#westel

[halszkaraptor]

ok im finally doneeee. my guardians of ga'hoole ocs. my birds.

[partyrdrgz]

They've been married for a year! :) Westel (left) belongs to me, Poe (right) belongs to @sturdydenimandblue

[pyrosophist]

Gifts and Letters

It is a strange thing, when she finally pays mind to the holiday season and feels the impulse to do.. something, for once. It has been many years since she has had more than the smallest handful of people to give gifts to.

Through varying degrees of occult and official means, she sends out a variety of things over the course of several days, when the Archon turns the members of the Sunguard to their own business. Most of the letters are bewitched, unable to be read except by their intended recipients. 

---

Aestus receives a leather armband with elaborate patterns seemingly burned into it, stylish but unobtrusive. On the inside face is inscribed in Thalassian script, “The night does not survive the dawn.”

My friend,

Of the guard, you are the first with whom I spoke besides possibly the dryest interaction I have ever had with the Scion. Though we have not done so in some time, I count you among one of my few steady friends. You have seen the darkness that lurks in the mid of my nights, as I yours.

Trace the script and read it aloud, when it becomes hard. In addition to it, I grant you one favor, to call upon my talents or resources as you will it.

@shampoocommercialelves

Westel is sent a box of pies, professionally made and still-fresh through some minor spell settled over them. In addition, a hunting knife that comes sharpened, its hilt carved and wrapped with artful patterns evocative of woodland beasts, with leafwork embellished along the spine of the blade.

Westel,

You were one of the first to show me friendship among the Sunguard. Three months ago I would not have called it that, but times seem to be changing. I thank you for the kindness, however small it may have been to give.

Where the hell have you gone? I miss Ithruiel. How dare you keep him from me.

@westelfirewing

Nuellen receives a strange, enchanted necklace -- a raven’s skull formed of blackened, petrified wood, attached to a thin, sturdy cord. A note explains its purpose to give the wearer resistance against ambient fel energy or exposure.

Swiftstrike,

Not a week passes that I do not think of my grandfather and how fortunate I was to have him. I have wrestled with feelings about his death for a very long time -- I don’t believe that I am yet done mourning, or that I ever will be -- but I am infinitely grateful to know that I am serving alongside some of the few Farstriders who served alongside him. Thank you.

@thedragonisaprincess

To Thanidiel is sent a cloak of brilliant, blood red fabric. Through some workings of alchemy, the cloak seems to be a remarkable insulator, despite its light weight. Some of the warlock’s sorcery is bound to it as well, and upon investigation it is revealed to be fireproof -- and furthermore, made to deflect magical flame and heat. The underside shimmers against the light with hues of orange and gold. An attached note reads, “This one won’t burn up. Use it well.”

Highdawn,

It has been some time since we have spoken, regrettably. I am still bitter that we did not get to face off at Shadowsunder’s tournament. Though through battle I have regained familiarity with my sorcery and its limits, I would still test it against you when you are available. Consider this a challenge.

@thanidiel

Caelinda is given a pair of boots, sturdy, stylish and well-crafted. Enchantments scribed onto the seams ensure that it will last an eternity of travel -- in addition, the monk feels a little lighter on her feet, when she wears them. To accompany the gift is an ornate brooch fashioned out of gold and ruby to affix to a cloak or scarf, and a batch of festive cookies that are still warm and fresh through some minor spell.

Caelinda,

There are few words to describe the depth of affection and fondness I have for you, however much I may loathe to show it around other people. You have given me a sense of peace and welcome that I have not had in such a long, long time, and I am grateful for your love. I will strive for all my days to be worthy of it.

@superspicedinosaur

Tyleril is sent a piece of everburning coal, infused with sorcery. It is warm to the touch, and a note explains that it can be activated and deactivated through a command word. When active, it effuses strong heat and flame, presumably to be used in the forge or a fireplace. The note warns not to hold it at inopportune times.

Silversword,

Thank you for hosting me in your home the night of the bonfire party. I know that I can be abrasive at the best of times, but it is appreciated, and I wish your business good fortune.

Keep the coal out of Samiel’s hands. That boy has fire in his eyes.

@tyleril-silversword

Vaelan receives a bottle of fine wine, Suncrown vintage. This brand is only seen on shelves practically once in a blue moon -- she must have been holding onto it for some time.

Vaelan,

You’re a fine man to work and drink with, though I fear I tend to grow only more abrasive when inebriated -- but I appreciate your friendliness, and our banter. Put this wine to good use. It’s far too damn fancy for me to drink it myself straight from the bottle, and I’m less inclined to put myself into a stupor on a regular basis, nowadays.

@greatmaulsoffire

A book, old and ornately bound, is sent to Veleth. It appears to be an in-depth study and analysis of extraplanar phenomena, as well as the planes themselves and how they intersect with the material world.

