Way of The Blade

IC blog of Daerthe Sae'tean, WRA Horde sindorei swordsman

[wayoftheblade]

your archetype is the realist.

tagged by @elenariseventide​

traits: practical, understanding, honest, brutal, logical, creator, intelligent, sensible, down-to-earth, reasonable

the realist is most commonly used to symbolize the highest possible outcome in a dire situation. they are the ones who have everything planned, and hand out reality checks as if they were pamphlets to those who need them--which, quite honestly, is everyone who isn't a realist. although they can be harsh (brutal truth over merciful), they are nurturers and care more than they let on. realists tend to do things that will lead to the best outcome, and use their knowledge of reading people to manipulate situations and problems in order to get out of a rock and a hard place.

fictional characters that are realists: hermione granger, eddard stark, dana scully, thorin oakenshield, lestrade (from sherlock), leia organa, willow rosenberg

other personality types that go with this: ravenclaw, horned serpent, poseidon, artemis

[wayoftheblade]

Character Traits

the basics ––– –

NAME: Daer’the Sae’tean

AGE: Early 20′s(in human years)

BIRTHDAY: June 5th

RACE: Sin’dorei

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single

physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Black

EYES: Emerald green

HEIGHT: 6′2″

BUILD:  lean and athletic

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Blade scars across his arms and chest. One puckered scar in the center of his chest. Burn on his right side.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A pair of swords constantly on his hips or over his shoulders, chain mail armor, and a small throwing ax on his belt.

personal ––– –

PROFESSION:  Swordsman for hire, Guardian of Eleney’a Eventide (former)

HOBBIES: None

LANGUAGES: Thalassian,  some Common and Orcish, Troll, and Tauren

RESIDENCE:  None at the moment.

BIRTHPLACE: Quel’Thalas

RELIGION: None

PATRON DEITY: None

FEARS: Failure, not having a purpose or cause to fight for.

relationships ––– -

SPOUSE: NA

CHILDREN: Unnamed child (deceased)

PARENTS:  Both are deceased.  Althorien Sae’tean (Father) Elthera (Mother)

SIBLINGS: Failieen(Sister/Deceased)

OTHER RELATIVES: All deceased

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Kaevia Sun’rael ( @light-bless ) Elenaris Eventide (@elenariseventide) Eleney’a Eventide ( @eleneyaeventide) Vel’adir Eventide ( @veladireventide)

PETS: None

traits ––– -

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

additional information ––– –

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

[wayoftheblade]

Time

((Thanks to @elenariseventide for helping with this one!))

The flight to Quel’Danas had taken almost all of what little coin he had  left to his name. The Eventide manor was some distance away, so he set off with a mile eating soldier’s stride.  His mind was spinning with too many thoughts. Where was Eleney’a? Was she hurt? What was he going to say to Elenaris? How would she react to his arrival and news?

He shook his head, banishing them all from his head. He had to do what he needed to. Eleney’a was out there somewhere and he was going to find her, and then punish the ones who took her. But he needed the Eventides to do it, and they had a right to join him in this. He crested the hill  that lead to the estate, pausing as he gazed upon it.

Something was wrong. It was too quiet. His eyes narrowed as he studie the area. Was he too late? Had they already set off for Dalaran? A frown crossed his face. Only one way to find out. He headed down the path towards the grounds, unknowingly tripping one of the magical wards that would alert any inhabitants to an intruder.

Upon coming further toward the estate, it would be shatteringly obvious that the windows that typical were illuminated were darkened and there was little movement outside and likely inside as well. The guards stood vigilant at the gate, more than usual and it took him a bit longer than having expected to be welcomed, if that was what you could call it. Not even the guards stood inside the gates, they would not budge from their posts as they not only stood at the front but spread along the perimeter.

It wasn’t until a dark haired smaller figure approached that Daer’the was truly addressed. She stood on the opposite side of the large iron gates that remained closed and spoke to him through the bars. “Master Daer’the…” Cindel’s words were almost hushed though it was moreso out of surprise. “What are you doing here? How are you not with Eleney’a...do you know where she is-”

“ Miss Cindel,” he cut  her off. “ I need to speak with Lady Eventide, or her brother at once. If she is not here, then I need to know where she is.”

The little mage blinked, still overcome with the shock that he was there without the youngest Eventide after having been the one to receive the message detailing Enomea had her. “They are not...Lady Eventide warded the Estate before she left so I cannot welcome you in, but they went to Dalaran. They are going to be in the Broken Isles, Master Daer’the. W-what happened?”

