#B'andtherion House

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

wahhhh Q_Q

003

The Patriarch strode through the main hall of the B'andtherion estate, his presence commanding, yet his steps betrayed a heaviness of purpose. This was no casual stroll, no idle wandering through memory’s corridors. His procession felt like a ceremonial march—a man burdened by history, compelled to confront the ghosts of his lineage.

The walls loomed with portraits of B'andtherions long gone. Some sat in regal stillness, their gazes distant and calculating. Others bristled with martial pride, clad in armor, their hands resting on the hilts of deadly blades, as if ready to leap into battle even now.

He stopped before the most recent painting, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. The canvas captured a time long past, a moment preserved when innocence had still flourished. The children were still children then—bright-eyed, untamed by the weight of the world.

But it was one child in particular that arrested his gaze. His eyes softened as they met the painted ones, bright with mischief and a boundless curiosity. That cheeky grin—it was a portal to simpler days, when the world felt less cruel, when hope had not yet hardened into resolve.

"You…" the thought whispered through his mind, raw and unguarded. "The pride I feel for you… words cannot hold it. You’ve grown into a capable woman. Strong. Fierce. But there’s a kindness in you—a light you try to hide, to shield from view. Do you think it weakness? Is that what I’ve taught you to believe?"

He sighed, the weight of his own legacy pressing down. His voice, barely audible, carried an ache that cut through the stillness. “Your mother... it was her kindness that became her strength. Her kindness built this House into something far greater than I ever envisioned.”

The sharp sting of regret clawed at his chest. He placed his steel-clad hand over his breastplate, as if to still the pain that churned there. “And yet… I see you struggle. I see the despair you think no one notices.” His voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own admission. “It tears this old soldier’s heart in two.”

He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the painted cheek of the child frozen in time. His touch lingered there, as if trying to connect with a memory that felt just out of reach. “This is my doing,” he whispered, the words heavy with anguish. “I have wrought this pain upon you, upon your innocence, through my selfish pursuits. But no more.”

His hand fell, but his resolve lifted. “No more despair. No more pain will touch you within these walls. I swear it. This House will be your sanctuary, and I will be better. Not just as your Patriarch... but as your Father.”

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the faint rustle of his armor as he drew back. He bit down on the emotions threatening to escape, his composure a fragile shell.

“She would’ve been so proud of you,” he murmured, his voice carrying a grief so profound it seemed to fill the hall.

And with that, he turned away, the echo of his footsteps trailing through the ancestral corridor—a man shaped by the past, but now striving to change the future.

[kalren-daelish]

A Monster's Abode

Kal'ren stood on the borderlands of Eversong and the Ghostlands, his figure cloaked in shadow. The hood of his cowl masked his face, blending him seamlessly into the forest around him. His attire, once a warrior's armor, now resembled the garb of a rogue—silent, unseen, always watching. In recent years, this had become his way: lurking in the periphery, following the same path, and shadowing the same figure—not out of malice, but out of compulsion.

As Kelz’thalas B’andtherion departed the city and took the cobbled road winding through Eversong, Kal'ren fell into his silent pursuit. He moved from tree to tree, his claws raking softly against the bark, his wings propelling him silently over gaps in the foliage. He kept to the shadows, careful to remain unseen should she glance back. Her safety drove him—a notion as futile as it was obsessive. She was a skilled fighter, her blade and presence enough to ward off any threat. Yet he could not stop himself. His every instinct remained sharp, his demonic senses attuned to any danger that might threaten her.

And still, the sting of memory lingered, sharper than any blade.

He saw her face, was contorted with rage, her voice trembling with emotion as she lashed out at him. "You have done enough! And the only thing you can do is get out of my life! Go away and leave me alone! I don't need you or anyone!"

Those words had become a wound that never healed, echoing in his mind like a curse. They urged him to stop, to let her go and turn his eyes elsewhere. But he could not.

Because with the pain came the memories: their childhood laughter ringing through the courtyards, the shared dreams and whispered ambitions that once bound them so closely. Now, the bond felt like a shackle, unbroken even as the chasm between them grew wider.

When Kelz reached the iron gates of her home, Kal'ren felt a fleeting relief as they closed behind her. She was safe. His vigil ended, as it always did. He turned back toward the city, his thoughts heavier with every step.

By the time Kal pulled back his cowl, the weight of the whispers and stares had already settled upon him. Demon Hunters were no longer seen as heroes in this age. Their time had passed, and now they were relics of a dark era—feared, resented, and unwelcome. But Kal endured it all, his gaze fixed on the crumbling silhouette of his family’s estate.

The house, once a symbol of grandeur, stood in decay. Cracked marble, flaking paint, and a garden overrun with weeds betrayed its fall. The once-proud House Dae'lish had become an empty shell. Its halls, once bustling with attendants, now held only silence, broken by the voices of two broken souls: his parents.

Kal pushed open the door, the rusted hinges groaning under the strain. Inside, the house was no better. The walls were bare or adorned with fading remnants of what had once been priceless art. Treasures had been sold, one by one, in desperate bids to stave off ruin. Yet, despite their sacrifices, the family continued to sink further into poverty.

He made his way to the study, where his mother sat near a dwindling fire. Lady Serendiel Dae'lish was a shadow of her former self, her gown frayed and faded, her once-regal beauty now a hollow mask. She stared into the hearth, unmoving, her voice a sharp contrast to her lifeless demeanour. "Our son has returned," she said, her tone laced with bitterness.

A drunken shout erupted from the kitchen. "Our SON?"

Lord Eryndar Dae'lish stumbled into the room, disheveled and reeking of alcohol. His green robes, once elegant, were now stained and tattered. He held a half-empty bottle, its contents sloshing as he staggered toward Kal.

"Our son has returned!" he slurred, mockery dripping from his words. He leaned closer, squinting as if to recognize the figure before him. Then, with cruel theatrics, he sneered. "No... this isn’t our son. This is a monster."