Ashcaster,

I had never expected to find a kindred scholarly mind among the Blood Knights. You are a steadfast ally in battle, and I appreciate your respect and curiosity for my studies. I hope that we both might benefit from learning into the future, with Argus on the horizon.

@veleth95

To Synthiel, a Reliquarian’s sanction for the regulated study and use of alchemically-synthesized anima.

Cloudseye,

It is refreshing to speak with another pyromancer on a level of exchanging knowledge and technique, and for that I thank you -- I have not enjoyed the privilege for a very long time, different as our disciplines may be. My expertise in commanding Wrath hones sharper by the day, and I have you to thank in part for that.

@spiral-seeker

For Ka’ese, a potted Thalassian plant, with delicate leaves in hues that range from scarlet to gold -- it is bright, and fragrant. A piece of home, preserved through magic that is clearly not the warlock’s own.

Brother,

Past our twenty-fifth year I did not think I would ever write to you and say ‘Merry Winter’s Veil’ ever again. I’m still not certain on how to feel that I am doing it now, but I know that I should, after everything. So much has changed since our reunion in Azsuna. Argus yet looms in the sky, and you should know that I intend to see this war to its end. I hope for your health, through it all.

One day we shall spend this time of the year together again, as brother and sister.

@turalyon

The Magistrix Starshard’s gift arrives on the wings of a strange raven with eyes like embers, bearing the warlock’s distinct aura of magic. In a small leather case strapped to its back is a token -- metal fashioned into the emblem of the Sunguard, with its reverse face inscribed with Thinariel’s unique sigil -- and a message of rolled and sealed parchment.

Thradia,

I cannot even begin to presume what you may believe of me at present -- I apparently have an unfortunate habit for disappearing off the face of the world. You have the deepest apologies I may give, and the greatest hopes for your health and success. You are beautiful and strong, more than I could have ever taught you to be.

Know that I survive, and that I had no choice but to take my leave of the Black Harvest when Vataan abducted my brother from Dalaran (yes, I have a brother). Through his hand and mine, no trace of my tower remains in the Twisting Nether. Without my refuge, I serve the Sunguard. So much has changed that I cannot put to words.

Argus looms high in the sky; you know where I must be.

Stay the course.

@ladyliadrin

[westelfirewing]

Westel Firewing

Appearance -

Gender: Male

Race: Sin’dorei

Height: 6′4″

Eye Color: Fel Green

Hair Color: Coal black

The Facts -

Birthday: August 13th

Occupation: Ranger-Captain of the Farstrider Rangers 2nd Battalion, Emberward of Sunguard Pathfinders

Sexual identification: Heterosexual

Romantic identification: Heteroromantic

Alignment: Neutral Good

Criminal History: Records show charges for assault, public intoxication, possession of illegal substances. No convictions. 

Relationship Status: Married

Favorites –

Favorite food: Pie and seafood

Favorite drink: Whiskey.

Favorite artist: His kids

Favorite scents: Grass, rain, whiskey, fresh pies, babies, lavender, rose

Favorite person(s): Astoreth, Anais, Laurelia, Kieran, Atheran, Vivvienne, Nuellen

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

⚫  Westel’s surname was originally Sorrelon. He’s gone by Firewing in most circles since he was in his thirties, but only legally changed his surname about ten years ago.

⚫  Farstrider records, though, have always marked him down as Firewing since he joined with documents falsifying his age and family relations.

⚫ Westel has an incredibly difficult time performing magic and actually hasn’t attempted it in decades at this point. The reason for his incapability is unknown to him and isn’t something he has bothered to explore.

⚫ Westel has been estranged from his family for many years with the exception of his younger sister, Mel, a healer and pacifist. He began a slow reconciliation with his eldest brother, a Blood Knight, but Cal was killed in action before any real work on their relationship could be made. His second eldest brother, arcane prodigy Vathal, fell with Silvermoon to the Scourge. His mother and father are still living but have no contact with Westel or their grandchildren. 

⚫ For years after Silvermoon’s fall, West struggled with addictions to various substances. His drug usage led to a lot of unfortunate events, including a mental break down that involved some very real hallucinations. While he has been clean of drug usage for about six years, his relationship with alcohol remains unhealthy.

⚫ West, as many other soldiers, suffers from PTSD. The worst of it was triggered after events during his deployment at Domination Point in Pandaria. Subsequent episodes led to the Farstriders placing him on extended leave. He still has not developed healthy coping mechanisms and the PTSD affects his sleep, relationship with loved ones, and his performance on the battle field. 

⚫  He has five tattoos: one is one large piece covering the majority of the left side of his body of dark red runic markings, a simple letter ‘A’ is inked on the inside of his right wrist, ‘Anais’ is tattooed on his right arm just beneath the shoulder, an artful piece of a black wolf is on his back right shoulder blade, and two wolf pups chase each other around his right ankle. He also has a number of piercings: thirteen total in his ears, one nipple piercing, and another piercing that was the result of some very drunk shenanigans.

