#day22020

[tristennedarkmorn]

Day 2 - Invasion @daily-writing-challenge​

Things hadn’t been right for a while. It wasn’t even a feeling anymore, it was an irrefutable fact that something had gone terribly wrong in the Shadowlands, and it had been this way for far too long. It had first come to his attention during the third invasion of the Burning Legion, but it was all too easy to discount the uncertainties from his mind at that time. Maybe something was just wrong with him.  It wasn’t until the burning of Teldrassil that it became impossible to ignore what was obvious, at least to him.  

Souls were not moving on properly.

It was an unsettling thought.  He had never feared death, at times he may have even welcomed it.  Knowing the unknown always made things easier to accept.  But now? Everything was different.  Souls were not reaching their final resting places, and it only seemed to be getting worse. Sylvanas had just filtered thousands of Kaldorei souls somewhere.  Did she know what she was doing?  It all felt a little too convenient for her not to have some idea, but the ‘bigger picture’ had yet to be seen and good things rarely came from collecting souls. Surely he wasn’t the only one who had felt this way.

Eyes drifted down to the communication device that had been sitting in his hand for about a half hour now. He knew there was at least one other person that would understand and possibly have more insight into the situation: Taric, his nephew. It was still a strange thought.  If it wasn’t obvious by their similarly colored hair, the eyes were a dead giveaway as to their relation. The sectoral heterochromia, with eyes golden aside from the blue outside half of his right eye; the same eyes that not he, but his grandfather, possessed.  Taric’s great-grandfather.  Red remembered being told that any children he or his brother had would have those same eyes, and because of it their abilities when it came to the ‘Darkmorn gift’ would be enhanced.

However, the two hadn’t spoken since they first met.  They didn’t even acknowledge their obvious relation.  Red had managed to avoid his Darkmorn heritage for decades now, as far as he was concerned Tristenne Darkmorn died that day when the estate burnt to the ground. So when he came face to face with Taric, all he wanted to do was to get away and pretend it never happened.  

Now, things were different. Now, it was people like them that needed to warn the rest of the living world that something was happening in the Shadowlands, and that something was probably coming. He had warned the crew and closer friends with a ‘shit’s fucked, try not to die right now.’ And he had, in fact, already been in touch with some Horde generals. No doubt they thought his theories crazy at first until others began stepping forward with similar forewarnings. At some point, something would snap.

Before he could overthink it, he typed out a message and pressed send: ‘Do you know where they’re going?’ Taric would know what he meant.

It didn’t take long to receive a message in return: ‘Yes, and I think it’s time we officially meet.’

@taricdarkmorn​

[aerdendios]

Daily Writing Challenge Day 2 - Zuldazar

He took another step up, jelly legs wobbling and threatening to send him back down the flight of stairs.  At this point, he almost succumbed to crawling the rest of the way, he wasn’t sure his body was going to get him up that remaining flight.  “Meet…” He sucked in a breath of air, “...me at the...” and a wheeze, “...Great Seal he said…” He leaned over, bracing both hands atop his knees and incoherently mumbling a set of swears in Thalassian, which concluded in ‘that asshole’.

He willed himself to the final set of steps, wishing there was some sort of railing to use in order to help pull himself up.  Each stair shot a burning pain through his legs, and he knew he was going to be absolutely useless for the next half hour upon reaching the summit. It didn’t help that these stairs were not only taller, but wider than the typical sort used back in Silvermoon City.  Of course it worked well for the Zandalari, but he couldn’t even imagine how the poor goblins must have felt trying to climb this damn pyramid.

Eventually, he made it.  That final step felt like it was six feet tall and the moment he managed, he immediately collapsed into a small, heaving pile - much to the amusement of a handful of the nearby Zandalari trolls.  Everything hurt, and why was it so damn humid here?! There was no shade to be had, and the full suit of leather armor did him zero favors.

Dazar’alor was beautiful, he could admit, and he knew it was designed to slow attacking foot troops, but holy shit. He could spare another five minutes to catch his breath and regain some sort of composure.

“Lo’sharri, ya finally made it....dude, did you walk up all those stairs?!”

Aerden tilted his head to look over at one of his fellow combat medics in his unit.  “....Yes?”  Obviously.  He gave the other man a confused look.

“You know they got those...flying dinosaur things to fly you up from camp.  Did you not get my message?”