Eryndar staggered closer, the acrid stench of alcohol and unwashed flesh forcing Kal to endure the proximity. The older man’s voice turned venomous.

"The monster who ruined us," Eryndar snarled, his words sharp and slurred. "The monster who traded our future for cursed horns and claws. who sacrificed his family’s prosperity for his own selfish ambitions." With speed betraying his drunken state, Eryndar’s hand shot out and gripped Kal's chin. "You disgust me, boy. Disgust me." His gaze flicked to Serendiel, who remained unmoving. "Even now, he fawns after that B'andtherion who—"

Kal’s claws snapped up and closed around his father’s wrist, the tips of his sharpened digits piercing skin. "Don’t," he growled, his voice low and trembling with restrained fury. "Don’t you dare call her that".

The pain caused a brief cry of pain but was then clouded with more anger. Eryndar spat at him, defiant even in his drunken haze. "The cruellest irony," he rasped, "is that you still pine for her—Adonis’s daughter, who sees you as nothing but a beast. How does it feel, boy? To love someone who looks at you with disgust, who despises you more than your own parents who you have cruelly wronged."

Kal’s jaw tightened, the guilt and pain coiling in his chest like a serpent. He released his grip and moved his hand to wipe away the spittle.

Eryndar’s voice rose, bitter and mocking. "Do you not see, boy? She hates you. Adonis ruined us because of you. You destroyed everything we were! They..." he pointed towards the wall as if the B'andtherion estate were standing there in its stead, "...are our enemy. They decided we should starve while they feast. Yet you shadow her steps, blind to the truth."

Kal’s voice was a low growl, heavy with emotion. "I chose to fight. To defend our people while you hid within these walls" he paused, quelling the dark urge beneath his skin, "I am sorry my actions brought our family to this point, but I do not regret my choice."

Eryndar laughed bitterly, cradling his bottle as he sank to the floor. Serendiel’s voice broke through the tension, quiet and resigned, "I miss the dancing..." His father then took another drink and fell back to his elbows as he stared daggers at his son. "Sorry is not enough." Then silence. The scene had always played out the same each day. And each day Kal'ren was silent to the callous words thrown at him. He would turn away and step out of the study, back into the hall and up the stairway to his bedroom. The room, like the house, was barren. He lay down on an old carpet that served as a bed and stared at the ceiling. The memories, the guilt, and the whispers of his parents' despair haunted him. Yet, in the darkness, a single thought flickered like a dying ember: Tomorrow, he would see her again. @kelzthalassunwhisper

[duraxxor]

How did he and Arrydahlia meet? What is most memorable about her for him?

(Sketches of Alphus (Lil' Dura) and Lil' Arry)

" It all starts with the children. "

- Alphus speaking to Commander B'andtherion

As some of you know, I did not have the easiest childhood. Well, at least the ones that have bothered to ask. " The Lord's voice flowed at a narratively serious octave, resounding as much bitterness as he often had. " I often went to the academy with little more than the resolve to get through to the final bell toll. All of the children didn't want anything to do with me. And those that did, they either were chastised or removed from the academy to a more pristine establishment. In the eyes of the adults, I was stain on a perfect record. A scar, such as the one that I've had on my face since I was of that age. Numbers. I may have excelled in mathematics, but numbers are what always crushed me beneath their heel. Every day, I felt as though no matter what I said, I was in a chokehold. I was alone. And the only comfort I had was going home every day to my mother in one piece.

And then, she fell into my life.

A recent transfer from another noble house arrived that day. I remember choosing to even acknowledge it. " The flow of Duraxxor's voice continued to hold a solemnness to it, picking up in volume as the story begin to transition into a pivotal point in the life of Alphus. " Arrydhalia Bloodsinger. " Something about that name tickled my senses as a child. Perhaps it was the dark humor that resided in my little mind. How there were times I wanted to do more than defend myself. The children began to whisper amongst themselves. Speaking of things that reminded me of how they treated me.

" Beaver tooth. Rabbit face. Four eyes. Toothpick. " These names were describing her physical form. And it had earned her my attention as I growled in irritation behind a book. But I saw wasn't any of those things. I see a nervous girl trembling in her introduction. Frizzy, dark tresses that were like entangling vines. Spectacles in the shape of circles that caused her gaze to appear bigger than it truly was. And yes, her form was quite lithe. I honestly don't know how when I came to find out that girl could eat snacks like a horse. " The Lord couldn't contain the laughter in the recollection of his tale.

For a brief, we had exchanged glances after she had been seated at her desk during the same subject of mathematics. I remember her having her nose in that book like it was her life. Even when we had been dismissed to recess, she carried a book with her. And rather than try to play with the other children, chose to settle under a tree in the schoolyard and just... read. And it just so happened that day, I was in that tree from my daily climb to avoid the others. But it seemed today those other children had something in mind.

" Oh look, it's Arrydorkia! Hahaha! " One of the boys stated like a bullfrog.

" Bloodsinger. More like, Mudsinger, am I right fellows? " Another one stated flatly.

Try as she might, she was crumbling under their words no matter how much she stuck her head in that book. Wilting like a flower that wouldn't make it to bloom. The third of the party started to grin mischievously.

" Hey, look at us when we are talking to you. How about I see what you are re-Huh? " The third lad began to reach for her book, but it was quickly stopped by a tight grasp of the hand of another. My younger self had chosen to jump out of the tree between Arrydhalia and the group of boys. I still remember the look of horror on their faces when I gave them a scowl that hinted that death may be knocking at their doorstep.

" Leave. Her. Alone. " Three words never stated as unsettling from my youth's lips as those that day. And they knew that I meant business.

" It's that Daevara freak... Veralt, we should go. Last week he beat the boulders off of that Big Therim. " One of the other boys promoted an issue to their third, party member.

