Hammer blows echoed in the late afternoon air as the soft ocean breeze came in through the quiet ramparts of Fort Daelin. The smithy drawing to close of a work as the fires began to simmer to a low warmth for the night, sang its last songs of iron and sweat. A loud whistle would blow forth as cling and clangs of honest work silenced to be followed by the mortal words of workers. Upturned buckets, cries for ale, and the general milling of tradesmen gathering as they stalked out of the shop, their heavy boots thumping as they left for the evening. Trailing behind them all would come a fairly common pair, similar and different in the almost subtle and obvious ways.
A tall handsome woman with her hair held tight in a min shouldered a hammer with ease, her other hand deftly raising a dirty cloth to wipe sweat grime from her face. She was broad and strong, Kul Tiran as they come with thick arms for hoisting sail and the steady step of one born to sea. Sarasam Styrnlock was a woman born with an affinity for shaping metal as she was communing with the tides. An easy smile lit her face she walked with her companion, the easy banter common between the two. “Up fer a pint?”
Her companion was different in all kinds of ways, the most obvious being an elderly man with thick white mustaches and clean bald head that glistened with sweat and oil. A mass of scars, wrinkles, and manner of lines gave the impression of living history, in truth he was one of the few left with those memories. Despite time’s march his step matched hers easily, the gait they followed ingrained more in blood than friendship. Erlain Candell bore no hammer now but he did wipe his neck down with a similar rag, releasing a weary sigh. “Are you sure your old enough, Miss Styrnlock?”
“Pfft, blow it out yer arse, ol man.” Sarasam rolled her eyes at Erlain but smiled nonetheless as she stalked along with him. “Come on now, could use a beer after today. Wars cooled but damned if the orders don’t stop.”
“Your people need to rebuild their lives, Sara. It’s not easy.” Lain replies patiently as they walked out into the orange and red of the slow setting sun, their slowing as they reached the gate of the blacksmiths yard.
Sarasam once again rolled her eyes as they stopped to chat, shaking her head. “I know ya used to be a holier than thou type-“
“My faith has never faltered.”
Sara grimaced at being interrupted by the old man, who was doing his best to remain stern in the face of the younger woman. Blue eyes narrowing as she rolled her shoulders and set her hammer to the side. “Damnit Lain, can you just not interrupt me for once?”
There was no reply as she nodded to herself and began to speak again. “Like I was saying, you don’t have to lay on the sermons to me. I know we’re in quite a mess but we’ll come out of it. The Tidemothers with us and the fleets returned and the damn Dark Lady is gone. Can we have a moments peace? A moment to collect ourselves?”
There was silence again as Sarasam felt a weight on her shoulders that did not involve the weight of iron or the turn of steel. She had it on her for some time since she’d last ventured out to Drustvar and came into service with some Inquisitors heading off to Vol’Dun. She’d met a man, a man she suspected of being more than a comrade in arms to her. That man of course was linked to her friend here and if that was the case, then they too shared a bond beyond work.
“Lain something has been digging at me for some time, and I need to talk to you about it.” Sarasam lowered her eyes to cross her arms about her stomach, a nestling ache at what she suspected. “I need to talk to you about a man I met some time ago.”
There was silence still as she turned to look at her friend, the world tumbling as she felt an odd burn in her eyes and throat. “His name was Eld.”
Erlain was slumped on the ground, resting on his knees as if in prayer with palms open and knuckles in the dirt. His head was bowed and face hidden in his chest, motionless and silent in the waning sunset of a coming autumn night.
Sara stared speechless at Lain, her hands falling away from her stomach as fast as the earth was beneath her feet to bring her to her knees before him. By now the burning in her eyes had released a steady stream of tears as she reached a shaky hand out to his bent head. Rough fingertips touched the toughened skin and gently traced around his cheek to his neck. No response. No reaction. No beat.
A heavy pounding resounded the small room of Erlain Candell as he jolted from his chair. Conservative was an understatement of the packed inn, but Fort Daelin wasn’t exactly going to be a quiet place any time soon. News had arrived earlier in the week of the full scale attack of the Naga and their horrific queen, neither side in the Great War prepared. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be going with the war with the Horde in full swing. War had a way of screwing things up.
