Lord of the North

[airiannagrace]

Vylanthas Rha’veran, Ranger-Lord to Quel’thalas

“My duty is to uphold the oath I swore to the people of Quel’thalas. I give onto them my life, my blade, and my aim as a Ranger. There has been no greater honour I could have been called upon then to serve that of my kin, and country.” 

This is a beautiful piece of art done by the wonderfully kind Ultema who was nothing but a pleasure to work with. She has so much talent in the tips of her fingers. 

[lissanaria-deactivated20220607]

Penned at Rest

Musical Inspiration: Love Unconditionally

The package from one of the somewhat newer Dawnmenders, Emberward Vynarah Lightbinder ( @lil-lightbinder ), had finally arrived. It had been mislaid with several other holiday gifts from relatively unknown people due a mistake between the House Blackwood Steward, and various other servants. 

Thankfully for the sake of those involved, the Greenseer was no longer heavily pregnant, and merely tired from the recent delivery of her identical twin sons. The tongue lashing had been incredibly brief in comparison to the last near year. Two footmen had gotten off with a mere two days of assisting the maidservants with stitch work and herb gathering. Boring, to be sure, but nothing like the other horrible tasks some of those had been set to that had managed to annoy the woman. 

Such as collecting kelp from the ocean side at high tide, or counting the number of parchments received by the entire estate proper, backward. The relieve was palpable enough that no one dared to make a comment otherwise. With the familiar dark green paper carefully folded around the usual brownies and a tiny bit of a charming twist: apple flavoured, with walnuts and a dusting of confectioner’s sugar over top like snowflakes, the gift caused the Lady Blackwood to break into a peal of low, warm laughter, her contralto voice truly amused. It had been the first sound of actual mirth from that quarter of the estate in many, many years. Both of the nannies were present, along with the scribe that stood by for her to respond. She had been carried to a soft, pillow covered couch near to the window for a little sunlight. 

That had been one of many remedies thus far that the visit by the elder Druid that she had spoken to regarding her condition: plenty of sunlight, and rarely permitted being completely alone. It had the woman slightly frazzled to be forced to have a maidservant or a guard on duty every single hour of the day, but thus far, she recognised the likelihood the vigilance, paired with the Oracle’s incredible harnessing of Cere’thien’s own immense magical gifts that had saved her life, rather than leaving her children without their mother. 

Yet, not all was quite safe.

Lifting the quill after being handed a portable desk, she began to write in response to the Emberward Lightbinder’s gift.

Miss Vynarah-

I wished to formally say that I hope that you had an excellent holiday season, and that return to work has gone without difficulty for you. Finally, I have received your gift of brownies. It seemed to have arrive on time, yet was waylaid with a number of other items sent to my estate. 

This afternoon I have taken the time to have one with tea, and found the combination of apple and chocolate to be just the thing, blunting the oft overly sugary nature of such treats. I suspect my commentary will confuse you, thus I will explain that I am no longer with child. The twin boys that were blessed to me have been born. 

Named Laevir and Cyrwin, know that you have had a direct hand in their care before birth. As such, I have included a lifelong stipend for you to create your divine treats for any of those healing souls that are in need. It is my suggestion that you consider ways to include medicinal methods to add healing agents to said items that are unable to be tasted. A mere thought; you are of course permitted to do as you please.

As for myself, I shall no longer require said food items, and would like to change my order for the donation of the Orphanage of the Blacktide Leaves. It is one that I support with my own name. Not every child is so lucky to be born with wealth at their fingertips. Please, take care of yourself, as we all return to battle.

Once more, you have my eternal gratitude for your kindness.

-Cere’thien Blackwood, Greenseer.

With a deep sigh and a tentative smile, the letter to the Dawnmender was handed off to the scribe after being folded. This day she was a little less tired after writing the first one. However, another letter was handed to her, and the woman’s brows rose. The parchment was plain (@theshadowavatar), and the seal of wax unremarkable; something clearly sent from the field. Lifting a shoulder in a curious shrug, Laevir was settled along her left arm as she worked to open the letter. Immediately, even though he had already been fulfilled by the wet nurse aid (whom was the fourth that had been selected for the twins had turned the others away), he tried rooting at his mother’s tightly bound breasts beneath her loose, yet elegant periwinkle gown. 