⚫  Westel is left handed.

⚫ Westel is what he would describe as an amateur cartographer. Prized among the Farstrider Rangers for his reconnaissance and surveying skills, he uses those skills to draw maps. He does this as more of a hobby than as a part of his profession or for money. The maps he makes range from simple layouts of a swath of land to ornate illustrations of entire continents. 

⚫ Though West is currently and happily a parent to four children, he actually never wanted kids. When he was first told he had a child on the way, Westel did everything he could to shirk the responsibility. Even after the life-altering experience of holding his daughter for the first time, West remained certain that he had nothing positive to offer her and would not be a good father. He still worries about this.

Five Things -

Things they like: - Camping - Bubble baths - Cooking - Drinking - Dancing 

Things they dislike: - Small, enclosed spaces - Crowds - Idle hands - Arrogance - Sharing

Good habits:

- Reliable  - Loyal - Perseverance  - Actually very neat in terms of house keeping, etc. - Listener

Bad Habits:

- Judgmental - Holds grudges - Incredibly stubborn - Too harsh on himself - Always pursues what he can’t have

Personalities they gravitate toward:

- Socialites - Up-to-no-good - Witty - Strong values - Enjoy a good drink

Personality types they avoid:

- Holier-than-thou - Arrogance - Smarty pants - Cowardly - Hyper-masculine

Fears:.

- Rejection - Failure - Loss of loved ones - Not being a good parent

[westelfirewing]

“Fuck, Ithruiel, that was the most absurd shit.” 

The ranger launched himself unceremoniously into the hammock he’d strung up  between two of the sturdier trees he could find in the Sunguard’s new camp. Below him, the silver-white wolf lay stretched out on his side, half asleep through his companion’s cursing. 

“What’s worse is I know better by now. But there I am trying to socialize like I’m s’posed to and there’s bloody screeching on the comms, I gave my whiskey away, and a demon hunter shows up to prove they’re ‘bout as insane as I was pretty sure they were.”

Westel heaved a long suffering sigh as he situated himself in a sitting position, looking out towards the ocean. “The woman brings a demon into camp and one of those plate jockeys tells me to relax.” He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. Those around him had acted as if dragging agents of the Legion into a camp of sleeping soldiers was perfectly normal. Even if it was out of trust in Highdawn’s ability to take care of the situation, their nonchalance troubled him. 

“Reckless,” West told the wolf. 

Ithruiel huffed in return. 

He took that for the beast’s agreement, “Thank you. At least someone sees it as I do.”

Again, the ranger sighed and leaned back ready to sleep for the night when something behind his ear shifted. The cigar. West’s earned reward for selflessly giving over the last of his whiskey so the human would stop asking. 

“Brilliant.” Westel sat up straighter and leaned over for his bag, finding a matchbox in the front pocket. “No bloody finger-fire here.” He muttered, bringing the cigar between his teeth. He could have used that whiskey from earlier to pair with the cigar, but Westel was always one to make the best of the small pleasures life offered him. So he lit his match and in turn the cigar, leaning back once more to swing lazily in his hammock. 

Then he inhaled. 

Fire ignited in his throat. Or so it felt as Westel was wracked with coughs broken up by only the most colorful swears. In his rush to grab again for his bag, he sent the hammock spinning and West landed flat on his back with a terrible thud. The wind knocked out of him and fel fire licking his throat and mouth, West coughed and gasped for air.

Finally he could breathe again, though it did nothing to relieve the fire in his mouth and throat. “Fuck...what the...FUCK!” He dragged himself across the dirt to his small pile of possessions. Snatching up his water skin, West downed just enough water to stave off his current coughing fit. 

“HIGHDAWN!”

Ithruiel huffed and smacked the hunter with his tale. 

--------------------

@thanidiel for the lovely cigar

[westelfirewing]

Firewing Family Stories

Part Five: Water

[Part Four]

For a relationship so often fraught with conflict--both personal and interrupted by a world constantly at war--Water was often their source of relief. 

It also happened to be the element that show them that they must allow their love to flow, or else it would stagnate.

What’s that mean?

Stagnate? To, y’know, stop moving. 

I don’t understand.

Some bloke, I don’t remember, said love’s like water; it’s gotta flow or it’ll stagnate. If y’don’t let your love flow freely, if you’re holding back, then it’ll stop eventually. Won’t grow stronger, better, purer. 

So Water’s about...letting your feelings be feelings?

Er--yeah that sounds ‘bout right.

