inistellan

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

Dancing in Stilts

November DWC 2024

Day 5 - Skill

The reason Nahi asked Stellan to teach her to shoot back in Hallowfall was not just because he and Fio were the ones talking to her about it, it was because Nahi knew a person with skill when she saw one. If she was going to learn something that might save her life, she would like it to be from the best she had access to, surviving as long as she could was a pretty worthy goal afterall. It hadn’t been anything the sniper said, it was because of how he was treated in camp, she was well versed in observing, and people in the company treated him with great respect. Nahi had heard he was not one of the Argents that served with Talon before, that meant that he earned the former Argents’ respect without fighting with them before they retired. Now that she finally had the opportunity to get to the lesson she had asked for, she wasn’t going to ignore anything he said, or what he might not say. When Stellan showed her how to do something, she focused on little details, some of which she would have not picked up just listening to him explain. Recoil was the big one, if she hadn’t studied how he fired the gun there was no way she would have understood his telling her to anticipate it. Nahilvi had watched him rather than the target when he took his next shot after explaining to her how to handle the recoil, her eyes took in his form and how the kick of the weapon was absorbed rather than forcing his hands up, helping her to understand what he meant. Safety lessons were listened to diligently and Nahi asked questions throughout, not interrupting him but waiting until he would pause before she would fill in the blanks she needed. Everything was followed exactly as he told her, as well as she could considering she had never even touched a firearm before that afternoon, but none of it felt ‘right’ to her. She probably, hopefully, wasn’t the worst student he ever had, yet she felt like she wasn’t even close to the best either, something her inner perfectionist chastised her for each time she took a shot. 

Nahi didn’t learn well until she could piece together the melody of an act and it took her until he was, again, showing the proper stance that it began to come together. The problem was that she was clunky in what she was doing like, she was dancing while wearing stilts, Stellan was all grace, even down to clearing the cylinder and setting down the weapon. Blinking at him when he was done, then looking at the target to see where his shots penetrated so he hopefully didn’t notice her attention. It was then Nahi realized that she might be able to learn to shoot, but she would never come close to matching what must have taken him a lifetime to learn. ( @inistellan @daily-writing-challenge @themercenaries Edit: Sorry Fio totally brain dead @fio-renze)

[inistellan]

November DWC 2024 Day 5 - Skill

Rumors say if you mark your door with a red stripe, you will beckon The Chameleon to appear the next night. The name of the target is all that he needs, the desires you speak shall always succeed.

Beware thoughts of betrayal, he shall see through your sin, The Chameleon adapts and always blends in. You won’t know his name, you won’t see his face, unless you seek death, stay in his good grace.

The price may be steep, but you will not regret, despite what you see, you are of no threat. The job will be done with much time to spare, The Chameleon’s craft is beyond compare.

Inistellan Volanthus is a man of many skills, the greatest of which is lying. He had been lying to everyone he had ever met ever since he could remember when his father, Lord Fin’endal, told him that he was to become the next Chameleon. The Chameleon was a figure whispered about only in shadows, one of the greatest assassins that seemed to transcend time itself. The Chameleon had been around for millenia, and in some circles anytime anyone of importance died in a suspicious manner, it was assumed to have been the work of the famed assassin. No one knew that there had been multiple versions of The Chameleon, except for the Fin’endal’s since it was, essentially, the family business.

Not that Stellan uses that name anymore. After passing on the title and parting ways with the moniker, it was typical for the retired Chameleon to take on a completely new life. That is exactly what he had done, multiple times in fact. Inistellan Volanthus was the fourth name and face that Cazmilan Fin’endal Senior had chosen, and quite possibly his last.

It had at first been a burden to him, having been taught and molded from a young age that this was to be his life. He ended up resenting his father in the end only to take the older man’s life while still accepting the family title. The world needed and still needs people like The Chameleon, at least in his opinion. Eventually, he grew to enjoy it. He still participated in everything he otherwise would have and held a completely ‘normal’ life outside of his secret life: Marriage, children, friendships, lovers, hobbies, routine. It had always felt as if he were two different people forced inside of one body, but perhaps that was just a part of the ‘family trait’.

