Magistrix Llyth Dawnwhisper is a Thalassian blood mage and member of the delegation sent to court of claimant-queen Madelynne I by Quel’thalas following the Cataclysm. As an accomplished diplomat, she has several times acted on behalf of the Horde in Orgrimmar (during the reign of Warchief Garrosh), Pandaria, and with human settlements.
Llyth is notoriously difficult to read and more often than not, seems cordial in the face of the animosity of others. She is the half-sister of Idriil Dawnveil and the cousin of Vaelrin Firestorm, as well as the betrothed of the mysterious warlock, Cythe.
As of late, she has operated within the lands of Eastfold in an attempt to further establish positive relations with the emergent Lordaeronian throne.
This piece was done by *cher_ro and as always came out really well!
A quick story to sum up a rolled outcome for @hickorysmokedfalafel‘s Stromgarde event!
If truth be told, Llyth had experienced more civility among the orcs than these fine men of Stromic heritage. Within the midst of a sea of foreign faces, the Thalassian diplomat was a rare sight: poised, graceful, and stately as any fine maid of yore and yet somehow almost inviting to gossip or conversation. Unfortunately for her, it seemed, that the compliment of attention was aught she might receive from the many and though she knew any number of languages, none seemed to speak plain to that sort of clandestine, quiet murmur of those filled with mistrust.
Oh, but for the presence of the Kor’kron again.
At the very least they allowed their hatred to be well stated in four-letterd words.
Three days had come and gone since she had made progress within Firstpass, and within those three days there was little to recommend to her that she had done more than stall for time. Indeed, her entrance had been proper and respectful by all accounts: decorous bowing and proper prostration before the wisdom and valor of a foreign lord, tinged with that bittersweet remittance of humility requisite within such trying and testing meetings. Though she was an agent of the Horde officially – and more particularly, of Quel’thalas – she had been entrusted by the Crown to see that the matters within Arathor did not come to a head without proper investiture being taken to ensure the people were kept safe and stable.
Even I hardly can believe that, she thought. For she had met the queen on some few occasions, and though it had been generations since any of Thalassian blood had known an Albrecht in conjugal union, there still rode upon that woman’s proud brow the unmistakable mark of highborn contempt. Yes, she could smile well and speak with an angelic grasp upon divination to a man’s soul, but it was largely pomp and splendor she had come to believe. Madelynne I cared little for stability save for that it kept her in power and well seated in her position.
That was hardly something she could fault the queen for.
“We find ourselves in times of need looking to those we might trust,” Llyth offered to Lord Anwyl Clyff, who sat the stone throne before her. The collection was well packed within his seating room, no doubt with those judging the lord’s manner as much as her own. For that, she almost felt sympathy or him. But almost was hardly something she often considered. As she went on, she spoke with the hint of a smile finding her lips. “And these are indeed needful times. The horde that amasses to the north is not one that cannot be defeated, but surely Her Majesty will need know which gallants rose to protect her people when the call was made.”
The young lord did not seem overly interested or concerned with that, and settle back as if he had long since considered it. Was that for show as well, or did he truly not care for the distant queen’s favor? It was an ever-evolving puzzle that she had not had enough time to study: from Hasic and its treacherous merchants, to this frontier lord whose family was of great importance yet held no immediate sway on political fortunes. How strange it was to see that nobility had fallen so low and that the guardians and peasants, with their passions and duties, had emerged as the higher order of things. Could a house but be divided when the children and their dogs were the ones that informed their parents of what needs must be done?
It had been a chilly introduction that bled into a brumal stay. The first day had seen no immediate introduction or kindness and the second, though marginally better, had yielded only that token of attentiveness she might have been afforded were she to lower the neckline of her bodice and belt out bawdry tunes all the same. No, this endeavor was a boondoggle and yet she could not back away from it. To do anything but press onward was to show weakness, and in the eyes of the wolves of Arathor she knew well that that would serve none save for the horde that amassed to the north.
“We intend to see to all responsibilities and duties accordingly,” Lord Clyff continued, flatly. “Her Majesty need not concern herself with we of Firstpass. Ever shall it stand firm – and true.”
But what was truth and how might it be measured? Was truth watching to see what happened in the field, or would it be more a matter of protecting himself in the face of what was to come? Llyth thought to offer the example of the lone wolf, who had few to look after and thus had more to eat – yet alone, was unprotected when his eyes were closed. But would that not seem threatening, and would not the people about her use it as all the more reason to be mistrustful?
