∇ - TOMBSTONE - who they are versus who they appear to be.
For each or any of yours.
Sevlaz
"Misplaced plans with a guilty conscience."
Fenrag
"A wayward man searching for his place."
Cahall
"Haunting souls seeking redemption for the uncontrollable."
Erik
"The carefree nature burdened with crippling doubts."
Qinhou
"Steadfast friend struggling to keep up."
Mary
"Untethered and lost but curious of her new role."
"And you?"
"Me?" The steward blinked as he looked past the floating plate biscuits between the pair. Coren's eyes unfocused for a moment and returned curious at such a question. He'd never thought about it very much. "I would say 'hopeful for all, but doomed by his fate."
"Cryptic."
The older looking man shrugged as he stirred his tea with a small spoon. "Life within an hourglass."
"What?" Sevlaz whispered as he looked up at the elf from the burned floorboards of the Wayfarer's hold.
The elf blinked slowly and shook it's head smiling at the dying orc. "My apologies, sometimes I get languages mixed up. What I meant to say is, hello Sevlaz. And to add to that, how are you?"
Confusion was threatening to swallow the pain of dying as Sevlaz stared up at the crouching elf, well who was now leaning back to sit down with the ease of child coming to hear a tale. Knees drawn up and face peering down at him with a curious and calm demeanor that was maddening considering the deadly situation they found themselves in. Well what he thought was deadly as the whole room felt it had just stopped. The smoke no longer felt like it was choking at the coldness he had been drowning in was now just as much outside as it was inside. A hard swallow as he whispered his rough reply.
"Dying."
The elf nodded softly as he regarded the fallen thief with that unsettling calm. "I know. I know it is very unpleasant as well, but some things we cannot change. We have to let them work out."
Sev blinked again very slowly, feeling more tired by the second as they talked. He felt there were a lot of words he wanted to use, but his tongue kept swelling as he stared. Or maybe his breath was just having a hard time coming. Either way sleep sounded all the better.
"I won't make this long or drawn out, but I have come to you to present an opportunity if you're willing and wanting," he continued to feel the quiet around the pair, his head still tilted as he asked. "But I would very much understand as well if you refuse. Being is not easy."
"But can be fulfilling."
@daily-writing-challenge
The clay trough landed with a soft clatter of juice, meat, and sticks wafting with the scents of a complex mixture of herbs and spices. Steam mixed with tendrils of burning smoke clouded Sevlaz's face as he pulled his pipe aside to lean forward to inspect his mystery.
"Bon appleteeth as the main man would say," Erik proudly grinned with his teeth, his arms crossing over his small chest with oversized hands hanging loosely.
"The main man?"
"It's just a saying, tell me what you think!" Erik snapped back with a mixture of impatience and exuberance.
The orc would sigh and tap out his pipe in the dirt beneath them, his foot absently reaching down to rub out the embers with is toe before reaching to the stick that held a kaleidoscope of charred meat and vegetables. A short sniff and look over of the food gave him pause as he debated on where to begin. The vulpera on the other hand got a different impression.
"Quit staring and take a bite you coward!" Erik slammed his hands on the bar and leaned forward, golden eyes eager for vindication.
Sev in turn backed up quickly with a look of shock at the fox's aggression, grumbling out an 'alright alright' in response before bringing the food to task. Carefully biting on the end piece of meat and giving it a yank and chew, bits of juice splattering across his bare ruined gums and yellowed teeth. Watching an orc without an upper lip chew was as intimidating as it was unpleasant for those of sophisticated table manners.
Erik's little shop care for none of these things as he continued to watch his sole patron chew.
There was a slow chew as the hot meat burst and slathered his tongue in a mixture of herb riddled grease. The slow lasted a bit longer as he continued before the final heavy swallow and hand reaching up to wipe his mouth with a what would be considered a satisfied sigh. "Pretty good, needs some heat though. You got any of that sauce?"
Golden eyes narrowed as he looked to the orc and grabbed a small jar under the table to slam in front of his customer. "Here. Just ruin it!"
"What do you mean ruin it?" Sevlaz grumbled as he opened the jar and spooned the chunky red onion goop on the pepper and tomato on his stick.
