Teralin had of course read the article. The Whispered Word being scattered the clinic all over the place for people to occupy themselves with, along with other papers.
It made her eyebrows rise, as she knew that Maldur got into fights sometimes, but the drinking was new. The slander against Xelcius was not, however, and it was becoming a rather regular thing these days.
She wondered how long they were going to paint her father as a monsterous beast before someone broke under the strain.
Tucking the paper under her arm she took a carriage back to her parents house on her own way home, stopping in on her mother. When she had been shown in she slapped the paper down in front of her mother with an arch look.
"The paper seems to know more about what my sibling gets up to these days than I do." She muttered, opening the page to the relevant article blurry if recognisable picture.
Essi welcomed her daughter warmly, glad of the surprise visit, though she understood quickly when she saw Teralin's face that something was amiss. Seeing the paper she frowned, sighed, and sat down to read.
Reporters. She loathed them as a breed. At least during the days of the kingdom, they had taken more care in what they wrote. These days it seemed there was no control whatsoever!
"...blood will just come out... oh, dear, have they taken to slandering the children again?" She scowled wearily. It had been calm lately, but it seemed it was starting anew. Cursed reporters.
"Maldur? I thought he was visiting the Malanores' and that ball? Did he lose his patence with that boy? Oh. 'Establishments of ill repute'!"
She looked up at Teralin. "I take it you do not know either what this is about?"
"Not a slight clue. Kathrynne hasn't said a word. Although my siblings are not due home until tomorrow..." She pursed her lips and stared at the article as if she wanted it to burst into flames.
"I don't think that any establishments would let Maldur IN, let alone give him drink."
Essi finished reading the article and put it down carefully, as if it was an infectious thing.
"Well. He has apperently been seen in one. Or someone looking like him, but the likeness is, sadly, too much. One can see the family profile clearly, if little else."
She peered at the image, trying to make out the surroundings, mostly failing but deciding it looked cheap.
She frowned. "I do wish that he had had the sense to not go around to low class dives. It is much harder for the carrion to get into the more expensive places."
"Well yes...if he has started becoming interested in women I suppose it's better he dip his wick into whores rather than Serisanne." Teralin shuddered at the thought.
Having that girl for a sister-in-law would be beyond reproach.
There was a thoughtful pause as she glanced over to the door, as if expecting her father to burst in with a stormy look on his face, just because they had mentioned Maldur and bad behaviour in the house.
"You're not going to be the one to tell father, are you?"
Essi snorted, darkly amused by the idea of Maldur and Serisanne. "As much as it would be an interesting challenge to drill some sense into that girl, by removing her from her mother's influence, I do believe you are right. I just wished he had chosen a better class of company." She paused. "I suppose I had better prepare a drought for in, just in case his friend had.. friends."
"And no, I will not tell Xelcius. He do not need to hear of it this way, I would rather speak to his son first, and have his side of the story."
She frowned again at the image. Something was off... and there she lost it. Oh well.
"Yes. Better handle this quietly. Boys will always be boys, after all. As girls will be girls." She smirked at Teralin, thinking back on her own, at times rather wild youth, as well as her daughter's wild times.
Teralin smirked enigmatically, "I'm sure I have no idea what you're referring to."
The slight gesture of tucking a pale curl of hair behind her ear was telling, anything to divert her embarrassed amusement at thinking on how much trouble she could be in, if her father had known about all her exploits.
She gave Teralin an amused smirk. "Yes, of course."
"Still, let's see what Maldur has to say for himself before he take this any further." The frown returned. "I do not recognise the jacket he's wearing, but maybe he borrowed it to 'blend in'."
Sangis had heard the news but waited on the photographs before saying anything. That being true it still hadn't stopped him from writing an article just in case it was.
When the goblin returned from the dark room he frowned, knowing that these weren't the best pictures. What were they expecting? The place was packed and everyone was too damn tall around these parts. Elbows and knees got in his way.
Still the outline of the hastily turning profile and dark hair was clear enough for the casual observer. A Val'dearas, certainly.
Sangis thought as much. Apart from the slight blur it was a good shot. Someone was trying to drag lad away from a crowd as he was seen to be bellowing something at another drunken youth. Could be the start or end of a fight. Perfect.
The little shit could only last so long without making a scene. He wasn't even with his supposed interest of the time, one Serisanne Malanore. He wondered if the girl was being coerced into it. Poor thing.
Taking up his pen he told the Goblin to start it in the etcher for printing.
"Dear friends,
It is this reporters observation that the bad blood in some people will just come out. Whether they mean it to or not, it is there. Lingering within them just waiting for an excuse to be free.
Some young men are perfectly capable of holding their drink, keeping their hands from themselves and women, and to hold a civil tongue in their head.