Veralt jerking his hand away before rolling his eyes. " Tch. Daevara and Bloodsinger? Oh, how I cannot wait to tell the others about this... you will regret this protecting her, Alphus... " The boys immediately took off, giggling like a bunch of ninnies now that they had a new rumor to play with. Such is the way of children of nobility.

And when I turned to ask if she was alright. Instead of seeing the face of a girl who was crying or trembling in fear. I saw the eyes of wonder, admiration. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked to be overwhelmed with joy. And rather than speaking, I decided to settle my own bottom next to her.

" Hey, your name's Arry, right? " I asked, carefully and cautiously. My voice seemed even a little more hopeful. " Whacha' readin' there? "

She had given a bit of a chirp in her voice. Her cheeks turning a rosy pigment as she turned back to her book. That was the first time she had smiled since she arrived. I could never forget those big teeth. How precious they looked in my eyes. At the time I didn't know it, but she was already appreciative of me and the fact I took a genuine interest in her books. And then, she went on to tell me what the book was about.

" It's a story, about a man that became a hero of justice in the streets. And he wore a red scarf. . . "

To be continued?

[[ Tagging for soft mentions of @kelzthalassunwhisper and @arrydhalia ]]

[thehopelessyouth]

How does Selithar find his new place of employment? Does he take his role more or less seriously than he did under the B'andtherion banner? What does he think of his new Commander?

A radiant, prideful smile illuminated the young Duskblade’s face as he gazed at his new home—his sanctuary and place of duty.

“I am beyond delighted,” he murmured, his voice trembling with barely contained elation. “To be near my Lady, to have the honor and privilege of placing her life above my own—this is a sacred calling. I have sworn an oath to protect her, to be her shield, the umbrella that shields her from the storms. She has given me not only purpose but a freedom I have never known.”

He exhaled softly, brushing back his tousled black locks with a slender hand. “This role is more precious to me than anything. My time at the B’andtherion House, though dutifully served, felt... stifling. I longed for something greater, something more fulfilling. Now that I have found it, I will guard it with unwavering devotion.”

At the mention of the Commander, his expression wavered. “He is...” Selithar paused, clicking his tongue as his thoughts strayed to the Lioness and the Commander’s subtle yet undeniable gestures of affection. A flicker of jealousy surged within him, sharp and biting, forcing him to suppress the urge to dismiss the man outright.

“He has my respect,” Selithar admitted begrudgingly. “It is clear he is dear to my Lioness, and for that alone, I will strive to prove myself worthy in his eyes. When his time comes, when age inevitably claims him, I am confident he will entrust the reins to me—as he should.”

He paused, then added with a shrug, “Still, credit where it’s due—he is a fine trainer and a commendable warrior.” @themadamelioness

@kelzthalassunwhisper for family mention

[majordomo-haldir]

What are your fondest moments while working for the B'andtherion's? :3

It was rare that the Majordomo allowed a measure of emotion to weigh upon the words that he would speak. Always he would calculate the potential outcomes, how they would affect those around him and, more importantly, how they would affect the House he served. Still... he could not hold back the small smile that pierced his oft-neutral visage. "Work such as mine does not often afford room for fond memories in a place of service. However, long have I served this house and have been fortunate enough to look back into the past and see numerous cherished passing." His head turned towards a wayward swingset swaying gently in the breeze of one of the gnarled trees within the courtyard. "Children's laughter..." Haldir's emerald eyes looked to the statue of the fallen Matriarch in the middle of the yard, "a cherished bond of countless happy experiences." The words came with a hint of sadness of which he cleared his throat to douse away the brimming emotion. "I have seen joy and splendour abound with this family. Some are small, some are momentous... all are treasured in this old one's memory." @kelzthalassunwhisper

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

Write about an event in their youth that involved magic.

"Sungrass, we have special guest coming to our house today!" The Matriarch's words coo'd as she attempted to reorient the stubborn child who didn't want to rise from the marble floor.

"But I don't want to meet anyone else new, Mom! I wanna just play and hang out with my brothers and Kal'ren! We just got the hang of flying from the swing!"

Her mother's patience was everlasting as she set Kelz'thalas on her feet. A strand of blonde hair was wisped back behind her daughter's ear as she smiled faintly.

"I think you will really like this new person more than the rest. They have a really important job like Mommy does. And she agreed to a little request of mine for you and your brothers."

"What about Kal'ren?"

"He won't be coming today, this is just for you and your brothers. Now let's join them in the courtyard?"

As the Matriarch moved forward, she offered a slender hand towards her daughter to take. Which she immediately did so, now that curiosity and potential surprises lie in wait.

"Okay, well what did you ask for! Is it presents?"

"No, not exactly little Sungrass."

One of the servants opened the door upon their arrival to the back part of the estate. Several marble steps were taken before they circled around the fountain at its center. Both of her brothers were already looking at the newcomer curiously while the Patriarch stood idly by with his arms crossed against his chest. This new elf appeared darker in skin tone and her hair looked like an actual fire with the way the colors were nearly perfected to recreate it. Kelz'thalas wondered faintly if it was magically altered and if so, she would have to beg her mother to ask the mages to perform such a makeover!

"El'vyia Sunflame! It's so good you could make it. This is my little girl, Kelz'thalas. Kelz'thalas, this is our Keeper, El'vyia Sunflame."

"The honor is mine, Matriach B'andtherion. Hello there, Kelz'thalas." Instead of offering a hand or even stooping to eye level in greeting, the newcomer instead remained standing and only canting her head to the side in a show of acknowledgement.

"And you said today was your girl's birthday?"

The Matriarch nodded and gently ushered Kelz to stand in front of her as El'vyia nodded and made a point to take several steps back. There was a cursory glance made to her sides as she eyeballed how much space she would need to perform the surprise that was asked in question. It was rather abrupt, but the seizing of her body caused all the children present to become startled. But it seemed that it was intended as the woman fell forward as her hands transformed into large claws encompassed fully in dark crimson scales. Her body rose in size rapidly as her head now rode forward along a slithering neck. All of her body had lost any sign of elven traits as everything that remained was fully draconic in physiology. Wings rose like large tarps as the sinews flexed to spread the skin apart and cast shadows along her sides. A rounded hump of her back hid the length of tail that stretched out behind it until it swung out to the side for the children to see.