A brief emotional ripple of uncertainty moved through her as she kissed the little ones’ forehead. Soft gurgling sounds issued forth; Cere’thien laughed again despite her inability to give her son what he wanted. It startled her how pretty a baby he was, both him and his brother. Even in the passing days, their silver hair had held true, as had the intensely bright azure eyes. It would be a year or more, the Greenseer surmised, before any inkling of their true hair or eye colour would remain as this stunning combination, or shift. The warm, peaceful scent of a clean, happy infant, though small held the elder woman’s attention for several moments until the scribe cleared his throat.

A blush moved through Cere’thien’s ear tips and she inclined her head, opening the letter. Sudden rush of emotion filled the lady as she recognised the handwriting immediately. 

“Lady Blackwood?”

“Silence. You see me reading,” she snapped almost viciously, right hand trembling as she read, and re-read the words upon the page. It was a very good thing the woman had been seated, she decided, for as lightheaded as she felt in perusing the written words. He was safe, and simply had been delayed. On the one hand, while the Highlord should have been there, she could hardly fault him for having been lost in the task of helping her. Tattooed fingers moved over the ink, as if she could sense his presence from it. It was at that point that Cere’thien leaned forth to cover her tiny boy in kisses. 

“This letter is for you,” she whispered conspiratorially, as if the babe could respond beyond the limited noises he could make at mere days old, which consisted of the swift breaths and soft sighs, the occasional soft whimper, and sucking sounds. It would be weeks before more was readily apparent. “Ann’da says … he loves you both and will see you soon.” Speaking the words were akin to having her heart caught on bladed edges. 

We shall see, the Matriarch thought. Though she knew the Highlord’s love of her was unwavering, she had no idea how his feelings would at all properly bloom for these children. To do more than wait and watch without judgement was not in her. Though, she was assuredly eased from the response. 

Upon an elegant bit of parchment, the Greenseer managed a brief, clear reply:

Highlord Frostblade-

Your lovely letter has been received. Shame is entirely not an emotion you need feel. There have been plenty of fathers that have missed the births of their children, due to one duty, or another. I was not alone, recall this, and was cared for, and have been meticulously over the last several days. Though there is more yet to come regarding my healing, there is laughter in my home. Be content in that. Additionally, and equally as important, the other three children remain whole and hale. 

Take care of yourself, beloved. As ever, you are valued, sir, for your care, your blades, and honour. 

-Cere’thien Blackwood

She did not write to Lord Arandur of how precisely the Nightmare had her in its grip, for fearful and enraged was not what she wanted him to be. That would be saved for those not all ready in a place of difficulty as he. The last of the letters had been the one received from the Ranger-Lord Vylanthas Rha’veran ( @vylanthas ). A response to her letter that she had sent to him. Concern for the elder gentleman rippled through her thoughts, even though it had been she that had sent for his aid. 

The well sealed and elegant letter in turn from the Ranger-Lord delivered very late in the night with a package including two silvered rattles paired with an arrowhead fashioned in a similar beauty as the ones from her own lands, yet holding the appearance of the Eyrien’dor cultures rather than those of the Living Wood. Though her Steward had been entirely unwilling to wake his mistress at that hour (for which he received a blunt, harsh response), Cere’thien had been finally able to read the response. A smile had curled her lips to read it, while relief had slid through her in addition to know that even if his grandmother was unable to cure her, there would be an attempt. 

“Send a Blackwood raven to track down the coach the Ranger-Lord is travelling in with a farstrider’s message. It is several thousand times easier to read in the difficult weather where he resides.” While the autumn appearance had remained in the Living Wood Province as it was one that possessed the rare gates and considerable arcane magic altering the weather pattern permanently, not every place within Quel’thalas was so lucky. 

Ideally, the swift flying bird outfitted with arcane dampeners would make it through even blizzard conditions. The Highlord’s Bright Hold would be frozen over now, she knew, as well, and no doubt, the sea side near the Lord Firestorm’s lands would be likely influenced by the season. That was one last letter she needed to pen.

“What should the Lord Rha’veran’s letter say, madam?”

She peered up at the scribe. “Take this down.”

“Dearest Lord, take a breath at your receiving this. Do not try to force yourself and your dear relative through the storms that are assuredly assaulting your property. For the moment, though I am resting, I am still within the world. Do not endanger yourself or people to come to me. Your gentleman will remain on my gentle weathered estates until your arrival as a suitable kindness.”

Blonde hair slicked back from his face, the scarred scribe nodded his head. “Done, Lady. It will be sent as you have directed.”