The swordsman let out an angry curse. “ Where in Dalaran?” he demanded, “ I have little time to waste.” The young woman had always been kind to him, but his nerves were starting to fray under the stress.

Cindel shook her head. “I do not know precisely the location, though with missives from Lady Eventide they have met with Lady Sun’rael...Kaevia, she and Vel’adir have been sharing a flat within the city. Surely someone there can point you to them.”

“ Then I’ll waste no more time here.” he stated, turning and starting to walk away. “ Be safe Miss Cindel.”

“Daer’the!” She called out, her hands coming to grip the iron gate. “Is she alive?” She managed to get out through a slightly trembling voice.

He turned back to her, his anger evident on his face. “ I don’t know.” he said. “ But if she has been harmed, then those responsible will pay in blood.” Without another word he was off again. Time was running out.

[wayoftheblade]

The Gift

It was well after dusk when he arrived in Quel ‘Thalas.  He moved with single minded determination. He had to get to the Eventide manor, hoping to find Elenaris and begin the search for Eleney’a. He began to move towards the dragonhwak master to procure a ride to the northern island.

“The clanhold...”

He stopped mid stride, unsure if he had actually heard the voice, or if it was a trick of the wind. Shaking his head he began wealking once more.

“ Claim Orthelin’s gifts.” the voice came again from nowhere. Again the swordsman stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. This was no trick of the wind as the words stirred his memory to the dream he’d had while recovering from the battle and the fall. His mouth went of the traumas suffered had somehow started to drive him mad. 

He began walking again, but this time his feet leading him home, to the ruins that once housed his entire world. Fashioning a torch out a stick and some strips torn from his cloak the made his way through the crumbling halls, and began descending down a series of stairs into a long neglected subterranean hall.

The tomb of Orthellin. First Sword of the Sae’tean.

The swordsman stood before the doors, staring at the crossed blade and phoenix emblem of his clan. No one had entered the tomb in centuries. Not since the founder of the clan had been laid to rest, imparting the credo they would come to live by. King. Nation. Clan.

Now one ceased to exist, the second wanted nothing to do with them, and the third all but annihilated. Daer’the sighed, shaking his head again. What was he doing here. He turned to leave.

“ Enter son of my blood. I have been waiting..”

He spun back to the double doors, his breath caught in chest. The voice. It had come from with in the tomb. He stepped closer, taking up one of the heavy iron rings and tugging on it. The doors silently swung open, startling him. He nearly dropped his torch. His free hand moved to the machete the troll shaman had given hi as he stepped inside. 

Small globes of  enchanted glass set into the wall gave the room a soft light, bathing the brier where Orthellin had been lain to rest. A layer of dust covers it, long undisturbed. But behind it, on a stand stood a suit of armor, looking like it just been placed there. Gleaming in the light it had not a speck of dust on it. Across the back tow swords rested in their scabbards. Daer’the moved towards the stand, a trembling hand reaching out to touch it. 

“ It served me well in life, as did the blades.” the voice came again, this time from behind him. The swordsman spun, hand again on his borrowed weapon. A shimmering figure stood, hands clasped behind it’s back. The expression on it’s face stern, yet welcoming.

“Welcome Daer’the Sae’tean. I am glad you heeded our call.” the shade said. The sowrdsman stared at it wide eyed.

“Orthellin...?” he sank to a knee before the greatest warrior the clan ever had.

“ Rise kinsman.” the shade bade him. “ Time is short, and you have a task to complete. But you lack proper equipment. So to you, a son of my blood and the last of my descendants I give you the inheritance of all the Sae’tean. My armor and weapons.”

He looked up at the spirit. “ I cannot take them...” he said.

“ You must.” Orthellin replied. “ you have an oath to uphold.”

“There is no Oath!” Daer’the cried. “ There is no king, the nation exiled us and the clan...”

“ Is you.” his ancestor stated. “ But I am not speaking of the Old Oath. I am speaking of the one you made to yourself. you have one you care for in danger. And you must go to help her. But you cannot do it alone or ill equipped. Rise my son, take what is yours by right and blood. Uphold your honor and in doing so the honor of us all.”

Hesitatingly he got to his feet. He moved to the stand and began to dress. The chain mail shirt fit perfectly, as did the breastplate, boots and armored leggings. The helm rested easily on his head, not impairing his vision in the least. He finally took up the baldric holding the swords and slipped it over his shoulders. Drawing the blades, he could not but impressed by the balance and light weight of them. But he had no doubt in his mind that they were far superior to his old weapons, or any weapon he had held before.

“ I have one last command for you Daer’the. The last command of the Sae’tean, as our day has passed.” the ghost of Orthellin said. the swordsman looked to his fore bearer, confused.

