#Alareda Silverstar

[alex-sunstrike]

Assault

Sylphrena wandered over to the muster area on the Shattered World, face mask in hand as she heard the various taskmasters call out names assigning hunters to forward groups. Numerous elves moved about as they found their groups and began to prepare themselves.  “Sylphrena Sunstrike, Group seven, report to Artelas Blazefury,” called out one, the woman nodding her acknowledgement and stepping towards where this group was. A dozen with her, the hunters all fell into a loose semi-circle as they checked their weapons and gear, prepping for the assault. The men and woman all seemed to be in a perpetual state of scowling, baring teeth at one another, or standing apart from the rest.

One, a tall kaldorei man, stood in the center looking the group over with a stern expression on his face. He was scaled, roughly so, as his horns curled up and around his ears. Dark hair fell in curtains around his face, and the dim glow of fel could be seen from behind his blindfold. Deep purple tattoos cut harsh angles across his body, and he seemed to eschew even pauldrons or bracers for protection, simply wearing long, dark trousers that fell just past his knees. Upon his back he carried two wicked warglaives, and with inspection, Sylphrena noted the Void leaking off them through violet etchings throughout the blades.

“Our last has joined us. Good. We’re going to be assaulting a Legion Soul Engine near a place called the Antoran Wastes. The assault is going to coincide with an effort by the draenei lead by Velen using some secret weapon. We will divide their attention as much as possible to allow for a full scale invasion force to reach the surface.” The kaldorei paused, looking at Sylphrena. “Lady Sunstrike will be our eyes when we cross. Venar and Lonath, you will accompany her. Malanoch, you are in charge of first aid. The rest of you, focus on killing as many demons as you can.” The hunters nodded and murmured various affirmatives. “We move in thirty. Better piss now, you won’t get a chance for a while.” Sylphrena looked at each of the hunters in turn, when two approached her, both sin’dorei males. One inclined his head.

“My lady...I am Venar. This one is Lonath.” Syl nodded at each in turn.

“Just Syl, please. Have you two ever done forward scouting?” She’d cross her arms, as she studied both at length. Venar was one of the ‘lucky’ ones, if she could guess, his mutations relatively tame. His horns shot straight up through blond hair, cut short and his skin was immaculate save for the deep crimson tattoos that spiraled over his exposed torso. His companion was anything but the handsome figure the man commanded. Lonath stood a half a hand shorter than the other man, scales covering thick arms, spikes and spines poking through. His tattoos were intricate knotted patterns that covered the arms, a sky blue in color. He wore a leather jerkin, covering his broad chest. Their faces had just a hint of resemblance between each other. Hmm...Shame we don’t have more time...These lads look as though they would be very....satisfying. Kalyra’s voice purred low in the huntress’ mind, and Syl was quick to banish it.

“Only once, my--Syl. We prefer the front lines more.”  Sylphrena scowled, between the demon’s voice and the fact that once again, the command structure of the Illidari saw fit to give her green hunters in reconnaissance.

“Alright well, I’m gonna give you the down and dirty version. We do not engage as much as we possibly can. We need to get troop counts, movements, fortifications, and more. We can’t do that if we have Legion right on our ass trying to kill us. You stay low, you move when I tell you where I tell you, and we’ll come out of this on the other side, got it?” The men nodded, both grim. Syl huffed then looked between them. “Brothers?” Lonath looked up, then nodded, Venar speaking up.

“Yeah, we were Sunfury together, then became Illidari together.” The woman nodded, offering the men a smile.

“Well, keep an eye out for each other, alright? I know you guys probably already do, but you know. Family should stick together.” She would clap each on their shoulder. “Now go finish your prep. We’ve got a mission to complete.” The men nodded, then offered the barest of smiles before moving off to a spot between themselves. Sylphrena would look over the remaining hunters in her group. A few of the kaldorei were praying to Elune nearby, while one of their number rummaged through a pack full of tinctures and bandages. Her raven hair was tied back, very short horns barely discernible against her locks. Her tattoos were vibrant green that contrasted her violet skin sharply, akin to thorny vines that crept down her right arm only. Every now and again she had added a splash of red resembling budding roses. Her left arm was a mangled mass of burned flesh and fel cracks. Sylphrena approached, arms behind her back as she clasped one of her wrists. “Malanoch?”

