#arathor

[elvishdragonfire]

Rubbing my back scales against a mountain side would fix me.

[nelisims]

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As an attempt by Thoras to overshadow the negative publicity of his son, they share a family portrait to showcase the strength and unity of their bond. An act to reaffirm the unbreakable connection within the Arathor family and subtly steering the narrative back to one of commitment, solidarity and love.

"Family first. Ejoying every moment of our summer retreat."

Both templates I use are from @thedevilliers ! c:

[graceintheshadows]

A letter to Etharion Longsight - 19 November

The letter arrives sealed and spelled against tampering though not against travel-wear. It’s a bit darkened at the edges and where various hands must have held the outer envelope and seems too heavy for it to just be a letter within. The pages within, however, are relatively clean except for the occasional smudge of ink and the mark of Roiya’s own fingers at one point, seemingly covered in ash. Enclosed is what appears to be some kind of beacon, wafer-thin but sturdy, etched with arcane runes.

Eth,

I hope this finds you and yours well. As I imagine you can tell from the envelope, I’ve once again utterly failed at remaining retired. I suppose you’re wholly unsurprised. This of course assumes that you’re the one reading this and not some spy or otherwise somewhere. That ranger assured me that he had a safe method of ensuring that this letter made it safely and discretely to you, though, and given his association with a former apprentice of mine, I’m willing to take him at his word.

Keydyn and I—and Aekatrine, Nikus, Lyyn, and Quin as well—deployed with forces out of Stormwind after Dalaran fell. I know, I know. I said I was done and I repeated as much to Keydyn, but he was right when he said they might need us. We were recalled by the Argent Crusade to Stormwind from our posting in the north and one thing led to another. I don’t know what conversations have been had with SI:7–and that lack of knowledge is why I’ve sent this outside of the normal channels—about anything, but we’re in Hallowfall now. It’s shades of Icecrown back in those old days. I feel both younger and ancient all at once, being here.

Have you heard much of what’s been happening out there in Khaz Algar? I’m curious of what’s been leaking out, though I suppose given your location you may hear even less than the common folk on the streets in one of the cities or even in a village. I’ve half thought of writing to anyone who may still be at Aerie Peak, but I doubt any would care to hear from me, if they’re even still there.

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? It seems it.

I’ve been remiss in coming to see you these past years. My own failing. I hope you and yours are well. Perhaps when I see you next—and I believe that I will, it’s just a matter of when—I’ll tell you how my son and his cousin pretended they were going to visit you and instead snuck off to Quel’thalas. It’s a long story, all of it, but I think it will make you worry and laugh at the same time.

Most of us have left them—the children—in Stormwind with the Earl of Ware and his wife. They’re older now, more responsible—but also quite apt to find fresh trouble. I worry about them because I know the sort of people they’ve come from. They’re too clever, but so are Lord Sam and Lady Mina. I’m sure it will be fine. There are only so many places they can sneak off to to find trouble, right?

Besides, we have problems enough here.

Nerubians, Eth. They called us here because between us all, we have a century and more of fighting nerubians under our belts. I don’t know what all of this means, not yet. It’s related to something far larger, I can feel it in my bones, but the Temple’s silent.

The Temple is silent on a great deal these days. Ten thousand years is a long time, I suppose, and at some point you would think I’d begin to trust my own counsel. And yet, sometimes I still look there—but I don’t have to, do I? Perhaps I never did.

It’s a strange place, this Hallowfall. The kind of place that makes you ask questions you’d not asked before. And yet, it reminds me of other places that have taught me important lessons over this long life of mine. I do wonder what it will teach me this time.

Be safe. I hope to hear from you soon, and to see you before this is over. Be well, my friend, my brother.

- Roiya.

[ @etharion ]

[lordaeronslost]

Lucky ones – Part 6

[See @isryael for part 5, @tenebreashember for part 4, @wynilthyrii for part 3, @graceintheshadows for part 2, and @lordaeronslost for part 1]

Several days ago…

“Adama! Where’s your CO?”

