#Varyc

[korkrunchcereal]

Crowned in Snow

Snow crunched beneath iron boots, and the metal clad juggernaut marched on. Each crunch boomed as if thunder in the silence of Winter, for such had come at long last to Quel’thalas. Unprepared were the people, and in that uncertainty came chaos. Villages ill equipped for such conditions were abandoned with refugees pouring into the country side or to Silvermoon. Those that did not escape early were now preyed upon by bandits and other criminals that profited off of suffering.

The colossus of a man had been forced to deal with several groups already in his travels. Rarely he had stayed in one place for long, yet now there was purpose to his travels. He had found villages burned to the ground and reduced to rubble, the inhabitants frozen by the icy chill of winter. He didn’t know the villages now wiped off the map, but he paid his respects to those that died. He buried their bodies, before moving on.

Once more now he found himself before the ruins of a small village. Stone houses were caved in and collapsed, while wood lay rotten and scattered. The man sniffed the air, barely getting a scent from behind the visor of his helm. If there was any dead here, it was masked by the wind. Few trees surrounded the village, and those that still stood had long lost their leaves.

Dead.

Everything was dead here.

He paused before stepping in, eyes closing. In his mind he saw this place as it once was. Green meadows surrounded scarlet painted buildings, while villagers coerced with one another. Children ran between fences and past annoyed parents, all the while chasing one another. It was an ideal village, one of which he had played in his mind a thousand times before. Yet the one in his vision had the smell of baking bread and spices, whilst the reality was much different.

He walked into the village, eyes opening. It was a vision not meant for this place, and so it remained nameless. The bottom of his mailed skirt trailed through the thick snow, carving lines matched by the wide steps of his boots. The only sound was of metal against metal, and iron against snow. Crunch.

Crunch.

Masonry moving.

He paused, ears perking. His hand moved to unlatch his shield from his back, drawing forth the great lion that for so long had protected him. It roared in mute defiance, emblazoned with the image found on the man’s chest. He half considered grabbing the flail that had been latched beneath the shield, then decided against it. It could be a survivor.

Cautiously he moved, the wind picking up into a howl against his helmet. Snow was beginning to be kicked up, making it hard to see through the slit of his helm. He narrowed his eyes to where he thought the sound had originally come from. There; something shifted behind one of the fallen towers. Inch by inch he moved forward, leaning over the fallen rubble.

It was a child, huddled in a blanket. She looked up at the man, eyes widening in fear. She looked first upon the lion roaring upon his chest, then to the daunting features of his helm. They traveled further up, resting upon the twin antlers that rose skyward to the heavens. She fell back, crawling backwards and away from the giant man. Light, she must have been barely past fifteen summers. The man stayed where he was, hoisting back on his shield and removing his helmet.

A scarred, burned and paled face stared now at the child. His black hair was kept short as was his beard, doing little to hide the severe scarring he had. A burn wound from some conflict past covered the left half of his face, while striking slashes crossed over his nose and right eye. He had seen war and emerged with the reminder of its uncaring cruelty. With a free hand, he offered it out to the child.

“It’s alright little one, I won’t hurt you.” The child did not move, still recoiled in fear. The man placed his helmet down in the snow behind him, out of the sight of the child. He leaned back up, towering well over both child and the masonry. “What’s your name?”

“M-meryn.”

“Hello Meryn. Are you alone here?” She nodded slowly in response. “Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” She said quietly, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Men came into our village, demanding our food. Our village elder said no, so the men returned the next day with even more and attacked. Mommy hid me under the floor in our house and told me not to come out. I heard screaming next and…” she paused, beginning to cry. “I’m all alone now.”

“Do you have any family elsewhere?”

“M…my grandma. She lives in Silvermoon.” Varyc nodded, offering out his hand once more. The hair on the back of his neck rose, a chill running up his spine. The girl, cowering in the ruins of her home. Screaming; oh gods the screaming. He closed his eyes, images flashing in his mind. Distorted and warped were his memories that flooded in.