“ Passed?” he inquired. The shade nodded.

“ The Old Oath is broken, not by our hands but by the changes of the world. You are bound by them no longer.  But you have your own to your lady. Do as you will to hold to it.” Orthellin said. “Then, forge your own path son of my blood. Live your own life with honor as you would walk whatever road lays before you.” 

Daer’the again took a knee before his ancestor. “ I will. And I’ll make the Clan proud.”

“We are proud of you Daer’the. That pride and our love goes with you into this danger. Live in victory kinsman.” the spirit said, fading from view, it’s presence spent.

He knelt there for several moments, a feeling of peace settling over him. The shade was right. There was an oath to fulfill. The familiar anger began building gain. But tempered with a resolve to see this through to it’s end and Eleney’a returned home safely.

Rising to his feet he picked up his torch and made his way back to the surface. It was time to begin.

[wayoftheblade]

The Hunt

He ignored the throbbing pain in his side as he pulled his tunic on.  Pain would fade, but the anger inside him was only beginning to build. The donned his leggings and boots, ignoring the troll shaman standing in the doorway of the hut.

“ Ya not ready for dis. “ she said to him. “ Ya not fully healed.”

“I can’t afford to waste anymore time. “ he replied pulling on his boots. He picked up his leg armor and buckled it on. Why he couldn’t say, since the hauberk and shoulder guards were on the bottom of a river. But it made him feel more complete. He  buckled his belt on, frowning at the empty scabbards. His swords lost as well in the fight with the warlocks. He looks up t the female.

“ I need a weapon. Anything”  he said.

The troll sighed. “ Ya gonna get yourself killed.” she growled, moving to a vest in the corner. Opening it she pulled out a small hand axe and a machete. “ Ya fight with two weapons ya?” he nodded as she held them out. Taking them he tested the balance. The weapons were poorly made , compared to  his old ones. But he was in no position to refuse them.

“ Thank you.” he said. “How far to  Grom’Grol?” he asked. The troll glared at him, knowing nothing was going to get him to wait and rest.

“ Two days heading east.” she replied. The elf nodded at her in thanks and shouldering his pack of supplies began walking off. The shaman watched him, noting the determination and desperation in his movements.

“ Do ya love dis Elenya dat much mon?” she called after him. The swordsman paused, surprised by the question. He turned and looked at her, his expression softening.

“ She’s the only friend I have in the world.” he answered. Without another word he kept walking disappearing into the jungle. He walked east for a short while then veered north. He spent the next two hours searching, but finally came upon the site of the battle where he fell.

The remains of the wolves and the orc he had slain were already decomposing and had been torn at by the jungle predators. He began searching the corpse of the warlock, hoping for some clue. He found it. Tearing a piece off the tatter robe, he studied what seemed to be a sewn on badge. A mockery of the Eventide sigil in black and green. The image of it burned into his mind as he set out again. He heard Eleney’a’s desperate scream for help echo through his head.

His anger fueled his steps, as he heed back in the direction of Grom’Grol. Get to Quel’Thalas, find elenaris and her people. then the hunt would truly begin.

[wayoftheblade]

Slow ass day at work. Someone send me some prompts please ?

[penvenomstarkstar]

It's Munday! As such my muse will be taking questions about the Mun. Fill up the box folks.

[wayoftheblade]

I'll do this thing. Send them in. No anons plz.

[wayoftheblade]

“ELENEY’A!” the scream tore from him as he sat up suddenly. A sharp pain in his right side sent him into a violent coughing fit, blood mixed phlegm dribbled down his chin. Gasping to breathe , he remembered the ambush, the fall into the river. His left side burned with the lingering pain of the magic bolt that had hit him. Another fit of coughing hit him, causing his whole body to spasm. He felt a firm but gentle hand steady him until the attack passed.

“ Easy mon...” a voice scolded him, the hands carefully laying him back down onto the small bed. “ Ya be puncturing that lung again if ya not careful.”

Daer’the opened his eyes, looking into the face of a troll woman. she nodded to him. “ My fatha and I found ya in tha river. Ya broke  some ribs. But we pray to da spirits and da Loa and they set ya on tha mend.”

The swordsman took a steadying breath, grimacing with pain from the simple movement. “ Darkspear..?” he asked, hoping trying top speak wouldn’t send him into another coughing fit.

“ Ya mon,” she grinned, giving her a friendlier look. “ My fatha is a preist, I follow da path of da shaman. We live near da river. Ya lucky we found ya, crocolisks woulda had a fine meal from you.”