He stared blankly at the other man, he had half a mind to go smack the guy in the face, although he was about 80% certain he would fall right back down if he tried to stand up. “No I did not get the frigging mess-” His words were cut short by the chime of his communication device. Eyes narrowed as he slowly sighed out through flared nostrils.  Glancing down to the comm, he opened up the message and read it to himself: ‘They got those flying dinosaur things to fly you up from camp, don’t take the steps!’

Of course.

“Pterrodaxes.  They’re called pterrodaxes.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[kharrisdawndancer]

Idyllic Invasion

Daily Writing Challenge 2020, Day 2

Pyraelia had not minded. Khaeris had not asked.

But there she was, moving through a meadow with her friend walking beside her. It felt good to move. It lightened her heavy heart and she welcomed the distraction her invasion of Pyraelia’s space had brought her.

Pollux had been deployed this morning, and straight away after seeing him off, she’d shot over to Pyraelia’s place.

Sheep, cats, grass, and sunshine. Just what she needed. There was a breeze that tugged on leaves that were starting to crisp and she felt that damp chill that clung to things in autumn. Pyraelia had tucked phlox into both their hair. Sturdy boots made a satisfying thunk on the earth with every step. They were going to make pumpkin pie later and Khaeris knew there’d be cider. If she’d stayed at home she would have wallowed and worried. He might not have said, but Khaeris knew Pollux was going North. Maybe Icecrown. Something to do with Sylvannas. All inferred, all speculation. He couldn’t tell her. Was it better not to know? Would she worry less? Or would reality have grounded her and kept her imagination from streaking wildly through her mind?

Pyraelia’s voice chased her circular thoughts away, dragging Khaeris out of the mire of nebulous worry, and her laughter made Khaeris smile.

Just what she needed. She’d stay away. Maybe a few days.

@daily-writing-challenge mentions: @pyraelia @polluxhale

[just-onyx]

Takes one to know one: DWC Day 2

She didn’t have a reason to be here. Well other than love for trolls, it was a giant golden city, and the portal was just standing there.  So why not?  Why not enjoy a little day vacation to Zandalar.  Explore without rhythm or reason?  

It was the humidity of the rain-forest that hit her first.  Fine black hair soon took on a life of its own as Onyx stepped along the busy paths making her way to the market.  Sweat beaded at temples as she dodged the step of a giant dinosaur nearly toppling into a Zandalarian troll.  How he looked down at her made Onyx both delighted and scared. 

As she stared up at the man whose tusks nearly poked out an eye she felt the tell tale feeling of being pick pocketed.  Behind her a tuskling was attempting to loosen the coined purse tired to Onyx’s belt.  A rich chuckle came from the male troll as he watched the petite elf chase after the orphan to get her purse back. 

“Oh no, that's not something you are old enough for.”  Onyx chased after the orphan to get back her bag of pills.  “Come back!  I will give you gold instead just not.. Not that.”  

While the tuskling knew the city, Onyx had speed on the younger gal.  She tackled the poor orphan grabbing the purse.  As if it was poison she held it out of range.  

“I need that for Jana, she be happy if I be giving her dat”  The young troll pleaded with giant eyes at Onyx.  Hands tried to grab it back only to  miss the chance as the elf was inhumanly quick. 

“I dunno who Jana is but she would come after me if she saw what was in this pouch, now I admire your guts for stealing from me.”  Onyx stood up dusting herself up and offered a hand to the other.  Knowing the rules of the street rats as she was one herself, Onyx pulled out a dagger and placed it in the kids hands.  It was safer than drugs right?

“Dis, dis be good.” The troll nodded.  “Jana be my loa cho be liking her.”  

Before Onyx could get a reply, the young tuskling ran off with a dagger in hand.   “I wonder if an elf can have a Loa?  I need to learn all I can about this Jana.”  Onyx mused as she started her day in the  Zandalar City.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[aidandawningblade]

“The Invasion.”