Quin pivoted toward the sound of the voice, her brow furrowing at the sight of the soldier who approached her, dressed in a mix of Alliance blue and gold with splashes of brown. The harbor at Stormwind was sheer bedlam, with soldiers and sailors everywhere, some collected into cohesive units that had been called up, some still being sorted. “Who’s asking?”

“Paranoid, are we?” The soldier flicked some hair from his face and for a moment, she thought he seemed familiar.

He knew my name. That accounts for something, doesn’t it? Then again, it wasn’t as if her face was unknown amongst at least a dozen military and auxiliary units across the Alliance and otherwise.

“She’s got enemies and so do I,” Quin said, her voice cool, controlled. “If you were us, you’d be paranoid, too. Who’s asking?”

The soldier grimaced and glanced around, then stepped closer. It wasn’t until he did that she recognized him as one of Shaw’s men. “Master Shaw needs a word with the Commander. Trying to get a small force in quickly to get the lay of the land and her name came up as maybe having an anchor point for a portal in.”

“Ah,” Quin crossed her arms, her Argent tabard bunching for a moment as she did. “She’s with the rest of the unit that was called up, over there by the Lady Grey. Surprised that Shaw is looking for an Argent unit for this.”

“He’s not,” the man—Riley, if she was remembering correctly—said, starting to move past her toward the dock where the brigandine Lady Grey lay at anchor. Quin fell in with him, her brow arching in invitation to continue. He glanced at her and made a face, but said, “You’re all still technically in Alliance service.”

“Technically,” she said crisply. “Now ask me how long it’s been since we acted as an Alliance auxiliary.”

He winced. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit that Shaw might’ve mentioned that he thought we could count on the support considering…”

“Considering it was Dalaran,” Quin said. “And up until recently, many of our families were there.”

“I won’t lie and say that the sudden departure of the Earl of Ware’s grandchildren and the scouring of his mercantile’s offices there wasn’t noticed by SI:7, Adama.”

“He would be a piss-poor intelligence service if that was missed.” Quin smirked. “You’re dying to ask, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Riley admitted. “But I won’t. I imagine someone already knows.”

“Likely,” she agreed. “Where does Shaw want to meet her?”

“I’m to escort her back to him.”

He stopped walking as Quin circled around to block his path, holding up a gloved finger. “Then wait here. I’ll bring her to you and I’ll brief the rest.”

He blinked. “Wait, brief? What do you mean?”

“Like you said. We’re still technically Alliance auxiliaries and what I heard was that if the commander can do what Shaw is going to ask, then we’re going ahead as an advance unit to get the lay of the land and do what we do.”

Riley started at her, some of the color draining from his face. “But—”

“No buts,” Quin said. “And Shaw thought anything other than that was going to happen, then we’ve been gone too long. Wait here. I’ll bring her to you.”

With that, she pivoted and walked into the controlled chaos that was the dock itself and the dozens of people preparing to ship out into the unknown.

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 3)

The former Ebon he’d met on the trail still hadn’t given him her name, but she’d told him enough to win enough wary trust for him to return to the outpost with her.  The enterprise had been aided by a sudden ache that began somewhere deep inside his knee and a shift in the wind.  He’d lived in Northrend long enough to know what those two things together heralded.

Stormclouds swept down onto K3 as they reached the inn, led by biting wind that stung his face and made his eyes water.  The inn at K3 was decidedly worn, weather-beaten, but in good repair.  The windows looked like they’d been replaced recently and the floors and tables in the common room were decidedly clean, though they still carried a timeworn, hard-used charm, battered and scuffed as they were. Its warmth and shelter—and the smell of venison stew and cider—were a welcome comfort after so narrowly dodging the storm.

The table his newfound companion led him toward was tucked into a shadowed corner and was already occupied by a figure tall enough that he guessed it must be another Kaldorei.  The figure had both hands wrapped around a mug of something steaming, beringed—and there was something else, something he didn’t quite see until the figure lifted the mug to drink, a glint of silver.

His heart slammed into his throat and he stopped in his tracks.  His companion put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“She won’t harm you,” she said softly.  “You have nothing to fear from her.”

“There are—”

“Yes,” she said.  “But something tells me your face will strike her familiar.”

