When a fun game of scrabble turns into infinite creative possibility.
Just a couple of artist and graphic designers working together to make something extra for the RP community. We'll take you all on!
A violent wake battered into the starboard side of Tiny Dancer. The sloop rocked and threatened to keel, practically tossing Avalear and the other two men into the water.
“It’s her!” The eldest of the three yelled as the sloop leveled back onto the open waters of Stormsong.
Avalear peered out over the water and caught sight of a large dorsal fin rippling through the water. Even through the deep color of the ocean, Avalear could see the shadow of her form cutting through the water with her strong tail. She was the biggest shark he had the displeasure of seeing.
“Ol’ Alma!” The old man yelled once more before erupting into an almost maniacal laughter.
“Dad! Stop dancin’ and get your arse over here!” The younger man was struggling with ropes that belonged to the mast. The father was much too invested in Ol’ Alma to care about an escape.
“Dammit, old man… Avalear I need a hand!”
Avalear didn’t hesitate to help the son with the mainsail.
Ever since arriving in Thresher’s Wharf, Avalear was hearing tales of a monstrous shark that would be seen swimming along the coasts of Stormsong Valley. Appearances were few and far in between. Ol’ Alma, as she was so endearingly called, would go years without an appearance and outsiders would doubt her very existence
Avalear didn’t know if Ol’ Alma was just curious about the fishing sloop or was looking for an early breakfast but he would much prefer to be a witness to the legend than a snack.
The boom finally gave way and turned to catch a wind that would carry the three fishermen back to shore. That was if Ol’ Alma didn’t have a say first.
The son manned the helm to move Tiny Dancer in the most direct path to the docks of Thresher’s Wharf. Avalear turned to see that the father was still fixated on the sight of Ol’ Alma as the dorsal fin began to turn as to make another pass at the sloop. Avalear’s heart began to race as his eyes scanned over the deck for anything that might help.
A bucket filled with chum had been lodged under the railing when the sloop had been rocked to one side. If anything, maybe it could be used as a distraction and buy the fishermen enough time to make it back to the docks.
As quickly as he could, Avalear reached below the railing to take hold of the bucket's handle and make his way past the father toward the stern of Tiny Dancer. With all of his might, Avalear hurled the bucket of chum overboard. He watched Ol’ Alma’s fin with dreaded anticipation to see what the shark would do and with great relief he would see the shadow begin to slow beneath the surface of the water.
Ol’ Alma circled the waters of where the chum bucket had splashed but Avalear made sure to keep a close eye on her. He felt a shove at his shoulder that came from the father and a disappointed ‘tsk’ came from the old man’s lips.
“That was a once in a lifetime sight, lad.” Said the old Kul Tiran. “Shame we couldn’t of seen her teeth.”
Avalear was dumbfounded by the remark. Seeing the fin was more than enough for him.
Steel met sharpening stone as Avalear cared for the edge of his blade. Requiem was forged with the purpose of felling the hordes of Scourge that threatened life on Azeroth and lay the ravenous undead to rest. Many of The Lich King’s unwilling soldiers were met with Requiem’s edge and offered proper burials by Avalear’s rites.
How many more battles have Requiem and Avalear seen together? The Scourge, The Legion, Twilight’s Hammer, and more recently The Sureki and The Order of Night.
Requiem had been gifted to Avalear on that same day he had been knighted by Lord Maxwell Tyrosus. Since then, Avalear had been offered many other weapons but he’s always been the sentimental type. Instead of forgoing his trusted sword, he would opt for repairs and upgrades.
Requiem has seen files, grinders, hammers for repair. It had the weight of its pommel readjusted on multiple occasions to be rebalanced and even retempered. On a special occasion it had even been enhanced with Lumenstone just like Avalear’s armor.
What would Requiem say to him if it could speak? Avalear wondered as he took a break from the melodic rhythm of the sharpening. With a soft sigh he took a seat and peered out toward the wilderness of Dorn.
Aluneth, Jaithys, Keena, and of course Xal’atath. All are or were at one time weapons that can speak to their wielders. Avalear wondered how many more weapons like these were out there. How many more were yet to be discovered? Though, he had to admit to himself that he was quite fond of that ‘sentient butter knife’.
What stories could Keena tell? How was she formed? There were so many questions that surrounded the rippled blade. Avalear peered back down fondly to Requiem and thought about the discussion it may have had with the dagger. The chips, nicks, and scratches all could have told enough stories as it was.
“A effin’ what?!” Jake’s eyes bugged as he misheard an earlier explanation.
“No, ya numpty! It’s called an effingee. People say it’s what harvest witches make when they want t’burn someone up.” Sooner replied to Jake with expressive hands. It was clear to the other three boys that he was excited about his discovery from earlier.
Jake, Avalear, and Pockets all followed along with Sooner outside the city of Gilneas. Daytime waned and the sun hung lower in the sky. Their curfew neared but this was the only time they could sneak away.
“Miss Cleverly’s goin’ to be awfully sore at us for leavin’ like we did. We should go back.” Pockets said softly to the others as he lagged behind.
