#februaryday32024

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC February 2024 - Day 3 - Bargain/Myth - Tinnaire

There was no myth in this mystery. It had been all too true. Tinnaire turned the skull in her hands, tongue-tip at the back of her teeth and her eyes narrowed in thought. She shifted on her work stool and her ears flicked slightly to catch the creaking. Dust motes floated through the last of the light and her own breath was the only thing to stir them. She considered her subject again with a sigh. 

Runes had been carved into the cranium, beautiful but brutal work. And though no soot had remained for many years, Tinnaire could see where fire had caused webbed cracks through the back of the skull. Some teeth had been lost, but tusks remained deeply seated in the mandibles, curling back towards the eye sockets. This was not her usual work. And those weren’t her usual clients. Not a piece of art destined for wall or mounting. They had wanted function. Divination magic drawn from shadows. A catalyst for transmutations. And a subtle secret death. Drust.

The blonde elf stared at the skull of the brambleboar. It looked back with empty, lifeless holes. It was motionless, no longer animated with magic and malice. No longer a beast to ravage a village, terror in wicker. Once, she’d made similar mistakes for similar reasons. She set the skull on the table. It was heavier than it looked. Her fingertips traced over long-healed scars on her thigh. Her own demons had been quite literal, once. A bad bargain for all of them.

She usually sourced materials more gently. A cadre of hunters knew they could sell to her when they’d taken their needs. But her preference was to find. To allow treasures to appear and to appeal to nature. This had been hard fought and harder won. The boar had deserved better than to be dominated, even in his death. Thros would not have him. It had been fire that had eaten through his thorns and vines; her fire. She had remembered how sad she had been, pulling the brittle, charred pieces of briar out of that skull. @daily-writing-challenge

[safrona-shadowsun]

Day 3: Bargain / Myth Daily Writing Challenge 2024 February 20th - Day 3

Demonology cut into her late on the Path, the study netting her now as it should have so many years ago when she had called her first imp from the Nether Reaches. Her aim had been different in those days, as different as she was now in the flesh. Vaguely, she could recall the wisps of anger from some forgotten corridor of memory, some betrayal she could no longer source. Such slight vibrations of memory that could have easily been the old slivers of soul from entities she had collectively taken through the years.

It would be sensible to think of these alien fragments as pieces to mold to her own identity and accept them as such, but speaking the words did not always fit them conveniently into the mind, the heart, the fractured soul. Stolen life and memory without a vital component of experience never seemed the very normal transition of growth, no matter how appearances could deceive.

Still, the desire to inflict pain was an old vice that seemed integral to the core now, a desire she knew had lead her into the obsession with curse-weaving, the eventual sharp hunger for souls. A wild obsession that her demons fed her into for so many years, that she had inexplicably bonded with them over, and became too close in a way she regretted now in some ways. 

Elernia was by far the strongest example of how she had gone wrong on the Path. The succubus had been allowed too close, too deeply embedded in her histories, attached to who the warlock may have been in years prior rather than who Safrona strived to be now. And while having the cunning Elder Sayaadi in her menagerie proved advantageous on many occasions, the demon’s audacity had never cooled, nor her jealousies or avarice. Inflicting death as punishment was only really ever temporary through the years - Safrona was beginning to feel Elernia was becoming eager for each murder. Far be it for her to cut the strings from such a willful demon and loose her on the universe. No, Elernia needed to be cowed.

So now Safrona followed the myth of a solution to the Tomb of Sargeras, irritated that she was strategizing a more dire method to keep the damned succubus in line. Much as she held her dismay for collecting another grimoire, the glowing tome she’d spotted on the altar of offering in a particular alcove looked promising. Safrona found herself reading, for once, or rather skimming past the Eredun text and admiring the illustrated imagery, the debased scrawlings of ritual reagents–

A scourged whip lashed out at her knees, a nasty weapon embellished with felflame. The void resonance around the warlock was strong enough to absorb the damage however - or consume it. “Really?” Safrona retorted in deep annoyance at the succubus who dared, who did not know she had slaughtered the lower floor of demons beneath them with a single notes of whispered death. 

“Hello Pretty~” The indignant reply only caused the fel-tinged succubus to lash out again, as if it would make a difference. She laughed, even, a strike of madness to overcome the inkling of doubt the demon may have had in seeing her strikes fall useless. “It’s so nice for a sacrifice to bring themselves to the door for once! Let me thank you for the delivery!”