“I’m not—”

“It has nothing to do with your resemblance to Ildanan Sunstar.”

He swallowed bile, but started walking again.  The figure—a woman, and unless he missed his guess, the woman called the Mistwraith—was looking at them now, argent eyes gleaming in the shadows of a drawn hood. He swallowed again as he carefully drew one of the chairs out from the table and sank into it, glancing back over his shoulder to see where his companion was going to sit—and found her gone.

“She’ll be getting you something bracing,” the hooded woman said.  There was a faint rasp to her voice but the familiarity was unmistakable. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

“I—”

“You’ll be needing it, Lord Kyvare.”

He rocked back, eyes widening.  In the shadows of her hood, there was a flash of a smile, almost but not quite feral.

“Yes.  I’m aware of who you are.  I’m also aware of what you were taught.”

“How—”

“I’m not certain the answer to your question matters overmuch, but if you really want an answer, I’ll give you one in exchange for an answer to a question of my own, first.” She leaned back and he could feel the weight of her gaze hanging heavy upon him.  “Why are you, of all people, seeking them when you have a family and responsibilities that should preclude a mission like this—one, I might add, that has been forbidden by the organization that saw you bound to them? Of all the sorts seeking those lost, you were among the last I would have imagined to see here.”

“What of you?” he blurted. “Why are you two looking for them?”

“Because she is my mother,” she said.  “And they are her family and I should think, with all that’s happened, I should owe her that much.  And you?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone else was and I wasn’t about to ask my family to come unless—unless I knew.”

“Whatever goes into that gully doesn’t come out,” she said.  “But they’re not dead.”

“No,” he confirmed.  “No, they’re not.”

“You’re certain?”

“Your cousin is.”

She fell silent.  The former Ebon returned to the table, setting a mug slowly down in front of him as she looked between him and the hooded woman.

“Well,” she said dryly. “I see you’ve gotten started without me. I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

The hooded woman reached up to push back her hood, smiling up at the Ebon.  “One time.”

“Near unmitigated disaster one time,” the Ebon said, seating herself.  “And a lesson learned.  What have you told him?”

“Likely no more than whatever you did to get him to come back with you.”

He coughed politely and wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth bleed into his fingers. “My apologies, ladies, but I think we’ve missed a few things.”

“You already know who I am, Lord Kyvare, and I know who you are,” Mistwraith said, studying him.  “Unless it’s not pleasantries you’re getting at.”

“I—well, it was, yes, but also no.  How—how long have you been looking?”

“Long enough to know there are two sites of interest,” the Ebon said.  “You stumbled across one.  The other is a frozen waterfall and a river that don’t seem quite right.”

The mug between his hands shattered.

[golden-routes]

Orbinid Route In Hallowfall 1

Premium WoW Gold Guides – Gaminghero.io

[lendasdeazeroth]

O Reino de Arathor se expande

A Expansão de Arathor e a Formação da Aliança Humana Ascensão de Arathor Cerca de 2.700 anos antes dos conflitos catastróficos conhecidos como a Primeira Guerra, o continente de Azeroth estava fragmentado em numerosos clãs e tribos humanas. A região central, onde hoje se encontram as Terras Pestilentas, era dominada pela poderosa cidade-Estado de Strom, que viria a ser conhecida futuram...

https://lendasdeazeroth.com.br/a-era-dos-mortais/o-reino-de-arathor-se-expande/

[wynilthyrii]

A letter to Anthus Steelshatter - 11 December

[This letter is written on good parchment in dark ink. It is sealed in charcoal gray wax bearing the seal of House Ilthyrii of Quel’thalas.]

Dear Anthus,

At the outset, I must apologize for my lack of communication, though I’m certain you understand.  A great deal has happened since we saw each other last, and hopefully this note will catch you up on some of the more important bits of that.  I don’t precisely have much opportunity to come to Dalaran as one might (or might not?) hope, but I do plan to be there in the next day or two, which of course brings me to the reason for this letter—beyond, of course, letting you know as much.