Their reactions certainly varied - as her youngest brother shrieked and sought refuge behind their mother's legs. Whereas Allasticus uttered only a soft "whoa!" As for Kelz herself, she was enchanted by the spectacle of Azeroth's Ruby Dragonflight. Embers trickled out of the sky above the dragon as she lowered her head to regard the gathered family.

One of the servants that had accompanied them out was holding a crimson pillow embroidered with golden threads. In its center sat a golden locket that was to act as a keepsake and blessed gift for Kelz'thalas by the Red Dragonflight.

The dragon's eyes followed the motion of the servant as the pillow was set on the ground beneath the dragon's head. A deep intake of air was pulled into the dragon's mouth as the air was superheated within her lungs. The inferno that grew within her scaled hide began to glow until her maw pointed down over the locket and expelled the torrent of flames downward in a flashy display of raw power and wonder.

Allasticus made a point now to scoot by his father's side, causing the Patriarch to uncross his arms and set one hand on the boy's shoulder to reassure him in an unspoken gesture of saying... 'I'm here.'

When the ceremony of the dragon's gift had ended, the pillow that had been enchanted with fire resistance revealed some scorch marks, but not enough to burn it like the grass around it. And the locket now brilliantly glowed with a glowing red-orange aura. No doubt still hot from the process as the dragon shifted to sit on its hind legs while both wings fanned outward. The wing joints shifted so that the wings could curl around either side of her, but enable her to direct her flaps to thrust a force of air over the locket in several swift successions.

The wind and air caused the Matriarch's robes and hair to billow out behind her as it also did the same for everyone else's hair presently. But soon the process would cease as the dragon meticulously shifted its wings back over it and lowered onto its foreclaws.

"Do that again!" Kelz's voice suddenly chirped with glee to the red dragon. There was a knowing glance made towards both the Patriarch and the Matriarch for parental approval, which both would give. And once more, their guest would lift the wings up and outward, while also drawing in a sharp breath. Though the combustion of this fiery breath was explosive as the intensity of flame was ten times that which the children experienced on the ground. Her younger sibling cried out, forcing the Matriarch to turn and shield his eyes, where as Allasticus and Kelz'thalas were very much enjoying the show.

@puppet-master-jihye - thank you again for the ask!

@grumpyoldfker @allasticus @lazraelbandtherion (GIVE ME YOUR REAL NAME, AND NOT LARRY! XD)

[safrona-shadowsun]

To Lady Safrona, I hope this message finds you well. Few understand the challenges and even dangers that come hand in hand with your profession. There are many other couriers in this realm but most, in my experience, are sloppy or borderline unprofessional - seeking the coin for the delivery above all. I have found small faults in all deliveries save for your own. Thus I write to commend your failsafe methods and pray that others will meet the expectations you have so rightfully set. There will be more requests coming and I pray House B'andtherion can rely on the esteemed Courier in the time to come. Until then. -A. B'andtherion

With its luxury stationary, full house crest in wax, and beautiful lettering, the envelope in itself was something satisfying for the Courier to hold, relinquishing her to a swell of pride as she'd carefully read over the message. It swept away the stress of her professional obligations and hurdles, if only for just a moment.

Perhaps in time, she would earn a distinct respect enough to allow her to walk in Silvermoon again, unmasked.

For now, she showed her gratitude through her closest associate in the city, an Ethereal.

"Saraj?" she breathed into her chatterstone, "let's get a complimentary bottle of Thalassian Bloodwine sent to Lord B'andtherion, at his estate. Assure you discreetly take order of anything else he might desire, yes? Let's take care of our kind patron."

{ @grumpyoldfker }

[hmratking]

The Blame, Part I

(Continued from B’andtherion Attacks)

Outside, Evan and Vixxy stared at Aman’thil and Goldie. “He’s unconscious. Get your asses inside,” Evan called out. The gnome didn’t release her bow, and she kept an eye on them. Goldie rolled her eyes and gripped Aman’thil’s arm tightly.

Meanwhile, inside, the Flea was about to walk out when Mora mentioned Kelah. It seemed like a good idea considering that he didn’t know where Sarinna’s salts were. Teriaan didn’t say anything. He stared at the fallen King and he rubbed the back of his neck. When Mora mentioned questioning someone from that house, the Champion rolled his eyes.

However, it was the Flea who smirked as he gazed down. “Rumor has it that Sarinna went over to the bordello earlier and shot Aman’thil in the ear. At least that’s what the whores said.” He turned to Teriaan and Mora. “Something about blaming him for the last invasion.”

Lazy eyes looked over the Flea as he spoke. She smiled and couldn't help but laugh some when he said Sarinna shot Aman'thil's ear. "Sarinna don't fuck around. He must have earned it.." a hand reaching up and stroking her kings face which she leaned up and nuzzled her own into "So, Sarinna thinks he has something to do with it before, and NOW, she's gone" her nose wrinkled some with a glare she shot Teriaan, angry brows relaxed just as quickly and she snuggled back close to the kings chest listening to his heartbeat, it was the only thing keeping her calm.

