#backlog: ic

[shxwmaster]

@thasdorah / @elllerian liked for a starter !

—

Mathias has known from the very beginning what his life's mission is: Serve and protect the crown at all costs. It's an easy, no-nonsense concept to understand, and one he has trained tirelessly to fulfill. With the new era in progress, what with Stormwind's rebuilding, Varian crowned king, and Mathias finally regarded as a capable agent, he could feel the change in the wind.

But, there's also the more human side of him; he'd watched what are effectively his peers grow up alongside him, all living parallel lives, and has witnessed firsthand that the actual characters of those he protects themselves are... far less predictable than the objective statement. Tiffin Ellerian, being what he's mostly referring to.

Ah, Tiffin, always somehow finding some way to get into some manner of trouble that Mathias couldn't possibly keep up with, or prevent altogether.

He clicks his tongue, watching what is most certainly a specific Ellerian-Wrynn sneak out in inconspicuous garb. He probably should have expected this would be something she'd get up to, but alas...

“ You know, if you're going to be sneaking around like that, ” Shaw speaks up, revealing himself from the shadows he'd tucked away in. He was shrouded in a large cloak himself, dressed in nondescript plainclothes as well. “ You might be safer bringing a spy with you, just in case. ”

Translation: I'm coming with you.

[shxwmaster]

@deadmien​ asked:  “You look like shit” / uncrowned rescuing shaw dhdkdkdkdk;

quotes from things i’ve written

—

     How long had it been?

     Days? Weeks? Months?

     All of the time bled together, muddy, swirled in his head and poisoned with fel, punctuated with laceration after laceration, demon after demon — there was no sun or moon to refer to; not that he had enough consciousness half the time to keep track of the days. 

     Merciless. Relentless. Shaw had faced many formidable foes and monsters in the past, but never a dreadlord. Never of this magnitude. Never of this... cruelty. He’d lost count of the times death should have claimed him, only for foul magics to keep him at the brink, just to keep the fun going.

     By the time the Uncrowned finds him, there’s barely a man to salvage.

     He’d lost significant weight, his face pallor and skin mottled and abused. It was difficult to tell what he was looking at, who was talking, how many were there, but he knew one thing: he needed his armor and weapons, and he needed to kill Detheroc.

     By the gods and the Light and all that is holy and sacred, he needs to kill him, needs to slaughter this demon. It’s an ache in his bones, a necessity, more than food and water, more than air, he needs this demon DEAD ——

     His legs give out, and he stumbles, catching himself on one of the rogues present, and oh, isn’t this a familiar feeling. He must be dizzy, the world around him whirling as he struggles to catch up. His armor is somewhere, isn’t it? It’s difficult to think, between the injuries, and the stature of a man so sturdy and broad, the whisper of a memory of pastures and fields and farms of Westfall, Shaw can’t seem to tell what’s rooted and reality, and what’s just wishful thinking.

     But the voice speaks up. Clear as day. In an instant, it hollows him, wrings him cold and frozen. The recognition is instant, even in the haze. For a moment, he doesn’t dare move, a new flavor of fear taking root in the Spymaster, but this time, not of any demon and torture.

It can’t be...

     Slowly, he forces himself to lift his head. Confirm it. Confirm it. It’s not him, is it? It’s the haze, it’s the blur — but sure enough, wide emerald eyes rise to meet his, and something inside him plummets. He can’t move. Whether it’s out of fear, or the pain, he can’t tell anymore.

     The observation is astute. Shaw looks like shit.

And this isn’t how Shaw ever wanted this to go.

He never wanted this to happen.

     “ You’re not supposed to be here, ” is all Mathias manages to say, feebly pushing himself off, and barely succeeding. “ You’re... not supposed to... You shouldn’t be here. Why... ”

[shxwmaster]

@raeshalare sent: “You aren’t the person you think you are.”

random dialogue prompts … sentence starters

—

Hackles raise at the voice — Shaw isn't unfamiliar with undead adversaries with abilities and skillsets beyond his own capability, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd been face to face with someone who'd held such prestigious roles of leadership, but even he knows his own limitations, and knows very well not to toy with the presence of Windrunner.