The heavy pounding came again as the door of his room rattled on the hinges and drove him to his feet.
“Just a moment,” he called out as weakly as he could muster. His quick and strong stride carried him to his dresser and the heavy broadsword of nethersteel that rested quietly for it’s master. Grasping the hilt and moving swiftly back to the door, Lain position himself to one side of the entrance. Face grim and blue eyes narrowed, bare feet would adjust their stance and prepare to counter this seige. Another three strikes to the wood.
“Give an old man a moment, here we are now.” Erlain called out as he reached gently to the door lock and flipped it. The iron latch would lift and clatter followed by the slow creak before opening wide. A booted foot would cross the threshold as his scarred hands gripped the scabbarded sword tightly before swinging it at the intruder.
Clashing cries of the same tone would resound as the leather guarded blade was caught by strong hands with a thunk. Bared teeth and blazing blue eyes would meet and lock before the old man’s pressure would halt and eyes widen.
“Eld?”
A grunt and shove would throw the surprised knight of his step and send him stumbling back into the edge of the old bed. The dark cloaked figure stepping in with heavy footfalls before slamming the door behind him. A swift turn would blow his hood back to show the middle aged man shooting daggers at his father. Words would start and stop as Erlain bounced out of his shock and used his sheathed weapon to pin his son against the oak door. Eyes blazing with equal anger sent accusatory hurt straight at Eld.
“What the hell are you doing, boy? Have you lost your light addled mind?” Lain snarled at his son as he struggled to hold the witch hunter at bat.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Eld growled back as he shoved against the sword. “Or more so what did you do?”
Like two enraged wolves the Candell struggled against one another in the grapple. Eventually the older would give way as he spoke. “Damn it Eld, calm the hell down! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You damn well do, I sent her here for help!” Eld shoved back with his strong arms, both warriors and equal thanks to time and experience.
“What?”
“Tidesinger you sanctimonious bastard!”
Lain blinked as he heard the name and cooled his rage to a hard frown before relenting and releasing the younger Candell. “What about her? What’s happened? Calm yourself boy.”
The son sucked in a shaky breath, Eld relaxing his burning arms before he leaned against the door. He’d let himself get angry and not in the productive way but the stupid way. The witch hunter definitely felt foolish, but that’s what happened when danger claimed those closest.
“Emma, she’s been arrested.”
Lain grimaced harder as he adjusted the grip of his sword to be drawn but faithful his son wouldn’t bring it to that. “What do you mean arrested?”
“I’m not sure if there is another word I can use to show the gravity of what’s happening,” Eld responded coolly.
“Shutup, Eld. Why would you think I had anything to do with that?”
“Because as I said before you’re a sanctimonious ass.”
“Bastard.”
“What?”
“Bastard. You called me a bastard,” Lain replied curtly as he scowled at his son. “And I advice you be careful how you speak of your grandmother.”
“You think this is a joke, Lain? She’s is in prison. She’s more than likely heading to the noose and you want to joke about what I called you?” Eld snarled as he started forward at the elder Candell before the ethereal misted netherblade sat between the pair.
“Easy boy,” Erlain spoke clearly and sternly as he held his son at bay. “We both have faced a lot of terrible things in our days so far. We likely will face far more, but by the light I am your father and I’m telling you to call down.”
Eld continue to seethe under the older man’s hard gaze and parental tone. Lain always knew how to get under his skin and always knew how to poke him out of his usual cool calm. The father and son bond they shared carried a simmering rage that one of the other always tapped in their meetings.
Eld let out a shaky sigh before Lain nodded with a grunt and lowered his sword. “Let me see the letter, Eld.”
•
To the Attention of Eldridge Candell,
It is at the behest and under the authority of the Proudmoore Admiralty that this missive reaches you by post. The individual known as 'Emma Tidesinger' has been apprehended by the Admiralty military police within the city of Boralus under suspicion of crimes under the provision of the Lord Admiral and the Alliance. She is being held to await trial for crimes against the Admiralty, the Alliance, and their people.