Every Chameleon was meant to have a public face of great renown. His father before him had been a notable Magister, and his son who now carries the title is a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet of Silvermoon. Stellan himself was the piano player for the Silvermoon Orchestra during his first life until he ‘died’. That was one skill he still enjoys quite a bit to this day, practicing often on his own grand piano in his humble apartment.

His second life had him see work as a boatswain on an at-the-time well-known pirate ship. Othikess Starfall had always been good with his hands, excellent at carpentry and had a knack for melee combat. The open seas were so peaceful and calming after a lifetime of constant practicing and having to be perfect.

Vethan Sunsong was his third life, a vagabond who had oftentimes volunteered as a farmhand in return for a meal and a bed to sleep in for a night before moving on. Traveling everywhere, he learned about various cultures and struggles all over Azeroth and picked up new languages along the way. A favorite, if not for his desire for the finer things in life.

Every version of himself had taught him a lifetime's worth of skills, bringing him to the man he is today. Inistellan Volanthus was a Farstrider for some time before eventually retiring into mercenary and security work. It isn’t as fast-paced as some of his other lives, but he is getting older now and slowing down is natural. He still surprises many, especially in the sparring ring. It’s difficult to trick a man who had spent his life tricking others, not to mention a man that had been trained at his level. But they will never know.

For now, he is content and comfortable. His children thrive in ways he never did: Cazmilan Junior with his ballet and expertise as the Chameleon, and Vixannya Ana'diel with her macabre art. He has friends, beautiful lovers, a home, wealth, and security. Perhaps Inistellan Volanthus is truly the classy gentleman he was meant to be all along.

@cazthechameleon @cazmilan @vixannya @themercenaries

@daily-writing-challenge

[inistellan]

"Would those around you notice if you disappeared?"

"Sure as fuck hope so. I know one in particular that would certainly notice if I disappeared. Why do you ask? Are you planning on trying to kill me?

Good luck."

thanks anon!

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

Stellan perched atop the jagged hill adjacent to their camp in Hallowfall, silenced sniper rifle at the ready in case anything thought of breaching the light. He himself sat in the eerie darkness that the void phase of Beledar cast over the lands, melded into the shadows so neither friend nor foe would be able to locate him. Perhaps others would find it a poor choice to not stay within the safety of a brazier’s light, but Stellan preferred it this way. His eyes were able to adjust to the darkness and he had a full view of their camp, as well as neighboring camps and the surrounding lands. Not to mention that all matter of creature to be found here wasn’t exactly smart or had possessed much will to scout around the tops of a rocky ledge.

As long as he remained silent, he remained safe.

The faint tremors of the ground didn’t quite reach his location, but the confused expressions painting the faces below was enough to know something was about to happen. Peering down the scope of his rifle he watched with an expectant expression as the ground split open inside the neighboring camp, toppling their brazier and other sources of light until they were bathed in shadows.

As expected, Talonoa immediately sprang into action. The man never slept, he never needed to sleep, and instead he spent his free time keeping watch or helping around the camp. No one questioned it, or his peculiar powers. Some things were best left unknown.

Eyes darted around, making a mental note where his own people were and what they were currently doing. While they did a great job at watching each other’s backs, it was dark and the enemy was numerous. With a gentle pull of his trigger he demolished the hooked pincer swinging for Fiorenze, and then the many-eyed face of a spider-like creature making a dash for Dicenne. Luckily for him, the air down here was still and not as many factors had to be taken into account for aim accuracy. Not that he ever missed his targets, at least not recently, this had been his life for many, many years.