While others take nothing but great, deviant glee in destroying their parents good reputation. Although some, have no reputation to destroy.
Still, it does not excuse one Maldur Val'dearas. Even though not the heir, he does have some semblance of integrity to maintain. Although with his father's behaviour it is understandable where the boy might be misguided.
After all, what are we but examples for our children? When one practically detroys oneself with fel and debauchery, surely a night of drinking and casual violence is seen as no great feat?"
There was a pause as Sangis looked quite pleased with himself and started on a fresh sheet of paper to continue.
"The young man was seen entering several establishments of ill repute and getting rather, terribly drunk before starting a fight then being dragged away by an associate.
Does the young man in question have no shame? It would seem not.
One would hope that his father at least would have some remains of a moral standing to discipline his son. After all, it is sad when a child only has one parent they can say they are not ashamed to be seen with in public."
The following morning Moya did not get up for breakfast. Instead she stayed in her room, curled up in bed while feeling sorry for herself. Her head was pounding, her stomach churning and she had been up several times to throw up only to drink a bit of water and crawl back to bed.
Quietly she promised herself that she would never drink ever again. She was not even sure how they had gotten home the night before. She remembered The Firebird and seeing that Don again, but after a little while in the new bar things got blurry. There was a vague memory of the bathhouse again and getting changed, but after that she remembered nothing. Had they been spotted by Anders or was that something she had dreamed?
Groaning she pulled the cover up over her head to try and block out the light from the windows. It was too bright.
Anders had informed Diemar of the situation but gave no opinion. He came in at one point to leave some medicine with Moya's maid who was doing her best to clean up after her, having had one too many himself, before.
But still, he didn't linger. He didn't want to be in the blast radius if one of their parents was to arrive. He had already read the paper.
Slopey on the other hand had gotten up very early, had been copiously sick. Back to bed for a few other hours then awoke fine.
After getting dressed and having breakfast she wondered where Moya was. When she was told that the girl was still in bed she grinned to herself and wandered over to the guest wing and knocked on her door.
"Moyaaa?" She asked in a sing song voice. "Mooooya-floya?"
The only reply from the inside was a loud muffled groan of displeasure.
Opening the door and popping her head inside she grinned and tiptoed into the room. Approaching the bed with caution.
"You alive in here?"
“No.” Moya peeked out from the duvet only to hide under it again. “What happened? I did not have that much, did I? What did we do?”
Slopey sat down on the edge of the covers and pat at the lump comfortingly.
"We did, and it was good." She chuckled and tried to take a peer under them.
"You nearly had a fight and all."
“I don’t remember a fight?” She peered at Slopey from under the duvet. “How did I get into a fight?”
"Dunno, we were dancing and you seemed to take offence to something the bloke beside us was doing." She shrugged and tilted her head down with an amused look on her face.
Darting her finger in to tap at Moya's nose she tutted.
"Had to take you off to have another drink instead."
It made Moya groan again and try to dig deeper into the bed. “I never got into a fight before. My head hurts like goblins are trying to dig gold from it. Is it always like that?”
"I dunno, I'm fine." Slopey bounced on the bed and flopped onto her back, squashing Moya's legs in the process.
"Had t'have a chunder tho."
The movement of the bed made Moya’s stomach lurch and she made a gagging noise. “Been there...done that...” Kicking a little she tried to get Slopey off her legs. “..maybe my parents were right when saying that I should not drink more than two glasses of wine for dinner.” At the moment at least she felt like she was never doing this again.
"Well...maybe we had a bit too much, yeah?" Slopey chuckled and tried to stay on Moya's legs lunging forwards to grab her under the covers.
"What's under here, eh? Is it a grub?" She pat all over the covers as if searching. "A moyapillar?"
“A cocooning moyapillar.” She grumbled, while pushing at Slopey a little more gently this time. “The light hurts my eyes. Hannie tried to get me some bread but I dont feel like eating. How long does this last?”
"See, what you need to do..." Slopey slumped off the top of Moya and beside her instead.
"Is have a really hot shower, then a cold one. Then something to eat." She nodded sagely.
“That helps?” Right now Moya was more than willing to try anything in order to get this away. “Anything..anything to make this go away.”
"Yeap. But it has to be proper hot and proper cold, mind. None of this tepid stuff." She tilted her head to see if the maid was around.
"I'll come help t'make sure y'do it proper." She dragged the covers off of Moya.
Moya jerked a little at the sudden cooler air as the duvet was taken off her, but she was desperate. Despite that it made the world spin and her stomach feel like it was going to force what little food there was left in it out, Moya slowly crawled out of the bed and once more decided to trust Slopey to know what was best in this situation.
“Why is this supposed to help? Did we get caught? I dont remember getting home.”