Aman'thil looked at Vixxy and sighed, noticing the look at the gnome was giving them. He didn't object or voice his opinion as Evan's bellow was a welcome distraction. He moved inside, placing a hand over Goldie's as they arrived at the home. It was just at that moment that he heard Mora speak and then looked at the woman. "What.." he started, realizing that she was clearly different. However, he knew that his defense had to come first before he started questioning others. He glanced at Teriaan, sparing the man a momentary non-verbal thanks as he knew that there was probably a back and forth going on. "She did shoot me in the ear" Amanthil confirmed, gesturing to the lack of ear that he now had "and that was the end of it. She did not want to pursue it further, it was a warning.. a needless warning but a warning." He then looked at the King and then Mora and then over towards the others. "I'm sure there are doubts here... it makes sense - How- did they get here? Who could have told them? And yes, I'm probably the one you would blame... hell I would." He ran his hand through his hair and then glanced briefly at Goldie. "Yet I'm still here. If I were a traitor I doubt the B'andtherions would take up arms against me... you saw how I was tossed about... you saw how they all disdain me." He pointed to himself and then to the R on his chest "I'm no traitor. I'm not responsible for this... “

Teriaan looked at Aman’thil and nodded once. “It wasn’t him.” He then looked at Mora and began to pace about the room. That was when the King began to stir. He groaned softly and tried to move his head.

Mora had rolled her eyes, of course, Teriaan wasn't going to even try. Aman'thil was already pleading his case and it was done to the other champion but Mora was not satisfied with that. She was about to protest but she felt the king moving and she sat up. She made a face of concern when he started to move his head, "Wait, Melaeth, you are hurt.." she tried to whisper.

The Flea and Goldie watched carefully while Teriaan walked toward he throne. “Melaeth?” He asked softly.

The King opened his eyes and his fingers gripped at Mora. “What... what happened?” His vision cleared and he saw Mora and Teriaan. “Sarinna... WHERES SARINNA!” He screamed and tensed up, his body hurting. He wasn’t sure if it was his nerve pain or the pain from being thrown back.

He was already yelling and holding on to her sides. trying to get up, to give him some space she looked at Teriaan "Tell him!” but then quickly looked to Flea. Mora knew there was going to be hell spewed all over them all and she was powerless to save anyone, not even herself right now.

Everyone was frightened, that much was true. Teriaan stepped toward the throne and said, “They took Sarinna.”

The Rat King stopped, his eyes widening. “They what?” His words were almost a whisper that seemed to quickly fade. Leaning back, ignoring the pain he felt, he was in a daze. The Flea and Evan stepped back. He was volatile. They had no idea how he would respond. Teriaan remained where he stood. He knew what the King was capable of doing, but he remained. “We will get her back somehow.” He turned to Flea. “Where is she?”

The Flea opened his black leather bag and withdrew her vial. A few moments later, he sighed, “She’s alive, but I cannot seem to see a location.” He gazed up at Teriaan. “They must have wards up.” He turned to Aman’thil for verification.

Teriaan turned to Aman’thil as well. “Would you know where they are? I doubt anyone else would have information that could help us.” Goldie squeezed Aman’thil’s arm as she hid from the King. The King slowly turned to glare at Aman’thil.

Aman'thil looked at the King and went pale-faced at the reaction, though it was to be expected. When the King looked at him he seemed to hesitate in his response. "There are three places that come to mind, my King... The first would be the dungeons beneath the city. She IS of the Alliance just by her blood but I doubt they would do that... the second is the estate. And I say this with an honest tongue: there is little hope for her if she is there, it is impenetrable." He glanced at Goldie briefly before looking back to the king. "The third... is the brothers' tower. I don't know where it is but I do know that its where the death knight takes up home. He experiments, tortures, collects souls..." he trailed off, not wanting to really continue with the description. "That... that is all I know.”

She could feel his grip going tighter and she tried to shrink in his grasp not saying a word. Mora was very much aware of how rage filled her king was. She worried about his head but knew that now trying to get him to be careful with it was moot. "There has to be a way," she said softly after the elf had spoken, she knew where the tower was. Where Laz's tower was; she had been there many times before. It would make no difference if the night elf was not there. She took a breath and looked cautiously back up to her king.

The King’s breathing was harder and his body tensed up. He looked at Aman’thil and then at Mora when she looked at him. He moved as he made his way off the chair, not caring if Mora fell or not. “No one knows where she could be? NO ONE?”

“We’ll have to find a way to find her. As long as she’s alive, there’s a chance,” Teriaan said, running his hand through his hair.

“She’s fucking gone and no one knows where to find her!” The King growled. Teriaan glances at him.

“Calm the fuck down, Melaeth. We’ll find a way. We all want her back safely.” Teriaan said gently.

“And I want them dead. Both of them. Even the one who was interested in talking. He’s just as useless as the other.” The King gripped the chair and seethed with rage. He looked down at Mora, madness in his eyes.

(Co-written with @loveherdekay &  @allasticus )

[thehopelessyouth]

Foul Knave

Dear Dark One, I have seen you, flitting about. Baring pointed teeth as if you are a Lion.. but you are no Lion, I know what a Lion is for I have shared my bed with one. You are an abomination. One who must be cut down, culled, reaped. Thus I make it my solemn vow as protector of my beloved Lioness, my ethereal, golden Kelz'thalas... if you come to them, try harm them in any form.. I shall have my blade at thy throat and you shall see my grin before I cut and you fall at my feet. For I am Selithar Emberdawn Duskblade. Free of House B'andtherion and so my full potential is now at its peak and all dark creatures of this world will tremble at my name. So cower and repent. I shall have a close on you. -SD PS Here is a photograph of myself.

@duraxxor

@kelzthalassunwhisper and @themadamelioness for mention

[thehopelessyouth]

SaS - We just have to know, what is Selithar's favorite food! We suspect something romantic, like strawberries!

""We" are a curious, inquisitive bunch aren't we?" Selithar mused, hands reaching up to pull back a strange of night-kissed curls. "Strawberries are something that I enjoy, yes! The texture, the feeling of it as it touches your tongue and teases your palate before becoming lost in the void of the digestive system..." he grinned, head tilting upwards and sighing, "but alas, my favourite food is -chocolate-... surprising, yes? A man of my raw physique should not indulge in such temptation but I cannot help myself. Chocolate is a raw delight that I will devour upon a moment's notice. Be it upon a plate, off a woman or whatever whimsical fashion it occurs I will indulge." He tapped his chin, recalling a thought. "There was a time, way back when, when I served the House B'andtherion and the Matriarch held a soiree of sorts that included a chocolate fountain... let us just say I indulged wholeheartedly."