“What do you want ‘my Lady’?” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm as she shot a glance at Sylphrena.

“Just...checking on everyone.”

“That’s my job. Stop trying to take my job!” Malanoch snarled as she grasped her pack of supplies, pulling it away like a greedy goblin. Sylphrena raised a brow, then held her hands up, taking a few steps back.

“Alright...Go ahead and do your job. I won’t try to steal it.” As the woman turned to walk away from the unhinged medic, she collided right into Artelas, her face pressed against the man’s chest. She could feel the heat of the fel within him, and she quickly backed away. “Apologies Sir, I didn’t see you there.”

The man looked down on her, easily three heads taller than the sin’dorei. “You come highly recommended for scouting Lady Sunstrike.” His voice rumbled like stones down a mountainside. “These hunters are in your hands just as much as they are mine. We cannot afford mistakes on the other side. You will need to be more...aware of your surroundings.”

Sylphrena gulped, then laughed nervously. “I’m always aware, Sir. Don’t you worry.” Her lips thinned as she found her resolve, though, speaking firmly as she stared back up at the man. “I won’t let you down. I’m not someone who doesn’t take my job seriously.” The kaldorei stood silent for a long moment, contemplating, before nodding.

“Very well. You may wish to take this moment to collect your thoughts, and deal with anything else that needs doing. We assemble in fifteen.” He would step away, moving towards Malanoch, sitting next to her. The two would begin to converse casually between themselves, the female seeming much more at ease around their leader.

Sylphrena would spend the next fifteen minutes in quiet contemplation, sitting on a stony outcropping overlooking one of the fel lakes of Mardum. Her thoughts wandered, worrying after Alexandyr and his mission. His relationship. She thought of Nee and her concern for what would happen to the woman if she did not return. She even thought of Alareda and how disappointed she would be should Sylphrena fall. Minutes before the muster, a horn sounded, echoing through the dread cliffs and valleys that made up Mardum.

The woman stood and brushed herself off, heading towards the portal grounds. Twelve units there were, each made up of a dozen of the Illidari’s finest warriors, scouts and tacticians. Shivarra filed out of the yawning maw of a nearby cave, paring off for each of the squads.  The huntress tried to calm her nerves, taking several deep breaths as she put her face mask on, and patter her equipment down one final time. To her left and to her right each Illidari prepared themselves for what was to come, some uttering prayers to Elune or the Light, others rocking back and forth on their heels as they sought to calm their nerves. Several others stood firmly, hands gripped on their weapons as they awaited the final word. One of the high ranking warlords stepped forth to address the assembled hunters.

“Illidari!” called out the sin’dorei, his voice smooth, even with the undertones that echoed his words. “You stand on the precipice, ready to begin the assault you were made for. Argus is before us. You will bring the Legion to its knees before this day is done. Suffer well!” The assembled Illidari would raise weapons, glaives and swords, axes and daggers, shouting to the Nether. Sylphrena raised her weapons to the sky as well, crying out, “For the Illidari!” She never completely bought into the identity of the order, preferring to stand apart where she could, but in this moment pride swelled within her. Her family was around her, ready to do what they were made for.

The Shivarra began to twist magics, warping and tearing reality as portals began to form. Sylphrena reached down and grabbed her face mask, securing it in place as the portals yawned open, a rush of wind flowing past the hunters as distance was made irrelevant. Sylphrena’s group dashed forward, Artelas leading the charge. As they passed the threshold, Sylphrena was hit with a sudden cold. The Antoran Wastes greeted them harshly, the heat and familiarity of Mardum at their backs.

The scream of a fel mortar would be their first indication that things were not going to go as planned. The massive ball of fire would collide to the left of the portal into the blackened ground of Argus, flame splashing outward and threatening to wash over the unit. The hunters crested a small rise in the valley, and many stopped looking outward in awe. Azeroth loomed, blue and pure on the horizon. The Illidari would not have time to take in the view, however, as ranks of demons began to close on them, pushing up the rise from the opposite end. Thick, muscle-bound felguards formed the van with felhounds at their sides, snarling as their slavering maws dripped onto the dead ground beneath them, tentacles moving too and fro as they sought to find a source of magic to latch onto.. Wrathguards came around to the flanks seeking to box the hunters in. Even as the demons surrounded them, mortar rounds coasted through the sky. As they lobbed downwards, they would smash into the ground behind the hunters, where the portal began to close. The only way through was forward.

