this was standing before him, arms outstretched towards him.
Sol stood a good few paces away from the Illidari, though as the scene played out the Sin’dorei-illusioned drake became more and more agitated by each passing moment. His entire being was in tatters, he was covered in muck and grime, clothes torn practically to shreds, his hair ripped from its usual tied back style and now laid just as untamed as he was across his back.
Finally, Sol gave another growl and charged the Demon Hunter, aiming to claw at his face.