[thehopelessyouth]

Send me a '★' and I will tell you how my character feels about yours (openly and secretly) - Kelz’thalas

Ah yes... the B'andtherion heiress. The Lady I swore to protect until my dying breath. I hope you understand that the oath I took still upholds, despite your Father's wishes. But how do I feel? I feel as if there is a large tome of our lives intertwined that we have only opened the first page upon. I feel as if our souls were destined for more than just idle chit-chat or stolen glances. I care -deeply- for you, my Lady. Perhaps more than I should... but I am a new man. A man who sees caution as but a stepping stone unto true greatness. Were it not for my divine queen, I would have taken your hand and would have shared many moments and memories with you. Perhaps, and oh this is a -silly- thought, I would return to your House with you on my arm and you with my name. Silly isn't it. Also, did you receive my photograph?

@kelzthalassunwhisper

[safrona-shadowsun]

It had been a letter that was charmingly decorative, but upon opening it and reading the declaration and proposition, Safrona stood staring at the photograph with a growing confusion. It wasn't the first time she had been sent a proposition or a love letter - as a Courier it was either a jesting game some put themselves up to or the occasional anonymous confession. This one was quite bold with his claim, she did have to give the young man that.

She did not remember speaking one word to the boy, but she did recall that he served the B'andtherion House...and she certainly did not need rumor to spill among them to ruin her business and potential other possibilities in Silvermoon.

It was best to let the poor puppy down, gently.

And so a letter in response was delivered to the guard, by way of an Ethereal of all beings, known to tend a little wine bar in the Royal Quarter of Silvermoon known as The Red Room.

A bottle of Thalassian Bloodwine, an old world merlot that was the Courier's signature was offered. It's deep, dark red was the same hue of Lady Shadowsun's long braid.

The envelope given bore a wax seal of a violet-red wine glass, half empty, or half full, however the perceiver may comprehend the sigil:

SD - Though I am quite honored to be held with such esteem and admiration, I must decline your affections. I am already married on two avenues - to my beloved and to the business. I am well spoken for. But you are young and full of energy, and clearly have a romantic soul. Take this bottle of wine and woo someone else that might catch your eye, if they have a taste for such things. Consider contracting my assistant Saraj there at the Red Room if you desire more wine for future romantic endeavors.

Professionally Yours,

The Courier

To the Lady of Deliverance

Dearest Safrona/Courier/Delivery Lady, You do not know me, nor do I know you. However I have seen you go to and fro with a package, a parcel, a letter... doing your duty with such diligence that would make any hardened, obedient soldier shudder in intimidation. I write with great admiration and I admit, blushingly so, that I am captivated by you. You move like an ethereal wisp but do so in a manner that I can only describe as breathtaking. I would know the woman beneath the cloak. The person beneath the parcel. The courtesan beneath the Courier. Would you... entertain such a thought. A thought of two souls connecting on such a level that not even the gods themselves could have anticipated it? Perhaps we might dip our toe into this pond? I would have you make a delivery: you unto me. There we may laugh, drink and... perhaps explore this newfound bond between us. Eager to be stamped by you. -SD PS I've attached a photograph of myself so you can gaze into the soul of the one who penned these words.

@safrona-shadowsun

[grumpyoldfker]

003

The Patriarch strode through the main hall of the B'andtherion estate, his presence commanding, yet his steps betrayed a heaviness of purpose. This was no casual stroll, no idle wandering through memory’s corridors. His procession felt like a ceremonial march—a man burdened by history, compelled to confront the ghosts of his lineage.

The walls loomed with portraits of B'andtherions long gone. Some sat in regal stillness, their gazes distant and calculating. Others bristled with martial pride, clad in armor, their hands resting on the hilts of deadly blades, as if ready to leap into battle even now.

He stopped before the most recent painting, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. The canvas captured a time long past, a moment preserved when innocence had still flourished. The children were still children then—bright-eyed, untamed by the weight of the world.

But it was one child in particular that arrested his gaze. His eyes softened as they met the painted ones, bright with mischief and a boundless curiosity. That cheeky grin—it was a portal to simpler days, when the world felt less cruel, when hope had not yet hardened into resolve.

"You…" the thought whispered through his mind, raw and unguarded. "The pride I feel for you… words cannot hold it. You’ve grown into a capable woman. Strong. Fierce. But there’s a kindness in you—a light you try to hide, to shield from view. Do you think it weakness? Is that what I’ve taught you to believe?"

He sighed, the weight of his own legacy pressing down. His voice, barely audible, carried an ache that cut through the stillness. “Your mother... it was her kindness that became her strength. Her kindness built this House into something far greater than I ever envisioned.”

The sharp sting of regret clawed at his chest. He placed his steel-clad hand over his breastplate, as if to still the pain that churned there. “And yet… I see you struggle. I see the despair you think no one notices.” His voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own admission. “It tears this old soldier’s heart in two.”

He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the painted cheek of the child frozen in time. His touch lingered there, as if trying to connect with a memory that felt just out of reach. “This is my doing,” he whispered, the words heavy with anguish. “I have wrought this pain upon you, upon your innocence, through my selfish pursuits. But no more.”

His hand fell, but his resolve lifted. “No more despair. No more pain will touch you within these walls. I swear it. This House will be your sanctuary, and I will be better. Not just as your Patriarch... but as your Father.”

For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the faint rustle of his armor as he drew back. He bit down on the emotions threatening to escape, his composure a fragile shell.

“She would’ve been so proud of you,” he murmured, his voice carrying a grief so profound it seemed to fill the hall.