The insectoids were swiftly picked off little by little, focusing mostly on the ones seeking to attack his own people, and secondly on those they were trying to save. The moment seemed to happen in the blink of an eye with the amount of focus he maintained throughout, and when he was finally able to relax, he hadn’t realized how long he was sitting in the same position. With a few soft pops, Stellan took to his feet and made his way down the rugged terrain and into the camp, first making eye contact with Talon to let the elder know he was safe.

The chaos of the fight had given way to a different type of chaos in the camp. Everyone scurried about collecting first aid supplies while the healers worked tirelessly to fix what they could. The casualties would be many in the other camp, but not as many if they had not been there to help. 

He surveyed the area, eyes landing on the Garren who seemed to be just staring down at his hands. The poor guy had been through so much in his young life already, and top of that his father was now actively missing and likely dead. Stellan had taken it upon himself to look after him when he was able, and help him with his aim - although he was already quite good for his age. “Garren, you okay?” Stellan made his approach from the side, eyes darting from Garren’s face to his bloodied hands.

Garren blinked out of the daze he had found himself in, “Yeah just…just forgot what I was doing.”

“It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and you can go help with collecting some extra clothes for our guests.” Pulling him away from the healing tent seemed the best course of action. He could spot deep-seated war trauma from a mile away.

It was going to be a long night, and a long rest of the day. Once Beledar made its shift to Light, they would more than likely be transporting the wounded somewhere safer where they could get more help before having to return to their own contract. There was still a job here to be done.

@themercenaries @talonoa @fio-renze @dicenne @garrennorassin

[inistellan]

Following this writing prompt for our crew!

“RUN INTO OUR LIGHT! FIGHTERS WITH ME, GET THEM INTO OUR CAMP! EVERYONE ELSE KEEP THAT LIGHT GOING, HELP THE WOUNDED, AND CALL BACK OUR NIGHT SHIFT TO HELP!”

Commander Dal’shula’s booming voice echoed throughout the camp and was more than enough to stir Dicenne from his light sleep. Hallowfall had not been the best place for restful sleep given there were no distinguishable days nor nights thanks to their ‘star’, Beledar, and its inconsistent shift between Light and Void. It was easy to tell the crystal was currently in its Void state given the ominous purple hue cast over everything.

Dice didn’t have to see what was going on in order to know exactly what happened: Someone’s light had gone out. It was a fear in the backs of all of their minds, knowing exactly what kinds of horrid creatures the Void phase would bring out. Thankfully he had dozed off in much of his armor; even though it was sturdy, it was also comfortable. He strapped on his boots, gloves, and helmet before picking up his shield and mace. Blunt force worked best against many of these enemies, as he had already learned over their past few days of being and fighting here.

He sprinted out of his tent and towards the fray, watching as Talonoa and a few others on the night shift disappeared into the darkness beyond their own brazier’s light. There was no hesitation in following the group, this is what he did, or what he used to do. After spending centuries in some type of military organization, you learn to allow the adrenaline to carry you into any situation no matter how dire.

The chaotic scene that unfolded before him wasn’t anything he hadn’t witnessed before, but the sounds of blood-curdling screams, bones being broken, and flesh being ripped is something one never gets accustomed to. The brazier in the neighboring camp seemed to have been snuffed out after creatures burrowing beneath had knocked it over, and immediately swarmed the unsuspecting crew once the darkness enveloped them.

The ultimate goal here was to get the other mercenary crew to the safety of their camp, the spiders and other insectoids would continue to swarm as long as that light was out. Thankfully, this is where Talon’s mercenary crew excelled. Most being veterans of many wars, they knew how to remain calm under pressure, and more importantly, how to work together as a team.

After exchanging a brief, knowing look, Talonoa raised his open hand and froze a cluster of the monsters in place. Dicenne immediately dashed for them, raising his shield to his shoulder and immediately slamming full-force into his targets, shattering them into hundreds of icy slivers. He pressed on further into the center of the camp, swinging the sharpened side of his shield into a cluster of the smaller insectoids, easily slicing them in half before arcing the large mace up and over and flattening the head of one of the spiders into the ground that had been rooted in place by Fiorenze.