Daer’the tried to sit up again. but the shaman easily pushed him back. “ No mon, ya need rest. Let tha work tha Loa and tha spirits run it’s course. We ‘ave potions if ya in pain.”

“ I can’t sit here,” he replied, his voice halting. as he struggled to keep from another attack. “ Warlocks..they ataacked us, they took her..”

“ Dis Elenya?” the troll woman’s brow creased. “ Warlocks here?” Dis be strange. Why they take her?”

Daer’tthe recalled the dream, or was it even that? The name Enomea echoed in his mind. “ A sister..banished from her House, her family.” he rasped.” I need to get back to Silvermoon, to rally her kin.” another coughing attack hit him. The troll helped pull into a siting position, gently tapping him on the back to help it pass. He gasped for breath.

“ Ya in no shape to travel now.” she said. Ya need rest. My fatha is at Bambala, but he be back in da morning. We pray to the spirits and Loa again. Maybe they help ya more to save ya woman.”

Daer’the tried to speak, but he no strength.  His eyes fluttered shut as the darkness took him again. Hang on...he thought of Eleney’a. I’ll find you..

[wayoftheblade]

Lost

It was grey. The sky, the earth, the very air. It was as if all color had been leeched from the world.  The swordsman crouched next to some rocks. They were out there, whatever they were. Ever since he had woken they had giving chase. Every time he thought he’d caught a glance of one, they vanished into the grey mist that seemed to cover everything.

He would have preferred to stand and fight, but his weapons had been lost. How, he couldn’t recall. He at times thought he remembered a fight. Green skinned sorcerers. And a girl. the girl haunted his thoughts. She was someone important. Not just to him, but important over all. Why couldn’t he remember anything past that?

Movement caught his eye. It was one his shadowy pursuers. He broke from his cover into a dead sprint, hoping to outpace them, Unearthly howls and screeches followed him as they gave chase. If he could gain more distance from them, perhaps he could lose them in the mists. Find somewhere safe. Try to remember where he was. Remember who he was.

One of the fiends leaped, tackling him to the ground. He rolled with it, punching and clawing trying to get space between them. to keep running.  The creature, a twisted shadowy thing pinned him to the ground a maw of hundreds of small razor sharp fangs opened seeking his throat.

“GET BACK!” a powerful voice yelled, followed by a flash of light. The creature screamed in agony and fell from the elf, one of it’s many limbs severed by the shining white sword carried by a silver figure clad for war. More similar figures appeared. Some carrying swords, others axes or bows. Others held shining white staves in one hand, and flaming balls of white light in the other. The first warrior reached down and hauled the elf up. “ On your feet Daer’the.”

Daer’the. That was his name. Daer’the Sae’tean. He looked into the face of his rescuer , his jaw dropping in shock.

“Father?”

“Yes, but I have no time to explain in detail. You should not be here. And our time is short” Althorien Sae’tean replied. “ You were wounded, badly. You now hover in between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. But there is still a chance for you to return. But it will not be easy.”

Daer’the looked around at the other shining figures. some he recognized, others he’d never seen before. These were the ghosts of the Clan Sae’tean. Fighting one last battle. Fighting for him. He looked back at the shade of his father. “ How?”

The ghost pointed beyond them. “ Not far is a cliff. You must scale it, but will not be easy. We must soon return to our rest and the fiends will give chase again. The cliff itself will try to thwart you. But you can do it. I know you can, for you have an oath to keep.”

Daer’the scowled. “ I’ve sworn no oaths. The king’s line betrayed us, the nation exiled us, and the clan..”

“ Not some promise given to a king or country boy.” his father cut him off.” One you made here.” he tapped his son on chest with a finger. Surprisingly, Dear’the felt the touch.

“ You need to find her. She needs you now more than ever. Go back to the living. Get to the clanhold. Orthelin’s gifts remain. You know where to look.”

“Father..”

“GO!” the shade yelled, spinning and cutting a fiend that broken the line  in half “ There’s no more time!”

Daer’the broke into run, glancing back over his shoulder to see the shining figures of his kin vanishing one by one. His legs pumped with all the strength he could muster. the fiends would not catch him. Soon the cliff came into view. As he neared it  he noticed it had a translucent shimmering look. When he reached the base he jumped grabbing for a handhold, and immediately let go a cry of pain escaping him as both his hands were cut deeply. 

He hit the ground, looking at his palms. What he could only assume was blood seeped from large gashes on each hand. He looked back at the cliff. Glass. The damned thing was made of jagged razor sharp shards of glass. He pushed himself to his feet, “ The cliff will try to stop me all right. It’ll cut me to shreds.” He looked up. He couldn’t see the top through the ever present mist.