Cere’thien made a soft sound, and began to slowly pen a letter for the Lord Firestorm, which had been paired with an extensive map of the isles she had deeded him but a week prior. The map was folded into a several books of account ledgers that detailed the earnings of the locale over the last century, easily readable, for they changed very little, and had been a steady, very lucrative locale. 

In truth, it had been no loss for the Living Wood Province for her to hand over control and ownership of the lands her Acting Ranger-Lord ( @forever-afk ) had coveted. A twitch of a smile moved over her face as Laevir made more noises tucked in the crook of her arm still. 

The baby had fallen asleep, which made it easy to write another letter. Inside those books as well however, was as well an enchanted compass that did not appear to point any particular direction. What it did do upon opening was reveal the precise scent of the ocean waves as deep out to sea as one could get on Azeroth. In tandem, the Greenseer’s voice, in low, haunting song arose from the insides paired with pipe organ. A priceless item, the music could easily fill a room, while lastly, a coil of the Matriarch’s silver hair rested inside. 

Acting Ranger-Lord Firestorm, Executor of the Living Wood Province, Lord Dread Captain of the Bladestar Isles:

Greetings, my dearest heart. I am aware it has been several days since you have heard from me. I have spent the time on bed rest as arranged. Though my condition is still not as one might desire, I am indeed improving. I have included a full enchanted map of the lands recently deeded to you, dearest sir, as well as the accounts over the last century for you to see the patterns you may expect. I expect you will recall the roughness in that particular property. 

Despite having held it for several thousand years, it has never changed in its type and presence. What I did not mention in the time that we had to speak, was that the riches beneath the sea also belong to you. Whatever you find, is yours to keep. Many ships have broken their hulls along those lands over the centuries. I hope that some of it eases the wanderlust that is part of your nature.

The secondary reasoning for my writing to you is that we have a most particular discussion needing completion. I would like to meet you for a drink once I am permitted movement and travel, which will be soon. By the end of the week, though I will not be able to consider combat medic duties for several weeks yet.  Until then, know that the depths of my heart belong to you, and always will. Hold your chin high, Acting Ranger-Lord, for every moment, you have earned with your strong, unerring hands. Do not forget that I have loved you for eight and a half of my nine and a quarter centuries.

-Lady Matriarch Cere’thien Blackwood, Warden of the Living Wood Province, Junior Senator of the House of Nobles, Thalassian Senate.

“Be sure to send this by royal courier. No hands save for the lord gentleman himself.”

“Understood, madam.”

With that, the now exhausted woman turned toward her son and rested him upon her chest, eyes gliding closed. As she slept, her households ran in storied perfection. 

[lissanaria-deactivated20220607]

Petals In Darkness

Musical Inspiration: Once Upon A December

Nearly a day following having gone into labour and an evening after she delivered her twin sons - which still occasionally caused a sliver of panic to rise in the elder Matriarch - and as ordered, Cere’thien remained, now, abed. A pair of footmen and an junior attending mender had moved the lady to her actual bed on the opposite side of the room. She had seen the boys for their morning feeding, and held them both afterward. Due the fact her own breasts were bound, it remained an emotional ache to do so for long. Thus, within the next hour, the nannies shuffled the children off to the nearby Blackwood Nursery. 

It left the still very ill Greenseer with time on her hands. She worried about the Oracle, whom had exhausted herself in trying to rip her back from being completely claimed by the Nightmare that slipped through the cracks, so it appeared as a result of her abstaining from casting magic altogether. This news was realised after the Lady Blackwood spoke with a druid invited for tea, which she had again, been carried to and from. 

For the present, her breasts ached still, and viciously, and the lady did her very best to put it out of her mind. After a nap, and holding the twins, Lords Laevir and Cyrwin, once more, she had vellum brought to her so that she could at least, pen a few letters in bed, putting off business until she healed more. These, were personal, and one in particular that had the elder woman really very rattled. 

Vaelrin had attended the entire birth, even to the point of dragging her daughter there and pointedly forcing a modicum of respect out of the girl despite the earlier argument Cere’thien had with her daughter that day. He had absolutely and without question proven himself completely reliable. Even though she knew of his feelings in being as shocked as she at two male children that were the near image of herself - the words had not required to be spoken - the Acting Ranger-Lord had been gracious, respectful, courteous, and even actively helpful. When the scare had passed, she had arisen from her brief, frightening druidic slumber to find her younger son Cyrwin cradled in the man’s arms, fast asleep. 