Screaming. They won’t stop screaming. I have to silence them; they’ll alert others and-

- “Are you alright?” The man opened his eyes at the girl’s voice, realizing he was breathing heavily. Sweat began to bead upon his brow, slowly oozing down the side of his face. Cold. It was snowing; good. It wasn’t snowing in his mind. Reality returning and-

He turned, bringing his arm up. An arrow slammed into the plate, shattering at the impact but sending a shock of dull pain into his arm. Four men stood in ragged, mismatched clothes and armor. One had a bow, another arrow knocked whilst the other three were armed with swords and knives. Rag tag in appearance and hostile? Bandits.

“Thought I heard something Daryn.” The one with a bow muttered to his compatriots, before speaking louder. “You wanna live?” Silence. “Drop your gear and give us your supplies.”

“Vance, he’s giant. You sure this is-“

“Shut up Daryn. Drop your gear, now.” The man did not move, simply glancing behind to the little girl. She was cowering, fear plain upon her face. His helmet still rested on the ground, bits of snow flickering across. He looked back up, words soft as he spoke.

“Though I stand before the light, let none stop me in my fight. Though I may die, come what may, know I stand within the light this day.”

“Vance, put an arrow in ‘im and shut him up.” Tension released. The man turned, the arrow shattering against his shield still strapped. In the same motion he leaned down, scooping up his helmet to turn and throw it. The heavy steel slammed into the archer, knocking the breath out of him as he fell back. The other three charged on the giant, weapons drawn.

“Back cretins lest you face the wrath of righteousness.” He unslung the shield and his flail, chain rattling as it was uncoiled with the motion. Its spiked head was near as large as his assailant’s torsos, causing them pause. This was a weapon of death, meant for crushing in the most inhumane of ways. Soft spoken may have been the man, but his weapon was not.

One, perhaps foolish or brave, charged and brought his sword down. It was a clumsy blow, born of desperation not training. With ease the man knocked it away, bringing the wicked head of his flail up. It slammed into his attacker’s torso, shredding through cloth and flesh and smashing bone. The bandit was sent flying back into the snow, his chest all but ripped open.

The other bandits fled rather then face such a weapon, save the archer that scrambled back in the snow, bow dropped. He got up, unsheathing a dagger at his side to jump forward. The armored colossus dropped his flail, letting it fall into the snow as he brought his hand up to catch the bandit’s throat. He gasped for breath, dropping his dagger as he clawed in desperation.

With careless ease he squeezed and twisted, snapping the bandit’s neck. The flailing had ceased, and the man discarded the body with disgust. Satisfied no one else was going to attack, he strapped back on his shield and coiled up his flail once more. Slowly he bent down, picking up his helm to once more crown his head in antlers. He turned, spotting the little girl.

“You killed them.”

“Yes.”

“You…you killed them easily.”

“They were bandits. They attacked the defenseless. I was not defenseless.” He offered out his hand, the very same that broke the bandit’s neck. Slowly the little girl walked forward, placing hers in it. It was so small in comparison, yet there was a surprising gentleness to the man’s grip. “We need to get you somewhere safe, before more arrive.”

“Okay…what’s your name, sir.”

“Varyc. Come little one, you must be hungry.” She nodded enthusiastically in response. He offered a smile, hidden behind his helm.

“Let’s find you something to eat first. Silvermoon is close, is it not?”

“A day’s ride, sir.”

“We’ll make for there once you’re fed.” She nodded, a faint smile threatening to pull at her features. He closed his eyes, letting the memory stay in his mind before he began walking. Snow crunched beneath their feet, yet now the sound of crows cawing echoed. There was always a scavenger, somewhere. 

[korkrunchcereal]

Redwall

Eredin Redwall woke to the sound of a crackling fire, and the smell of roasting meat. As his eyes opened, the sheer pounding of his head made him wish he was dead. Groaning, he blinked several times before trying to move. He was on his back; why was he on his back? And what was he on? Gods why did everything hurt so b-

The shield.

The giant behind the shield.

The giant behind the shield with the army.

Shit.

Wearily he tried to pull himself up, wincing with the effort. He noted he was on some thick blanket that kept the snow off. The dull throbbing in his bones was matched by the pounding in his skull, and so he fell back down with a grunt of annoyance. Slowly he realized it was dark out, the moon high overhead. Cautiously he turned his head, careful not to upset any of his injured limbs. There was the fire several feet away, as well as what looked to be several rabbits being cooked over them. He saw the juices dripping down, sizzling in the fire. Gods he was hungry.