I plan to meet with your sister-in-law regarding the expedition she has been called upon to assemble.  I do not know if you or your wife have involvement in it, but it seems my son will.  Juden is fifteen now, nearly sixteen, and is well beyond his years when it comes to his studies thanks to some truly incredible teachers that he has been blessed to work with these past several years.  I do not know what ultimately made her think of him, but the invitation has been extended and I suspect that he would not forgive me if I told him he could not go.

In the old days, of course, I would have simply asked to come along, but my current duties in the Everlight, among other things, preclude that as an option.  I will be having some strong words with Commander Frost to ensure his safety.  A political consideration to such is that he is the last scion of House Riverwind and its lord and the kingdom can ill afford to lose him, though I think we both know that my concern is that of a mother for her son.  I am not asking that you attach yourself to whatever expedition she is organizing, I’m merely advising you of my position on the matter, should she approach you for your insight.  I do not know the shape of your relationship these days, though I certainly can recall in hindsight how insistent she was on your safety and treatment back all those years ago.  Tyr did mention to me in passing that he could not recall seeing you in Northrend more than once or twice in the near three years he spent there with the Crusade in her command, so I must imagine that retirement has actually stuck.  I am glad of it—you deserve to be settled and happy.

Clearly, I am most decidedly not retired these days, though I am relatively settled and quite happy. Overall, the family is well, and we have settled into the relative peace with more ease than I would have anticipated. I didn’t join Tyr in Northrend with the Crusade at first because I was newly wed and then caring for a newborn and that after that my duties with the Order and matters within the Everlight precluded my doing so.  All seems well enough these days, though, and quiet, and now we all are home.

I don’t know how long I will be in Dalaran, but I may call on you if there is time.  If not, I shall have to make arrangements for another time. It would be good to see your face.

Thank you.

Yours faithfully,

Wyn.

[Tagging @versusvices because I’m not sure where else to tag these days ;) ]

[streets-in-paradise]

There's a Songbird who Sings - Steve Harrington x (Fem)Henderson!Reader

Stranger Things Oneshot

Warnings: This is just fluff and musical references. I wrote it on my phone, so there was not much proofreading. It may have a few typos (sorry)

Summary: Steve accidentally discovers your real singing voice and you try to explain him why you feel Insecure of it.

Notes: As quite a few oneshots i have released before, this short thing is an attempt of bringing to life a mentioned moment in my headcanon series. It can be read separatedly, but for more context you can check it on my masterlist.

Tags: @losersclubisms

No matter how much he had grown, Dustin will always be your little brother. Still, as time passed there were certain shared rituals he was starting to consider childish despite being comforting. Bedtime ones were the most shamefull to him, he slowly stopped asking directly for that sort of comfort even at those times where he did need it. However, you would always be able to read him well enough to provide the care without an expressed ask.

" If Steve finds out I will kill you." The boy warned you, guessing your intention as soon as you sat on the bed next to him " I'm not a baby anymore, you don't have to sing for me. "

" But I want to." You reassured him, sweetly caressing the top of his head. " Would you call Aragorn, son of Arathor, a baby for finding comfort in singing songs to his friends? "

The reference made him smile.

" Although it's true that badass characters in Lord of the Rings are always singing, you have to accept we live under different cultural values."

You chuckled, not willing to refuse the claim.

" And you have to accept you are never too old for comfort. " Was your simple correction. " It's alright, I promise no one will find out. Steve is still in the living room and with the TV on, I doubt he would hear anything."

In that at least you were mistaken, since the secrecy didn't last long.

He didn't mean to eavesdrop, Steve merely wondered if you needed help calming the boy down from the emotional consequencies of the awfull day he had. It was the reason why he was staying over; joining forces with you to make things better for him. He was about to announce himself, but stopped right away like if he was caught up in a sudden trance.

Your voice.

" There's a feeling I get when I look to the West and my spirit is crying for leaving." You were singing for the boy a the other side " In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees and the voices of those who stand looking."

Soft as a caress, the sweet and undeniably feminine charm of your interpretation was one hell of a surprise. He had no idea you could actually sing, even less that you sounded that good. In awe as he was with the discoverment, he could only remain there untill you would finish fearing that making his presence be noticed would make you stop.