Clenching his teeth the swordsman again jumped and grabbed the treacherous surface. Another shout of pain escaped him, but her held firm, forcing himself to climb. Each hand hold was agony anew.  His legs were also paying the price. but he continued to climb, trying to shut out the pain.

“ The orcs who took your noblewoman were slain by their masters. An attempt to try and gain false confidence in the girl.” his father’s voice came to him. “ Her captor is none other than her own sister. A witch named Enomea.”

“ Enomea?” Daerthe said aloud. Neither Eleney’a or Elenaris ever mentioned her. “ Guess Vela’dir isn’t the rotten apple after all...” The thought of kinsman betraying or harming one of their own was foreign to the swordsman. the though angered him, giving him strength.

Daer’the growled, forcing himself to keep climbing. Doing his best to ignore the glassy surface shredding his arms and legs. He glanced down and saw nothing but mists below. Looking up he saw the same above. Inch by agonizing inch he climbed, he had to. He had to get back and find her.

“ Her in gather to seek her out and destroy the banished one. But they are not of one mind, you must go them.”

Elenaris and Vela’dir would have questions, Or accusations for him when he saw them. But he would prevail. The people who took Elenay’a  were going to die. Every last one of them. He getp pulling himself up. Finally after what seemed like hours, he reached the edge and hauled himself onto the top. His breath suddenly became extremely labored, and a burning pain shot through his side.

“ Eleney’a...”

[wayoftheblade]

A Final Broken Oath

“JUST RUN!!!” the swordsman yelled, giving Onym a slap on the flanks to get the wolf moving. He heard Eleny’a yell to him as he drew his swords and moved to meet the ambush. His mind focused, moving into the place of the warrior, the part of him where dwelt the need to for blood and violence. He took note the attackers were all dressed in robes with foul arcane markings.

Warlocks. his mind registered. A small smile crept across his face. The clan had warlocks among their ranks when he was a boy. He’d learned how to fight them. He learned from them.  And he had put those skills to good use in the past.  One, the youngest and most likely least experienced by the look of him began making motions and chanting. Daer’the felt the beginnings of the intrusion into his mind, seeking to fill them with terrors. He’d experienced similar joinings before, communal thoughts shared under opiates with Tauren shamans and druids. A melding of thoughts made in friendship and respect. But this..

This was rape.

A red wall of anger filled his mind, shocking the warlock, try as he might he couldn’t gain a hold in the elf’s mind. As he closed in on the fel user understanding dawned and his own terror followed. This elf had nothing to fear, because he had nothing to lose. And he was going to kill the foolish spellcaster.

Daer’the’s blades ripped the orc’s chest apart in a fluid and gory  blur of motion. He spun, just dodging a spell attack by one of the other two and was ready to pounce on them and sate his bloodlust.

“DAER’THE!!!” A scream cut through the cloud of anger in his mind. He looked back to see a fourth orc, bearing down on Eleny’a. He spun on his heel, breaking into a dead run. The oaths of the clan might have failed, but by whatever gods were out there he would not fail her. 

Burning agony slammed into him sending him off his feet an into the air. His swords dropping from his grasp. Through the bushes he went, slamming onto the ground, and then rolling. And he kept rolling, as the other side was a steep incline. His head slammed onto the ground and darkness took him.

The cold shock of the water woke him up. He struggled in the current, fighting to the surface. but his chain mail was pulling him down. He struggled to hold his breath as he discarded what the hauberk and shoulders. He burst to the surface drawing a large breath as he was hurriedly pushed downstream. he slammed into a large rock outcropping, new pain washing over him as her heard an violent snapping.

Rib... he mentally cursed. clawing for a handhold. he slipped off the rock and back under water. Mustering what strength he could through the agony of the magical wound and the broken rib he battled back to the air. He tried to gather his wits and determine how the current flowed. he painfully side stroked closer to the shore and luckily caught an eddy from another rock outcropping  that pushed him out of the main current and to shore. he staggered out of the river coughing up blood. The rib had punctured a lung. he slumped to the ground, feeling despair. 

He failed. He was supposed to protect her, and he failed.

Through his pain hazed vision he saw two forms creep from the undergrowth. The shape and stance told him they were trolls. But Daer’the didn’t care. He had no more will to fight. He let the pain take him.

[elenariseventide]

[ Written by @wayoftheblade to start off quite the bit of nonsensical storyline. We’re horrible people. Great writers. ]

Her nails tapped angrily against the arms of the chair, eyes narrowed in barely contained fury at the orc shaman her satyr guards forcibly had kneeling before her. She held the stare for several long moments before finally speaking, her voice cutting through the silent tension like a finely honed dagger.