He's careful not to let any of it show; years of training have allowed him to compose each of his faults, quirks, and emotion behind a well crafted mask of cold neutrality, his first armor and defense before the blade. A healthy amount of fear keeps you alive, but there's no need to let anyone else know of it.

He turns slowly, caution in his movements as he tries to calculate odds of survival, means of escape, should it come down to it, and the comment itself brings the lift of a brow. An assertation of his character from Sylvanas herself? It must be Winter Veil.

" And I suppose you claim to have a better grasp at myself than I? " Shaw poses, facing her fully now, whatever remnants of shadow on him from stealth now melting away. No use trying to run when he'd been caught already - besides, his curiosity had now been piqued. " I don't suppose you're offering life advice as well? I could probably use some — you seem to know much. "

[shxwmaster]

@deadmien​ asked:  “I never said I was a good influence” / the wall carving….

quotes from things i’ve written

—

     “ No, I know, but — Ed, you know how I feel about this sort of thing! ”

     The air is fresh, the breeze gentle and kind to them. A generous amount of clouds hang in the sky, but not enough to stop the gold glow of the sun as it casts its rays on the youthful men. Stormwind had begun looking more like a proud, valiant city than a sorry corpse of a ransacked fortress that the orcs left it in. Progress was fast, ivory bricks seemingly glowing under the daylight, feeling impossibly bright to Mathias.

     It pales in comparison to that of Edwin before him, egging him on with the pick in his hand.

     Mathias’ lips tighten to a flat line, looking to the carving that he’d now just finished etching into the freshly built wall. ( M + E ). A simple, simple carving. Nondescript. Vague enough. It doesn’t even have their last initials. The average layman won’t know.

     But there’s always a way to trace it back. You can trace anything back with all the right tools! It wouldn’t take a mastermind to figure out the owners of these letters, the hand that etched into the stone — even a Fourth Finger Assassin could assess it, if they put enough effort. It feels risky, even something as small as this, it feels risky. It could compromise them.

     But admittedly... looking at the carving, it does send a flutter in Mathias’ chest. He wants it there. He truly does.

     “ I really hate this, you know, ” He says, reaching out to grip Edwin’s hand. Likely grounding himself. Playing it cool. Laughter starts to bubble in his chest, and he shakes his head. “ You are a terrible influence. What comes after this, hm? Are you going to ask me to blurt it to the king next? ”

[shxwmaster]

@middenwake said: “what happened here ?” demanded with no shortage of concern in his tone . // :pensive:

[ Send “What happened here?” to find my muse after they’ve finished fighting a brutal fight. ]

     Five against one.

     Not typically the odds Shaw favored, but given his skillset and their sloppy ambush, it wasn't anything he couldn't survive.

     One orc, two humans, a goblin and a draenei, each equipped with concealed weapons — it was a conversation at first, before it had gone suddenly sour. One wrong word was all it took, and suddenly, they were all on him faster than he could draw a blade.

     First, the draenei and orc had to be incapacitated - much bigger they were in comparison to Shaw. Next, the humans, who unfortunately had the luck to nearly garrote and debilitate him. Finally, the goblin, pesky and agile she was, but with the right opening, Shaw managed to reduce her to nothing.

     He’d just barely managed to stagger away from the close encounter, rounding the corner of a brick wall with a limp, chest heaving. Truth be told, he's quite close to fainting.

     And of course, that cues the damn Captain.

     He rests his weight on one foot to alleviate the other, lip split, hair ruffled, bruised every which way and bloodied — a sight he would give anything to not be seen in by one Flynn Fairwind. He turns slowly, catching his breath, and tries desperately to cling to his even and controlled persona that he had so carefully crafted.