"The flavors! You have the palette of a yak!" Erik waved his hands as he began to tidying up for the next time he'd have to make something. "Nom nom me hungy me eat good! Bah!"
The half eaten skewer would point at the vulpera as Sev countered back with a mouthful of spicy sauced vegetable. "Hey! Tha's uncal for and racist! It's good, just need a kick or four."
A clang of pan and tong as Erik continued to sound off. "Work work! Something need doing?!"
"Damn it Erik! I swear you don't quit it with that, I'm gonna ring you up by your tail!"
"By my tail? And that's not racist? You know what I say to that you fu-" Erik spun about brandishing his wok ladle like a sword as he leveled it at the greasy face of Sev. But his words came to a halt as he looked past the thief, his eyes widening into golden saucers.
Sev growled as he eyed the ladle, ready to parry with his own clash of obscene stereotypes and language. But he could definitely take the hint that something was not right in Dalaran behind him. The skewer lowered slowly to his trough as he kept his eyes level at Erik. "Trouble?"
A soft nod of the cook's head, eyes still trained on the growing shadows behind him.
"Like danger trouble or like arrest trouble?"
"Yes."
A deep breath was drawn in and let loose as Sevlaz slowly turned about on his stool to find the ominous shadow looming.
Noell swayed back and forth to the heavy drum beats that vibrated every rock of the hidden cave of The Drag. Lights of many different colors bounced off the walls thanks to the goblins as booze, drugs, and music altered all perceptions.
It wasn't very becoming of a constable of the Horde.
But after the last few weeks within Orgrimmar, laying low and cutting loose was exactly what the elf needed to free her mind. A hand came to her back and caused her to turn around to find a rather handsome Sin'dorei. His hand opened to reveal a small bit of green glowing material, thin eyebrows raised with the edges of his lips just the same.
There was a moment of hesitation.
And then it was gone as she placed her hand over his and squeezed to release the sparks in her mind and body from the rush of fel energies.
Noell danced for longer than the music played after that with her very enthusiastic dance partner.
The pulsing drums, the flashing lights, and roar of a living breathing crowd around him made Quinhou's sense explode in a glorious extension of self. The Pandaren himself and one with everything as he breathed in the deep smoke that was being pumped from strange mushrooms above him. The Dark Earth really knew how to party.
Fen doesn't know what he's missing here tonight. Orcs know how to party for real.
Closing his uncovered eye was a laborious event as his arms and body awkwardly tried to keep up with the dancers about him. Orcs. Tauren. Elves. Even a few Forsaken were smashing into one another as they undulated in a kind of unnatural shift that the living could never master.
Quin would close his open eye, glad that he had chosen to keep his patch over the spirit gaze tonight. The weight of the dead was a heavy burden to bear and the living still needed to live.
Life needs things to live.
The rock wall was solid. It was solid and safe as Erik leaned his head against it for a moment to catch his breath, his insides roiling as much as his eyes were inside his head.
Oh shit I am really fucked. I am really fucked. I am REALLY fucked.
Vulpearan gold eyes would lazily open and close in a sea of glassy red cracks, his vision foggy and swaying with the drums that continued to pound all around him. Bodies of all kinds of colors and shapes swam through his kite flying sight as he turned his head from one side to the next. Being the smallest of the smalls in the Dark Earth set up a different point of view to most of the rest of the Horde.
He saw a lot of sweaty ass.
Laughter wracked his body as he slid down the wall with a uproarious insanity that was easily drowned out by the music.
Fire and smoke were becoming all he knew as the tunnel vision continued to set in, so the idea of something coming out of the flames was both a surprise and terrifying concept. As far as the orc had been aware, he was all that was left to die on the sinking ship. Maybe luck was a lady tonight?
A tall figure passed through fire with ease, his robes not even singed in the least from the flames. As he drew closer the tunnel began to focus more on the person, especially as the shoulders widened and the face narrowed with a clean white beard.
Not a lady.