He hoisted up one of the screaming, injured fighters who was missing most of her leg, tossing her over his shoulder as he made his way back through the mayhem and deposited her on the edges of their camp for the healers to tend to. Eyes darted along the boundary of the light as fellow members of his own mercenary crew helped the injured to safety, while some of the others were able to rush in on their own with the insectoids nipping at their heels. Occasionally if one of the creatures got too close for comfort, a bullet would pierce their face, sending them flying backwards. Dicenne had no clue where Stellan had perched himself to snipe, but hopefully he would remain safe and undiscovered in his location.

Some of the creatures were getting too brave and coming a little too close to the light for Dice’s comfort. Sprinting along the edge of darkness, Dicenne quickly dispatched a handful of enemies attempting to claw and chomp at Nahilvi, Kaisina, and a few of the others as they helped bring the injured within the safety of the light, before heading back towards the neighboring camp. 

Tinnaire sent a fireball streaking over his head, lighting up the darkened sky, and making contact with a cluster of swarmites hovering above the fallen camp. Their burning corpses illuminated the continuous mass pouring forth from the earth’s broken crust. Talonoa stood just beside the cracked ground as a red mist began to fill the air around him and anything within a small radius seemed to wither and die, clogging up the opened earth and stopping the swarm from below - for now.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long the entire battle had lasted, but by the time the area seemed to have cleared of enemies and wounded, he had managed to bring back eight injured into their camp. A few of the fighters made a few rounds just to ensure they had not left any living behind before finally returning to the safety of their light. 

Dicenne set down his weapons and shook his arms out to help alleviate some of the tension. He didn’t particularly feel sore or tired, but that was all thanks to his innate gift. Bruises would show themselves later on, but for now he continued to ride the adrenaline high as sharp eyes surveyed the landscape in case they had missed someone.

A hand clapped atop his shoulder and he looked to Talon standing beside him. The man was just absolutely covered in blood and bug guts, and he assumed he looked no different. “Nice to have you back with us, soldier.”  

Dice gave a stoic nod in response, finally removing his helmet and gloves, then kneeling down to press a hand to the ground in an attempt to sense any unusual rumblings. The sounds of pained groans and hushed murmurs, along with those of the healing team hustling about behind him filled the otherwise quiet space. It was their first real test as a crew during this campaign, and it seemed that they didn’t lose anybody, or even suffer any serious injuries - that he could tell at the moment. He wouldn’t say it was successful given many lives of others had been lost, but they had at least been able to successfully save some.

@themercenaries @talonoa @inistellan @kharrisdawndancer @kaisinasunblade @nahisummerhold

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

Xylaes and Stellan stepped out into the Dalaran streets after ensuring everything within The Red Moon was secured so it wouldn’t shift during teleportation. Both men were fully decked out in their gear, with weapons in hand and strapped to their sides or backs. They didn’t fully know what to expect on the other side, but given Vixannya’s macabre premonition and Stellan’s insistence they be war ready - anything could happen. 

An eerie silence spread throughout the streets as the city around them shimmered and the scattered runes came to life. It didn’t feel like stepping through a portal, there was no footstep onto a new surface, but instead a strange shift within as everything abruptly blinked into a clear, early evening sky. Everyone glanced around to each other and upwards with looks of varying emotions and amounts of caution. Xylaes could hear Stellan murmur quietly to himself, “This isn’t right…”

“What do y—” Words were cut short by the telltale sound of a portal opening nearby, and then another, and another, and then a scream of terror. It all happened in the blink of an eye, there was so little time to react. The once clear sky was now suddenly blotted out with gaping void portals that poured forth a swarming army of Nerubians into the Dalaran streets.

