#errias

[kid-sid]

[bellsisokay]

The World Ends as Legion Begins

The sky flashed green as thunder began to ring about Azeroth. Periodically, the ground shook from large impacts and candles flickered dangerously. The time had come. There was no hope now besides that maybe some champions out there could save them– could save their whole world.

Parents sobbed and children hid; men and woman who were of age were drafted into armies left and right, despite never seeing a day of battle in their life. It was a horrendous time. It was a time of great fear and depression. Their world was about to come to an end.

Alísse clutched the windowsill tightly, her delicate fingers turning white. She could see the green meteors crashing into the city around her– she could see the city’s defenders protecting what they love; she could see them giving their lives for her.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. No. She’s not going to just sit idly by and watch this happen! She’s a Mage and clearly of age! Just because she still in training, that doesn’t mean she needs to sit by and have people fighting her battle for her. Alísse is very much capable of doing that for herself, thank you.

Alísse set down the long-forgotten book she had opened to read. It wasn’t doing anything but absorbing the sweat from her hands. She hopped down from the window seat and grabbed her spell book which would strap into a belt that hung onto her hips. Generally, magi wear robes. This is a time for quick-paced battle, however, not a time for organized war.

She hooked her staff onto her back and pulled as much as her long hair back into a ponytail as she could. The world was going to see who Alísse was tonight. They’re going to see a young woman who would rather die for her world than sit idly by as it burned.

“Where in the Light’s name do you think you’re going?” A voice scolds her from behind. Alísse whips around, anger set on her delicate features.

“To save Dalaran.” She growled, throwing open the door. The fel stench hit her hard, mixing with the smell of burning wood. To her left, a stand had been burnt to the ground, the remains still alit.

“You are to do no such thing!” Alísse’s mother yelled, charging after her and grabbing her wrist before she could get very far out of the door.

“Watch me!”

Alísse hardly ever raised her voice. She was always the open-minded, innocent sweetheart. She has always cared too much about other people instead of herself.

Alísse yanked her wrist free from her mother’s grasp and raced towards the burning stand. She would save them. She would save Dalaran and whoever else needed her help.

—

His eyes were glued to the sky. It had been months since he had seen war. At this point, he was hoping that he would be free of it– that he would be able to live with his wife in a secluded area and be free. They could do whatever they wanted.

The ground rumbled dangerously and Raedrian felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. Memories of years before when he was young and chasing after a distant relative while trying to escape his father came flooding back at once. It overpowered him quickly and he was forced to lean against the side of his small cottage to keep up right.

This isn’t what he wanted. Rae is going to have to pick up that damn sword again, isn’t he?

He bites his lip as he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Rae,” Ylaina whispers softly. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to say anything for Ylaina to know. Instead, he looks at her at lets the tears roll freely down his cheeks. She sets her jaw and pulls him into a gentle hug, one he is immensely grateful of.

Ylaina may not like physical contact so much but it means the world to Rae that she would push this discomfort back to comfort.

He doesn’t want to go back into war.

Light, please save him from this.

–

Her ear flicked nervously. It flicked again, hardly a second later. She was tapping soundlessly on an arrow that was laying across her bow.

The sound of war wasn’t unfamiliar to her, but it pained her that the world had to go through this again. Regardless, she is a hero now, not some wanna-be huntress with a lack of self awareness. She knows who she is. She’s stronger than any enemy if she puts her mind to it.

“Lalore,” Yezi’s reading voice comes from behind her. The tree they are perched in rustles lightly as Nkanyezi changes branches to sit next to her.

“You’re doing that thing again.” She whispers.

Lalore looks down. Her hand are clutching her bow deadly tight, the wood even creaking slightly when she releases her death grip on it. Yezi’s laughter fills her ears and Lalore ducks her chin slightly out of embarrassment.

“You need to relax, Lora!”

“I will relax when our world is not in immediate threat.” Lalore replies coldly, her eyes snapping back to the world in front of her. Hillsbrad is quite an interesting place; she wishes she could have explored it more before the Legion invaded.

Yezi sighs and rests on her bottom, nudging Lalore with her shoulder. “The world is always in danger. That’s what makes it Azeroth.”

Lalore glances at Yezi. Elune, she doesn’t want to admit that Nkanyezi is right but she absolutely is. That’s one of the many things she loves about Yezi.

Lora sighs and rests her bow on a branch overhanging them. She rolls her shoulders and sits properly instead of crouching, her legs swinging freely beneath her. Lalore is only one elf– she can only do so much. She needs to work on remembering that.

The cloak she wears gets tossed over both of them as Lalore leans her head against Yezi’s shoulder.

“We’ll make it out of this one too, just you see.” Yezi murmurs with an audible grin.

Lora nods. They’ll make it. Azeroth will live through this.

–

She screams as loudly as she could, bringing her fist down and straight through her desk. It cracks and leaves a giant hole in the center of it, sending various papers scattering across the cabin.

