#bronzeandsage

[bronzeandsage]

DWC 2024 - Day 3 - Morose/Strength

Fire and smoke were becoming all he knew as the tunnel vision continued to set in, so the idea of something coming out of the flames was both a surprise and terrifying concept. As far as the orc had been aware, he was all that was left to die on the sinking ship. Maybe luck was a lady tonight?

A tall figure passed through fire with ease, his robes not even singed in the least from the flames. As he drew closer the tunnel began to focus more on the person, especially as the shoulders widened and the face narrowed with a clean white beard.

Not a lady.

Skin of dark purple and ears far to large for the normal human's also stood out with soft glowing golden eyes. An elf. Not at all what he had hoped or expected. The thought of sighing in frustration could only be that as the sucking stab wound in his abdomen continued to bleed. Belly wounds truly were the worst.

Blinking once, the figure was 10 feet. Blinking twice, now what he assumed was five. Blinking again, but a few inches from him as he leaned down to regard him with a surprisingly calm and welcoming face. To further his lack of surprise, the voice carried the same gentle cadence expected of their face. But from the set of his jaw and intensity of his gaze there would be no lack of strength.

"Ishnu-alah, Sevlaz."

@daily-writing-challenge

The vulpera leaned over the counter of his cart to his most frequent customer, what he figured a welcoming smile reminded Sev too much of mischief yet to come. Stereotypes weren't applauded but couldn't be ignored.

"Biggrin," Sev replied finally as he eased himself onto a low stool to sit more eye level with Erik who raised his oversized hands in mock forgiveness.

"Sorry?" The fox replied with that same half open mouth that was supposed to be a smile.

The orc would adjust himself a bit on the stool as he answer. "It was Biggrin, that's what they used to call me."

"Oh well, that makes some kind of ironic sense as far as I've known you, the idea of you being happy seems kind of farfetched," came the chipper if not blunt reply as the vulpera busied himself with dicing some vegetables.

"As if you could tell, Erik."

Erik'red gave a guffaw of a laugh as he swept up the onion and tossed it into a bowl before grabbing another to chop. "I got a nose for these kind of things."

"You got a nose for sure."

The knife in the cook's hand tapped his cutting board as he let his toothy grin shut just as much as his eyes narrowed at Sev. "This how we're gonna be today? Cause if it is, you can just mosey on back the way you came."

Sev raised his hands in surrender to placate the shorter creature. "Alright alright, I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"No, I am not," Sev replied quickly before resting his hands on the wood counter. "But I am the customer, and as they say I'm right."

"No, the customer is always an asshole, which we both know you are," Erik returned to his chopping with a heavy clops of his knife. Despite the antagonistic nature of the conversation, the vulpera's tone never jumped or followed the direction of the banter. People would joke about the optimistic views and attitude of the fox-folk, but in world of demons and giant swords the world could use a bit of optimism.

The thief would snort before reaching up to scratch at his whiskers and eye the steaming work behind Erik. "What's good today?"

"Well," Erik stopped chopping to look up in thought as he listed off his menu today. "Got eggs, an omelet, and a mystery dish."

"Mystery dish?"

"Coming right up!" Erik replied cheerfully as he turned to start into his makeshift kitchen and stove top.

"Wait! What I didn't order that!"

"Yes, you just did."

"It was question."

Erik would tilt his head slightly as he stared at the orc. "No that was a choice, so now you get it."

"But I don't even know what it is!"

The vulpera rolled his eyes and spoke over his shoulder as he went back to his cooking. "That's why it's a mystery. Some times, Sev. Some times."

The orc thief glowered before rubbing at his face as he did his best to guess what was coming and decided it best not to. His thick hand would reach into belt to pull out a faded blue wallet, unfolding it to reveal a cushioned clay pipe. Stem and bowl screwed gently together before digging into a side flap for some of the dried silverleaf he had been smoking since he came to that wretched swamp. He'd pinched some from a couple of footman that had been left into the muck after the Blackrocks had wasted them. An ugly mess with a supremely wonderful result.

"What you got to drink Erik?" Sev called over the flames and sizzle of what he assumed was meat, the stench of fish overpowering much else. The pipe put between his teeth before peeling a bit of wood from the counter to use as light from a hanging lantern, the silver smoke flowing up around his mangled green face as he watched the vulpera's back.

"Uh, I got water, the grog, and some troll sweat," Erik called over his shoulder again as he grabbed a couple of skewers and began to slide on the meat before tossing it back on the flames.

"Troll sweat?"

"It's not actual troll sweat," Erik replied as he wipes his oversized hands on his apron. "Least I'm pretty sure it's not."

The red eyes narrowed in a concern and confusion at the lack of assurance he felt from the fox's reply. "Give me the grog."