It is the understanding of the Admiralty that the individual mentioned above is an associate of yours. As a citizen of the great nation of Kul Tiras, the Admiralty is requesting your presence in Boralus to meet before a tribunal regarding your ties with the alleged. Please see the notary attached for scheduling and location.
•
Lain stroked his mustache softly as he sat in the chair, his sword still free to the warm air of his room as Eld sat opposite him on an old footstool. The younger Candell kept his gaze on the fire that crackled and bit at the small provided logs. The water stained proclamation sat between them, rolling at the edges from its long journey from the south.
“This is not good, Eld.”
Eld grimaced and bit his tongue to hold back the frustrated sarcasm his family cultivated when under stress. Folding his hands before him as he squeezed them right, his reply would be strained by calm. “I know it’s not good, Lain. That’s why I’m here. I had her come asking for your help and a few weeks later I’m summoned to a tribunal regarding treason.”
The witch hunter would look up to his father again with a tightened jaw. “So you tell me what happened when she got here.”
Lain continued to stroke his mustache before letting out a hard sigh from his crooked nose. “Ms Tidesinger came to me about investigating the azerite and its effects on those using.”
Eld’s former cold anger was caught off guard by his father’s admittance of the supposed strange life blood of the world. “You’re using azerite?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“It just feels out of character for you,” Eld replied with the same curious look to the estranged parental figure. “You were always such a by the bootstraps and your own hands way of doing things.”
Lain’s frown easily matched Eld’s at the accusatory tone of his son regarding his use of the mineral. “Are you here to judge me or to find out what happened?”
Eld cleared his throat and went quiet as he waited for the man to continue. Lain nodded curtly before continuing his story, his words short and to the point. “For the next few weeks we traveled together. I did most of the heavy lifting, she kept her nose in her books. Days were fairly simple as went around helping with a few jobs here and there for the people of Stormsong. She kept a safe distance and asked questions while I worked.”
“She stayed here and we took meals but for the most part it was a professional relationship for the couple of weeks.” Eld nodded softly as he listened to Lain and tapped his chin as he tried to find something useful from the basic story.
“So nothing else odd?”
“No. I used the azerite and did my work, she took notes and records. Nothing else.”
It was just as Eld had thought things would go for Emma when he sent her here to see Lain. Unfortunately it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“What do you think I should do?” Eld spoke quietly, his former fury cooled as he found himself lost on his next action.
Erlain sat quietly watching his son for a few moments before looking into his low hearth fire, doing his best to mask his surprise at being consulted by his son. “I think you should go to Boralus and hear what this tribunal has planned. Perhaps your testimony might aid her defense. Hopefully others have been called, I’m not privy to Kul Tiran judiciary system.”
“They’re going to ask questions. About myself and from before,” Eld replied quietly, caution outweighed his fear regarding his past.
Lain let out another long sigh as a snort, his fingers drumming absently along the pommel of his blade. “And that will be your bridge to cross.”
Eld nodded, his hands pressing to knees as he eased himself up to feet with a grunt. “Then my road lies back to the south.”
“Son.”
Eld paused, one hand on the latch of the oak door as he stood silent facing the door.
The knight stood up from his chair but did not close the gap with his son, merely holding staring at the back of his only kin. Eldridge was all he had left. A family lost to war so long ago but still hurting to the core of who he was. He had to try, time never stops. “Eld, do you have to leave just yet? I know this is important but I feel I deserve a little of your time. We can’t go on living this way. Can we talk?”
For a moment, the witch hunter held at the oak door hearing his father’s words. Each struck deep and gripped his heart with pity for a moment, there was a certain finality to the old man’s request. But each pang reopened other ones. An argument in a stable, harsh words at a tower, and the final blows at the crossroads. They froze him inside as he felt his hand close about handle and squeeze tightly as the heat of his anger would simmer under the ice in his veins.
“I thought we made it clear before where our relationship stood, Lain,” Eld spoke coldly as he twisted the handle.