We stood at the towering second gate of Quel’thalas. A part of me hoped Sylvanas was right, that this gate would be impossible to open. That part was swiftly buried beneath the King’s command. I watched with a mixture of shock and terror at his next words. “March upon the Elven encampments. Leave no survivors.”  Leave no survivors. Those three words echoed in my mind for the briefest of moments, before I shook the cobwebs away, raising my runeblade. I lead the assault on An'daroth, whilst the King set his focus upon the other two. I vividly remember cutting down those warriors, many of their front line having already been bombarded by the meat wagons at our back, leaving the stench of death and the slaughtered faces of their comrades to torment them.  The battle was swift, the Quel’dorei didn’t stand a chance. Every fallen soldier only adding to our ranks. There were no survivors.  This invasion of my former homeland, one would think that I would feel remorse as I looked upon the decimated landscape, the corrupted scar left behind by our armies. Yet I felt nothing. There was nothing but a hollow desire for violence beating within my chest, only ever temporarily sated. Never truly gone. As we stood once again before the towering gate of Quel’thalas, watching as Arthas Menethil - former Prince of Lordaeron, now King of the Damned - dismounted, stepping forward and pressing the mythical Key of Three Moons to the gate. I watched with glee as that gate swung open, and our armies were left unhindered to slaughter the Elven populace.  Leave no survivors. @daily-writing-challenge​

[talthorn-sylvoran]

Brutal Truths

Day 2 - Invasion

Her mother's words echo in her mind as she looks over the personal space in which her beloved called home. 'You are Lady Ellanore Bel'oraque. And you take what is yours. It's your right. It's your destiny.' The starry-eyed Highborne woman looks over this scene rather romantically. She had decided that tonight would be the night, she would be telling Talthorn Syl'voran he was going to be courting her from now on. In her mind, this was a long time in the making. What man would not be simply honored and entralled with the idea of being allowed to woo her to their hearts content! She was the epitome of beauty and grace, with her naturally waved royal purple hair and lavender complexion. The very essence of high society with her status, wealth and magic dripping from her. And it was obvious to her how in love this scholar was with her, and she with him. Ellanore was sure that Talthorn would not mind her letting herself into his abode. He would go on about how he adored surprises and unexpected gifts. She was ready to change his life forever with the biggest one he had ever had! In mid thought, she jumps at the sound of Talthorn's rich laughter in the background. Turning her attention to it, how her heart soars as she glides her way toward it. Her mild home invasion would be the next step to something beautiful. She peeks her head around a corner to fluster instantly with the sight of the man in a half done up robe, nose already in his book. Ellanore gives a muffled gasp and retreats behind the wall with her hand over her face avoiding immediate detection. How indecent! As Talthorn walks in a different direction, the lady catches a glance of his long sapphire mane of hair move away. Deciding she still wanted to speak to him even when he was in night time attire, she takes a few steps to follow only to hear another set of voices and gentle laughter in the background. Confused with this, instead of taking the path to the scholar? Ellanore walks up to Talthorn's room instead. Unveiling the silken curtain to peer inside, she feels her stomach churn and twist in shock and numbed upset. There were two naked elves, a man and a woman just right there in his bed! There were ignited feelings of betrayal and trembling anger. What was the meaning of this?! Clouded by emotion, she storms away from here to go and confront him. This was unacceptable! Meeting him another hall or so over, she gathers his attention in calling his name and a firm stomp on the ground. "Talthorn!" She sounded as if she was here to discipline a pet. Looking up from his book slowly he blinks a the woman before him. His head turn slowly, with a half smirk playing on his lips. "Lady....Bel'oraque? What are you doing in my home?" he asks bluntly, showing neither upset nor extreme interest with her being here. "May I ask  you to return a different time? I am afraid my evening is rather occupied." The bottle held in his other hand was a fine vintage. "Oh I saw!" she snaps at him, having him stare at her in curiosity. "And I am not leaving. Not until we have a little discussion." she feels her lip tremble, almost growling at him as she walks up to smack the book out of his hand. Talthorn saves the text with a small breath of spell and has it settle on the floor gently. He would have accepted a strike to his face, more than he his literature. He forces a curt smile for his desire to know her reasoning for being here was stronger than his want to teleport this disrespectful annoyance from his sight. At least, for now. "Oh please. Do start. I doubt very much this is a discussion and more of a hysterical rant?" "How DARE you!" she seethes at him. Talthorn puffs out his chest and begins to imitate any entitled noble that got in face. "You're a disgrace to society! You never put any real thought to whatever it is you're doing! Why can't focus on the more important matters in life!" he breaks character to chuckle and turns on his charismatic smile up again. "Does that about cover it?" he speaks coyly only making the Lady want to strangle him more! "I came here because I thought we could BE something together! I didn't know what....a disappointment you would be!" Talthorn stares at her a moment as if waiting for more. "Oh. Is that all." he clears his throat uncomfortably and set the wine bottle down. "While I appreciate your kind offer in whatever...." his finger swirls around in a short circle. "...that was? It seems, my current ideals and your interests don't coincide at this time. Perhaps we can entertain more of what you were thinking over dinner? Next week? Or I am sure your parents and my parents can meet with one another in whatever function sounds most appealing the next moon or so? To talk about arrangements done in the usual fashion. Now if there is nothing else?" he looks to guide her out of his home. Anger swells up inside of her, and the spells she was reluctant in using come forth in an emotional snare. This sort of magic her mother taught to her, ensured to gather truth from a reluctant mind. Such was the way of true enchantress. However, Ellanore was still inexperienced and now emotionally compromised. Talthorn's mind is snapped up in these viscous tendrils, the searing pain driving him to his knees. His eyes remain open and fixed on this captor in an eerie stare of possession. "Enough of your LIES! You will tell me exactly what I want to know." she snarls at him with jealous hatred. "Who are those people in your room!" Talthorn answers in broken and forced words of honesty. "E-expensive.... prostitutes for the evening." Ellanore fumes at him. "WHY! You don't need to pay for sex! What is wrong with you." "I don't want useless....a-attachment. It interferes with my work." Talthorn's attempt at a smile turns into chattering his teeth. Breathing in roughly as he received another electric jolt through his core. "Useless...?! Do you find me a 'useless attachment' Talthorn?!" "No...no..." Ellanore thought she could take a breath from this hurtful truth until the next wave of words stab through her soul. "You're not important enough to me to think that." his body shivers in agony. The lady kicks at his face! He could not be this awful! She refused to believe it! "You're....you're just afraid of love. That's all!" she begins to hyperventilate a bit, her eyes swirling wildly in deep denial. "Because deep down, you must love me. You said you did!" There is some pained laughter at her. "I never....I never said that. I certainly don't love you." The words echo in her brain and she begins to tremble in fury. "Who are you in LOVE with Talthorn! Who are they! Tell me right now!" She would find this person and rip them apart! "I am not in love with anyone...!" he coughs out laughter and blood at her feet. "...I wouldn't know how to...." Ellanore shakes her head in disbelief. "You're finding ways to lie to me. Again!" she twists the vile magics tighter trying to squeeze out more truth out of his invaded mind. Tears stream down her eyes as she begins to realize what she is really doing to the man that she was infatuated with! A quick unsettled noise and snap off of the crushing magics releases Talthorn in heap before her. 