"You got it," came the quick reply as he reached under the counter for his pony keg. A click and heavy rush of liquid from below before the clay cup nestled gently on the top. "There ya go, the 'bobs' will be ready in a jiffy."

Sevlaz tried not to show his contempt of the phrase 'jiffy' before hanging his pipe a moment for a full pull of the warm amber drink, feeling the clay scrape his upper teeth and clicking his tongue a moment. "Not bad this time."

"I try only my best," Erik wiped his hands again in to his apron before eyeballing the frying supposed meat behind him, tail switching back and forth as he watched the fires lick it. "How ya want it?"

"How do you serve it?"

"Hot."

Sev sighed and took another long drink.

[bronzeandsage]

Bronze & Sage

His wards were gone.

Coren forced himself to smile as he watched them fade beyond his sight and into the great Astral Sea. He would miss his wayward charge and the misadventures he had gotten himself into, the watcher felt he would miss even more so the offspring he had sworn to protect. The sunshine girl warmed his heart especially. But the time of mourning and being sad was long past or perhaps was yet to be, time was a fickle thing for him.

Time was never linear for those of the dragonflight, that was the hardest lesson to learn. A dark skinned hand would come to stroke at a feathered beard of his current visage, the same wayward eyes of emerald green searching the bluffs of Mulgore under a blue sky. Sand and sun were what his liege craved, but for a creature such as him change was what he craved. Always something different.

The same dark skinned hand would softly turn and thrust as sprig of power was used to summon a shifting orb. Coren's eyes would delve into those swirling sands, a soft delight rumbling in this chest at the idea of 'pondering his orb'. Least that's what he supposed was the way the people were these days.

These days.

How long had he been here? Or been this way? Was he a man? A dragon? A god? No. Coren was just Coren. A servant of the Bronze Dragonflight, a guardian of chosen, and a wanderer of the multiverse. The Word had spoken and here he was. Nothing more. Nothing less.

There was nothing to question.

His chosen was free now. Free of the cycle by their choice and his joy at the final gate passed just like his sorrow. Fleeting. Warm. Accepted.

It was time to find another. Or more. Or less. The Word would will as much as the sands shifting within the glass.

A burning ship. A broken son. A broken grin. A burning fury.

Familiar traits, familiar story, and one that could be focused if properly propelled. He'd done it once.

Why not again?

"Take me," a soft baritone slipped among peace.

A blue sky stretched far and wide carrying lazy white clouds and the wisp of hot breath mingled with dimming grains.

OOC:

Of Bronze and Sage is a roleplaying and writing repository for characters and stories of the Horde within the World of Warcraft. It is the third sister blog to a the Trio of blogs put together for a wide range of different concepts and ideas to be put together for. I've focused a lot on the Alliance side of things I felt like I'd been kind of ignoring the red side of things and pigeon holed a lot of the peoples as 'bad guys' in those writings. The Horde is as intriguing and varied as any monster hunting family with as many heroes as they have villains. The idea is to stretch those wings and learn more about this side of the world as well as interact with players/characters I haven't gotten a chance to really mingle with. So as before, if you'd like to interact, instruct, guide, or just say 'Hey!' to a bunch of green folks I'd love to collaborate.

Below you will find links to the basic information of the cast of characters for this blog. It's not as big as my Alliance brain is, but it's growing the more I look at building a proper group of old and new faces.

Dramatis Personae

Sevlaz - a misplaced orc thief brought out of the bowels of certain death to serve the Sands

Fenrag Onehand - the broken orc blademaster reforged as a new sword for the Horde only to search for a higher calling within the teachings of the Mist

Cahall Raincaller - a tauren disgraced, exiled, and alone the former Raincaller chieftain wanders Kalimdor wallowing in his failures to his lost tribe

Erik'red - a desert speaker and vagabond vulpera who is just as likely to win you with a smile as with their cooking

Qinhou - companion to Fenrag and fellow student of the Ways, though far more interested in helping the dead than the living

Mary Wincott - the fresh dead murdered by the Black Rainbow, untethered from her twin sister and reeling with psychic energies

Coren - Guardian of the Bronze Flight, traveler, former steward of the Candells, servant of the Word

More to come...

[bronzeandsage]

DWC 2024 - Day 2 - Deceit/Eternal

The flames are getting closer and the wood under him is getting softer as he lays still. Why was he dead yet? Does it really take this long to bleed out? He should know. He's watched enough people do it. He shouldn't be any different.

Penance. That's what Cal would call it. Stupid humie priest. Poor stupid humie priest. The kid didn't deserve that.

None of them did.

Well maybe he did.

He'd done enough bad to merit this slow end. There was no justifying swift knives or turned screws. It had been just business and his business had always been bad. From the old home to the new homes and beyond. He should have listened to Jae. Or Beil.