How long had it been since he ate? Perhaps more importantly, how did he even get here. Was he dead? No. All the stories said the afterlife was painless and pleasant. The pain in his body and the gnawing at his stomach proved he was still alive. The other Redblade’s must have recovered him from the village. Surely he wouldn’t have been put next to a fire in the dead of winter by the men that tried to kill him. Briefly, a twinge of fear crept up his spine; his ring. In a panic he moved to feel it, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt his wedding band. Still there. Good.

Eredin tried to pull himself up again, this time succeeding in getting to a sitting position. Now higher up, he scanned the area around him. There was no sign of anyone else save some footprints now faded by fallen snow. The fire was quite large, and in the distance Eredin could see even more lights as well as scatterings of dead trees. This didn’t look like the Redblade’s meeting area. Where was he?

His eyes wandered more, until falling on a strange shadow. He narrowed his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. He gasped in recognition, seeing a staff leaning upon a fallen log. He had seen that staff before; nay he had carried that staff. It was from the village he had robbed, though he had been knocked unconscious while carrying it. How did it end up here?

In the firelight he can see the faint glimmer of gold from the staff’s head, as well as the ruby gleaming in the center. It was worth a pretty penny he was certain, enough to feed him through the cursed winter. A sharp crackle broke his attention, causing him to look back at the meat. It looked so juicy, and it had been sometime since he ate last. Slowly, as if fearful of the flames retribution he reached out. Just one bite was all he-

“Interesting.” A deep, booming voice like thunder sounded behind him. Eredin let out a yelp of fright, turning quickly. The movement sent a shockwave of pain through his body, forcing him to collapse into the snow. He pulled himself out of the snow, looking up.

And up.

And up.

His eyes crawled over black plates and gold trim, stopping at a roaring lion with eyes like gleaming rubies. Yet that was not what frightened him; nay, when his gaze travelled even further up if such a thing were possible, it fell upon a helmet crowned with twin antlers. It was the very same man that had stopped him dead in his tracks at the village.

The iron juggernaut himself sat there upon another log, arms crossed and undoubtedly staring down at Eredin. Eredin tried to stammer out something, anything to say but failed to utter more than a weak, squeaking gasp. He was a dead man; the armored giant would kill Eredin for trying to steal his food. He’d crunch his bones, smash his skull and-

“Go on and eat.” Eredin blinked at that, looking up to where he assumed the giant’s eyes were. The armored man extended out a hand towards the rabbit. “Eat.” He repeated. “You must be hungry.”

“E-eat? Oh, right.” Eredin felt himself nearly drool at the prospect, turning back to the rabbits. Cautiously he reached out a hand, fingers grabbing a piece of the animal. It was hot, the meat and flames burning his fingers, but he didn’t care as he pulled. He was starving, and sloppily shoved the meat into his mouth. Gods it was good. He took another bite, and another.

“Is it good?”

“The best damn rabbit I’ve ever had. Oh it’s delicious its-“ Eredin stopped mid bite, raising a brow curiously. “You’re not just trying to fatten me up to eat me are you?” There was a pause, before the armored giant began to laugh. It was a loud, booming thing that seemed mirthful and yet almost forced, as if there was no real joy behind it. It was an uncomfortable mixture that made Eredin uneasy, and he weakly laughed alongside the man.

“Eat you? No, I am not going to eat you.”

“You’re not a demon, then?” The man grabbed his helmet, pulling it off. The giant’s skin was a brown ochre, with short ebon hair and a trimmed beard flecked with the beginning of grey. His eyes were nearly white in their paleness, while a large burn scar covered the left half of his features. To Eredin’s relief, the man was most certainly an elf, albeit an unusually large one.

“Not a demon.”

“No.” Eredin agreed. “Not a demon. You’re really god damn big though.”

“I have been told that, bandit.” Bandit? Eredin’s eyes went wide, forgetting for a moment he had been one. The title filled him with some measure of shame, and he looked away sheepishly. “How are your injuries.”

“I feel like everything’s broken. Why’d you hit me so hard?”

“The first two I hit did not go unconscious. I hit harder the third time.”

“Yea? Well thanks.”

“I could hit you with my flail instead.” Eredin remembered seeing it briefly before he was knocked out, noting that the head of it was as big as his torso.