But there had been no sign, nor word of the Highlord, which initially confused the Greenseer, for it was not as though, despite the fact that she had no idea if her messenger was ever able to find him on the Isles - it was a big enough place that searching had been a lost cause - that he had not possessed a ring that would have immediately alerted him as to her condition. Now, she forced down her worry about him, and began to compose a letter. She tried not to consider the potential reality of the situation: that he was already aware he felt no love for these children, and it had, for the present, broken his ability to function. Perhaps he will see me in them, and that will help. I have to try to believe that, even if it is hopeless.

Highlord Frostblade,

Dalah’surfal. 

I do not know if this will at all find you, but the babies have been born. A Winter’s Veil gift, it appears. I cannot presently imagine how you must feel at the moment, but that aside, please know that I only wish your safe return. My daughter, Claeth, named the eldest. He is called Laevir, and is blue of eyes, and silver hair and is a good deal louder than his younger brother, Cyrwin. They are identical, which was unexpected. The Oracle, and the Dawnward Novastorm attended upon me for the birth, and my Acting Ranger-Lord Firestorm was a presence as guard. It took place within my quarters at Sha’alethas Lair, which, I realise, you have never even seen, though once, we spoke of it.

I need you to remember, if you can, that you have a place with us, as my beloved, my Knight-Lord. I shall not trouble you with more words, for this alone, I suspect you shall need to process. Take care of yourself, and above all, survive, my lord. (@theshadowavatar)

-Cere’thien Blackwood, Greenseer.

At the very bottom of the letter for the Highlord lay foot and handprints for both children. The lady folded the vellum and handed it to the scribe at her side, whom was there to frank the letters and step in if she grew too tired to write. The next letter was short, but of absolutely equal importance. It had taken hours for her to recall the situation was not completely beyond salvage. 

Ranger-Lord Rha’veran-

Though we have been unable to partake of tea, I wished to inform you that I have been delivered of twin boys, slightly early. Though there has been no announcement, the Lords Laevir and Cyrwin are thriving. I write to you however because I dearly need your help. For the present, I have a wet nurse and nannies to tend the babies, due to the fact that I am suffering under the presence of the Nightmare. It is not known publicly, thus, as ever you know I value your silence. Your grandmother is the only one I know skilled enough to rid me of it. Else, I do not know what to expect next. 

Please, write back when you can. I am on bedrest for the present, at home. If you are able to aid, I can send a conveyance with guards. (@vylanthas)

-Cere’thien Blackwood, Greenseer.

This next letter was also folded for delivery. Afterwhich, the Lady Blackwood lay still for several minutes before stirring to write more. She was swiftly tiring, but at least two more letters were needing written. 

Dame Caeliri Dawnsworn-

I wished to inform you, that the twins were delivered late last night, though I imagine you have already been informed. The elder was named Laevir by my daughter Claeth, and the younger Cyrwin, at your suggestion many months ago. Both are boys, and healthy, though I remain on bed rest. Please tend to the Oracle, for she expended much of herself in aiding me. (@dorksworn)

Take care,

Cere’thien Blackwood.

Slowly, the Greenseer’s eyes closed and the quill began to fall from her hand after the scribe quietly collected the vellum. This time she lay still for twice as long before beginning her final letter for the present, for she badly needed to sleep again.

Lord Archon-

I wished to inform that my children have been born, two sons. Healthy, but rather early; they are named Laevir, and Cyrwin. I remain on bedrest for the present, but will return as soon as able to full duties, including eventual combat medic. I hope that the work at the front goes as well as one would desire. (@felthier)

Dutifully,

Greenseer.

This one she rolled carefully herself before handing it to the scribe.

“See to it that these are sent out as soon as the next mail carriage arrives.”

The scribe, a blonde gentleman with even, patient features, gracefully bowed.

“It will be done, madam.”

Silence held the room after the man’s departure as Cere’thien slept gratefully without dreaming. Except for one hint of warmth.

The departed Ysera’s voice, saying, this too, shall pass, and flowers will bloom again.