Or Elras.

The smoke was growing thicker as his fingers brushed against the black floorboards, the bits of wood sloughing off like clay. The sticky blood was just like the soot on his fingertips. Black. Inky. Awful. Moving.

His vision blinked slowly as he looked at the fingers and the shifting sands between.

Sand?

@daily-writing-challenge

Durotar.

It'd been dream when he'd first heard about it and now it was a practically a metropolis and monument to the old ways of his people. Sev hated it so much.

He should be grateful for a safe haven for his kind, a place to grow and seek out the old ways in an act of redemption. A pretty fairy tale for those who'd never grown up in the pig farms or scrapping iron from the mountains or being fed to a gronn for fun. No one talked about the peons, the dirty secret of the 'Horde'. Old or new, shit still rolled down hill and there they'd be shoveling it.

Never be slaves again? Fuck that.

Sevlaz walked the desert streets of the city, the red dirt stamped hard from the countless feet that crossed the city over and over. His red eyes scanning the crowd here and there, noting the red armored grunts thumping their chests. He offered a thump of his own as he walked by, doing his best to strike a noble face.

"For the Horde, brother," the orc grunt growled as he stood a bit straighter. Sev just gave another thump, doing his best not to look the soldier in the eye. It made his insides twist to bad memories that were souring his good day faster than he wanted. Deceit was appropriate for the enemy, it was even more necessary in the face of your 'family'.

A cart would roll by with some deaders driving it, the smell of dead herbs and roses trailing them as they gave the glowering dim stare to those that crossed. The survivor was happy to step aside to let them pass. The grey skinned creature would nod indifferently to Sev before they urged the kodo on down the row toward the Valley. Best to give it extra breadth, the last thing he needed was to step in a surprise from the beast. Least he hoped it was from the pack animal.

Propping himself up against the stone wall a moment, his leg would lift to give his knee a short respite as he scanned the crowd wandering the streets tonight. Orcs. Tauren. Trolls. Dead. It made sense for those four groups to be on the streets of the city as he recalled from back in the day. Hell even the goblins as much as people might frown at their motives still tolerated their place among the Horde. Sev was fairly grateful to them for the ability just to walk the streets, maybe he should take trip down to Rachet or even Gadgetzen. Long one, but what else did he have going for him? Coren probably be glad to see him doing something other than wallowing about the city.

Best to stick it out here. No more heroes.

Grunting a chortle at his own joke, Sev would ease back onto his leg and start walking again. It didn't bother him as much with the brace, but it still was taking quite a bit of getting used to. Finnick had said it would take practice and patience. He wished he was more abundant in either of those things. The eternal struggle of the thief.

An angry gurgle broke his reverie.

"Yeah yeah," as he reached down to rub at his gut before stalking up the hill. The cacophony of the market of the Valley of Strength was like a low rumbling storm of voices. Voices that he could sometimes hardly believe were here in the desert kingdom. Dwarves and elves fighting alongside the orcs was a very strange turn of events.

His ugly ruined face would turn to follow a pair of lightly armored elven women walk by as they spoke with their colorful and musical voices. Red curls, bright green and blue eyes with the gait of a panther and the soft curves to match. He offered a slight tip of his head as they walked by, neither giving him much notice. He watched them disappear among the crowd and shook his head with the stretched smile on his face.

Strange but pleasant sights.

"Hey there half grin!" A piping voice broke him of his stare as he turned toward the mass of merchants, stalls, and vendors that congregated within the mighty valley. He'd recognize it, but wasn't sure how happy he'd be to see the owner again.

With a snort Sev would cross the final stretch into the Valley of Strength and sidle up to the familiar food cart of his new acquaintance.

Friend was too strong a word for Erik.

[bronzeandsage]

DWC 2024 - Day 1 - Haze/Sexy

There's fire everywhere.

Literally.

He knows it should be warm, it should be hotter than the hell he was expecting to end up in. Maybe not that hot, but close enough in his mind. But he's actually cold. From his tusks to his toes, it's achingly awful feeling to feel the cold numb throughout. It made sense to start at his ruined knee and made even more from the large stab wound to his abdomen. His hand would touch the spot on his stomach again, feeling the slick wet black goo that looked more and more like the oil he'd used to torch that ship during the zepplin job. It'd been a good day then. Jaetha. Beil. Him. And Zexx.

His red eyes closed as he laid it down on the Wayfarer's hold.

Why? Why son?

His eyes opened.

((Some sexual themes after break))

@daily-writing-challenge

Bits of dust and sunlight floated above him as a new day opened. Sevlaz watched silently as what appeared a bit of hair or dust floated gently above and about, lazily circling through the warming air as if dancing to a song of morning. A thick hand would gently lift up to try and touch it, his hazy gaze blinking away the sleep and uneasy dreams. The out of focus green of his skin seemed almost brighter in the early hour, as if turning back the foul taint of all those years ago. To call the blood awful would be understatement and something no one should or could forget. His focus left the beautiful wisp of nothing and returned to his green skin.