Skin of dark purple and ears far to large for the normal human's also stood out with soft glowing golden eyes. An elf. Not at all what he had hoped or expected. The thought of sighing in frustration could only be that as the sucking stab wound in his abdomen continued to bleed. Belly wounds truly were the worst.
Blinking once, the figure was 10 feet. Blinking twice, now what he assumed was five. Blinking again, but a few inches from him as he leaned down to regard him with a surprisingly calm and welcoming face. To further his lack of surprise, the voice carried the same gentle cadence expected of their face. But from the set of his jaw and intensity of his gaze there would be no lack of strength.
"Ishnu-alah, Sevlaz."
@daily-writing-challenge
The vulpera leaned over the counter of his cart to his most frequent customer, what he figured a welcoming smile reminded Sev too much of mischief yet to come. Stereotypes weren't applauded but couldn't be ignored.
"Biggrin," Sev replied finally as he eased himself onto a low stool to sit more eye level with Erik who raised his oversized hands in mock forgiveness.
"Sorry?" The fox replied with that same half open mouth that was supposed to be a smile.
The orc would adjust himself a bit on the stool as he answer. "It was Biggrin, that's what they used to call me."
"Oh well, that makes some kind of ironic sense as far as I've known you, the idea of you being happy seems kind of farfetched," came the chipper if not blunt reply as the vulpera busied himself with dicing some vegetables.
"As if you could tell, Erik."
Erik'red gave a guffaw of a laugh as he swept up the onion and tossed it into a bowl before grabbing another to chop. "I got a nose for these kind of things."
"You got a nose for sure."
The knife in the cook's hand tapped his cutting board as he let his toothy grin shut just as much as his eyes narrowed at Sev. "This how we're gonna be today? Cause if it is, you can just mosey on back the way you came."
Sev raised his hands in surrender to placate the shorter creature. "Alright alright, I'm sorry."
"No you're not."
"No, I am not," Sev replied quickly before resting his hands on the wood counter. "But I am the customer, and as they say I'm right."
"No, the customer is always an asshole, which we both know you are," Erik returned to his chopping with a heavy clops of his knife. Despite the antagonistic nature of the conversation, the vulpera's tone never jumped or followed the direction of the banter. People would joke about the optimistic views and attitude of the fox-folk, but in world of demons and giant swords the world could use a bit of optimism.
The thief would snort before reaching up to scratch at his whiskers and eye the steaming work behind Erik. "What's good today?"
"Well," Erik stopped chopping to look up in thought as he listed off his menu today. "Got eggs, an omelet, and a mystery dish."
"Mystery dish?"
"Coming right up!" Erik replied cheerfully as he turned to start into his makeshift kitchen and stove top.
"Wait! What I didn't order that!"
"Yes, you just did."
"It was question."
Erik would tilt his head slightly as he stared at the orc. "No that was a choice, so now you get it."
"But I don't even know what it is!"
The vulpera rolled his eyes and spoke over his shoulder as he went back to his cooking. "That's why it's a mystery. Some times, Sev. Some times."
The orc thief glowered before rubbing at his face as he did his best to guess what was coming and decided it best not to. His thick hand would reach into belt to pull out a faded blue wallet, unfolding it to reveal a cushioned clay pipe. Stem and bowl screwed gently together before digging into a side flap for some of the dried silverleaf he had been smoking since he came to that wretched swamp. He'd pinched some from a couple of footman that had been left into the muck after the Blackrocks had wasted them. An ugly mess with a supremely wonderful result.
"What you got to drink Erik?" Sev called over the flames and sizzle of what he assumed was meat, the stench of fish overpowering much else. The pipe put between his teeth before peeling a bit of wood from the counter to use as light from a hanging lantern, the silver smoke flowing up around his mangled green face as he watched the vulpera's back.
"Uh, I got water, the grog, and some troll sweat," Erik called over his shoulder again as he grabbed a couple of skewers and began to slide on the meat before tossing it back on the flames.
"Troll sweat?"
"It's not actual troll sweat," Erik replied as he wipes his oversized hands on his apron. "Least I'm pretty sure it's not."
The red eyes narrowed in a concern and confusion at the lack of assurance he felt from the fox's reply. "Give me the grog."