Mentions in text: @forever-afk

[vylanthas]

It was a cold night within the realm of Eyrien’dor the winter’s bite leaving a blanket of snow across the thick forests in a sea of white. The main roads had been closed from the storm that lingered over the north barricading most within her grasp. The embers from fire’s coals cracked upwards catching the gaze of the Ranger-Lord every now and then as it trailed downwards falling into ash. The Winter’s Veil brought many surprises to his lordship, the arrival of his daughter and the moments shared forever burned into his memory for centuries to come. Now the estate stood in a silent calm that was usually found in the stillness of the early hours before the suns rise. In the wake of the festivities that were still to come many had stolen solace that eve as the winter’s chill had bitten into the castle itself offering little relief from what stormed outside.

Silence was a gift rarely afforded to the Ranger-Lord as his duties of late had stretched him thin, on this occasion he spent it within his private chambers studying over a manuscript a colleague had sent over to be revised before its publication in the spring. Since he was a young man Vylanthas learned how to read and write by correcting the grammatical errors placed within the texts of many tombs, and scripts sending his discoveries to their creators. With quick strokes of his quill, or added notations to the sides of paragraphs the Ranger-Lord drank in the wealth of knowledge he was learning from this particular piece. Reaching for his gold trimmed tea cup that was patterned in a grey rose pattern Vylanthas sipped on his bitter tea that he blended himself contemplating the last exert he finished remarking on.

Three raps were placed against the heavy wooden door each an exact second apart booming through the room causing the man who was in deep thought to startle spilling the contents of his cup down the sleeve of his shirt. “Damn it.” He whispered onto himself quickly placing the china set down and moving the parchment aside to not see the wealth of knowledge ruined by his carelessness. “Yes?” Vylanthas asked sharply with little patience in his tone as he reached for his handkerchief patting himself dry.

The footman entered swiftly carrying a decorated golden tray with a matching letter opener, within the center a singular unopened letter that had arrived from house Blackwood. The document had been carelessly overlook in the morning as the Lord Stewart was away on business until the late hour of that evening. “Thank you.” The Ranger-Lord had nodded to the footman silently dismissing him as he took the letter from the tray.  Breaking the seal with a swift slide of the sharpened blade to open the contents within Vylanthas was able to catch the Greenseer’s scent within the threads of the parchment she penned over.  

Though we have been unable to partake of tea, I wished to inform you that I have been delivered of twin boys, slightly early. Though there has been no announcement, the Lords Laevir and Cyrwin are thriving.

Juniper eyes drank in her words as the light from his smile quickly grew over his lips touching every lined feature of his dark contours. The joyous announcement to be a mother once more touched the man’s heart in a way he would never explain to another. To have a secure line of succession offered a security few households could enjoy these days, it was a gift to both herself and the High-Lord. Not one but two he thought again before whispering aloud “Sons…” a word that had not passed his lips since his owns passing.

 I write to you however because I dearly need your help. For the present, I       have a wet nurse and nannies to tend the babies, due to the fact that I am     suffering under the presence of the Nightmare. It is not known publicly, thus, as ever you know I value your silence. Your grandmother is the only one I  know skilled enough to rid me of it. Else, I do not know what to expect next. 

 Please, write back when you can. I am on bedrest for the present, at home. If   you are able to aid, I can send a conveyance with guards

Continuing to take in her words the brightness that reached his juniper gaze faded as his expression grew grim and his stomach stirred with unease. “Send for the Lord Stewart.” Was all the Ranger-Lord found himself able to muster out at that moment, the tone of his voice was strained however it masked the sense of urgency. Wishing he could scream aloud as if a boy in his youth to demand the attention this specific matter called for he knew better of himself. A certain delicacy had to be taken with this as silence was demanded. Everything had been ripped away from him within a single paragraph, could his family save her?

 The footman was quick to disappear from the confines of the room and away from his lordships sight. To call on his personal Stewart at any late hour was never a good sign for whoever it concerned and at that moment the footman prayed it was not him. Remaining seated in his leather chair Vylanthas read over every word she had penned over and over again to ensure he did not miss a single detail, searching for any hidden messages that could have been thoughtfully placed within. Confident that there was nothing more and that he had memorized the entire piece verbatim he folded the letter as neatly as had been received. Placing his lips to the wax seal a silent prayer was breathed out onto the house emblem for her ladyship before tucking it away within his vest pocket.  

Arriving within minutes to his lordships request the Lord Stewart found his master dressing for travel with leather satchels stretched across the bed while the Ranger-Lord himself gathered the belongings he required for such a journey. “Vylanthas?” he breathed out in quiet frustration looking over the room in a silent horror to the thought of him risking his life in such a storm. He dared not comment to the younger man having already made his decision one the Lord Stewart would respect no matter how much he silently protested. “Lord Rha’veran, you summoned me?”