The hand was normal for him, least as normal as it was for the last forty some odd years. He felt he should laugh at thinking he'd been alive this long, but then again should he be? His hand twisted to reveal his palm: calloused, torn, scarred, missing a piece of his middle finger. Stupid fish. The hand would drop with a sigh as it flopped to land on his stomach, but instead landed on something softer with slap and a sleepy moan.

Sevlaz would lift his head from his prone position to spy the sprawled out elf laying across him. Alabaster skin to contrast his own dark green with hair a bright blonde that shone like the sun coming up outside his room. To the orcs they call her a toothpick or needing some meat for real fun, but for him he liked the softness and the touch of glass. Fragility in his hands was almost intoxicating.

Of course when the door closed and the lights went out, the ferocity of a hellcat came out and would make an ogre blush. A slight creak of his stretched lips would aid in the lengthening of his permanent grin.

Biggrin. 'Put a smile on tha face, welp.'

Sev would snort as he tried to push down more memories, he didn't need those in his life right now.

But he did need to get up.

The elf girl on top of him had hardly even blinked despite his heavy hand dealing a fresh print to her rear, granted it was a nice sight to add another to her, as he shifted her gently off him. There was a part of him that though it might be fun to wake her up proper as he reached to scratch himself, the familiar twinge roiling in him as he looked her over again. Maybe.

No.

Time to get up and get a move on. Coughing loosely, the orc rubbed at his face before standing and limping over to the piss pot in the corner, his heavy feet thumping heavily as he hobbled his way over. Relief was quick and rejoicing as he let out a very satisfied groan.

With a shake and shiver, Sevlaz would hobble again into the room to find his belongings still in tact despite the pile of gear. It had been a bit madcap when they finally came up to the room in the inn, but wining and more wining had a way of getting his bones moving. In more ways than one.

Scooping up his shirt, the old fabric would stretch appropriately for his broad chest before tugging it in place. Thick fingers brushing cloth as he noted a new hole in the side. Did he get shot? Stabbed? No. Just bad stitching. New task for the list today.

Brace followed as he sat on the fur lined bed, the goblin contraption of leather and metal meant everything and nothing to him. He was glad it worked to hold his leg correctly but how it did he couldn't begin to guess. Money well spent if it just did what he needed it to do as he pulled the last buckle tight. The familiar pain was welcome to the unending pain of his ruined joint.

Pants, boots, and belts were next, the motions the same as they ever were. Well except the click, hiss, and flash of a lighter behind him as he turned his head to see his night time companion was now fully awake and lighting herself a fine black cigarette.

"Morning handsome," she said in that same sultry voice she'd given last night as they sat by the fire pit. And then upstairs on the landing. And in the pond. And waterfall. Before arriving at their final destination. Ruby lips with glowing green eyes hiding among the bedhead of the furs of some animal or other. Modesty wasn't in her vocabulary either as she stretched her bare legs and followed with her back arching out all the right pieces. Sevlaz tilted his head a bit as he watched her.

"A very good morning from the looks of it."

She smiled a bit wider as she blew out the smoke, a sarcastic shrug following. "I guess it was an adequate night."

The orc snorted out a laugh as he tightened his belt and adjusted his shoulder straps feeling the tightness around his back and chest. "I guess I'll have to try harder next time."

"Next time?"

The orc shrugged as flexed his hands feeling and hearing the knuckles pop, more relief etched over his face at the release. "Maybe."

The elf girl shrugged as she pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them as she watched him. "Guess that depends on the coin."

Again the deep laughed rumbled from Sevlaz as he walked over to his discarded pack, flipping it open and rummaging about the disorganization. "And here I thought you liked me."

"You are hardly a charitable cause," she mused as she took another drag, letting a stream of silver smoke to follow.

The jangle of coin and thump of a purse hitting the furs was enough to break her lazy gaze as she eyed it on the bed. Her lips easily took the end of the cigerette again as she leaned over to pick up the leather bag, feeling the weight with a nod. "Generous."

"Ambitious and flush," Sevlaz replied as he he finished smoothing out the tangle of his white braid and side whiskers. "Good?"

The woman shrugged. "For a thief."

A black bandana was tied about his head and adjusted for the day before rotating his neck with a crack. "Now?"

The elf stared for a few moments before setting the coins next to her. "I'd fuck you."

"Now that's a compliment," Sevlaz chuckled as he turned to the heavy flap that functioned a door. "You know the way out?"

"And in."

Another laugh followed as the survivor headed out into the city called Orgimmar.