Carefull as he was of not letting your brother know he have been there, he still couldn't hide the shock as soon as he saw you. The pure adoration in his eyes betrayed him, but you were just a bit embarrassed.

" Dustin likes it, don't make it a big deal." You justified yourself in advance, whispering your way out of the bedroom area. " When we were younger I used to tell him stories all the time, and sing for him on bad nights. He still enjoys it, but he is growing up and would prefer to keep it as a secret."

" I can easily see why." Steve recalled as he followed you. " Stairway to Heaven is a great choice, you do sound like an angel."

Unsure of how to react, your freaky side emerged.

" Actually, there is this very dumb backsmashing controversy claiming it hides a satanic message. Conservatives would claim I'm brainwashing my brother into a cult"

Absolute cluelessness, he couldn't help loving it a little bit.

" It's cliche, but is one of the very first rock songs I learned full lyrics for so i used to sing it all the time back when he was very little. " You continued, admitting some guilt he didn't find a reason for. " There is a repetition comfort aspect in it, when he is down I know he wants to hear that one. I tried to switch it as I was learning more, but Don't Fear the Reaper didn't have the same effect."

Being back in the living room gave you more freedoom to talk.

" That's so sweet, you are great big sis. " He praised you, then turned off the tv. " and a great singer as well, turns out. I mean it for real, but i guess your freak friends must have told you that already. Aren't they in a band?"

He made you laugh and, despite pleased for it, he had no idea of why.

" Thanks, Steve. Is very nice of you to say that, but the truth is that I never use my real singing voice in public."

The confession was delivered with a clear undertone of shame and that confused him a bit.

" I know, I just noticed it. We have listened to music together and when we sing along you never sound like that. "

" Neither I do with Eddie, it would be so embarrasing if he would have heard that. I'm sorry you had to. "

That part encouraged him, but he was still not getting it.

" You have to be kidding, that was awesome!"

" Not in metalhead standards. " You explained yourself. " What I did was taking the most popular and overused song from an actually cool hard rock band and turn it into a lullaby sounding pop garbage because that fits my vocal range better. It's an abomination, the disney princess version of a rock anthem. "

Of course , that didn't seem a problem to him.

" I guess it could fit in the Snow White and the Seven Nerds soundtrack. "

You wanted him to take it serious, since it was a real insecurity for you.

" I have been cursed, Steve. I do love to sing, but my voice doesn't fit in my favorite genres and that's one of my biggest frustrations. " You exaggerated in an attempt to mock yourself while being graphic. " There is metal in my veins, but I sound like the most comformist pop singer. The best I can give is a decent ' Race With The Devil' GirlSchool cover, but never the sort of shit any of the guys would find trully cool. "

" Bullshit, show that to Munson and he would loose his shit "

He was just trying to prove a point cheering you up, but as soon as it began to cross unwanted territory he deviated the conversation back on the two of you. His intention was to make you feel better, not to make things easier for other guy to steal your attention.

" … Or better don't, and let this be our little secret so I only have to share your voice with Dustin. "

[xalatath]

Tagged by @lynxfrost13 , thank u :>

Last song:

Favorite color: Red

Currently watching: Breaking bad

Last movie: The Bay

Relationship status: Single :')

Current obsession: A certain void entity who has captured my heart and mind

Last thing you googled: arator wow (bc i confuse his name with arathor lol)

I'll tag @vampvalerian @malecius @holytrickster @squiphobia @luvtm and anyone else who wants to do this feel free

[luminashdawnwing]

A New Pilgrimage

Luminash had been on pilgrimages of sorts before. To Outland, following the footsteps of the fallen Prince, hoping to ease his pain with the torrents of arcane power promised. To the restored Sunwell to bask in its rejuvenating Light, a truer relief than anything Kael’thas had offered. To the depths beneath Gorgrond in search of knowledge – and a chance encounter with the raw power of ancient Goria. To Argus to listen to the hopeful keening within the pained screams of that dying world’s very soul.