The long-time courier in Safrona actually scoffed in mild amusement, standing in place as the void aura absorbed each futile lash, unharmed. The whip-play in itself was quite a skill, the demon’s flourishes and lethal dance no doubt intimidating if the power had matched the display. The demon had signs of evolution by Legion standards, her wings marked by Fel flame, armored for battle. Clearly the Sayaadi was trained for more than petty games, but the warlock wondered if the Fel progression had eaten her mind too far to even comprehend manipulative tactics.

“Come now, you must be smarter than this.” Safrona sliced out with her scythe to sever the whip’s lashing. It was the least she could do that would not annihilate the lesser demon outright. “It’d be worthless for me to spend energy in killing you. The Nether would spit you right back out - what a week later? And you're not strong enough as you are for me to even bother collecting. So why don’t you just stand pretty and answer my question instead?”

“Why would I bargain with mortal trash?” The Sayaadi spat, but was caught off guard enough by the idea to cease her attacks. 

“Because your sisters believe it to be fun, I imagine?” Safrona slipped into Eredun, which the demon seemed further surprised by. Clearly she had never bothered to hold a conversation with any that entered the ‘temple’, besides her own kind. 

“You desire something then?” The succubus tilted her head with a progressing curiosity. A smile began to curl smugly on her fanged lips. “Power? You come to the Tomb of Sargaras for Power.”

“Ugh, nothing so simple or trite.” Safrona sighed. It was a truth, but she did not like the demon’s wording. “I am not looking for…’evolution’, get that right out of your head now.”

The demon pouted, her urge for violence temporarily stalled for the interest of a new entity, a new power, stronger than her own. Her baring of teeth in a smile loosened, inviting the thrumming power she sensed to prickle at her senses, as well as something distinctly abnormal from the Warlock. “You are blessed with power already, and you know my tongue enough to have tasted our ways. You crave power, right down to the pretty little light you call a soul.”

“And you crave possibly to not suffer another inconvenience of being cut from the waking world, so why don’t you stop trying to analyze me before I tire of this and displace you?”

A heated chuckle was dredged up from the demon’s throat, but she quieted and gave her attention.

“I am looking for a grimoire or texts on Sayaadi-specific spells. Augmentation, perhaps…anatomy maybe.”

The Sayaadi laughed. “You are looking for a scroll of instruction on what… Sayaadi customs? We do not write stories, my Pretty.”

“Maybe you should. The leading heads of the Legion have been severed, and Sargaras himself has been thrust away to the ends of the universe, as I hear it. And you are bound here eternally, waiting for orders that will never come.” Safrona mimicked the common Sayaadi, casually eyeing her nails. “Or, what? Waiting for the next opportunist to march in here and slaughter you for the laughs?”

This drew a hissing response from the Sayaadi. “There is nothing here for you. And we are many.”

“Well,” the Warlock shrugged. “I’m sure someone enjoys bowling through the masses of you?”

The succubus hissed violently and leapt upon Safrona, wings buffering her assault. The resulting explosion of Fel mouths from the Warlock manifested within seconds, the Felhounds eager to tear into any flesh for their Mistress. Each dog wrestled the Sayaadi to the ground, rejoicing in her screams as they held each wing fast, pinning her to the floor of the debauched temple. It was by pure luck that the demon had not suffered full death on the initial result, but now the Sayaadi’s life’s breath was a single thread hanging in the balance. As potential ideas washed over her thoughts, Safrona felt the collector in her rise with a need, and that inkling of desire for power bloom beneath it.

“You know you will never leave this silly little haunted house, demon. You are without a leader. Without a goal. You are stuck, dying here every week, never progressing, never knowing what lies outside those doors.” 

“Kill me already and leave then, pfhah!”

The warlock smiled inwardly, and heeled her own demons, eventually watching them be pulled back to the realm they emerged from. “I could free you, in a manner of speaking. Bind you to me.”

Now the succubus cackled, choking on her blood. “You mock me! Why would I agree to that?! You entered this place to destroy me."

“And now I ask you to join me.” The warlock stepped away from the dying demon, casually stepping from the mess on the temple floor as easily as one might step away from casual notes of conversation. “Or you could not. You could die here again, enter our world a week later again, and repeat the whole stagnant cycle for another decade, or century. And I will move on to better things, more secrets. More power.”