They all knew the evacuation procedure for their specific area: Get to Krasus’ Landing to get flown or portaled away to safety. Not that either men were going to go there right now, there were still dozens of civilians left within the city that would stand no chance against such attackers. There was a silent understanding between the two as they headed towards that nearby scream with weapons drawn and at the ready. 

The massive, armored creature may have had heavy defenses, but it was slow and weak underneath that protective exoskeleton. Although catching a glimpse of Fiorenze in the distance nearly threw him off as he rolled out of the way of one of the barbed legs cracking into the ground next to him. She was one of the few that reached out to him to warn him about the city, yet here she was in the middle of it. He knew the look he gave her was not a pleasant one, but this was no time for pleasantries. Hopefully she would be okay.

His attention returned to insectoids in front of him, slashing his way through with his sword and dagger as both men made their way into the Legerdemain Lounge and up the stairs towards the screams and shouting. A door had been barricaded from the inside with a handful of the smaller creatures doing a great job of weakening the wood by slamming themselves into it. They weren’t here just to take the city, they were here to murder everyone in it as well. The skilled fighters dispatched the smaller Nerubians easily before pounding on the door, “Come out and we’ll get you to safety!”

After some loud rummaging, the door creaked open to reveal some of the Lounge’s staff, recoiling slightly at the scene before them. Given how Stellan now appeared to be covered head to toe in bug viscera and blood, Xy assumed he looked much the same. A younger, white-haired Kaldorei came out with them and for just a brief moment Xy’s breath caught in his throat, but no, it wasn’t Garren, thank the Light. Garren was safe, he had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Follow me out, stay close together, Xy take the rear.” Xylaes did just that, shuffling everyone down the steps and out into the streets. It was nothing but mass chaos at this point. The military and other brave individuals were doing the best they could to round up the terrified citizens, but Dalaran was clearly not prepared for this. There was no ‘fight, kill, and save the city’ protocol to be done for this, but instead a ‘save lives, run, and evacuate’.

They managed to pick up a few more civilians along their way, as well as some wielding various weapons in an attempt to help fight off the enclosing swarm. The young Kaldorei just in front of Xylaes let out an abrupt shriek and fell to his knees as his foot got stuck in a sticky web, “Help, I’m stuck!”

Xy immediately started clearing the web with his dagger, yanking on the young boy’s foot until it was free and shoved him forward, “GO! Catch up to them!” He drew his revolver and exploded one of the heads of the Nerubians diving towards the Kaldorei as he continued to run after them. A sudden, piercing pain in his calf caused him to stumble only slightly, aiming the revolver over his shoulder as he laid waste to another one of those flying beasts.

The feeling was almost instant: The dry mouth, the blurry vision, the foggy brain and numbness spreading upwards from where his calf had been punctured by something. Poison. Sheathing his dagger, he held an empty hand out in the empty space before him to ensure he didn’t run into anything. All he had to do was to keep walking forward. He tried to call out, but his voice came out in a strangled gasp as he stumbled. 

But he kept going, because that’s what he always did. This felt more like a paralyzing agent than anything deadly, he knew his poisons well. Just a few more steps. His foot stuck to the ground, immediately reaching down to feel the thick web starting to coil around his ankle. He tried to retrieve his dagger to cut it away, but his arms felt so heavy now. Head lolling to one side, he squinted and thought he saw Stellan running towards him, hearing the man’s muffled voice shouting in his direction.

But it was too late, he was already cocooned up to his waist, then his chest, and just as it overtook his vision he slipped into darkness.

@inistellan @fio-renze @garrennorassin

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

Jon Hamm | The Morning Show 3x02

[inistellan]

Jon Hamm for Hollywood Reporter here

[inistellan]

Monsieur Spade "Episode 4"

Clive Owen as Sam Spade

Okay, so I'm sending you away with a few dents in your face after you tried to kill me, and now you wanna stand there and threaten me? My good friend, you wanna advertise my whereabouts in the morning Le Monde or one night on Discorama, be my guest. But you will find that no one cares about that Sam Spade. Not anymore.