His mother, a priestess of the Light, had taught him a healthy respect of the powers beyond, though his father, a magister and professor in Dalaran, had taught him a more pragmatic approach. Their son took lessons from both, and when he wove strands of arcane magic, he did so with a delicate, near-worshipful touch – to understand something, to truly know it, to take it into oneself utterly and completely was an act of worship, after all.

Now, the Song had drawn him beyond the repaired Coreway, into Azeroth’s depths, a pilgrimage to the lands blessed by Beledar’s blazing light. The end of the others, though, he knew. Seeking power first, then to understand it. Here, though, he only knew the where, not the why.

It was driving him mad.

“It is a rare outsider who shows such an interest in this collection of tomes,” a voice said, a low and gentle tone. Respectful, given the dual nature of this place – part church for the Arathi’s Sacred Flame, part archive of what culture the Hallowfall expedition had salvaged from their disastrous arrival.

Luminash turned away from the shelves of codices to see an Arathi man in gold and white armor with red cloth accents, head shaved clean to reveal the half-elven ears typical of the people of Hallowfall.

“Truly? I find that strange. Why, when coming upon a new people, would one not show interest?” the magister wondered aloud, turning his attention fully to the Arathi, though his mind’s eye danced with words gleaned from the spines.

Dimensional Structure. Beledar’s Light. The Emperor’s Vision. Renilash.

“Ah, but judging by your looks – forgive me, friend, if I speak falsely – we Arathi are not entirely foreign to you,” the armored man offered with a slight smile, just a quirk of his lips, and a finger tapped to one of his own pointed ears.

Luminash quirked his head, somewhat disarmed by the observation. Where did this armored man intend to go with this line of inquiry, the magister wondered.

“Are you from the land of Quel’Thalas, by chance?” the Arathi continued, eyes bright as he let the question spill from his lips, “We Arathi are the children of Old Arathor, its humans and elves both. As exciting as it must be for you outsiders to meet us, imagine, if you will, seeing faces only known from our most ancient histories. And to know they share…this.” He approached the shelves, fingers placed reverently on the spine of a book, his hand obscuring its title.

“Ryfus Sacredpyr, by the way. I tend to the collected knowledge of the Arathi people here. And you are?”

Luminash relaxed, tension dissolving from his shoulders. Of course. A scholar’s curiosity, the gentleness of a librarian garbed in the necessity of war. The magister understood, suddenly and intuitively, just what sort of man this Arathi was.

“Luminash Dawnwing. Of Quel’Thalas, yes. Tell me, do your histories of this…Old Arathor?” A moment to acclimate himself to the term, “Do they make mention of magisters?”

Ryfus pursed his lips in thought, a look of concentration as he sifted through the depths of books read long ago, then nodded, realization dawning on his face.

“Ah, you are a magister! Of course you would find your way to my humble archive, then! Keepers of arcane knowledge and power, and…” Ryfus paused, “The tutors of Old Arathor’s One Hundred were called magisters in some accounts. It is so long ago, though, that those details are hazy.”

Luminash nodded, “Let us say keepers of knowledge, yes. I have come seeking something. A Song, if you will. Do you have anything on… How ought I describe this?”

Ryfus listened, eyes wide in anticipation. He seemed poised to speak, but rather allowed Luminash to continue.

“It has come in dreams. Countless others have seen it, and described it as overpowering, calming, peaceful, unnerving, innumerable other descriptions. I can sense a warmth in it, though, and currents of the arcane weaving in and out,” he mused as he fingered the spine of Beledar’s Light, “I can feel echoes of the Song in my waking hours all around Hallowfall. Beledar possesses its calm and beauty, yes, but the source of the latent arcane power eludes me. I had hoped to find a lead here.”

The lorekeeper nodded, pulling a book from the shelf. His hand, in fact, had rested on it this whole time, and the eagerness with which he revealed it spoke to his certainty, “Magister, here. Start here, perhaps, but do come back. There are others, many others, I think, that you’ll find enlightening.” He quirked another smile at the pun.

The book offered was bound in new leather, clearly from just the period of time the expedition had spent within Hallowfall: Reflections of the Sacred Flame.