Everyone is dead. Everyone is dead and it’s all her fault! She’s a piss-poor pirate and the world’s most idiotic priest. She can’t do anything to help anyone, let alone herself!

Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, reminding her of the vast quantities of alcohol coursing through her veins. That gives her another reason to hate herself! She can’t do anything right!

There’s a low chuckle in the back of her mind and a several murmurs of agreement. Belysa clutches it and shakes her head wildly, as if that’ll send the voices away. The laughter only grows wilder.

‘Next time, let the demon kill you so you don’t have to go through the messy work of doing it yourself,’ one hisses.

‘Have you noticed no one has come around? That’s because none of them care about you,’ another answers.

'You would be better off with us, Belysa. Think about the unimaginable amount of power you could have! Think about the way people would whisper your name and cower in fear,“ the third one giggled, obviously insane.

“Shut up!” Belysa screeched, dropping to her knees. There was a knock at her door. She recognized the soft sound as one from Oliver.

She shook her head. She couldn’t deal with any of it now. The Legion rained down around them and she was sitting in her room, screaming about how useless she is. It’s true, though.

The wound on her right thigh ached unpleasantly. It hadn’t opened back up, thankfully. Now, it only served as a reminder of who she couldn’t save. All of those lives lost in Dun Morogh, all of those people she had failed to save because she abandoned the light…

Orland…

Belysa curled into a ball against the footboard of her bed and let herself break. The world was dying. Why couldn’t she do anything about it?

Why couldn’t she be useful for once in her miserable life?

–

There was a long, low whistle ending in a high note that made Min'da snap one of her heads in the direction that it came from. The other continued to survey the beasts, many of which who were also looking towards the sound.

Errias was back.

Three short whistles and Min'da responded in a loud growl. Everyone is to be herded back to their dens. The ground under them is shaking and the sky rains green. This is not a time for pups to play.

Errias joined her as she followed the stragglers to the wide systems of caves. It had been serving as their home for quite sometime. Since their family was so large, it was perfect for them.

However, the scent Errias wore today told her trouble had come. He has been uneasy as of late and has been in more battles around civilizations than she knows is normal. He doesn’t appear to want to stay here long.

“Good girl,” Errias murmurs and rests his forehead against one of Min'da’s. She nudges him back, keeping her worried eyes on him. “I’m afraid the Legion had decided that today shall harbor Azeroth’s fate.”

Min'da nudged him again, not understanding his words but recognizing the sorrow in his body. She curled around him, wings ruffling and holding him protectively as he laid against her. He sighed.

“We’ll give them hell when the time comes, won’t we, Mother?” He murmurs, giving Min'da a shy smile. Min'da does her best to replicate the action, snorting derisively when he breaks out into laughter.

She watches him fondly after that, wondering if he’ll notice the small fire beginning on the top of his head.

He doesn’t until the next morning.

–

The flowers drifted gently into the ocean, illuminated by the soft green thunder that rolled overhead. Tonight was a special night. Tonight is the night she has to work for Sylvanas.

Theramore, the ruins that surround her, are ghostly quiet. It pains her to think of what she had done to this place, how many lives were lost and the great sorrow she brought upon Jaina. Az visibly flinched every time Theramore or Jaina was mentioned.

She could never make up what she had done here.

5,621 flowers. She had stopped created giant flower crowns in the first place due to the absurd amount she would need. 5,621 people she has ever killed for any reason at all.

Azsh doesn’t cry now. There is no use for her to cry, especially when it only makes her feel worse. Azeroth needs her in just a few hours. She cannot be weak, then. The fate of the world is depending on her shoulders. She could make one wrong move and everything would come crumbling down.

Belysa… Belysa needs her to do this, that is why she agreed in the first place. She needs to make it up for Belysa and Moral. Theramore… Theramore can never be truly repaid, but she can damn sure try her hardest to show the world how much it destroys her.

Azsh picks up another flower and weaves it into the last place of the crown. In bobs gently in the water as it drifts off with the others.

All she gets in response is a wink of green on the inky surface. Her heart breaks a bit more.

Not all of these characters are mine!! Ylaina and Nkanyezi are @kitkatkimble ’s. Moral is @rhadgar-khadgar ’s.

Orland belongs to @orlan

I may post another one of these later, but these are my main characters as of the moment! The others are more background characters and aren’t as fully developed as I would like. That one might not be as long as this one, just a heads-up.