And with that, he turned away, the echo of his footsteps trailing through the ancestral corridor—a man shaped by the past, but now striving to change the future.

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

Solace was found between the pair, but as usual it was fleeting. The efforts to secure peace did not last long enough and often made those who fought for it jaded into seeing the world without the possibility. It was a notion that was difficult to maintain and uphold, for one's soul can become weary from such constant duress.

"It's regaining perspective, is all." She admitted and turned her head to look him over. "Sometimes we just need a little guidance to see things in a different way - because when we are alone with our thoughts and beliefs, everything seems to remain the same."

She exhaled with a sigh and turned now to offer him the opportunity to speak while observing the going-On's within Silvermoon. It was often strange how so much could be derived from the interference and involvement of the noble houses. Her own lineage had likely impacted some things good and bad in some way, but she had no memories or involvement to truly support what was done in House B'andtherion then. Now she was just trying to rebuild and include their house back into the fold while also maintaining the enforcement side of things beneath the Magistry's watch.

After Alphus finished speaking, she could understand the want for a lack of allegiance to the people. He was wronged in so many ways, and she wondered faintly if that was something that had happened to all the criminals of Silvermoon. Their city was forged on the pride of working together and rebuilding, that all walks of life should have been acknowledged in the efforts. But it was clear to her that the power resided too far on one side.

"Alphus, if you were to change the opinion of those who see you that way, what is it you would offer to them? I know they have taken more than they likely have earned. But wisdom and insight can carry a great deal more in changing things just like I did with you in addressing the alternate perspective? Surely it's not something that will linger always, and it's better to try than to surrender, don't you think?.."

@duraxxor - pokey you're it :3

Continuation from RP

Within the eye of the assassin, magic seemed to ripple in currents around his pupils. A darkness that possessed flickers of crimson spittle. It was a glimpse, but almost like the Commander's words seemed to bring out something within him. As young as she was, she knew of the sacrifices that were placed the shoulders of many like him.

" You are a lot like me... I always tried to continue to try and everyday it always grew more difficult. It's only through having people in my life that I ever knew any sort of joy or happiness. To be shameless of my deeds. And yet, even now... " Alphus trailed off, growing half-lidded as he seemed to look off into a blank space in the distance. The memories he was being flooded with in that moment were not of his. But of another that he had duplicated through a secret. Those foul memories that would make a mortal stomach churn, heave with disgust as the itemization of an individual had been robbed. Alphus didn't even know it yet, but he was balling his fist tightly and the darkness within him was lightly flickered in an aura. This fact gave hint that his assassin nature went deeper into the shadows than was anticipated.

" ... I am finding that the difference between noble and criminal are nothing more than financial status. Just as I have learned that there isn't a difference between monster and man... it's all a matter of who has wronged who. Lynx devours lynx. Who is predator and who is prey? " His singular eye now looked back to her. " You have had people you care for taken from you too, haven't you? " And with that question, he offered her to sit down next to him on the bench.

[ @kelzthalassunwhisper <3 ]

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

At his proposed tactic, silence fell between them after his name was proclaimed to not only herself, but their surroundings. No shadow quivered with malicious intent, the bones didn't even rattle, nor did the Sanguine Sorceress appear. A derisive snort followed as she stared at him.

"Impressive."

She said with a sardonic tone, eyes no longer amused, and patience to humor him was now about lost. Her body turned yet again to face towards the altar.

"Maybe you should have stood closer to the altar," she suggested with a little shrug.

Lord Felscythe's anger suddenly blazed beside her as he divulged a bit about his nature and disappointment in being misrepresented. For an apparition he was ... oddly specific.

"If we're in the habit of spewing long-winded titles, I shall also commence in the art of verbal diarrhea."

A dramatic inhalation proceeded her own introduction.

"For starters, I am no knight. I am a Commander. Commander Kelz'thalas Sunwhisper, leader of the Silvermoon Guard and Spellbreaker of the Flamestrike Battalion. Former Retainer of House Sunshield and House B'andtherion."

But at his rebuking, she felt an urgency to correct him as she took a step to cast her gaze away.

"You criticize my efforts, yet you yield just as much, if not more failure? I must say, your persistence would make you quite the… 'white knight.' Though, I think you should try to find someone to convince that you are the hero you claim to be first. Because you look the opposite to me."

To his reference of the land, she closed her eyes and chortled softly.

"Haunted? Perhaps cursed… And as for the altar, it holds power. Power she can undoubtedly tap into. It is her covenant to perform dark magic as the Sanguine Sorceress. And had I called upon more than I bargained for as you so imply, I'd have been ready."

A heavy sigh now left her as she stared now at her questionable savior and shook her head.

"As much as I know you are loathe to accept it, she and I have some unresolved matters. Perhaps I should have specialized in other techniques of summoning her. Afterall, it isn't my place to fling spells and incantations. Maybe a particular scent would have delivered a message more accurately than my blood."

Again, her shoulders lifted and fell back into place as she noted the spiderling rushing past his foot. Despite her… fixation with the Sorceress, she did acknowledge the fabricated arachnid.

"And… might I suggest saving your anger for your quarry? If you are serious about finding her, perhaps you need to give more than you seek to take, hm?"

As she had held some composure, it now was lost. Perhaps due to her blood loss and the mental fog from imbibing too deeply in liquid spirits. A cantankerous fumble forced her to turn and side-step away from him. The familiar bile that had accompanied her bowels sought to rise. She raised a hand and indicated with her pointer finger to halt any further retorts. She then expelled the contents within as her vomit now decorated the altar with a new offering.

(@nixalegos @sanguinesorceress @allasticus )

“Does the commander believe in doing something wrong for the greater good?”

Victory was a bittersweet song that played when the struggle of battle had ceased. It meant that there was a future and that peace could gradually make it's way into the hearts of those weary from the fight. And in most instances whether the ending was good or bad, the fight was the part most remembered. Potential outcomes were factored, fear stimuli was faced head on, and most importantly loss was something one had to endure.