Before Luminash could thank the Arathi, the other man had already begun to pull others from the shelf, including The Emperor’s Vision and Beledar’s Light, right out from under the magister’s hand.

“I cannot say for certain, my outsider friend, but I believe, by the Flame, that you’ve come to the right place.”

[elvishdragonfire]

Me everytime another dragon likes my posts: 🐉🐲🐉🐲 Dragon solidarity 🐲🐉🐲🐉

[nelisims]

Anya's morning practice.

[graceintheshadows]

Lucky ones - Part 2

[see @lordaeronslost for part 1]

The dagger gleamed on the coverlet, polished gunmetal with the smallest hints of blued steel showing through, like stars in the night sky.  The moonstone in the pommel glowed dimly, like Elune set high on a winter night.  The pieces that matched it were laid out to either side and she stood at the edge their bed, staring at the weapons laid out across the blankets.

“Roiya.”

She nearly flinched at the gentleness in her husband’s voice, wondering how many times he’d said her name before she’d heard.  The distraction—no matter the source—that had swallowed her whole was unforgivable.

I’ve gotten soft.  Perhaps dangerously so.

Of course, that had been by design.

“We’re sure they’re safely settled?”  She half-turned toward Keydyn, her brows knitting.  “That nothing will—”

“Siryn will be with them this time,” her husband said, setting aside his whetstone boot dagger.  “And Lord Sam and Lady Mina will be there, too.  They’ll be fine while the rest of us—”

“That’s what we’ve said a dozen times,” the priestess said with a deep sigh.  “More than that, even.  And sometimes it hasn’t been that way.  It hasn’t been fine.”  Her lips thinned slightly as Keydyn’s hands settled on her arms.  For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“What’s really bothering you?” he whispered.  “It’s not as if you’re actually capable of staying retired.  You’ve tried three times and it hasn’t stuck.”

“This could have been the time,” she said with the barest trace of wry humor.  A lump built in her throat and she stepped closer, leaning into his chest and inhaling the scent of woodsmoke and leather.  “I just thought—I thought it would be different.  This wasn’t in my plan.”

“What was?”  Keydyn rested his cheek against her temple, wrapping both arms around her as her head settled against his shoulder.  “Were you intending to go out hunting for—”

“Yes,” she whispered.  “No.  I don’t know—maybe I was.  Maybe I was going to make a request of someone to—to do it.”

“We knew that something bad was going to happen,” he said softly.  “The minute Jude got that letter, we knew.  I suspect you knew sooner than that.  Did he...?”

She nodded slightly.  “He did, but the warning wasn’t as stark.  I don’t know why.  Maybe he expected me to be able to glean more information from what wasn’t in the note than I did.  Perhaps he thought Elune would grant me insight.  Damned if I know.”

“Do you think he’ll join us?  Be called up like we are?”

Roiya took a slow, deep breath and shook her head.  “I don’t know.  Based on everything I know, I’d assume that he has duties that will keep him closer to home and considering that we don’t know exactly what kind of situation we’re going to be walking into...no.  No, Keydyn, I don’t think they’ll be calling him up soon.  Not unless he comes as a volunteer.”

“While the rest of us are voluntold.”  He shot her a grin and pressed a kiss to her jaw, then feather-light one to her lips.  “At least we get to go into this with family.  Speaking of, are you ready to eat?  I heard a rumor about one last big meal tonight before we have to finish making ready.”

“A last breath before the storm,” Roiya said softly, glancing back at the weapons laid out on the coverlet.  “Hopefully they’ll be able to see us off from Stormwind.”

“I’m sure that arrangements are already in the works,” Keydyn said, squeezing her one more time before he released her.  “Does she know?”

Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed.  She knew who he meant.

She shook her head.  “No.  But by morning, she will.  Would you like me to...?”

“I’ll have something to send with yours just after dinner.”

Roiya nodded, letting one hand trail down his arm until their fingers wove together.  “We’ll make time,” she said softly.  “To make up for it.  The three of us.”

“And then the five of us,” he said softly, fingers tightening for a moment.  “This time, you’re stuck with me, Roiya Shadowpaw.  Whether you like it or not.”