“Pass. Why didn’t you, anyways. Did you bring me here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the alternatives were death or turning you over to the authorities, which right now is likely the Phoenix Guard.” The name filled Eredin with dread, for their reputation was cold and merciless enforcers of the law were well earned.

“Yes, but why?” Eredin continued, pressing the question. “Why not kill me or turn me over?”

“The Phoenix Guard are already dealing with traitors and others they believe dissident. I would not burden them with a thief, just as I would not burden the mule tilling a field with another plow. As for why I did not kill you? I wanted to see something.”

“See something? What?”

“I have wandered the country for some time now,” the giant began explaining. “And in my travels, I have come across numerous bandits. Most have attacked me and thus I have put them down. Some flee. I asked myself what has turned these men and woman to such desperation? To turn on their own in such fashion. To steal, and murder.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

“No? What of the villagers?”

“The village was abandoned when we got there. We were just stealin’ what the villagers had left behind. If they left it there, they weren’t gonna miss them being gone.”

“Hmmm…” The giant reflected on that answer, a hand moving to tap his fingers along a skirted thigh. “A favored walking staff. A carpet. A chair. A tombstone. Do you not believe these have attachments to people?”

“Well yea, but-“

“-And if I took your ring for example, would you not miss such an item?” Instinctively Eredin brought a hand to his wedding band, covering it.

“Alright, I get the point stealing is bad. Look, I didn’t want to do it.”

“But…?”

“I was desperate. We all were! Some of us haven’t eaten in days. We don’t have houses to return to or…or families. The state and the military ain’t protecting us or helping us so we got to help ourselves.”

“At the expense of another life? What authority places your life above theirs. What makes your struggle greater than that of another man?” Despite the harshness of the question, there was no spite in the man’s voice or bitterness. Only genuine, sheer curiosity which puzzled Eredin.

“N-none, I suppose.” Eredin finally muttered out.

“If I let you go, what will you do?” The question confused Eredin.

“What?”

“If I let you go, what will you do? Will you return to banditry and preying upon others? Will you join the high elven king that has come to our shores? Will you perish in the winter of Quel’thalas? What will you do?”

“I…” Eredin paused, contemplating his answer. What would he do? Banditry obviously didn’t work out for him. In truth, he never truly wanted to resort to robbing others. It was strange; the giant’s very presence and nature made Eredin guilty. “I don’t know.” The armored man nodded to that, finally pushing himself up.

The man towered over Eredin, standing some seven feet tall. Even in the darkness he could see the flail and shield on the man’s back, the edges catching the fire’s glow. Was the man going to kill Eredin? Had Eredin’s answer been unsatisfactory? He was honest, something he could not say he had been for a while. Honest with others…or himself.

“Do you wish to live?”

“Of course I want to live. I have no wish to die.” The man nodded, placing back on his helmet. He moved to grab the staff, Eredin’s eyes following it. If the armored giant had noticed he paid no mind as he placed the staff over his shoulder. Without another word he began to walk away, Eredin’s eyes going wide. He quickly grabbed the blanket he was on as well as the stick the rabbit had been skewered with, even if it had burnt his hands.

“Hey! Hey wait!” Despite the pain Eredin pulled himself off the ground at last, feeling some strength in his limbs again thanks to the fire and food in his belly. Slowly he followed after the giant, taking bites out of the rabbit. “Where are you going?”

“Back to camp.”

“Camp?”

“Yes. The Sunguard are camped near here.”

“What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

“I am neither destiny nor fate, and thus cannot tell you. Your path is one you walk, not I.”

“Let me join you, then.” The man stopped, letting his boots crunch and sink in the snow.

“Why.”

“You’re right; Trying to rob people. Right now, people are desperate. I shouldn’t add to that. It feels…wrong.”

“I see. I never stated you were right or wrong.”

“Yea, well I realized I was wrong.” Eredin’s words hung in the air, before the giant began moving again. The giant didn’t say no to Eredin following, and so he trailed behind. “Why’d you bring me out there away from the camp anyways? Seems like a long walk.”

“In case I did not like what I heard.” For a moment Eredin did not understand, and then the realization set in.

“Oh…”

“But I believe your story was of desperation, not maliciousness. It is not my authority to cast judgement on your crimes. Just as I am neither destiny nor fate, I am not law or truth, bandit. I am simply a wanderer.” Silence again, broken only by the crunching of snow. Minutes passed before Eredin spoke up.