     “ Classified, ” He answers quickly, wiping his blade haphazardly and sheathing it. After a moment, he deems that answer unworthy of Flynn's time, and conjures a different one. “ ... an interrogation gone wrong, I wanted answers, and I got daggers. This... was simply self defense. ”

     He has to catch himself on the wall beside him, chiding himself and damning his situation. “ You shouldn't be here. ”

[shxwmaster]

@middenwake liked for a starter !

     Though Stormwind was where Mathias felt most comfortable, what with knowing the entire city’s layouts and shortcuts better than the back of his hand, he found there was a certain... charm to Kul Tiras. A breath of fresh air, different architecture, the scent of the ocean, the bustling harbor that makes Stormwind’s pale in comparison — quietly, he thinks, he could get used to it.

     Charming, yes. Safe? Hardly.

     And by safe, well, the Spymaster had never felt more vulnerable than being in a city he still had yet to learn all the nooks and crannies, shortcuts and corners and shadows to disappear in.

     But the armistice allows him at least some time, and dare he say, a day off. What a terrifying, foreign concept - he still hasn’t quite figured out why he decided to spend it here, leaning against the wall, people watching, doing quite literally nothing —

     He almost breathes a sigh of relief when he spots ONE familiar thing in this crowd, but he hardly moves from his position, careful to keep himself guarded. “ Captain, ” He says in acknowledgement, nodding to the man should he catch his attention. “ Sight for sore eyes — you didn’t lose your boat, did you? ”

[shxwmaster]

@middenwake sent: " i swear, it isn't what it looks like.. " // is he snooping around shaw's office? is he sneaking around w/ questionable items in hand? is he hiding out & listening in on something he shouldn't be? all of the above??

[caught red-handed! sentence starters]

     ‘course, he should have expected that Flynn would one day saunter in to the SI:7 headquarters once granted the ability to do so, but he still had yet to get accustomed to it, to memorize the cadence of his footsteps, movement and silhouette in the same context of Stormwind.

     So when Shaw rounds the corner with a report in hand and finds Flynn snooping by the building’s general file cabinets, he’s quite nearly met with one of the Spymaster’s many throwing knives, one said blade whizzing dangerously close by the captain and embedding itself into the wooden walls before recognition sets in.

     “ Light, Flynn! ” Shaw shouts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ What the hell are you — I could have hurt you! ”

     He finds the report he held in hand lightly crumpled now, but he’s at the very least grateful his first instinct was a warning shot rather than... well, anything worse. He smooths himself out, assessing the situation and surroundings, and scowls.

     “ What are you doing here? Look, you can visit, but — ” He steps close to wrench the blade free with a twirl, tucking it away, scrutinizing gaze now turned to Flynn. “ — you shouldn’t be here. Show me your hands. Now. ”

[shxwmaster]

@middenwake sent: 21 👀

RANDOM PERIL SCENARIOS 21. Our characters are kidnapped together by one of their enemies

—

     It’s a shame, really, to have such a lovely morning wasted.

     The weather was nice and fair, the right amount of clouds and sunshine, and relatively nice company too — Shaw often made it a habit to walk in the mornings, and making a round around Boralus was rather favorable. Captain Fairwind, ever colorful and eccentric, was bound to be company in his own home turf, one that Shaw had found himself more increasingly fond of.

     Perhaps that was his downfall, appreciating the company of a friend. Distracted he was, hearing yet another tale of his — round one corner, and Shaw’s a second too late in response to hear the footsteps, barely raising the knife that peeled his apple.

He remembered little else.

     When he wakes, it’s with a jolt, senses flooding in and an ache in his head. The bulk of his armor is missing, as are his weapons, and he finds himself handcuffed, lying on cold concrete within what seems to be a dark cell.

What terrible memories that brings back.

     He rolls onto his side, shoulder bumping into another — Fairwind. The Captain is in a similar position, he too cuffed and disarmed, and Shaw has to bite down the anger that boils within him.

     “ Flynn! ” Shaw whispers loudly, grimacing as he makes an effort to shift up and shake the Kul Tiran as best he can. “ Wake up, damn you. Tell me you’re alright. ”