“She has been seen in the city. Seeking and gathering capable people around her. You failed.” she accused, her anger evident in her tone. “ You said your control of the spirits was strong. You said you would force them to create a storm none would survive! Yet she lives!”

The orc glared back, undisguised hatred in his own eyes. “ The storm I called forth raged like no other! Not since the Destroyer Deathwing rose has such a storm been seen!” he shot back, defiant. “ The elf bitch must have had some foul fel magic about her like you!”

A sneer crossed her lips. “Or you are not as powerful as claimed or suspected. Another savage, wasting time and life. I should have known better than to use such a lesser creature.”

The orc growled. “ Lesser? You consort with demons and twisted things! I am Zalgor, the spirits bend to my will! I was one of  Garrosh’s chosen!”

“ You are a green pig, playing at power!” the sin'dorei woman shrieked at him, her fury boiling over. “ Trying to utilize you was a mistake. But that will be corrected.” The orc opened his mouth to retort, but she hissed a word. Whatever the shaman had intended to say erupted into a pain wracked scream. He clutched his head in agony, as the satyr stepped back. The fel powered rune the woman had ordered tattooed on the orc did it’s work as blood streamed from his nose, mouth and ears. He continued to shriek in pain as his eyes exploded in their sockets, finally falling to the floor dead.

She rose from her seat and walked past the dead orc without so much as a glance. “ Remove this..thing.” she commanded. “ I will be in my chambers, I am not to be disturbed for the next hour.”

“Yes Mistress.” one of the satyr replied, bowing his head. She made her way her to suite of rooms that held her private quarters. One of her apprentices stood by ready to serve her.

“ Pour me some wine and then remove yourself.” she snapped, her anger hardly sated. The young girl swiftly obeyed, pouring the commanded drink and then silently departing. The sorceress, paced the sitting room, sipping the drink. Elenaris. her mind screamed. Everytime she thought she had finally rid herself of the whore, she somehow rallied and persevered. Even a typhoon sent to sink the ship carrying her hadn’t stopped her. With her out of the way, that idiot Vela’dir would have led the House to ruin with his rash ways. The she would have swooped in and ensured its destruction would be complete.

Trust not in fools. She frowned. Time was running out. Soon the masters would require her efforts elsewhere. She drained the glass of wine, pondering how to finish what she started when a knock came at the door. “ I said I was not to be disturbed!” she screamed, though the door cracked open a slight bit.

“ Forgive me Mistress.” came the voice of Dal’thanir, her head apprentice. “ But word from our spies in Ashenvale and Silvermoon have come and I thought you would want to hear it at once.”

She frowned. “ Come in.” she commanded, her eyes fixed on the slim but athletic form of the younger warlock.  “ What is it that is so pressing.”

“ From Silvermoon, the younger sister has run off. Following some vagabond swordsman the Lady found somewhere.” Dal’thir answered, his head bowed in respect. “ No pursuit has been given, so it would seem either there has been some falling out or the Lady has chosen to allow it for the time being.”

She felt her foul mood lift. “ Ran off?”

“Yes Mistress.” he replied. “ A girl matching her description was seen at Splintertree Post, with a man matching what we know of this swordsman.”

She paced the room, pouring herself a second glass of wine as she considered this new information. Sipping it she smiled. Eleney’a was young, sheltered. Impressionable. Corruptible. She turned back to her apprentice.

“ We’ll have Vetnoris and his kin seek them out. I want them alive.” she said stepping closer to him. One arm snaked around his neck as she drew close. “And I believe you deserve a reward for your diligence, dear apprentice.”

“ I am here to serve.” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers. She smiled, knowing he enjoyed when she gave him these  ‘rewards’

“Then serve me..” she purred, leading him to the bedchamber.

[wayoftheblade]

Ashenvale (Cont’d)

Their stay in Splintertree Post was only for the night, and they were on  the road again with the light of dawn. Daerthe, alert and awake as always. Eleney’a yawning and wishing she could of had another hour of sleep. Their wolves, rested and fed walked along at a leisurely pace. Daerthe fished a couple of oranges out of a saddle bag and passed one along to Neya.

Eleney’a had leaned forward, resting her upper body on the wolf’s neck when Daerthe extended the makeshift breakfast toward her. “You know, when I pictured seeing the world...I did not expect it to be so tiring.” She mumbled, accepting the orange and beginning to peel it slowly. “Could it hurt to stay in one place for a full day? Have a real meal….enjoy some real rest?”