 The Ranger-Lord barely looked at the man who entered there was no time for formalities when there was so much to do, “Send word to my grandmother that she is to prepare for travel and that I will arrive within the hour to escort her to the Blackwood estate. Inform her that she is to prepare to help a young lady within her court medicinally as we have been summoned by her Matriarch to aide in a matter that is beyond her expertise. We will be leaving upon my arrival as there is no time to wait out the storm.” Motioning towards his desk there was a sealed letter that’s wax was still soft over top of emerald in colour with gold accents parcel to be received. “Ensure the magi deliver this to the Blackwood Estate that the letter was received from and that it has been placed within Lady Blackwood’s hands within the hour. I will not forgive excuses or tardiness with this personal matter, am I understood?”

“Yes.” The Stewart declared so that there was no misunderstanding between the two. As ordered the Lord Stewart took the letter and parcel to the magi of house Rha’veran ensuring its swift delivery. Making his way down to the stables a single stead was ordered to be prepared for a night’s journey. The snow had been coming down heavily for hours giving no sign for remorse as the northern winds howled against the castle. Unable to see the house across the lane in the village the journey to his grandmother’s estate was more likely to prove fatal and fruitless. The Lord Stewart dwelled on the contemplation to talk his master out of such a dangerous expedition. Had he not been by his side for over eight centuries and learned to trust in his decisions his voice would not have been as easily silenced. Whatever contents were within that letter they were pressing enough to muster such a decision at this late of hour, it was not something to be overlooked in the least. This was a feat he had not seen since the passing of his beloved wife and sons, he dared not strip away Vylanthas’ sense of urgency this matter called for, not after everything they both had seen, not after he had done so at the unknown cost of his master’s family.

A parcel would have arrived in the middle of the night to the Blackwood Estate with the messenger requesting it be delivered into her ladyship post haste. The contents within were two silver rattles that had been engraved with a rose and thorns as well as two pairs of hand knitted socks for the pair of boys. Along with the gifts for her children was one for herself a single arrow handcrafted from the forest of Eyrien’dor a symbol of the promise that was held in the words scratched across the parchment with the received gift.

 Gracious Lady

 I am overjoyed and saddened by what I have received this night, may I firstly offer my mine and my houses blessing onto you, the High-Lord and your children. To be bestowed not one but two treasures in just one night is miracle in its own. Secondly with your private matter … Just know that I will be there, no matter the summons or call my house will always be at your disposal.

 Currently there is a storm that has blanketed my entire lands, they say it is to last several days however once you’ve received this I will have already ridden out to collect my grandmother at the estate she is staying within at this time. It will take me two days’ time to reach you as I am unwilling to risk the life of my magi in this weather, I beg for your forgiveness that I cannot make it within a timelier fashion as such a request demands.

 I can not begin to pretend to understand what this Nightmare can fully do to a druidess such as yourself beyond the plagued lives I have witnessed on the isles themselves. I ask that you hold on just a little longer, I know you have been strong in your silence for some time now but please for everyone’s sakes grasp onto what you can and we will be there shortly.

 It is my will and grace to see you live so that your children do not need to grow up and learn of their mother from another’s lips, but to only know her own from the love and affection you will adorn onto each of them. To have that chance stolen… It would be unforgiveable to not know the gracious lady that I have come to cherish, and one of the very few I call friend.

 Ranger-Lord Vylanthas Rha’veran

[vylanthas]

When I was a young man my father pulled me aside motioning towards the length of the marble walls filled with lords and ladies during a winter’s gala explaining to me, “Do you see this sea of beauty? Not one has been able to lift their eyes off of you, and do you know why that is?” Being young and foolish I replied with the simplest of answers “Why father?” Expecting that he forced a sympathetic smile to my unknowing, “Because you are a lord, an heir? No, that does not matter to these vultures, it’s the prestige your families name holds within these halls, it can bare any weight, face off against any foe we are tasked to take on, and capture any siren who dares sing her songs onto us.” He stated firmly booming in a confidence that could have been mistaken as arrogance to any that had been over listening. 

Obedient in my youth I recognized what he was preparing me for, what he was determined for me to accomplish that evening. “I will succeed father.” I assured him and the warmth of his love for me reached his eyes as he nodded fully knowing I would have no choice but too. “I know you will, and like everything else that has been taken away from you in your decision to take on your position as my son and rightful heir so too has your right to choose a bride.” His voice was soft when he issued this blow, how could I have not seen this coming, of course he would want to see me married off, hand in hand with another continuing his lineage as it had been denied from him for many a century. 