With quiet defeat, she closed her eyes and bowed her head but once. “As you say, my lord. I shan’t occupy your time further. May we see your bold banner among those joined against this foe when the horns are sounded.”
Even her parting bow had been practiced and prepared for decades: a unique gesture, never repeated and always formal. There were those that complained after her in her wake, she knew, that she cut the figure of little more than a wanton seductress, but the lingering affection in her eyes (as genuine as her lipstick, certainly) was always something to make a person wonder – question, could there be more to it than simple lust that bade them onward? That seed of doubt was at times useful..
But seeds rarely took root in the rocky, fallow soil of this stonish land.
And she, in truth, was no gardener to see that effort made.
Her egress was without further comment, though the sharp ears upon which she so prided herself did twitch gently as she heard talk from behind her.
“You need not concern yourself with the queen’s opinion in this,” said one of the courtiers to that point unnamed. “For it is not Her Majesty that seeks aid, but those vile reprobates that now take power in this supposed Republic.”
Republics. Oh, what an ideal state of folly they were. Llyth paused in her stride as if to say something, but she was certain the day was decided for the time being. Wordlessly then, did she continue in her departure. House Clyff was not so very different from the many dissatisfied nobles of Thalassian prominence, she reasoned as her steps guided her away.
“Sir,” she said to a nearby guardsman who turned to her expectantly. “Were I to invest you with a letter and the coin to see it delivered, might you carry a private letter from me to your lord?”
It would be hasty, yet…
Were not most things done most satisfyingly with haste and passion?
My Lord of Firstpass,
Please do forgive the vulgarity in which I must offer this letter to you without the presence of my being, but by the time you have read it I will be making my way to the field of battle where I do not doubt I will witness the glory of your banners and your men in times to come. Nevertheless, a queer thing did strike me as I left and I had hoped to share it with you before I departed in full.
Allow me first to say that I apologize if my insistence was taken as impertinence. In this day and age, we find ourselves often surrounded by the cruel and rude sorts of new-men that would see grand names cast low for their own glory. It was a girl’s fancy – a whim hardly befitting my station, that did engender within my weaker sex some need to witness the lionized emergence of a true and noble son of Arathor once more astride his lesser as well should be his state. For there is something we share that those in Hasic do not – not a name, no… nor even a bloodline, but it is blood itself: noble, proud, and true. Mine own forefathers were stewards to the illustrious Bala’thustraes, as yours are themselves descended of the Harwyn. We each of us know the importance of blood and how it might be carried onward.
How tragic that because of the loss of some noble blood, those of common sort are elevated.
I will not intimate that I know Her Majesty’s nature overly well, for I have been within her court but two years if one were to excuse my lapses to my homeland, and in such a time I have seen a clever and shrewd woman, both magnificent and also quite discernible in her leanings. She is a woman of noble leaning and heritage – she would sooner work with a noble than the common man, but with the death of Lord Garibald I believe she was forced to default to the latter for the sake of stability and order. Sadly, princes and queens sacrifice much to see those things held.
But Her Majesty does not seem a woman of desire for compromise or sacrifice. If she might find some champion, here, where the common man chases away his noble better, then I do not doubt she would see him properly invested. Should you do me the good favor of lending us your aid now – of asserting that nobility yet holds the best interest of the people in this land, then I will be both tireless and true in advocating for your merits to be well known. Though I am but a woman of lowly station, I assure you that I have never been known to be without spirit when set to purpose.
If you would but permit it, my lord, I would gladly show you how well I might labor for your satisfaction in this and all things.
There are strong alliances here to be made: marriages, positions – but they needs must arrive after valor has been stated clear and true, so that the people of Blackmarsh sing the name Clyff and some suitable reward finds you yearning to be accepted and eager to exalt you as only a proper lord should know.
I eagerly await our next meeting.
Pray, it sees you wreathed in victory – and paid well the comfort of affection, not merely the compliment of one’s acclaim.
Sincerely and with great respect,
Lady Llyth Dawnwhisper,
Thalassian Ambassador to the Kingdom of Blackmarsh.
After missatwood got a commission from JennyBeamie, I decided to. This is their take on Llyth Dawnwhisper, which I quite like a lot. Fast and very good work with a great personality.