Erlain’s face fell as his hopes were cast aside, the similar grim frown on his face as he wanted to one more word to his boy but found he couldn’t. Both of them had said a lot of things, perhaps too much or too little but they had been said. Nothing could change the past.
The silence sat like a heavy curtain between the Candells before Eld pulled the door open and closed it softly behind him.
(This is in response to a recent storyline regarding @emma-tidesinger created by @whimsicallyart . I apologize for how long it took to put together but hopefully it was enjoyable!)
"Rumor has it you helped the inventor with an illegal investigation."
The witch hunter slowly turned back around to face the Waycrest guard, a cold glare cutting to the bone. A few calm steps would bring him back in front of the armored guard, Elds cold intense stare never breaking as his jaw twitched a moment. A cold, distant detachment would enter the older man’s tone as he spoke quietly to the gossiper.
“Guardsman, I expect a better level decorum from one of Lady Waycrests men at arms. If you can’t find yourself able to complete your duties here at the Stand, perhaps Falconhurst could use some of your energy.“
A heavy hand would rest on the man’s shoulder plate as the metal and leather creaked softly from the pressure. Leaning in closer the older man would speak softer with the growing dangerous edge of checked rage. “Such a brave and vocal warrior would be a great boon to the struggling community there. They say the wickermen never relent in their siege from the Crimson. A lonely, cold castle hall is no place for a man such as you.”
“I will pass the recommendation on to Captain Dewitt,” the final words a harsh whisper as Eld released the soldier with a gentle shove into the stone. The wide eyes of the young man stammering wordlessly before the inquisitor stalked away into the fortress.
Eld wouldn’t really send the man to his death on that supernatural front, if anything it’d be just another grave for those people to dig. But he hoped the message was clear about rumormongers regarding his compatriots. He would not sit idly as others would try to drag their names through the mud. He would take the rumors and gossiping with a practiced shield, but he would not let Emma or Pris or anyone who had faced the dark with him be treated to such.
The door to the keep would open and release him into the cold mountain air as he let out a shaky breath. His thoughts would wander to Ms Tidesinger as she had headed north to Stormsong. He hoped she’d found the older Candell and that the wardog had listened and followed through in his unique way. What are you up to Emma?
Description: A middle aged soldier using the skills of his past to help defend the present from the dark underbelly of the supernatural.
Activity: Very (Main) WoW: WrA
Preferred RP: Discord, Tumblr
Cross RP: Yes-ish
Character: The Rovers (Zexx Candell, Edmund Dumast, Joenver Wotvar, Beatrix Gallina, Janus Klaudin)
Tumblr: @thetyrianrovers
FC: Z - Andy Samberg; E - Donald Glover; J- Clive Standen; B - America Ferrea; Ja - Tim Roth
Occupation: Adventurers/Thieves
Description: A band of intrepid men and women who came together to right wrongs, protect the innocent, and make a lot of money.
Activity: Less than before but interested in kick starting again - GW2
Preferred RP: Discord, Tumblr
Cross RP: Set in GW universe so not much of crossfactions but plenty of intrigue.
Character: Zexx Candell
Tumblr: @zexxcandell
FC: David Harbour
Occupation: Hero for Hire
Description: A dimensional refugee relocated to a world similar to his own but different from the winds of a butterfly’s wings.
Activity: Dormant (former Main) WoW:WrA
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: Yes
Character: Oplisca Du’mere
Tumblr: @opliscadumere
FC: Marion Cotillard
Occupation: Tailor/Broken Cultist
Description: A woman thought to be a key in the victory of the Old Ones but ultimately lost everything and was banished into the ether. Time and space is strange beyond the veil in the dark of emptiness that was her prison. Moments are years, years are minutes until a desperate Alliance opened the door and released her into this new world.
Activity: Dormant (antagonist) WoW: WrA
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: Yes
Character: Multiple NPCs and Side Characters
Tumblr: @gatesofthetroupe
FC: Multi-character blog, no definite choices on some
Occupation: A dramatis personae
Description: A side blog I created to house all the npcs and side characters I’ve created for my main players. Some are main characters as well but I don’t play or use them enough to garner whole blogs to them.