“A slave…to the legion’s whim…” the demon rasped. “Or a slave to yours? Tell me…what is the difference?”

“Well, you won’t be trying to decimate Azeroth anymore, that is for certain. It’s various degrees of change, potentially. Not that you’d understand it now, in this place. But it will be more than you ever had now,” Safrona breathed out a full sincerity. “You do not truly begin to evolve clinging to the past.”

Binding a new demon to her 'employ' hadn't exactly been Safrona's plan, but it was a progressive step in the long run.

{ @daily-writing-challenge }

[yserina-starweaver]

February 20, 2024 Daily Writing Challenge Bargain/Myth

CW: Implied domestic violence, implied murder

A knock rapped at the gnarled front door to the tree that Yserina had shaped into her home. That, in itself, was unusual enough to pique her interest — she’d purposefully chosen a spot more than an hour’s hike on foot from Bel’ameth to settle. It was important that anyone who wanted to visit make the commitment to do so. 

She shot a suspicious glance at Fiore; the Sin’dorei girl had taken a jaunt back to civilization for a day before returning. The way she’d curled up to sleep on a pad of furs and moss in the corner highlighted her thin, threadbare frame. Surely no one was looking for her.

The knock came again, and Yserina sighed before pushing herself to stand, her old bones creaking the same way the great young tree’s branches did in a gust of west wind off the sea. The door opened for her, moving aside before she even had to touch it, and she took a moment to regard the interloper on the porch. 

A Gilnean; the blonde woman had to be, those touched by Goldrinn’s rage had a particular pallor cast on them in the moons’ glow. She didn’t even bother to try Darnassian and started immediately with harsh Common, “Are you the Starweaver?” 

Yserina smiled, her sharp Kaldorei fangs bright in the dim evening light, “I am. Are you here to bargain?” 

It was hard to ignore how much the Starweaver towered over the more diminutive humanoid as she ushered the wolven woman into the arboreal abode before she could decline. Her accented stammer to answer was silenced as soon as she spotted the Sin’dorei sleeping in the crook of the tree, “I shouldn’t—” 

“Be here? No, you shouldn’t be. But you are; Please! Sit, I will make some tea. Worry not about anything more, you’re safe here,” that was far from the truth, but fear stank and ruined a good deal. 

“My name is—” 

Yserina sliced a hand through the air to cut her off as she stooped to gather up the elegant clay teapot from it’s hook over the fire and crooned a soothing, “Hush.” The flash of a glowing, emerald green eye from among the moss endeared a smirk before she turned and poured a cup of peacebloom tea that was almost immediately pressed into the hands of her visitor, “No names. What troubled you to come all this way?” 

“A friend of mine recommended you, she said you could help me,” the blonde woman turned the cup in her hands, her eyes a bit wide and wild as she glanced around the cozy interior. 

There was a fading bruise under her left eye, and another around her wrist. Yserina’s slender, mothsilk white eyebrow lifted as her Common words landed with some ease, “My myth must persist then. What kind of help are you hoping for, my dear?” 

The blonde hesitated, and swallowed thickly — an action quickly chased by the tea in her hands. As the silence began to grow deafening she answered, “My husband. He’s… His rage, I need something to settle it.” 

Yserina hummed with a theatricality that seemed to give the sway of her layers of silken robes extra buoyancy as she spun to gather up mis-matched jars from the higher shelves that had grown out of the shaped wooden interior that they all sat in, “And what do you have to trade for this cure?” 

The sound of the teacup connecting with the table top and a leather satchel opening, “I wasn’t sure what to bring.. There’s um… I have an heirloom necklace of woven pearls, some bobbins of ice spider silk, or five yards or so of woven gossamer?” 

There certainly were some prizes in there, and she smiled warmly as she returned to the blonde woman with her mortar and pestle, “All of it will do.” She took some pleasure in the flinch as her customer piled the items on the table across from her as she ground up a mix of dried herbs and flowers into a fine powder; the ice spider silk alone was worth a small fortune. 

The worgen woman’s nose wrinkled up as the widowbloom in the mix started to stink, “What am I to do with this, then?” 

Yserina counted out a few bubble poppy pods and crushed them into the powder, not bothering to look up as she worked, “Wait two days for the smell to disperse, then mix the powder into his coffee grounds or tea leaves. Once a day until he quiets. You’ll know when it has worked.” She retrieved a small measuring spoon from the inside of her sleeve and scooped enough into a small sachet to last a fortnight before offering it over. 