"You got it," came the quick reply as he reached under the counter for his pony keg. A click and heavy rush of liquid from below before the clay cup nestled gently on the top. "There ya go, the 'bobs' will be ready in a jiffy."
Sevlaz tried not to show his contempt of the phrase 'jiffy' before hanging his pipe a moment for a full pull of the warm amber drink, feeling the clay scrape his upper teeth and clicking his tongue a moment. "Not bad this time."
"I try only my best," Erik wiped his hands again in to his apron before eyeballing the frying supposed meat behind him, tail switching back and forth as he watched the fires lick it. "How ya want it?"
Everything was getting hazier by the moment as his vision focused in on the elf, the acting breathing was so tiring as he lay still under the eye of the watcher. There were a million and one questions running through his brain to ask, but the only one at the forefront was if he could just sleep. Sleeping sounded so nice at this point as grew stiller by the blink.
"I understand time is not something to really worry about, but I would like to insist on an answer sooner than later," the elf continued as he leaned closer into the orc's face. His skin was dark purple like a night elf's and the eyes the standard glowing yellow but there something far more otherworldly. There shouldn't be pupils. Sand. Swirling sand.
A smooth hand came to gently brush open his eyes again as he looked up at the elf who was smiling sadly as he was showing a hope in those eyes. "Sevlaz, it is time. Otherwise we will have to do this over again and I am loathe to do it again to you. Flowing is easier on you than it is to reverse it. Six times is far to many."
Six? Six times? How many times did he have to die?
"Six."
A soft nod given.
"Indeed my long suffering friend, hell is repetition and I do not wish you suffer in it any longer than you must. So please, could you give me an answer this time? You are chosen and I feel you best suited but I will not choose for you. Consent is key."
Consent. So tired.
Tired.
"Drat."
@daily-writing-challenge
How a 10 foot, half ton tauren could come up behind him without making a noise was something a marvel for Sevlaz as he looked up into the brindle faced male. Sheared horns, bronze nose ring, and one hard pale blue eye only addedto the intimidation the warrior of his arsenal as he stared back at the orc.
"Grin."
There was a heavy cough as Sevlaz cleared his throat and started to stand up. "Raincal-"
The thick three fingered hand caught him in the chest and with the ease of pushing over a child sat Sevlaz back on his stool. "Sit."
"Right, sure thing," Sevlaz answered as he noted how easily he was forced back down. "What can I-"
"Shutup."
"Alright."
The tauren leaden down to look him in the eye, his bearded jaw set firm as he spoke. "You know why I'm here."
"Uh, I would think an omelet or perhaps one of these kabobs. Erik could you fox- er fix up a stick or seven for..?" The thief was turning back toward the cook. Unceremoniously the above flap clattered down to seal off the cooking area of the vulpera's, the wood vibrating the painted on sad face with a word bubble 'Closed!' Sevlaz growled and faced the mercenary again. "Sorry looks like they're closed now."
"Pity," the deep baritone was short and hard as he never broke his gaze.
"Very much so, Cah. And I would guess you're here per An'wei."
The tauren mercenary, Cahall would nod curtly. "You'd be right."
"About the job?"
"Two for two."
"Well, I mean it's just taking me a bit to get an in and these things take time. Silvermoon isn't what it used to be," Sevlaz continued to press the conversation, his hands talking as much as he was. "My old contacts are either reformed, abroad, or well..."
"Dead."
"Exactly," the thief added as turned his permanent grin to to Cahall again. The tauren was not smiling. He never did.
There was a moment Sevlaz believed that was how the conversation was going to end, but that huge hand would reach forward and gently slip it's wrist thick fingers through the leather straps of Sev's vest. If he'd been shoved back into his seat like a newborn, he was lifted just the same like a kitten to dangle in the air at the tauren's eye level. There might have been an urge to kick out or struggle but knowing the warrior's reputation, it would have just ended a lot worse for him.
"Per the contract," Cahall growled softly as he drew the orc closer to his face. "You got one week to have it in the broker's hands. If not, I will be bringing back you back to them."