"Yer body thinks it's been poisoned. So it's makin' ye chuck up all that's inside you. But see, if you sweat the worst of it out, then give you system a shock, it'll think you're all done."
Either that or it would make her be sick again, which would also speed the process. She kept that to herself though.
"Yeah, think mister Anders caught us and sent us t'bed. He's probably told Mister Malanore by now." Slopey tutted and ushered Moya into the bathroom, helping her out of her clothes in a matter of fact fashion and running the shower hot till steam filled the room.
"In ye get!"
Moya did not think twice about it. Slopey was a girl after all so nothing to hide from her. Instead she just followed orders to get into the tub, hissing at the warmth while turning a little green as she tried to hold her stomach down. “I am in so much trouble.” Groaning she hid her face in her hands for a moment before peering through her fingers at Slopey. “Father is going to be furious.”
It was common sense that Diemar would tell Xelcius after all.
"Aye, well...Maldur's gotten in more trouble than you have. This'll seem like nothing. Gettin' a bit drunk's better than messing with other people after all."
Slopey leant against the bathroom counter, thinking it would be a few minutes before Moya had warmed up enough to work up a good sweat.
It did not take very long before Moya started sweating and turning red in the face. “How long do I need stay here? It is so hot.” Shifting she struggled even harder not to lose her stomach content. She felt so uncomfortable.
"That'll do!" Slopey chirped, sounding unreasonably cheery as she drained most of the water in the bath then started to fill it again with cold water.
Getting a basin and filling it with cold and pouring it over Moya's back before she had a chance to protest.
Moya yelped with the sudden cold, before bolting from the tub and hurrying over to the toilet and throwing up. The sudden shock had made her lose her control with her stomach. Mostly it sounded like there was very little left to actually throw up, but her body tried anyway. “Why...why are you not ill?” She heaved in the pauses between.
Well that did it. Slopey felt that it was probably the last of it now and stood behind Moya, rubbing at the small of her back to help.
"I was. Did it this morning in one go." She almost sounded proud as she did her best to keep Moya's hair out of the way.
Moya just nodded looking tired and rather worn. “Why is it not working then?” With her stomach having calmed down again she looked up at Slopey. “It was fun yesterday...not today..” Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she moved to get up and cleanse her mouth with some water before drinking a few handfuls
"It is though!" Slopey beamed at Moya and put a cold cloth to her face, trying to be helpful.
"Bet the rest of you feels better, don't it. Even if yer stomach don't."
It took her a moment to really notice, then she nodded. “A little...” Glancing at her friend she gave a faint smile. “Thank you. Then again you got me into this mess, only fitting to help me out of it.” The last was added in a dry tone, a hint that since she was making jokes she was feeling better. “Perhaps I might be able to hold something down now.”
"Yeah, something good and salty. Pity we couldn't sleep out. Lots of places have hangover breakfasts. Sorts you right out." She pat Moya on the shoulder
"Jus' hope yer Dad's not too pissed. Not that he thinks much o' me anyway." She smirked and headed back into the bedroom. Thinking maybe she should leave before the maid came back.
"I'm headin' out. Will you be out soon?"
She wondered idly where Alestan and Maldur were and if they had hear about their little adventure.
“After lunch...I think.” Moya pulled the nightgown over her head again to get somewhat dressed before crawling back into bed. She would ask her maid to bring some food when she returned. “I need to sleep.”
She was worried about her father too, but for now the need of food and sleep was overpowering. Afterwards she would think about her father. Right now she missed her brother though. Slopey helped, but her and Maldur were usually always there for the other when one of them were ill. Right now he had not been there at all. Perhaps he was angry?
"Sure, sure...feel better, Moyapillar!" Slopey gave her a wave as she slipped out of the door. Making sure that there was no maid outside to scandalise.
This just makes me want to harass people into letting me publish more RP. Unfortunately there is a LOT now and subsequent back tracking and explaining would be a pain. Maybe I should just publish the 200 or so strong family tree...
Being the good friend that Telvanni Alev'na was, he felt like such slander couldn't and wouldn't be tolerated. Especially not against Xelcius. Not that he didn't like Anya, she was a charming woman after all and he had a vested interest in keeping her husband happy but really, he had known Xelcius for far longer than both of them.
He had also known that the viper's nest that was the spire and the slithering bastards within had been holding onto various grudges for far too long. They would leap at any excuse to dethrone Xelcius and worm their way into the Val'dearas' business.
Which was, oddly enough, a rather mild amount of farming. Alright, a great chunk of the farms that littered Eversong and that were tentatively pushing back into the Ghostlands were owned by the Val'dearas, so it was hardly mild. Still it was a sizeable and very steadily profitable way to be these days.
Such fortunes were surely to be praised? Well yes usually, but not for a man who used to be a royalist and had spent some time in the Outlands, suspected to be under Sunfury command. No, they would never let that one go.