The blonde hesitated again before taking the sachet and tucking it into her pocket, “Thank you. Should I—” 

“Go,” Yserina waved a hand and the door slammed open. 

That was enough to frighten her guest back out into the night. 

Fiore pushed up slightly, propped up on one of her slender arms, “That was widowbloom, wasn’t it? That’ll kill him.” 

The Starweaver gathered up her prizes from the table, admiring the pearls and spider silk, “I said that, didn’t I? You know herbs, then, and their uses. How clever.” 

Perhaps, in time, her little flower would become a Starweaver, too.

@daily-writing-challenge @fio-renze

[ziorea]

February DWC Day 3 - Bargain/Myth

“I know its worth, I had them appraised by the Dalaran Jeweler before I came down there.  Do not skimp me”  Her voice was eerie, kissed by the void.  

“Lady, then go sell it up there.  You came down the sewers you gotta deal with bargain prices.  We however will not rat you out or send you back to whatever place you came from.”  The goblin looked up at the heavily cloth woman.  Pitch-black eyes stared him down, his skin wanted to crawl.  Yet Reimply kept his composer.  Played right, he would never have to come down to these sewers again.  Could even open the hotel he always dreamed up. 

“Offer me a high price or I am taking them all back.”  The noble runaway demanded,  her bone-white hands reaching out to snatch away jewelry she stole from her family.  Her fingers burned blacked, and ink from the burn seemed to crawl up her hands to her wrists.   

“No, no, we can talk, we can talk,”  Reimply replied suddenly bewitched by the elf.  

Current day:

Resting on the beach, Ziorea calculated her current funds.  Coppery skin glowing with health, toes buried into the sand, the elf was at peace.   

She had a while before she would have to worry about working.  A few ideas for jobs floating around in her thoughts.   From model to monster hunter her list grew long.   As long as monsters were not a myth, she kind of liked that idea.  Even circled it twice. 

@daily-writing-challenge

[ellissay-morningstar]

DWC-Day 3 - Bargain

(Note: this is a lead-in to tomorrow's post, and the woman in the post below is not Ellissay but a female NPC character to advance the story. Thank you for reading!)

One could smell the damp smell of the earth. The woman couldn't hear anything but the moans of perhaps a few others and a chain rattle as somebody seemed to pace in another cell. The cold had seeped deep into her skin long ago, leaving her shivering to the point her teeth rattled. She had tried to find warmth, but the thin, bare, tattered blanket did little.

How had she gotten here? Who had taken her and why?

A hooded man, his face in the shadows, moves toward her cell. She knows him by the sound of his boots on the stone floor. He comes every day but never speaks a word. Today, she is so weak she can barely lift her head, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Please. Why have you taken me? If you're looking for gold, I can help you obtain it. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Just let me out. Please!" The last word comes out in an almost shriek of desperation.

Her pleas, however, are met with the usual silence, and the hooded male walks away, his steps slowly fading into the background, leaving the only sound of those suffering like herself and the grating sound of that dragged chain.

She is not sure how much time has passed. Days and nights blur into each other. The dried old bread tossed through the window bars did little to curb her hunger and was so tough she could barely chew it. The water was cloudy and tepid, but she had no choice but to drink it, though half the time it made her retch, and it would just come back up.

She prayed daily that somebody would come to save her. Her family, maybe a friend, anyone. But she had begun to lose hope. Tears roll down her cheeks, spilling onto her now-tattered dress. Alone and scared, she knew she would die here.

To be continued…

@daily-writing-challenge

[zariasona]

DWC- Day 3- Bargain/ Myth

Guilt followed her for days. She knew she had to tell him, but how was she to even begin? The weight was heavy upon her, and while she could hide it from most people, he knew her better than most.

"Zaria, darling, what is going on with you?" he asked. Teremath came to her, placing his hands upon her shoulders. "You've been reclusive, and quiet."

"Nothing, Darling. I'm fine." Zaria said as 'normal' as she could muster. However, it wasn't done well for him to believe it.

"You aren't usually like this." His eyes were full of concern. It was those red eyes that looked at her with such care and concern that she caved easily.

"Please forgive me.." SHe whispered softly. The weak walls she had put up were now crumbling entirely. "I didn't mean to-" Lithe fingers came to rest over her lips as she closed her eyes tightly. "I didn't think I'd ever see him again, and it just happened-" Her remorse was visible. Gone was her stoic form where her shoulders were held back and her head high. Before her mate she stood there with her entire form caving into itself. The epitome of remorse.