[bellsisokay]

He watched the dark green blood slowly drop off of the end of the blade, sizzling once it hit the snow on the ground. The skies are quiet for the moment. Yet, it's only been a few minutes since the last failed invasion of the Legion. Errias dipped the blood-covered blade into the snow, watching as it hissed in response and turned into vapor. There was no grass under the snow for the fel to corrupt. If there had been, he would have watched as it poisoned every living thing in the fel's path, and eventually thoroughly killing it. He looked up. The dead of both Alliance and Horde were being removed with care. The demons however, where being removed in masses to be burned in a discrete location, away from prying eyes. Onlookers would watch in disgust. Others would be thankful that it's the demons and not them. Many of the faces that surround him have seen battle before; both against and not against the legion. Errias's eyes lands on a short night elf who seems to be steaming with anger. She limps as she paces and gestures wildly as she speaks. Something has her quite rilled up. If he didn't know the girl that was going off on an even shorter Orc, he would have guessed they were having an allegiance fight. Belysa turns on her toe again, stopping this time only out of the sheer pain that rockets through her leg. She winces and bites back a whimper that tries in vain to escape. She must have opened the wound again due to the amount of blood soaking through it's bandages. Az may have her head for that. Well, she might if the two weren't in a heated discussion already. Errias smirks to himself as Belysa launches herself into another fit, causing the Orc to frown disapprovingly. There's a blood elf that stands near them,more one Errias hasn't seen before. He wouldn't rule out that she isn't part of Belysa's crew just yet, but the apparel the blood elf wears isn't quite that of a sailor's. Plus, he hasn't seen her around any of Belysa's ships. Odd footsteps crunching in the snow tear his attention away from his angered relative, causing his ear to flick dramatically and his head to swivel towards the noise. Errias realizes why the noise of this person was walking was odd at that moment: the man walked with a limp in heavy plate armor that clattered gently as he moved. The man's eyes were trained on Errias as he stiffly moved through the busy crowds of Kharanos, politely excusing himself when healers tried to come to his aid. Errias smiles faintly. This was one of the men he saved during the Legion invasion. This man had been severally wounded to the side and thigh, cornered by an Eredar in the freezing cold. This man had valiantly fought, despite his situation. Even after Errias had slain the demon and helped the warrior up, he had still insisted that he grab his sword and fight alongside Errias. It would have been foolish for Errias to agree. Instead, he granted the man an easy ride back to Kharanos, where he was rushed inside one of the warm, central buildings which had all recently been cleared out and replaced with medical herbs and gurneys. Makeshift beds were lied out in orderly rows and campfires were built in convenient locations. Errias had seen the man rushed inside and left without hesitation after that. The priests inside would take care of him. And now, the man walks towards Errias, back straight and chin held high despite the obvious weariness in his eyes. The infected fel wounds were covered in bandages-- ones that appeared to be netherweave. The properties of netherweave were specifically created for pulling fel out of wounds and healing damages made by demonic weapons. Errias only cared for them because they were pink. "How do you fair?" Errias asks, stabbing the sword into the ground. His ear flicks toward the sizzling noise out of habit but he keeps his eyes glued to the man in front of him. The man shrugs. Errias notices he is in sheep-skin cloak, one that must be made from the abundant and lively herds from Loch Modan nearby. The neck is fluffy, as is the trimming around it. However, the bottom portion is left without the abundant fluff, most likely due to the probability that it would drag and collect snow, making it damp and cold. Under the cloak, Errias notices a loose, long-sleeved shirt that has been tucked in as much as it can be to dark brown pants, both clothing items which have been severely torn into. It's a shame the man doesn't have any other clothes. "I will survive." The man sighs. He crosses a short distance and sits a respectable length away from Errias on the log the hunter had claimed. "Is that good enough for you?" Errias asks, raising an eyebrow. The man licks his lips. The long ear closest to Errias flicks in only what Errias can assume is nervousness. "Nothing is good enough for me until I see the Legion's end." He mutters. "I have protected this world for many centuries; I will not stop until I am either killed or holding Sargeris's severed head in my hands." The man brings a steaming cup to his lips, keeping his eyes on the contents long after he brings it away again. Errias blinks. That wasn't the answer he was looking for but it does help remind him that people have different views and different ideals to be passionate about. Errias is only fighting in this war because he would be branded a coward if he left to live in the wilds of Northrend again. "Be that as it may," Errias starts slowly, leaning his forearms on his knees. "You cannot push yourself to the point that you are useless, friend. I urge you to sit out of the next few battles-- at least until the fel has fled your body." The man sighs. "I suppose you are right. I am no use to anyone dead." He runs a hand through his hair and his ear flicks again. "I suppose this is the time I should thank you for saving me." Errias' smile returns, warmly this time. He clasps a hand gently to the man's shoulder and squeezes firmly. "There is no need to thank me; I have a feeling would have done the same." The man looks up at Errias and smiles in return. "Errias Shadowdancer," Errias greats himself, giving a gentle pat to the man's shoulder and holding out his hand for a shake. "Telyrian Autumnmoon," the man responds, shaking Errias's hand firmly. "Telyrian...what a handsome name." Errias mumbles idly, turning his attention back to the fel-dripping sword. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Telyrian blush a dark crimson, a sight he almost missed by Telyrian raising the cup to his lips again. He's glad he didn't miss it. Errias thinks Telyrian looks most adorable when he's flustered.