Artelas didn’t spare a moment as the demons pressed in. Glaives in hand, he leapt into the front ranks, taking two felguard in the throats and cutting their heads free, even as he shouted. “Fight or die! For Lord Illidan! For AZEROTH!” The other hunters began to form a circle, demons crashing against their lines, but not causing them to buckle. Sylphrena settled between Venar to her left and Artelas on her right, her felflame blades clashing with demon forged steel and hide. For every demon she cut down, two more seemed to replace it. We’re in trouble if we don’t break through soon. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind that there was a shout to her left.

“VENAR, DUCK!” Syl’s attention shot left as she saw the felhound latch scaly tendrils into the sin’dorei. Time seemed to slow as the man’s face twisted in surprise and pain, before the hound’s jaws closed around his neck, twisting and ripping his throat out. Lonath’s anguished cries filled the air as his brother’s body crumpled, hitting the charred earth. The scaled demon hunter tossed aside weapons, screaming as his body grew and twisted, the man seizing power from his inner demon to metamorphose, scales thickening, and razor sharp claws sliding forth. Lonath dove onto the felhound, pulling it free of the still warm corpse of his brother and with a mighty roar ripped the demon in two. Felblood would bathe the ground, and as Lonath threw the halves of the hound at approaching demons, three felhounds latched themselves onto the demon hunter from his exposed flank, draining him of his magic.

Sylphrena lunged forward to pull a felhound free of Lonath when her head wrenched back. Hair unfurled from her bun as the felguard’s fingers knotted themselves in her tresses. Sylphrena let out a cry of pain, flailing her arms back, striking thick skin with the hilts of her weapons as the felguard let out a guttural laugh. With desperation, Sylphrena twisted her grip on one of her weapons, bringing it behind her head and swiping upward. Hair became mixed with blood as she cut free, the demon’s fingers falling with her locks upon the ground. With a howl, the felguard staggered back a step. The huntress wasted no time, spinning around and swiping both of her blades through the demon’s abdomen, organs slipping free and hitting the ground with a sickening schlop, felblood spraying outward and sizzling against the woman’s armor, skin and scales. The felguard dropped to it’s knees, a hand reaching in vain for its organs as Sylphrena viciously drove both blades up past the demon’s ribs, tearing into it’s heart. As the demon fell to the side, Sylphrena brought her blades to bear again, frenetically stabbing the corpse. A hand would wrap around the woman’s arm, pulling her up and away from the demon, and Sylphrena spun about, nearly stabbing Artelas. The man’s lips thinned as he pointed out past the demons.

“Go! Get to the first rally point! Return to Mardum and tell them it was a---” The man’s words were cut short as a ball of felflame collided into him, blistering heat searing Sylphrena’s skin as she was thrown back by the explosion, deafened and blinded. Several long moments would pass as the woman struggled to remember how to breath. The explosion blew a chunk of her face mask off, exposing part of her face, cut and bloodied. She groaned even as she rolled over, her sight flickering in and out as she tried to gain a handle on it. A wrathguard came into view briefly, and struck the huntress’ pauldron. The demonsteel cracked, then shattered after repeated blows. Syl stood, ears ringing still as she sluggishly parried blow after blow, before one found its way past her guard, stabbing through her left bicep. Sylphrena screamed, the blade blooming searing pain as she dropped the blade she held with that arm. The woman gathered the fel within her, pooling it in her right hand as she reached up to the wrathguard’s chest, releasing the volatile energy with explosive force, punch a hole through the demon’s chest. The wrathguard went limp, falling backward. Sylphrena pulled the blade free of her arm, and surveyed the field of battle.

Of Artelas, nothing but ash remained, Malanoch desperately clawing through the blacked dirt, trying to collect their leader’s remains. Lonath was surrounded by demons, closing around him blades clashing against his scaly exterior. The remaining hunters were either dead or dying. This is it. This is where I die. Sylphrena dropped to her knees, gripping her limp arm. She looked to the world looming in the sky; her home. The planet’s alignment allowed her to see Quel’thalas peeking between clouds. Sylphrena smiled as she looked to Azeroth, peace settling over her.