"One. Piece. At. A. Time." Each word was emphasized like a gong struck, no eye contact broken and inches only between the pair.
The thief cleared his throat again, the guttural gunk in his throat cleared and swallowed once again. "I'll do what I can."
"I'm sure." And the orc was lowered again to the ground. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? I mean it's fine, you're doing your job. It's what you do," Sev answered breathlessly as he found him counting his blessing to feel the dirt under his feet again. The warrior's grip was still tight about the straps on his chest as he heard the creak of the fist growing firmer.
There was a shake of Cahall's shaggy head. A grunt of effort matching the lift while the muscles flexed to propel the orc from the ground.
"Wait! Wait! WA-" Sevlaz started to yell as he felt the earth disappear beneath him again. Air was rushing in his ears as the eerie feeling of weightlessness took over to speed him across the street barely having time to lift his arms to shield him from the impending landing. Thankfully the fruit stand across from Erik's was gracious enough to break his fall.
"My mangos!' The shrill scream of the vendor echoed throughout the street as the wreckage of his livelihood littered the ground and the bruised orc thief. Sevlaz groaned from the pile of broken fruit as he saw the world upside down, the lumbering form of the warrior striding off into the capital.
His red gaze should be filled with rage at being manhandled but instead red fur and golden eyes.
"Sev!" Erik yelled as he began to pull the orc back up around from his upside down heap into a sitting heap. "You alright?"
Sevlaz nodded as he wiped some mushed mango from his face.
"Good good good," the vulpera continued before opening his palm. "So it's gonna be like two gold for those kabobs."
A handful of crushed fruit was hardly the tip he expected.
The flames are getting closer and the wood under him is getting softer as he lays still. Why was he dead yet? Does it really take this long to bleed out? He should know. He's watched enough people do it. He shouldn't be any different.
Penance. That's what Cal would call it. Stupid humie priest. Poor stupid humie priest. The kid didn't deserve that.
None of them did.
Well maybe he did.
He'd done enough bad to merit this slow end. There was no justifying swift knives or turned screws. It had been just business and his business had always been bad. From the old home to the new homes and beyond. He should have listened to Jae. Or Beil.
Or Elras.
The smoke was growing thicker as his fingers brushed against the black floorboards, the bits of wood sloughing off like clay. The sticky blood was just like the soot on his fingertips. Black. Inky. Awful. Moving.
His vision blinked slowly as he looked at the fingers and the shifting sands between.
Sand?
@daily-writing-challenge
Durotar.
It'd been dream when he'd first heard about it and now it was a practically a metropolis and monument to the old ways of his people. Sev hated it so much.
He should be grateful for a safe haven for his kind, a place to grow and seek out the old ways in an act of redemption. A pretty fairy tale for those who'd never grown up in the pig farms or scrapping iron from the mountains or being fed to a gronn for fun. No one talked about the peons, the dirty secret of the 'Horde'. Old or new, shit still rolled down hill and there they'd be shoveling it.
Never be slaves again? Fuck that.
Sevlaz walked the desert streets of the city, the red dirt stamped hard from the countless feet that crossed the city over and over. His red eyes scanning the crowd here and there, noting the red armored grunts thumping their chests. He offered a thump of his own as he walked by, doing his best to strike a noble face.
"For the Horde, brother," the orc grunt growled as he stood a bit straighter. Sev just gave another thump, doing his best not to look the soldier in the eye. It made his insides twist to bad memories that were souring his good day faster than he wanted. Deceit was appropriate for the enemy, it was even more necessary in the face of your 'family'.
A cart would roll by with some deaders driving it, the smell of dead herbs and roses trailing them as they gave the glowering dim stare to those that crossed. The survivor was happy to step aside to let them pass. The grey skinned creature would nod indifferently to Sev before they urged the kodo on down the row toward the Valley. Best to give it extra breadth, the last thing he needed was to step in a surprise from the beast. Least he hoped it was from the pack animal.