“My name is Eredin, by the way. Eredin Redwall.”

“Varyc.” The giant boomed in response. “Come; my camp is but beyond this tree line. I do not have much to spare, though I shall offer what I can. You must remain quiet however for some there may recognize you, Eredin Redwall.” Eredin let out an audible gulp before he nodded, realizing to his foolishness Varyc wasn’t looking behind himself.

“Understood.”  Briefly Eredin wondered what on Azeroth he was doing to willingly follow a man that had every capability of killing him. Then again, it was better then freezing in the woods…and perhaps he could turn a new leaf.

Perhaps.

[korkrunchcereal]

I am haunted by my sins. In visions I see what I have done; what my hands have wrought. Or perhaps they are sins yet to come, divined in confusion. I am not certain anymore. The red specter follows my footsteps whilst the grave calls. The claws of death are on my shoulders, eager to claim me among the ashes.

My past is cast in shadow, and my future uncertain. All I can do, nay what any man can do is forge ahead. I walk in the glory of the light, seeking absolution. Perhaps in justice shall come liberation, and in liberation? Truth.

-Varyc, The Crowned Tower.

[korkrunchcereal]

The Horned Crown

[Mystical Item]: Helm

[+5 to HP]

[Begin Combat with a 10hp shield]

[Archmage’s Blessing: When taking melee damage, roll 1d5 if you roll a 1, then your character will blink behind the enemy target and dodge the assault]

When the elf that became known as Varyc awoke on a battlefield during the Scourge invasion, none knew what would become of the man. Burned, bleeding and injured, the elf scraped by for survival in a dying country. Hunted by the living dead, Varyc nearly died not from scourge hands, but from hunger. Fate however had other plans for the elf.

Deep in charred woodland Varyc found a great deer of ashen fur, alone in a wasteland of nothingness. Why such a beast was there was a mystery, but using the last of his strength Varyc killed the beast. Thankful for the blessing of its sacrifice, Varyc wasted not a single part of the deer. He took its meat for food, its bones for weapons and its hide for warmth from the night’s chill. Upon his head he wore the skin of the beast, great antlers rising high.

In time the world returned from chaos as survivors banded together. It would take time, but the fresh wounds of calamity would heal. The scourge however needed to be cleansed from Quel’thalas, and in truth Varyc was curious of his own lost past and so joined in the reclamation. For years he fought, unstoppable and unrelenting until at last the nation was freed from the grasp of the undead.

Yet there was something strange in the giant of a man, who wore the deerskin cloak and beheld a great distance in his mournful gaze. Perhaps it was destiny, so strange in the myriad ways it worked. Perhaps it was simply intuition from those of cunning and nobility. Perhaps it was neither option and just simply a need for men of his stature, but whatever the case Varyc was summoned to Silvermoon itself by the hands of men greater than most.

Only Varyc and one other knows of what happened, but when Varyc left the city a month later it was not in deerskins but in blackened plates of war trimmed gold. His cloak had become a blanket for the cold nights, while the antlers became fastened on a great war helm that raged with smoldering fire. This was the horned crown, given to the man proclaimed Tower. Since that day he has wandered the country, the sight of his crowned helm relief to the just, and terror to the wicked.

“His charge is justice; the upholding of what is good in uncertain times. Let him be recognized as my tower, and upon his head be crowned wrath.” - Unknown source.

@thesunguardmg

[korkrunchcereal]

Southbound

Many faces were often forgotten in war; the faceless hordes of soldiers that held no significance save for those held dear and little beyond it. A hundred men died each day, yet they were simply a number as opposed to an identity. It was this knowledge that Varyc relied on as he packed. In his camp beyond the 

Had anyone stumbled upon him then they may have considered him a deserter. Indeed what little he carried with him was slowly being wrapped in linens or stuffed among sun kissed leather and the time was that of dusk, so that few could see him. He had chosen his camp to dissuade random visitors, however. On the outskirts all who passed were patrolling soldiers and the rare woodland creature brave or curious enough to explore.

More animals were being seen daily as winter’s cruel embrace gradually faded. Snow turned to rain, and frost to slush. The grass and flowers buried deep beneath the blinding white now threatened to explode in blooms of color. Winter’s passing would lead to spring’s return much to the relief of the beleaguered people of Quel’thalas. Yet even with nature’s wrath fading there yet remained more external threats.