As she resigned herself to her fate, a streak of light passed overhead. Sylphrena looked upwards, the light appearing as a golden vessel, much like what Tempest Keep looked like. Felflame covered the vessel and it sailed low overhead past the valley, a rush of wind blowing past the battle. The vessel thundered overhead as it passed, and a burst of light shot from one side, impacting the ground with a loud crash. A large pod like structure had fallen from the vessel, and crystal walls shot outward, several draenei pouring forth from the pod. The Light surrounded them in such a way that Sylphrena had not seen in a draenei before. The demons turned their focus from the three remaining Illidari to face these new combatants. As Sylphrena tried to stand and rejoin the fight, her world went black, and she collapsed into the dirt, unconsciousness overtaking her.

[alex-sunstrike]

Night Shine

“We are, we are, we are the ones who make the night shine. Searching for the love we need to set us free in the night shine We are, we are, we are...”

Sylphrena stoked the campfire, taking care not to knock over the spit placed over the flame. Felhound sizzled as it was being cooked over a green flame, enough for the pair of demon huntresses that found themselves on the rocky outcropping. The other, Arafel, stood near the edge of the overhang, peering out into the dark valley below.

“Why we were reassigned to each other, I will never understand, Sunstrike,” grunted the kaldorei. She stood near a foot taller than Sylphrena, rugged blueish-purple scales covering her form. Curved horns shaped like a ram’s shot through her dark purple hair. She wore it short these days, though Sylphrena remembered somewhat fondly days that Arafel had let her hair grow long. A touch of color tinged the sin’dorei’s cheeks, as she tried to push down those thoughts. “Beats me, Ara,” shrugged Syl. She carefully tended the flame, siphoning a bit off as she inhaled, drawing the magical flame into herself. The fel within raged for a moment, then returned to the barely controlled chaos that each of her kind knew. “You didn’t tell them we slept together after I saw you in Dalaran a few months back, did you?” The kaldorei snorted. “No. I did not. I told them that it best that we not be paired up again so that maybe, just maybe, you could try and mentor another new initiate and try to not kill them this time. Then, somehow, you went to Val’sharah, assigned to one of the regular units. I found that odd.”

Sylphrena blushed again, thinking of her time spent in the Temple, and the kiss Alareda had given her. She hadn’t seen the woman in months, and every attempt to reach her was met with silence. It worried Sylphrena, but she simply carried on. Kalyra made a compelling argument that Alareda had only kissed her and tried to start a relationship with her out of pity. The fact that the argument made sense concerned Sylphrena, but she nonetheless distanced herself. “I--I don’t quite know how that happened either, Ara. I think my brother did something. Talked to someone and got me assigned out there.” The lie was simple, though she didn’t feel right saying it to Arafel. “The one that’s one of those death knights? Surprised any of their kind have any say in this conflict after the stunt they pulled at Light’s Hope. Even more surprised that the Silver Hand hasn’t retaliated yet.” Arafel retreated from the edge, coming to sit across from Syl. “No offense of course.” Sylphrena sighed. “None taken. I think. Alex is....He’s not the man I remember at all. And I think that’s pretty fair, given I’m probably not the sister he remembers at all. We both went through...a lot. I can resent him a little for the things he did...killing our family...but...” She let out another airy sigh. “I don’t know, Ara. He’s still family. That’s gotta count for something right?” Arafel shrugged. “Beats me, Syl. If it were me, I’d have probably killed him. Seeing as it’s you though, I can’t say I’m not surprised you didn’t. You always were soft.” “Am not,” Syl sniffed indignantly, turning up her nose. “If I was, I would have never become a demon hunter and you would have lost your bet with whatshisname.” Arafel folded her arms over her chest, shaking her head with a toothy smile.

“Oh come on. Just teasing. That was a good few hunts I won for you actually making it. You proved your worth. And then you went and tried to adopt every little creature from the Temple all the way to Netherstorm.”