“Ah, she’s still workin’ on supper. C’mon we’re almost there.” Sooner was quick to dismiss Pockets’ worry as he continued to lead.
The boys crested onto the hill and the canopy of The Blackwald would come into view. As the name eluded to, the wood of the bare, jagged branches looked as though they had been charred by a long forgotten fire. What looked to be dead trees reached toward the heavens in a desperate plea of release. A scar on Gilneas’ land remained from long ago but life still thrived within.
“I saw the effingee at the treeline.” Sooner continued, “Someone built it t’look like a tall guy with big glowin’ eyes! It was made of a bunch of sticks. We should set it on fire!”
Avalear’s lips tightened into a purse. He was already doubting that Sooner was telling the truth and he knew better than to meddle with harvest witches. But curiosity was getting the better of him.
Sooner stopped in his tracks and peered down into The Blackwald. The forest silently groaned in a gentle wind and rattled with branches striking together.
“You go first Pockets.” Sooner declared.
Pockets froze and quickly shook his head. It was easy for the older Sooner and Jake to pressure him.
“Leave him alone, Sooner.” Avalear piped up before Sooner could insist.
“You go down there then, Avalear!”
“I ain’t goin’ down there neither!”
“Pfft, you’re both scared babies. C’mon Jake.”
The air felt still even from a distance. It was unnerving peering down into the wilted brush of The Blackwald. Matron Cleverly warned the boys to never go into the forest out of fear of what kinds of beasts lived within.
Avalear and Pockets watched as Jake and Sooner hiked down a neglected path while the sun set further down the horizon. Night approached and the two boys were soon lost from sight while entering The Blackwald.
The silence was deafening. That was until Avalear and Pockets heard The Blackwald declare itself with a loud crack of wood that they could hear from the top of the hill. The noise echoed through the valley and it was soon followed by the screaming of Sooner and Jake.
A cold chill ran through Avalear’s body and adrenaline began to course through his veins. He didn’t even realize that Pockets was clinging to him. The screaming got louder and soon enough, Sooner and Jake would come into view.
“Run, Pockets!”
Avalear ushered Pockets back the way they came and soon enough the four boys were in a full on sprint back into the city. Never looking back.
“There’s word goin’ around the harbor that the Sister of the Shores is back.”
A young Avalear tucked himself under the covers with a dubious look. He was already doubting his father, Alder’s, story but he wouldn’t ask to put an end to any new tales his dad brought back from Keel Harbor.
“Sister of the Shores?” Avalear repeated with a curios brow.
Alder nodded, “Aye, that’s right.” He paused to point out toward the full moon just past the window.
It felt like a rare occasion for the sky above Gilneas to not be filled with grey clouds. The infrequency of the sight made for good ghost stories.
“Whenever the harvest moon is out, the Sister of the Shores appears and wanders the beaches of the Headlands. Even travelers from Pyrewood Village have said that they’ve seen her pacing the sands that far north.”
“Where does she go when there’s no moon?”
Alder’s eyes widened, “Nobody knows…”
Avalear didn’t look very satisfied with that answer. More questions rattled around in the boy’s head.
“There’s an eerie silence about her.” Alder continued, “Not even the weight of her steps can be heard splashin’ in the waves around her. She carries herself with a poise that rivals the queen herself. A haunting beauty with a veil of spiderwebs. She wears a tattered funeral dress for everyone she drags back down into her grave. I’d say she’s almost as beautiful as your mum.”
A soft snicker brought Avalear and Alder’s attention to the doorway of the loft. Avalear’s mother—Arleigha—lingered in the threshold still halfway donned in her armor after another long night on patrol.
“Don’t mind me.” She motioned for her husband to continue with an amused grin.
“But unlike your mum, any person who has been unfortunate to witness the Sister of the Shore’s beauty has never been seen again. Was she a Duchess lost to the sea on the way to Kul Tiras or a harvest witch cursed to wander Gilneas? Whatever her origins might be there’s one thing for certain. Don’t pull up her veil or you’ll be met with two spiders nested where her eyes should be and she’ll reach out t’grab ya!”
Alder would reach out to tickle at Avalear’s sides for an emphasis of his point. “And drag ya back to her grave!”
The two filled the room with laughter before settling back comfortably for Avalear’s bed time.
It is with a great deal of honor and pride that I write to you knowing that a fellow countryman has accomplished so much. Gilneas has been reclaimed and our people have a new Queen in Tess Greymane. Rebuilding our nation has been a monumental effort. It has been slow but all great things take time, yes?
I’m writing to you because archived records have been found regarding your mother, Dame Arleigha Morstead. As vassal to King Genn Greymane, your mother was rewarded fief within the Northern Headlands. As you are the only heir of Dame Arleigha and Alder Morstead, I humbly wish to offer you a Redemption of Land.
You will have a redemption period of six months from the point of when this letter has been sent. Should you not use your Right to Redeem then the property will be forfeited back to the Kingdom of Gilneas. Should you wish to redeem the right to your property we request for you to come in person and verify your identity.