Even now, years later they hissed and sniped and called in Inquisitors on their country's duty to pry into the old man's private life to sniff out the merest hint of Royalist sympathies.
They had asked Telvanni, who had of course found nothing, and more nothing and yet still nothing. But Inquisitor Alev'na had taken a leave of absence until this new round of rumour started, and all over a child?
What a poor boy, he had thought.
Still, when he had arrived at the spire and strode back to listen in on several council meetings he hadn't heard a whisper of dissent. Not directly at least. There were several passive snipes about new blood, ones rights of inheritance, and of course, Lord Firstlight had to comment on not letting power go to people's heads.
He'd had to cough to cover a laugh at that point but he didn't think anyone noticed. The irony had tickled him.
Later when he'd bored himself enough he manages to sneak away, only to be clapped on the shoulder by a calloused palm,
"Good day, Firstlight." He murmured, keeping his tone civil.
"Alev'na. It's unusual to see you here." There was a certain amount of accusation in his tone, but Telvanni ignored it.
"I'm making sure that you and your friends don't go starting some wild parties without me." There was a brief smile with the words before it vanished, gone as quickly as it came.
"Now, now, don't be making up stories."
The palm on Telvanni's shoulder began to squeeze, as if applying force to the words that needed to be imparted. However, Firstlight laughed as there were people watching and they of course were just joking with one another. Telvanni let out a small chuckle.
"Of course not, how silly of me." He plucked the hand from his shoulder, adjusted his cuffs and turned to leave, "I should have recalled that you don't have any friends. Good day, Lord Firstlight."
Sangis wasn't above a lot of things that most people would get squeamish just talking about, never mind writing about. But he did draw the line sometimes, and that was usually around the area of where children lay.
He was under the impression that most people, at some points in their lives, had been bastards to one person or another. So when he wrote filth, dredged up their pasts or outright lied, he rarely felt bad.
Children however, rarely seemed to be capable of such things. So, when Anya Val'dearas' son was born there was a fine, grey line that he lingered around for a while.
It was a story, most certainly, and for various reasons. Anya Val'dearas was the heiress of the family, regardless of what her uncle thought.
Which meant that her son would one day be seen to inherit the whole lot, a great big pay off for such a little man. Added to the fact that Anya was one of the more darling public faces of the house only meant that people would be very interested to see her interacting with her son and husband in their wedded bliss.
So, write an article he did. With a slightly weary sigh he glanced over the paper, if you could call The Whispered Word a newspaper and smirked to himself. He had of course managed to wedge in a mention of Anya's cousin, Kathrynne, as he usually did.
To him, she represented the only good thing to come out of the Val'dearas house in a good two hundred years. Even after she married and became a mother he still found himself fascinated with the purity she seemed to excude.
"Dear friends,
It is with a light heart that I write to you with the news of some joy, finally for the Val'dearas house, as the heiress Anya has given birth to her first son. I am sure you will agree that it is quite about time, and that with his arrival we will be sure to hear of his naming soon.
Have the Val'dearas managed to put their dark and violent past behind them? Or will the feuding between brothers continue on into the next generation? I am sure that am I not the only one who hopes not.
As we have seen with the fair Lady Kathrynne, that some can strive through their loss to become a beacon of Sin'dorei beauty for all of us to admire, and to strive for. Let us hope that Lady Anya will not be cowed by her uncle and no doubt his demands that he has placed on her to keep her son from contesting his inheritance.
For is it not the right of the heiress to place her son at the head of the house? Would we all not be terribly disappointed in Xelcius for carrying on the grudge he so bitterly holds against his brother?
I am sure we all know the answer to that, dear friends."
The article was a smaller piece amongst other news of more prominent houses, and viscous gossip about the more outlined royalists who still lingered, skulking within the city, but he was sure that his piece would attract some attention.
If things were to go the way he planned, he was certain there would be a great deal of profit to be had.
This blog is the resting place for various pieces of written Roleplay, sometimes co written and sometimes by one author. Set loosely in the World of Warcraft setting but splintering off around about some time after the cataclysm and subsequent vanquishing of Deathwing.
I say loosely because as a group of five people we've not played the game in over a year and we primarily play as Blood elves/Sin'dorei, focusing on houses, backstabbing and character driven plot. Sometimes blithely known as "Tea party" RP.
So if that's not your thing, then you'd best move on.
We've begun adding things that we felt were left out of the setting to make it more internally consistent and we have our own plans for how the world as a whole will shift.
Two years of backstory is a lot to try and whittle down into one post, and so right now it's looking as if it wont happen. My reporter, Sangis, will do his best to keep people up to date on the latest rumours, but it's usually best to take his words with a grain of salt.