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

[inistellan]

May DWC Day 2 - Divine, Tragedy

With notepad in hand, Vixannya slowly traipsed through the completed gallery space, critically eyeing every single painting and display, and making notes wherever needed. Everything was almost perfect. Almost. She had her mother’s creativity and her father’s perfectionism; a dangerous combination when trying to host large events. It all had to be ‘just so’ - a little shift here, a little more lighting there. While she could have hired others to do it all for her, she wanted the spaces in which her paintings were displayed to be in her exact vision.

Vixannya Ana’diel was not a woman born into any particular titles or massive riches, most of what she had now she had earned all on her own. While her father had been a Lord, he had been wed to another at the time her mother got pregnant with her. It had been quite the scandal among their inner circle, especially since her mother and the Lord’s wife were best of friends. Not that the particular situation was rare by any means among the upper echelon of society.

Her mother made decent money and the Lord paid her off well, so their little family was never hurting for gold. Yet it never seemed fair to Vixannya that her mother should have to lose so much for something that wasn’t entirely her fault. The women always seemed to suffer more, didn’t they? Had she the power back then that she does now, she may have done something about that. But these days? She and her father, Inistellan as he now went by, were on better terms. He grew, he changed (literally), he had apologized for the part he played, and she had forgiven him.

Of course, the information that he was her father could never become public knowledge. The records all indicated that Cazmilan Fin’endal Senior was her father, but he had ‘died’ years ago. Instellan Volanthus was no longer that man and she would keep his secrets. It gave her leverage over him.

“This is absolutely divine, I don’t know how you manage to outdo yourself every year, but you did it again.”  The masculine voice chimed in from behind her.

With a smile, she spun around to regard her father, “I wasn’t sure you would make it, and thank you. I’m assuming you won’t be staying for the actual opening though, mm?”

He shook his head, stepping forward to embrace his daughter in greeting while offering a kiss to her cheek, “You look we—”. The sentence was cut short when Vixannya suddenly and violently arched her back within his grasp, eyes rolling up into her head as her body began to spasm. “Annya!” He quickly laid her onto the floor, rolling her onto her side before retrieving his comm from his pocket.

Just as quickly as it came on, it ended. “No.” A hand shot up to stop him from calling for help. “I’m fine…”

Stellan gave her a doubtful and worried look before it suddenly dawned on him: She had a vision. “What did you see?” Her original vision of his death had him dying of old age, a vision that had persisted throughout the decades of their lives, never once changing.

She wet her lips, pulling herself up into a seated position to catch her breath. It wasn’t the first time this had happened to her, nor would it be the last. While blood scrying was the best way for her to foretell death, occasionally it presented itself to her unexpectedly. And much of the time, a tragedy of catastrophic proportion followed sometime soon after. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she winced a bit before shaking her head. “I’m not sure…I couldn’t make out faces. There was just….shadowflame everywhere, and screaming. Argent banners, and a bunch of multi-colored tents.” She gave him a pleading look, “You shouldn’t go back out there.”

“You know I have to.”

“Then move the camp somewhere else…please. Tell them they need to move it.”

Stellan remained still for a moment, staring at her with an uneasy look. “Vixannya, let me help you get to–”

“NOW! Go NOW! Please! I’ll be fine, I promise. We’ll catch up later, but this is more important.” 

If anyone understood the importance of haste when it came to precognition, it was their family. “I’ll get them to safety, I love you.” 

Vixannya watched him run off before exhaling a long sigh as she rubbed at the side of her neck. The last time this happened, she had witnessed almost an entire unit of soldiers get wiped out within The Maw. She hadn’t been able to discern that it was Aerden’s unit, so she wasn’t able to act quickly enough to keep it from actually happening. Thankfully he had survived the ordeal, but just barely. She should have known, she could have stopped it from happening. 

Maybe this time she wouldn’t be too late.

@inistellan​ @daily-writing-challenge​