Varyc could not control nature. He could not stop snowfall or freezing winds, nor deal with the rain that yet brought flooding. Southern Quel’thalas however faced more than that. It faced aberrations born of nightmares; merciless hordes that would slaughter indiscriminately all for the simple act of doing so. It also faced the realization that no aid would come for some time. In many ways, they were alone.

Others had seen this and vowed to not abandon the south. Whilst the south braced for the great wave of evil that was the Blackbloods, many would be left defenseless. Evacuations had already begun across the swathes of provinces that called the far borders home, yet it would take time. Varyc had seen such before, and though his memory before the Scourge invasion was lost, he knew the emotions and instincts that would so readily be present.

Fear.

Panic.

Confusion.

In the chaos many lives will be lost and families torn apart and so others had come to Varyc for his assistance. Join in aiding those who could not aid themselves; a call so clarion and loud in Varyc’s beliefs that he could never say no. So he packed what little possessions he had with the intentions on riding south. In war many faces were forgotten; his would be among them.

“Varyc?” Varyc neither paused in his packing nor turned to look, for he recognized the voice immediately.

“Eredin Redwall.” The bandit turned faux squire of Varyc had followed the armored giant wherever he had gone, and in so doing escaped the carnage of the Blackbloods. When news broke that the Sunguard marched north not south, Varyc had sensed in the man trepidation and anticipation. It was the kind of anticipation born of tension, as if expecting a sudden outburst or event to occur. He had not talked to Eredin on the matter, for he suspected the former bandit would tell him in time.

“Are you...you’re packing?”

“Yes.” Varyc knelt down, grabbing a small scrap of crimson cloth that held little value but nevertheless was important, for reasons he was not sure. “I am going south.”

“South? To the Blackbloods?” Varyc heard the man step into the mud, boots squelching as they sunk into the moist dirt. “Why? Do you intend to desert?”

“No, but if that becomes the label to associate with me then yes.” Eredin muttered something under his breath, then spoke up.

“What are you planning on doing? Fighting the Blackbloods?”

“No, though our paths will inevitably cross in my task.”

“What are you doing then. You’re not fleeing, are you?” At last Varyc paused, pulling himself up to his full height. He towered over Eredin as he turned to face the man, slowly unclasping his helmet to pull it off. As always he maintained a blank expression, as if the very act of emotion was an insurmountable task.

“The Sunguard moves north, chasing the dying sun that is the Alliance to the Isle of Quel’danas. There, they will push the Alliance from our shores. However, the setting sun brings with it growing shadows. The south stands alone, and without aid it will be drowned in darkness.”

“Setting sun? What the-you know what, nevermind. I thought you said you weren’t fighting the Blackbloods.”

“There is more to aiding then fighting. The Tempest Coast has begun evacuations for neighboring provinces. The journey will be hard and uncertain for those close to the Blackbloods.” Varyc considered for a moment what to say next, a hand rolling out. “The Ridges will fall. Of that, there is little doubt. Yet land is simply that, and the truth is while castles fall and villages burn they can always be rebuilt. Its people? Ah, that is Quel’thalas lifeblood; its memory and that is not so easily replaced.”

“So…you intend to help with evacuations?”

“Yes.” The simple answer given, Varyc turned back around to continue his packing.

“Are you not scared of the Blackbloods? Or the consequences?”

“We all have a choice, Eredin Redwall. Many argue against that; that our lives are predetermined and controlled by the hand of fate. That we all have a destiny.”

“You don’t believe that?”

“On the contrary I do.”

“What? Then how do we have a choice?”

“Fate marks each and every one of us. We are each a piece in the grand weave that is history; a story of heroes and villains where all of us play our parts. Yet are we bound to this, as if a cog in a machine? To believe that is to believe we lack free will and are bound to some code beyond our understanding like men are bound to laws.”

“But you believe otherwise?”

“You broke the law when you became a bandit. The circumstances are irrelevant for you had the choice to become one, and if we are not bound to laws then surely we possess free will to create our own path. The end destination will always be the same, Eredin Redwall. For mortals our triumphs end in death. Yet our path is one we make ourselves, and while all roads lead to a single inevitability there remains yet the journey.” There was a brief silence in the air before Eredin stammered out his response.