Activity: Quasi active WoW: MG, Mael, WrA, etc
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: Yes
Character: Erlain Candell
Tumblr: @erlaincandell
FC: Michael Fassbender (WC1 & 2)/ James Cosmo (WC:BDP; BC)/ Ian McElhinney (present)
Occupation: Son of Lothar; Knight of the Silverhand; Soldier of Stormwind
Description: A twilight knight approaching the end of his life but refusing to give up his way of life. Years of soldiery and a life spent by the sword has created as many failures as triumphs.
Activity: Dormant-ish WoW: WrA
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: No
Inactive
Character: Fenrag Onehand, Son of Sevlaz
Tumblr: @fenrag-sonofsevlaz
FC: Charlie Cox (Voice)
Occupation:Wounded Wanderer
Description: A broken blade reforged to serve the Horde.
Activity: Dormant WoW: WrA
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: No
Character: Alfred Klaudin
Tumblr: @alfredklaudin
FC: Ralph Fiennes
Occupation: Deathguard
Description: A shambling zealot obsessed with his Dark Lady and her will.
Activity: Dormant WoW:WrA
Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr
Cross RP: No
Character: Edmund Dumast
Tumblr: @edmunddumast
FC: Howard Charles(ish?)
Occupation: Alliance Pistolier
Description: A former POW during the Draenor campaign who is trying to integrate back into society and life.
"I was four years old when my brother was born," Eld spoke softly before taking a short sip of the hot tea, gently placing the cup back to the table as he finished. "He was a hardy boy, hardly a fuss to his coming or his life as he came into our home in the Corner."
"What was his name?"
"Peter, named after my father's best friend Peter Langston," Eld folded his hands as he looked into the cup for a moment thinking back on the squirming mass of baby.
"Langston, you mean the ones who own the Pig?"
Eld nodded. "The same. The Langstons were our neighbors and Peter was my father's partner during his time as guardsman in the old city. Or Old Town as it's called now."
"I don't mean to pry, but with how many were lost in the First War; is that how you lost him?"
The witch hunter's eyes would looked wearier at the memory of him, aging the babe to a toddler to a young boy. With a shake of his head, the older man would look back to the questioning patron. "No, we lost him before to a bought of cholera that swept through the cloister a few years before the first orcs."
Matthias Candell leaned on the fence post with a sigh, his gnarled hands gently rubbing over one another as he looked out over the orchard. His blue eyes were tired but content as he watched the evening sun dapple through the leaves and touch upon each of his apples. For many years the Candells had farmed this land and though they were not rich or exactly prosperous they were content with the world they grew.
A smile crease his smooth wrinkled face as he looked among the trunks of his trees, the laughing and charging children of his children finding the same games his own had so many years ago. As he had been too as he recalled such warm autumn evenings.
"Pa," a strong voice sounded beside him as he felt the same presence in the hand that clapped him on the shoulder.
Matthias would smile as he turned to look to his son, his hand coming up to pat the same hand upon his shoulder. "Erlain my boy."
A snort of laugh came from the younger Candell as he smiled to his father, a rare sight for the guardsman but a welcome one that lifted the spirits of the parental figure. "Just Lain, Pa."
Once more the father would squeeze the hand on his shoulder, a hand not one to hold a trow or shovel but that of a dangerous sort. A sword. "I named ya Erlain after your great-grandfather Alain. Do not trouble his memory with your shortening of good fortune."
Another snort resounded but the smile did not remain as Erlain's stern face returned, the thick mustache he kept adding to the severity of his place and station. "Always the poet, Pa."
"In another life for certain," the older Candell replied as he looked back to the orchard. Matthias loved his son, but he wasn't a big fan of the life he was leading now within the city. He had wanted his boy to come back to the farm, help him and keep this place running. Enrich in the soil and quiet life. Maybe not so much for him, but for the small ones running about among the trees.
"Eld loves it here."
"So did ye."
"I do," Lain replied again as he leaned into the fence beside his father.
This would be the last quiet moment for the Candells. War would come to the kingdom from the eastern swamps. Brightwood would fall and so would pass Candell farm into dusk.