Teremath stood there, silently. Rage was felt beneath the surface of his skin and yet he kept his cool. "I see.." The spoken words were said cooly, calmly, just as he always spoke.

"I'm sorry-" There was more she wished to say, but the words couldn't even come to her. All she could do in the moment was rest her hands upon his chest and peer up at him with such pain.

"When?" He asked, that same cool and calm voice flowing effortlessly.

"A week ago." She said without hesitation. "I didn't think it was possible. If he wasn't my fiance before you-I would have never-" The words were so hard to come by right now.

Teremath stood there, much on his mind. Despite hearing of her infidelity, he lifted a hand to rest it upon her cheek.

"I would never offer myself like this, but if it would please you, to show my remorse-" A pleading gaze came over her. She couldn't believe the words she was about to utter to him. "I-I will submit to you, and your whims. Anything you wish, or desire."

This seemed to be enough for him, for his hand came to weave into her hair and grip her behind her neck tenderly. "Then promise you won't do it again." The hurt was easy to hear in his voice, to see in his eyes.

A vigorous nod came and she shed her own flurry of tears. "I promise, dalah'surfal. Never again."

[themidnightleo]

Something Lost, Something Gained

DWC- Day 3- Bargain/ Myth

He had recently awoken, the lingering venom coursing through his veins, though its potency seemed diminished, as if countered by an antidote. Leo lay still, devoid of the strength even to shift his gaze around the room.

Bang, bang. He jerked in surprise. A voice, loud and filled with anger, reverberated through the space, striking every wall with its forceful presence.

Bang BANG.

Another involuntary twitch. His brain seemed to thrash against the confines of his skull, the sensation worsening with each passing moment as the overly excited voice persisted.

What were we talking about? Why the yelling? Can everything just stop existing for a moment?

A torrent of burning questions raced through his paralyzed mind as he struggled to compose himself, helpless and at the mercy of those surrounding him. The voice continued to yell, its words echoing loudly. "I trusted her with you!" it reverberated in his ears, cutting through the turmoil in his thoughts.

Oh, right. That's what we were talking about.

It had to cease—all of it. The agony, the anguish of his loved ones, the relentless sound.

"I won't see her anymore..." Leo spoke weakly.

A wave of shock rippled through the room. Leo understood the gravity of the situation, the significance of relinquishing this particular beloved, who held a special place in his heart. Yet, he was prepared to sacrifice anything to alleviate the suffering of those around him, especially Trist, the voice's owner.

"Are you sure...?" the question came hesitantly from Trist. "I am sure." Leo responded.

It wasn't a falsehood. Leo was certain he would sacrifice anything for his partner—certain that nothing was worth causing them distress. Yet, he understood it would come at a cost, though he hadn't fully comprehended what that might entail just yet.

@daily-writing-challenge

[kaisinasunblade]

DWC Feb 20th 2024 - Day 3 - Bargain/Myth 

"Just sign here." Once her signature was finished, Kai could not help but smile. With the tavern doing so well, and the fact that Zel'jka was ready to run the tavern when Kai had other businesses to see too. And in signing these papers, Kai was finally allowed to start another path in her life.

After weeks of bargaining, the land was finally hers. Now Kai could start working on rebuilding the lands around the simple house that rests there.

But it would not be a home for her, it would become a place for people to come seek a place to rest, or aid. Today, her non profit organization would finally have a place to really settle.

So many ideas flood her thoughts as she walked out of the office. Now she needed to travel to the land she had just bought and get to work on some plans for what she wanted to do. Thankfully she could travel between Ratchet and Silvermoon easy enough.

After spending two days writing up plans, Kai finally made it back to Ratchet. Zel'jka got onto her about working so hard. "Ya need a break woman!"

Kai laughs softly, "You and everyone else keeps telling me this. But I enjoy the work. Now, go see your family. I will cover tonight's shift." She shoos Zel off before the woman could protest anymore.

After tying her hair back, Kai walked out of the kitchen. She kept telling herself, she would take a few days off. But deep down she knew it would be hard to do.

She enjoyed keeping busy, finding that she found an odd peace in keeping herself busy. In away it kept her mind off the dinner she had with Dice coming up.

@daily-writing-challenge