Daerthe peeled his own orange. “ Not much to see at Splintertree.” he remarked. “ And as beautiful Ashenvale is, it is still considered Kaldorei territory. I’d prefer not to linger longer than needed in case hostilities break out around here again.”

He popped and orange slice into his mouth and chewed. He spit the seeds out. “ Besides, this is a leisurely pace for me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, carefully picking the seeds from the orange slices before taking them into her mouth. What a ‘lady’.  “Hn, for YOU? I feel like we have barely stopped at all. I feel like I have asked many times but I still do not know why we are going where we are.” She shrugged, leaning forward again to rest against her wolf with a huff.

The swordsman chewed for a few moments before answering. “ Well, I figured on seeing a friend in Bloodhoof Village, over in Mulgore. I think you’d like it there, it’s quite scenic and the Tauren or Shu’halo as they call themselves are good people.” He ate the last of his orange tossing the peel away. “ You wanted to tag along. Having second thoughts?” he teased her.

The young lady huffed yet again, beckoning her wolf to move closer alongside Daerthe’s as she reached out and plucked his arm. “No. Stop trying to get rid of me.” She said, finishing off the fruit he had given her as she settled comfortably atop Onyx.

He laughed. “ Not trying to get rid of you Neya.” he replied. “ Just giving you a hard time for being a city girl.” He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “ I’m just used to getting to where I need or want to go in the most direct way by my chosen means of travel. This is a relaxed pace for me, but it must be a bit rushed to you hmm?”

She tilted her head from side to side, stretching the muscles in her neck with a sigh. “Mm, a bit…” She began though as she continued, she straightened her posture, returning to that ever prideful demeanor he had grown to know. “Though I am fine. I will get used to it I suppose.”

“ We’ll stop for a decent rest around midday.” he promised. “ I’m not trying to kill you with travel I promise.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.” She replied through a smirk before the quiet and almost hidden giggle came. “Just...make it a believable story when you tell my siblings, hm?”

Dearthe smirked. “ One would probably try to kill me, not hard to guess which.” he remarked, scanning the trees. “ Besides, I was never good at fabricating stories.”

She clicked her tongue. “Well, I suppose you will have to think of something, otherwise it is likely both that will attempt at killing you. And, as I’m sure you’ve seen my sister, I’m sure you know that it is much less likely that you will get away from her than my brother.” At this, she fell silent, leaving his imagination open as she began to hum a tune softly.

Daerthe rode on in silence, content to leave the jest as is. After a while though he felt as if something wasn’t right.  He looked around, scanning the trees and glancing behind them. A frown crossed his face. A sense of unease coming over him.

Neya had closed her eyes, continuing to hum her tune. At first, she thought Daerthe might have fallen silent to enjoy her song though she quickly realized that was unlikely. With her lids opened, she looked to him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away, continuing to observe their surroundings. “ Just a feeling.” he replied, his voice more subdued than usual. “ Could be just an animal, or it could be nothing.” he glanced behind them again. “ But someone may be following us.”

With widened eyes, she quickly turned around to look behind them, though immediately faced forward yet again in fear of what she might see. “Are you...typically right when it comes to these ‘feelings’”? She asked, her voice lowering almost instinctively as she scrunched her shoulders, posture concaving into herself.

The swordsman shrugged. “ I’ve developed a feel for these things over the years.” he replied, still scanning the trees. “ It’s saved my life more than once.” He rode on in silence again for a few minutes. He glanced over to her. “ Don’t hunch over, try to be more relaxed and natural. I would guess if it is someone, it’s kaldorei watching to make sure we’re not disturbing anything and just passing through. I doubt they’d provoke open hostility without cause.”

Her eyes only left him briefly to flick between the surrounding area quickly, returning back to him curiously each time. When he corrected her, she nodded once and resituated herself to seem slightly more normal but still quite obviously concerned. “Are you sure? What if they do, though? What if you have to kill them? Won’t that become a problem? Will we have to return to Orgrimmar? Daerthe?!” Her questions came one after another, giving him little time to respond as she battered him in a hush tone of inquiries.

He allowed himself a chuckle. “ Kill them? Unlikely, as I’d suspect we’d be outnumbered. Their not an inherently violent people. But given the former Warchief’s excursion into the forest following the Cataclysm, they have become more vigilant and protective. But again we‘re merely passing through, so I’d wager it’s merely observation.”

With a deep inhale, quite the long on at that, she seemed to steady herself slowly. The release of the breath was controlled and done with purpose. “If you say so though I get different vibes from your own observations.” Her hands griped the reins to Onyx tightly, eyes now moving about the area again with slower reasoning. “I swear if I die out here…” She mumbled under her breath.  