At first Water seemed to favor him; he was drawn to it just as he was drawn to Earth. The Lady learned quickly that should she be in search of her woodsman, he would not be far off from a source of water. He could be found floating face up in the silvery pools of Ashenvale or soaking his feet in Quel’thalas’ quiet creeks. She learned his haunts and they quickly became hers. 

She also introduced him to some as well. 

It was her idea to take off from the world to Winterspring, where for them it felt like time had frozen with the landscape. And here, ankle deep in snow but feet away from the relief of the hot springs, she was the one to take a risk and let her love flow. She told him in no uncertain terms how deeply she felt for him. 

It would take him a bit longer to allow his own feelings, the love he had, to flow as easily as she could for him. 

Why?

Yeah, why couldn’t he just say he loves her. He’s always loved her obviously. 

Er--well, love’s sort of scary sometimes. 

Love is great!

Well sure, it is. But great things are sometimes the scariest. They can be too good to be true, y’know? Or in the woodsman’s case, he felt like he shouldn’t love her. So he held back at first. 

Sounds stupid. 

Never said he was bloody smart, did I?

After the couple parted in Winterspring, they would not meet again until a river’s flow brought them once more together. She’d see him emerge from a river and knew at once that she would never willingly go so long without his company again. 

For the woodsman, that moment came as his second chance. Fear had brought him only sorrow. He decided there that he would love her without hesitance for the rest of his years.

Many, many months after she first brought him to Winterspring, he bid her meet him in the snows again. Water was with them when he asked for her hand in marriage. 

And when they wed, Water brought rain and Wind howled and Fire lit up the sky as the Earth trembled with the storm’s thunder. This was a union meant to last.

[westelfirewing]

13. What is your muse’s favorite candy? 26. Does your muse have any trophies? 28. What is the most common lie your muse tells themselves?

13. Westel actually doesn’t really like sweet things; fruit pies are the extent of his sweet tooth. He’ll politely decline any candy offered or pass it off to his kids.

26. No trophies exactly. West does have two collections: bows and intricately illustrated maps. The bows he either buys or commissions or are gifts. Many maps are of his own making while others he’s picked up in his world travels. 

28. Hm. Probably that Astoreth’s soul isn’t damned (hey, @easierbythree )

Thanks for the asks!!

[westelfirewing]

Firewing Family Stories

Part Four: Fire

[Part One, Two, Three]

Fire, like the Wind, had really been with them from the beginning. They had met in the midst of Fire’s own festival, after all.

Any of the elements can be devastatingly destructive, given the right circumstance or the wrong hands. But Fire, I think, has the greatest reputation for the duality of its existence. Fire creates, sustains, and destroys. And it can do all three in the blink of an eye. 

Like the Wind, Fire’s ideal romances are assumed to be quick blazes; they burn bright and passionate but swiftly consume themselves, no fuel left to sustain flames. This is a fair assessment of Fire’s involvement in romance. It’s easy to get a great blaze going. Controlling it, maintaining it...that’s the hard part. A Fire without control can raze everything in its wake. One that burns too hot too quickly will burn itself out.

Fire and love are closely tied in their need for balance.

As we know, our two lovers’ relationship began as a slow burn. It seemed one thing after another prevented them from adding fuel to the Fire. Small things served as kindling, at first. A simple brush of the finger tips created sparks.

In the long run this only made the day their Fire could take full form all the more explosive. Yet even with this new found freedom to explore their passions as they pleased, a fear of burning out too quickly stayed with them. 

What does that even mean?

Hm?

“Explore their passions.” Sounds gross.

Er--well...s’like that talk we had a little while back. 

Ew, dad, seriously?

Good gods. You asked for a Love Story and I’ll have you know all the good ones have passions explored, ok? We’ll leave it at that.

Laying with his beloved, warmed by the crackling Fire, he wondered if this was all they had built up to. Was there a future ahead of that night or had they lit their single match and allowed it to run its short course?

Unknown to him, she feared the same. Their love had been forbidden for so long now that she wondered if that very aspect of their relationship had been the only thing fueling the Fire between them. Now that they had broken through that barrier, would there be anything else left?

Their fears were all for naught, of course. Fire knew this. Their passion was not one easily extinguished and even among adversity, war, and continued differences their Fire would not be stamped out.

The final trial, if you will, that Fire awaited between the two of them was one of trust. The doubts between the man and the woman, never voiced but still hanging there almost tangible, were an issue of trusting one another and themselves.

Fire provided them an opportunity to remedy this during an anniversary of their first sparks, at a Midsummer Celebration honoring Fire. Laid out before them was a literal trial by Fire: a path of coals, breathing red then orange then ashen and red again. To walk across it together required immense discipline and trust.

They never hesitated. She took his hand in hers and in sync they stepped out, feet bared to the heat of the Fire underneath. They took steady, balanced together and walked through Fire unscathed. 

When they reached the end, they jumped and sought relief with Water.