Syl grinned, then reached out to take the spit off the flame. She sprang to her feet and moved to sit next to the kaldorei, offering her the first pick from the cooked haunches. Arafel took her pick, leaving the larger of the two for Sylphrena. They ate in silence for a long while, when finally Arafel broke it. “Sylphrena. Do you regret this path? Resent me for putting you on it?” She looked over at the smaller elf, canting her head slightly. Sylphrena’s brows knit together, bemusement spelt across her face.

“Odd question. Why are you asking?” “I just...I am curious. I could have very easily let you run off, or dragged you kicking and screaming back to the Den to face whatever punishment they would have had for you. But I didn’t. I took you to a place I was almost certain you would die. I saw a girl, scared and desperate for an escape.” Syl chuckled under her breath softly as Arafel elaborated. When she finished, Sylphrena shook her head. “No, Ara, I don’t. All my life up to that point had people making decisions for me. You made that one for me, sure, but you also gave me the key to being free. To doing what I want, when I want. I could never resent you for that.”

Arafel’s shoulders sagged as she relaxed, clearly relieved by Sylphrena’s answer. Another long moment of silence passed between the two. “Besides...” continued Syl. “If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Syl craned her neck up to plant a kiss on Arafel’s rough cheek. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t feel guilt, but relief. Arafel leaned back, a brow raised. “What was that?” questioned the kaldorei, rubbing at the spot Syl had kissed.

“I...I dunno. Me coming around finally? I mean, other than when we slept together. Despite you sometimes being a giant pain in the ass...you’ve been there for me pretty much every step of the way Ara...It’s just taken me a while to realize it, I guess...”

Arafel furrowed her brow, then pursed her lips. After a moment of consideration, she tossed aside the remains of the haunch, grabbing Syl’s face on either side and pulling her in for a kiss.

[alex-sunstrike]

Love is in the Air: The First Sample

Prompt:  @selithil

Alexandyr stepped through the crowded street, a few scroll cases tucked in the crook of his arm. Suramar was in the process of being completely liberated, pockets of Elisande’s loyalist forces still holding out, though most of the city was free to move around. And so the knight found himself delivering reports for the new Suramar government. Arcan’dor fruit distributions, troop reports, resettlement requests. The death knight had become a courier, though he didn’t mind it. Running reports hardly interfered with his other responsibilities. He stepped through the crowd carefully, and nearly trampled something underfoot.

He stopped, lifting his foot and inspecting the item. A quill, made from a dark, reflective metal and topped with a hawk feather. It seemed expensive and something one would not carelessly toss away. The knight looked around the crowd, though no one stopped, no one else seemed to have noticed the pen. Stooping down, the elf picked up the quill, tucking it away.

Before long, Alex stepped into his home. He went to his desk, pulling out the thick journal with his names. He reached for one of his quills before stopping. He pulled out the quill that he found in the street, spinning it idly between his fingers. He pulled out an inkwell, dipping the quill before putting it to the paper to record the names. 

Melyssine. Desdinova. Alareda. Sehrgei. Sylphrena.

Alexandyr stopped, looking at the names. His brow furrowed, and he tried to write again.

You are all people I know that were I capable, I would likely be in love with, one way or another.

He stopped again. This was certainly not what he was thinking of as he wrote. Yet he continued.

I cannot regret. I cannot wish for something that is never going to be. And yet here I am writing this. Perhaps it is an irrational desire founded on basal instincts from when I was still alive. I know that most irrational beings will state that they would at least wish for the ability to feel. I hold no delusions in that regard. I am not the man I once was. I am something else entirely. And that gives me comfort. As much as I care to hold onto in the semblance that I project to give you all the comfort of thinking I am more than the emotionless weapon of war that I was forged to be. Indeed, it is not for my comfort so much as it is for yours. Some, I think, understand that. Others of you may not. I could exist without each of you rather easily. And yet I allow our connections to persist. Perhaps that speaks more than emotions ever will. It is for each of you to decide, I suppose. Alex set down the quill, reading what he had written. He then peered at the quill once more. Clearly something had influenced him, and the quill was the only new factor. He pulled out a small case, many runes scrawled across it to ward it. He gently set the quill inside, tore out the page he had written, and placed it next to the quill before sealing the case. Perhaps his words were true, and the fact that he kept those people in his existence meant more than he would ever consciously let on. But some things were best left unsaid. He put the case away, and began his list anew.