The ghost of a grin curved her lips as she stared back at him.  “Bold of you to assume that I’m the one stuck, Keydyn Silverstag.  I am far more of a handful than you are.”

The ranger laughed and dragged her close again, slinging his arm across her shoulders.  “We’ll see about that.”

“Will we?”

“Certainly.  And so will any damn spider that tries to come between us.”

“Hell.  Any fate that tries to come between us.”  She reached up to run her fingers along his cheek and jaw.  “I love you.  You know that.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “And you know the same of me.  I came back from the dead for you.”

“You came back from the Dream for me.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up into a smirk.  “A little bit of both.  At least that’s how Nikus explains it.”

“Speaking of—he’s coming with us, isn’t he?”

Keydyn frowned, glancing toward the door.  “That’s the impression I got, but you know him.”

“I certainly do.  We both do.  But this—”

“I know.  We’ll have to see.  Have to find out.”

“Yes,” she said softly.  “Yes, we will.”

She didn’t like the idea of the druid staying behind.  They’d need both he and his daughter both in the field as healers at the very least, regardless of the magnitude of what they’d end up facing.  That was still an unknown beyond knowing that it would be nerubians.

To what end and what fresh war they were walking into, the priestess-assassin known as Shadowgrace wasn’t certain.  All she knew was that after three attempts at retirement, she was headed out again to war.

[lordaeronslost]

Lucky ones

The warning had saved their lives.

From his small desk in their shared office at Valiance, Arcavius watched his longtime commander turned mentor as she read the latest report for what was now the third time.  Outside, the wind keened with a storm that had swept in off the water, leaving the windows and exterior walls coated in ice.

Somehow, given the reports that kept coming in, Northrend’s gales seemed far preferable to the fate that had come to so many who’d been in Dalaran instead.  Grimstryke’s warning had saved them to be certain, though the chill that crept down Arcavius’s spine had nothing to do with the cold.

Two more days and they’d have been back in Dalaran.  Half of them had been due to go and meet with some colleagues there ahead of their next duty rotation.  He had no doubt that whatever the plan had originally been for that, it was about to change.

He cleared his throat.  “Is there anything new in that one, Commander, or is it the same as the rest?”

“No,” she growled.  “No, not really.  No one seems to—blast it all.  No one seems to know anything beyond something apparently going terribly wrong just after the teleportation.  Some kind of attack.  This one at least suggests that more information could be forthcoming but I’ll be damned if—”

“Jude.”  Quin stood in the doorway, fully armored and cheeks ruddy from the cold.  Some of the snow and ice from outside was melting into her short-cropped hair in the warmth from the stove in the corner.  In her hand was an envelope bearing an Argent seal and she held it out toward the red-haired mage.  “Another report.  Orders were for your eyes first.”

Brow furrowing slightly, Jude came around the desk to take the letter from the paladin.  “Who delivered it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

Jude winced at that before she slid her thumb beneath the seal.  “Of course I don’t.  Do you think that—”

“I think that everything is coming at us very quickly and that every side is going to need every level-headed commander that they have at the ready,” Quin said, folding her hands behind her in a parade rest.  “Present company included.”

Jude winced again, reading the report once, then again.  Lips thinning, she handed it back to Quin.

“What is it?” Arcavius asked.

“We’re to leave a skeleton garrison here and immediately report to Stormwind for imminent deployment,” Jude said quietly.  “Alert the others, Cavandar.”

“Of course,” Arcavius murmured, feeling his heart start to crawl up into his throat.  “But why is the Argent Da—Crusade sending us to Stormwind for deployment?  Where are we going?”

“Seems that the attack on Dalaran involved nerubians,” Quin said, folding the report.  “Curious, that.”

“Very curious,” Jude agreed.  “But it does explain why they want us.”

“Yup,” Quin sighed.  “Because if there’s one thing that we’re as good at dealing with as undead…”

Arcavius winced.  “…it’s nerubians.”

“Spread the word, Arcavius,” Jude said again.  “Portals up at dawn.”

[wyrmguardsecrets]

Spit in my mouf mr. duke trollslayer of arathor :3