Yet in this instance, victory couldn't be attained. There was too much at stake and now the Commander had only one recourse. She took each step forward - knowing that the light of the morrow was only going to come from this path.

The ground was like ash, dull, and muted from the taint that stretched throughout the Ghostlands. Trees stood as hollowed shells as life had since vacated this region - only allowing the memories of the past to take refuge in its silence. The Dead Scar was decorated with skulls throughout it as she moved from the path into the upturned earth. Still donned in the regalia of Silvermoon's colors, she carried herself to the gates of Deathholme.

What stood as a testament to time itself was the former scourge citadel and its outposts. No reanimated corpses sought to impede her ascent to the altar just outside the citadel. And while her expression was filled with determination, it did not hide her valor as she took a stance before it.

With a deliberate motion of her hands, she pulled the gauntlet free and threw it against the altar's surface in a display of challenge.

"I know you are here," her voice stated without a look to her surroundings.

"You don't fool me! Whispers, despite how soft they are, still send a message! You live in the shadows and gaze at the warmth of the living - resent us for everything we take for granted. You find the moments we are the most vulnerable and slip out of your place in hiding to remind us that... mistakes cost us. Perhaps this is some sick and twisted mindset that sets you and I apart, Malakortana. But we are two sides of the same coin. I just happen to endure the light of the Eternal Sun."

At this the Commander reached towards her belt and brandished a knife which was drawn and poised along the bare side of her hand. The cut was quick and deep as she pulled the knife away and overturned her hand so that the blood may fall over the gauntlet she had discarded earlier.

"You know sacrifice and I come baring myself in offering to you. This is the language you yearn to speak, but the conversation you can never have with the likes of me alive. I know you to be the monster you are and seek to sate that gluttonous appetite that you flaunt as power. It festers without abandon and behind that charade of your ashen smile, you hunger just like the withered. You crave it."

The blood had already stained the surface of her armor and began to pool beneath it.

"So show yourself! I have come to understand you, now it's time you do the same for me."

(( @allasticus thanks for the ask :3 Mentions @sanguinesorceress ))

[nixalegos]

His lips curled back in delight as she took the bait and announced her name, her station, her loyalties and her house in front of him...the recording spider, and the scrying eye he had hovering at his side. "What do you mean, you declared who you are, and got a monster, or well, as close as you're going to get tonight." He said amused. "Too much firewine and ramping bloodloss. Its why you normally cut *other* people on an altar, and save the drinking for the revelry of success." He teased as she let loose her new, very compelling argument over the altar. She'd find the warlock held out a tapered stone to her when she turned back.

It was a healthstone, seemingly tailor made for immediate and expedited recovery. "Pointy end goes in the wound." He said, wordlessly demanding she take it. "No strings. The only use you have dead is as parts." "So, Commander Kelz'thalas Sunwhisper. Leader of the Silvermoon Guard and Spellbreaker of the Flamestrike Battalion. Former Retainer of House Sunshield and House B'andtherion. Assuming I got that right, now that I've got recordings of you attempting to invoke an known entity with sangromatic sacrifice on a magical altar of our enemies while drunk, I have to ask." "How are you going to convince me to keep said recordings to myself?" As if to place emphasis on the point, the scrying eye hanging over the warlocks shoulder hovered just a smidge closer. "See? I took your lesson to heart. I'm giving you a chance to dig yourself out of this bit of ugly business."

@kelzthalassunwhisper

“Does the commander believe in doing something wrong for the greater good?”

Victory was a bittersweet song that played when the struggle of battle had ceased. It meant that there was a future and that peace could gradually make it's way into the hearts of those weary from the fight. And in most instances whether the ending was good or bad, the fight was the part most remembered. Potential outcomes were factored, fear stimuli was faced head on, and most importantly loss was something one had to endure.

Yet in this instance, victory couldn't be attained. There was too much at stake and now the Commander had only one recourse. She took each step forward - knowing that the light of the morrow was only going to come from this path.

The ground was like ash, dull, and muted from the taint that stretched throughout the Ghostlands. Trees stood as hollowed shells as life had since vacated this region - only allowing the memories of the past to take refuge in its silence. The Dead Scar was decorated with skulls throughout it as she moved from the path into the upturned earth. Still donned in the regalia of Silvermoon's colors, she carried herself to the gates of Deathholme.

What stood as a testament to time itself was the former scourge citadel and its outposts. No reanimated corpses sought to impede her ascent to the altar just outside the citadel. And while her expression was filled with determination, it did not hide her valor as she took a stance before it.

With a deliberate motion of her hands, she pulled the gauntlet free and threw it against the altar's surface in a display of challenge.

"I know you are here," her voice stated without a look to her surroundings.

"You don't fool me! Whispers, despite how soft they are, still send a message! You live in the shadows and gaze at the warmth of the living - resent us for everything we take for granted. You find the moments we are the most vulnerable and slip out of your place in hiding to remind us that... mistakes cost us. Perhaps this is some sick and twisted mindset that sets you and I apart, Malakortana. But we are two sides of the same coin. I just happen to endure the light of the Eternal Sun."

At this the Commander reached towards her belt and brandished a knife which was drawn and poised along the bare side of her hand. The cut was quick and deep as she pulled the knife away and overturned her hand so that the blood may fall over the gauntlet she had discarded earlier.

"You know sacrifice and I come baring myself in offering to you. This is the language you yearn to speak, but the conversation you can never have with the likes of me alive. I know you to be the monster you are and seek to sate that gluttonous appetite that you flaunt as power. It festers without abandon and behind that charade of your ashen smile, you hunger just like the withered. You crave it."

The blood had already stained the surface of her armor and began to pool beneath it.

"So show yourself! I have come to understand you, now it's time you do the same for me."

(( @allasticus thanks for the ask :3 Mentions @sanguinesorceress ))