“ I’m just cautious is all.” he replied. “ There’s a small set of ruins up the road a few miles, we’ll stop there for some rest and get the wolves fed.”

“Well THAT doesn’t sound safe at all.” She replied with a sarcastic snort. “Though, if you think it best, then it must be. Let’s just...get there quickly?” She turned to him, looking almost pleadingly.

@eleneyaeventide

[elenariseventide]

❣ For Daerthe

[ He decided to go crazy with this prompt. The beginning is written by Daerthe himself]

❣ for Daerthe, smashing it with the chained to the wall prompt: 

The swordsman shook his head as he broke the cell door open. “ You really have a nose for trouble.” he remarked to Elenairs. He moved closer to examine the shackles holding her to the wall. He ignored her indignant look,. “ This does have a price.” he said to her. Elenaris was about to speak, when he pressed his lips to hers, pushing back against the wall. She was unable to stop him if she wanted to since her wrists were still chained.

As her parted lips were met with his forcefully, it felt as if the breath had been knocked from her. Olive hues widened as she looked onto him even as he continued to hold that kiss despite her lack of ability to give any sort of reaction aside from simply accepting the gesture.

The kiss had come as a surprise, though, oddly as it was given she did not feel quite as much anger as she likely should have. Considering the brief, yet short history the two had together, would it have been such an oddity for her to feel some sort of attraction to her saviour? Hardly, but just as her eyes closed and her body relaxed from the original agitated state, he pulled away. 

He grinned at her, accepting what chastisement was to follow. “ Well I needed something to judge by and see if little sister will measure up.”

She had been played! Saved again by this man and yet the moment she let her guard down, he swindled her like a common thief swooping in for his prize. Shaking her arms, rattling the shackles that still remained upon her wrist, she narrowed her eyes to him as if piercing through his soul. 

As he went about removing the shackles, she felt her lung fill with a deep breath, allowing this moment to calm whatever anger and embarrassment might have been showed.

“Hm. So Vel’adir was right…Well, I suppose she could find worse.” She grumbled, pushing him away now as her arms were free. 

[wayoftheblade]

Is this real? Is it just funsies? IS HE REALLY THIS BIG OF A JERK???

[wayoftheblade]

I think I may have just mentally broken @elenariseventide. 

[wayoftheblade]

The Dead of Night

Daerthe stared at the ceiling, as his hammock gently swung back and forth. His body was tired, but his mind would not let him sleep. Below him, he heard Eleney’a shift in her own hammock. He smirked into the dark, recalling with amusement when she realized the inn of the Crossroads had no rooms, just a few beds and hammocks in the open common area. Her expression had bee a mix of outright puzzlement and apprehension.

Thus far she had embraced the adventure of the journey with open arms. Listening to him when he explained or pointed out things she should take note of. Asking questions with a tone of wonderment in her voice. She drank in every sigh, with the the enthusiasm of one who had been denied experiences her whole life.

The smirk turned to a frown. Surely by now her siblings had set someone on the trail, if not her brother himself. Daerthe had no doubt Vela’dir would love to have cause to humble the swordsman. The ill blood between them would never truly settle. Especially now he had left the city with the youngest Eventide in tow, and without any permission to do so. 

Daerthe tucked one arm under his head. That was a bridge he’d cross when hecame to it. For now he’d journey with Eleney’a for as long she cared to. Then he would see her home safely, before resuming his own wanderings. Silvermoon was no home for him, there was only the road.

[wayoftheblade]

An Overdue Apology

A courier would deliver the scroll, apologizing for the lateness, as it had been misplaced. He would scurry off, before the Lady could think to chastise him.

Lady Starsworn,

I beg pardon for not doing this face to face, but I have decided to leave Silvermoon as it is no place for me anymore. But I wish to apologize for my poor behavior at our only meeting. I took offense where none was intended. This fault is squarely mine, as I am not man used to jests of the nature you implied between my self and Lady Eleney’a.

I know, in hindsight it was not meant to be an implication of an inappropriate relationship between myself and the Lady, nor was it mean spirited. Again my nature and lack of what some may refer to as social graces. So with my departure I would like to say I am sorry ofr my aggressive response to you. And that I hope you and yours enjoy peace and blessings.

Respectfully,

Daerthe Santean.

@light-bless @elenariseventide @eleneyaeventide

[tsencha-art]

Come join me this Satuday (4/14/2016) for Random Art, Live Chat & Conversations, and get more information on the FREE ART GIVEAWAY!

[tsencha-deactivated20170806]

Also follow me on Twitter for instant updates and notifications when I go live!

TWITTER: @Tsencha_