“That…that doesn’t make sense!”

“Perhaps not, but I never claimed it did.”

“Ugh!” Eredin groaned in frustration. “Do you always talk like this?”

“As far as I can remember.” Varyc chuckled with his answer, as if a private joke.

“What?”

“Ah, it is nothing Eredin Redwall. Anyways, to go back to your original question; my fear of the Blackbloods or of consequences means very little. I go because I must.”

“But you just said we had choices.”

“We do. My choice is to go and to do otherwise would be to go against who I am, and thus I must. Because of this, I have no fear for I am certain in my choice.”

“But what if you die?”

But what if you die...

A woman’s voice, once calm now nervous. He had to go, didn’t he? Her voice had always calmed him. It was a sweet wind in the bitter heat, though now it held something else. This was something he had forgotten. His skin felt hot, crackling under an inferno he could not see. Where was she. Varyc. Varyc-”

“-are you alright?” Varyc blinked, shaking his head to clear it. He was back in the mud and the rain, the water cool against his skin. He took a deep breath, eyes closing.

“I am fine.”

“You sure? You tensed up a bit; got a distant look. Looked like you were staring at something a thousand miles away.”

“In some ways, that may be true. But, to answer your question...if I am to die, then I die as a man who made a choice. That is more then can be said for the servants of the Blackbloods.” Silence filled the air, carrying for a minute followed by another as Varyc finished packing. When at last his small tent was brought down and wrapped up, he spoke again. “I am leaving now.”

“Now? Already?”

“Night comes soon. No one will miss my absence, for I am both new and beyond the camp. I intend to meet a man who speaks with the voice of history, and from there we shall move south swiftly.”

“Let me come with you.”

“It will be dangerous, Eredin Redwall. The Blackbloods will flood the south and we may be caught in its tide.”

“I know but…It’s the right thing to do. For me.” At that Varyc raised his eyebrows, head tilting so he could glance back at Eredin.

“What lies in the south to spur you there? You have been antsy since news broke out of what happened. It is not terror is it…no. At least not of the Blackbloods. It is anticipation. Somethings there in the south, isn’t it?” Eredin nodded.

“Aye. My…my home is in the south.”

“Very well Eredin Redwall. You may accompany me. I fear however your home may be lost or may soon be lost.”

“I know. But it’s something I need to do.”

“Need? Or choose?” Varyc asked, turning around completely to stare down at Eredin. Despite his size and sheer presence he seemed more Eredin’s equal than anything else.

“Both, I think.”

“Then come. We must move swiftly, for while the sun rises and sets the darkness yet grows stronger. Come!”

[korkrunchcereal]

Bye Sunguard

Today is the Sunguard’s final day (I think. It’s the last event though.). It’s kind of weird honestly to see what is one of the final pillars of the MG Horde side disappear. There have been a lot of Horde guilds over the years, and a lot of elf ones but none have been quite like the Sunguard. When I joined Moon Guard back in the last year of Cataclysm I joined (and eventually lead) KKL, but the Sunguard had been one of the guilds I had heard about and considered joining.

I eventually did. Twice. 

We don’t talk about the first time.

Ultimately though, the Sunguard did what every RP guild dreams of doing, and what every GM wants to happen; create amazing stories and a world for people to explore. It also helped to create many friendships and relationships that will continue long after the guild ends. Fostering a community as...unique as this one is something most GM’s dream of, so congrats Felth on creating something that lasts beyond the guild’s legacy.

I personally became very good friends with quite a lot of people thanks to the Sunguard. A lot of them have shaped my characters, my writing and frankly played a part in my life. I can only express gratitude to people for putting up with my antics, stories, writings, ideas and whatever words I vomit each day. I don’t feel there’s much of a need to tag anyone because i’d be tagging a lot of people, and those that matter already know. So thank you, friends and guild members.

Enjoy your lives, be kind, and ultimately move from the Sunguard with the friendships and relationships made, the memories enjoyed and the good times earned. Grow from the hardships, trials and tribulations and remember that nothing gold can stay.

Feel free to keep in contact with me. I don’t want to post my discord publicly because there are weird people, but you can reach me here or on discord to add as a friend before the server collapses.

-Skull “Aurelian, Toren & Varyc” Crusha.

@thesunguardmg