I felt the air escape my chest and I did not know if I could find the strength to suck in another, my knees grew unsteady and my eyes narrowed onto the man for but a moment before softening after the sudden stab into me like a knife to ones back. “Had mother not taken me from you I would have grown into this life and customs without complaint, what right do I have to voice them now? I am your son, and if I must do this for the sake of our family then introduce me to her’s and I will comply without hesitation.” 

I knew I was giving away my freedom to fall in love, to marry and have children for want and desire instead of duty but I gave my word to a man who had been robbed of everything by a woman I once called mother. Who was I to take even more away from him? To deny him what she had already done so in the most cruel of manners? Using me as a weapon against a man who given the chance would have only loved me. 

We both looked into each others eyes, his held an apologetic gaze wishing that he did not have to take just one more thing from me. When mine met his they offered only relief and understanding to what was about to happen.

“Lead the way father, I look forward to meeting her. Duty is everything within the Rha’veran household, as your son I will not let you down.” It was a promise I was determined to fulfill. He pressed his hand to my back offering a nod in reassurance and within a moments time he moved us along to meet the woman I would marry, my future wife, who over time I grew to love unconditionally. 

"A pleasure to meet you, I’m Lord Vylanthas Rha’veran.” I took a second to muster the courage to swallow my pride and disdain for the life I chose.

She smiled sweetly to me though her eyes were as intoxicating as the wine we shared that cool night I could not dare to look away, I was ensnared. “Good evening my lord.” Her curtsy was like nothing I had ever seen before a rare elegance that you just wanted to drink in with each passing second.

“I am Lady Aelyn’thiel.”

[vylanthas]

Oath

I am unable to take an oath to pledge my allegiance that others are free to swear to further our successes that threaten our kinsmen. My own vows were given onto our people over eight centuries ago, words that I have not faltered on, dared to turn my back too, or grown tired to bare the weight of. Though I would be all to proud to serve along side those who fought in Lord Truefeather’s name adorning the golden crest the Sunguard bare I have my own duties, my own soldier’s, my own oath to serve with pride. 

No matter my feelings or desires I have agreed to help fight alongside them to see their causes fruitful should my own not keep me at bay. We can only succeed if we stand unified against those that threaten our kinsmen, my life may be a series of duties but each one I have sworn to serve with the greatest of respects and will continue to do so until my last breath.

I am a Ranger-Lord of Quel’thalas, and I give my life most freely for the protection and longevity of my people. 

[vylanthas]

Fifty-Eight

“Fifty-eight days have passed since I stepped foot within the isles once more. The last time I walked along its shoreline the sand was stained in the blood of the fallen and the northern winds were haunted by the screams of the damned. Fifty-eight days to reflect on how that battle was lost, about the might we face, about those left behind in the wake of this old threat that has come from the flames to test us once more. Fifty-Eight moments I’ve given up with my daughter’s for the sake of duty, fifty-eight conversations I could have shared, questions that could have been answered but instead I am met with silence. Fifty-eight nights I’ve spent looking up at the stars with a silent prayer that I will be able to see them all just one more time, one more night to wish upon them over and over again. Fifty-eight days of battle and death, of blood and scars, of tears and sorrow.

Now if only I can make it through to fifty-nine.”

[voiceofnature]

Details of Sean Parker’s Lavish Big Sur Wedding, Vanity Fair. Dedicated to their love of old-growth forests, and also included Tolkien-ized costumes for all 364 guests by Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson.

[duskonacloudyday-deac]

[cyberclays]

Library - by Aiko Shinohara

“This is my personal work “Library”. I tried to used Substance Designer & Painter through this project. Most of the low & high res models were made in MAYA, sculpted in Zbrush, textured in Substance Designer & Painter, and photoshop. I was inspired by Bodleian Libraries at University of Oxford. Art Directed by Yap Kun Rong”

[vintagepales]

Windows of Paris

[the-bookshop]

[academic-beauty]

🍁🍂 A love for all things cozy 🍂🍁

[leselfov]

The Mists of Avalon 

[insane-doctor-deactivated202103]

[mycelticheart]

Old Ruins

AledJonesStockNArt

[ghostlywriterr]

[northernvikinggirl]