"Oh Talthorn...! I'm....I'm so sorry." she rushes to him and gathers his body up in her lap. She pets at his hair and begins to assess the damage. "You'll be alright...." her lip quivers knowing he would not remember this. "You're just confused. That's all. You love me. You'll see. You'll always love me." She would make up her own truth. No one could stop her. This would be her reality. 'You are Lady Ellanore Bel'oraque. And you take what is yours. It's your right. It's your destiny.' 

@daily-writing-challenge​

(( More backstory of Talthorn when he was a much different person. His priorities were in knowledge and power, feeling unable to forge deeper romantic relations due to his passionate ambitions. This first look into the backstory character, Ellanore, reflects her infatuations to later turn into dangerous obsessions later.))

[kharrisdawndancer]

Wealth

Khaeris had never been wealthy. Not when she was with her Clan, and not when she went to live with her aunt. Her aunt wanted to present the facade they were wealthy, but lacked the resources to really pull it off. It came off thin and threadbare, usually.

Khaeris had never needed much, though. It had driven her aunt to theatrics, in how Khaeris did not pay mind to the dresses, shoes, or ribbons. Scuffed or stained was just as frequent as pressed and fresh. She climbed trees, or even the city walls, and through it all, relished every scrape and run in her tights. Even then, she actively pushed against it. Wealth was anathema to what she wanted to be. She wanted freedom with skies, grass stains, and worn soles. Khaeris associated the desire for wealth with the small, needling spirit of her aunt.

Never. She never wanted that.

But as an adult, she felt the thinness of her pockets. She could make money with her alchemy everywhere--but you needed materials and a bench and glass and--... To make money, sometimes you needed to have a little. After the Scourge, on her own, Khaeris felt the first shiver of poverty. She needed, and providing for herself was not assured.

No one, in that time, had hesitated to steal. Was it stealing when most people were dead? No one would come for that cart. Khaeris took what she needed and made up the rest. She scavenged and scrapped and survived. She thrived, even. Her confidence in herself grew. She knew she would find a place she could make work. She was happy.

Her aunt had been wrong. This was real wealth.

Day 22

@daily-writing-challenge