Propping himself up against the stone wall a moment, his leg would lift to give his knee a short respite as he scanned the crowd wandering the streets tonight. Orcs. Tauren. Trolls. Dead. It made sense for those four groups to be on the streets of the city as he recalled from back in the day. Hell even the goblins as much as people might frown at their motives still tolerated their place among the Horde. Sev was fairly grateful to them for the ability just to walk the streets, maybe he should take trip down to Rachet or even Gadgetzen. Long one, but what else did he have going for him? Coren probably be glad to see him doing something other than wallowing about the city.
Best to stick it out here. No more heroes.
Grunting a chortle at his own joke, Sev would ease back onto his leg and start walking again. It didn't bother him as much with the brace, but it still was taking quite a bit of getting used to. Finnick had said it would take practice and patience. He wished he was more abundant in either of those things. The eternal struggle of the thief.
An angry gurgle broke his reverie.
"Yeah yeah," as he reached down to rub at his gut before stalking up the hill. The cacophony of the market of the Valley of Strength was like a low rumbling storm of voices. Voices that he could sometimes hardly believe were here in the desert kingdom. Dwarves and elves fighting alongside the orcs was a very strange turn of events.
His ugly ruined face would turn to follow a pair of lightly armored elven women walk by as they spoke with their colorful and musical voices. Red curls, bright green and blue eyes with the gait of a panther and the soft curves to match. He offered a slight tip of his head as they walked by, neither giving him much notice. He watched them disappear among the crowd and shook his head with the stretched smile on his face.
Strange but pleasant sights.
"Hey there half grin!" A piping voice broke him of his stare as he turned toward the mass of merchants, stalls, and vendors that congregated within the mighty valley. He'd recognize it, but wasn't sure how happy he'd be to see the owner again.
With a snort Sev would cross the final stretch into the Valley of Strength and sidle up to the familiar food cart of his new acquaintance.
👑 - Person who raised your OC and/or was important during their formative years (For Erik)
There was a clang of a hammer as Erik tossed it in the toolbox with a low curse. Peering about from the side of the wagon, Lars'on tilted his own vulperan head in confusion. "Everything alright?"
"This is so dumb! Why the hell are we doing this?!" The younger of the pair cried back, his growing hand thrown into the air in exasperation.
"Well it's my job," Lars responded firmly but calmly.
"It's not mine."
"But it could be," the older fox further moved around, his bowed legs bouncing him gently over as he reached into a pocket of his vest to produce a red wallet.
Erik slumped down into the sand as he crossed his arms looking as surly as he expressed at the dirt beneath his tail. Lars stood still pulling out a cigarette from the wallet and placing it in his snout with a sigh.
The pair let the silence rest but for the snap of an old match and smolder of the stick.
"I hate the desert," Erik whispered softly.
Lars said nothing as he took a deep drag.
"I hate this work."
The puff of smoke blew out into the sky and drifted away in a haze leaving only an acrid harsh scent.
"I hate this caravan."
Erik bowed his head into hands and sat quiet again for a few moments. Lars took another drag.
The silence continued to rest between them as the sun beat down and made invisible bugs sing their drowning tune.
Eons stretched int he silence before a sizzle and flick broke it and Lars finally spoke. "You done?"
Erik sighed and nodded.
"Get the hammer and get that wheel off," as the older vulpera stalked off back around to his own work. Erik watched his step-father mosey and nodded softly.
Anon Day for the vulpera: "Do you also wield kitchen pans as weapons? I think that would be *amazing*.
The heavy iron pan spun in Erik's hand as he let his snout pull back in it's casual grin. "A weapon for sure against hunger. I try my best to be more of a provider than a fighter."
Erik gave a soft shrug as he tossed the pan onto the grill grate to begin heating up before grabbing a couple of thick raptor eggs. "But Azeroth isn't exactly the safest place for the little guy."
Whites and yolks spilled into a bowl with a couple of plops before the shell made their way below into the fire. "So you gotta be as wary, mindful, and prepared as you can."
A handful of scallions were drawn from a nearby box before they hit the cutting board only to be followed by a heavy chop of a thick cleaver. "I do my best to be versatile but sometimes we gotta be blunt."
The greens were made short work by the knife as smoke gently rose from the warming pan. "You want meat with this or just the usual?"
