#house waycrest

[mercymaker]

ARTEMYRA WAYCREST ⬩ high half-elf ⬩ warlock ⬩ noble

[flagwars]

Video Game Flag Wars: Prelims, World of Warcraft (Part 5)

[embersoftheorder]

DWC - August - Day 7 - Victory

"He's been down there a long time," murmured one of the miners as the pack of workers stared at the cave with worried glances. They shouldn't be this frightened but after so many years of torment by the Coven, Hexsworn, demons, and Tides knew what else had climbed out the gloom they had every right to be. Things in the night rarely didn't bump.

Foreman Strohnev crossed is arms and shook his head at the miner's whine, a loud 'hrmph' coming out from under his thick walrus mustache. "We jus gotta give em time."

For weeks things had been going well at the silver mine. Resources plentiful, work steady, and morale high as the profits that lined their pockets. The New Lion Mining Corporation was on it's way to becoming one of the most successful business ventures of this new Drustvar. A small work town had begun to spring up nearby in hopes of perhaps beginning an actual settlement as money was pumped back into the community.

Then the wailing had begun.

Most had hoped it would be some kind of soft cooing in the depths of the mine, something that would cause the willies and startled heads to rise thinking something was over their shoulder. This voice would have none of that. As a pick had struck rock, it came sharp and clear as a meal time whistle exploding through the carved tunnels to reverberate against stone and into flesh. High above in the upper corridors of the mine, men and women had cast aside tools to clutch at their ears in shock as they looked for the source. All eyes had traveled to the elevators further into the depths, whispers of those who might remain below.

None had come back up.

A search party was sent to investigate, the supervisor a hardy dwarf who had been down in the dark for years in the old country hills of Ironforge and Dun Morgh. Troggs, trolls, and beasts had plagued his life since he was a young beardling. He could handle a wail in a cave with a few other muscles to help him out.

The New Lion Mining Co was now short 12 men and had put up a posting for a new supervisor.

They hadn't had an interview yet.

Since the initial wail and disappearances, no one had dared to go down into the mine and memorials had already been scheduled along with letters of condolences to the families of those lost. Sad letters and pocket watches did not fill bellies or pay for supplies though, and word was sent east for aid from House Waycrest. Perhaps the guard would come or maybe a wizard to blast out the mine for the growing tragedy of New Lion as it was being whispered about. Foul moods, broken hearts, and no profits were stunting the fragile growth of this new colony.

The inquisitor arrived on a Tuesday afternoon upon an old black horse with a matching silent crow astride his shoulder.

He was an older man, his hair thin and gray to match the shabby beard he wore but his eyes spoke of a steel that ran deep and true despite the feet at the corners of them. With a crooked nose, chapped lips, and a voice to make men grimace as hard as him he had come to the office of the foreman. Broken leathers, tattered tabard, and an eclectic assortment of Tides knew what clinked among his carried belongings. The Order of Embers was always in dire straights with finances, but in service of Drustvar and House Waycrest there were none better to handle this sort of thing.

This inquisitor said his name was Eldridge. Eldridge Candell.

On Wednesday morning, the inquisitor had tied off his old horse and gathered his assortment of oddities to make his way into the mouth of the mine. He hadn't said anything to anyone, only asking for extra oil and a couple of lanterns to match some rough travel rations. With an old axe strapped to his belt to match an even older bayonet, Candell had swung a pack over his back and entered the mouth of terror.

The crow had planted itself in silent watch as the inquisitor disappeared.

Wednesday came and went.

Thursday passed without a sound.

Friday the miners began to murmur.

Saturday they gathered a watch.

Sunday broke with burning red sunlight and night fell with a spring storm.

Monday came with talk of what to do with the horse.

Tuesday was gone with the wind.

A week had gone by. No work. No news. No sound. No money.

No hope.

The crow sat silent in it's vigil. Was it waiting for the inquisitor's return? Or was it guarding the mine from the miners going in?

Or from what might come out?

Strohnev rubbed his mustache as he ordered the workers to get back to work. What work they would do, he didn't know but he wasn't getting anything for his coin having them worry and fret staring at a hole in the ground. He was not looking forward to writing to the Stand about needing another inquisitor or for them to at least come pick up the remaining effects of the missing man. Another man dead for this, what the hell was he gonna tell the authorities?

The crow let out a sharp croak, that made the foreman nearly jump out of his skin as he looked back to the mine entrance.

"Tides preserve," came a whisper that Strohnev was more shocked came from him as he stared at Inquisitor Candell.

The man leaned wearily against the frame of the door, his face grim and coated in thick layer of coal dust as his grimace caused the wrinkles to crack white lines across him. His pack was missing, his tabard was black and indiscernible of the colors of the Order. His knife was in his belt and a broken lantern hung loosely from the same. The man looked like hell had given him a proper chewing and spitting like he was the bitterest chew.

The foreman strode forward as the other miners spotted him and began to call out at the return of their 'savior'. A sick wet thud stopped him in his tracks as a stained leather sack flopped into the loose gravel.

A few tentative steps forward brought him to the sack as he leaned down to gently peer into the rank leather bag. The torturous withered face of an eyeless woman stared back at him, her face pockmarked with holes like a termite ridden floorboard. Her tongue languished out of her mouth, stained with black much as the stump that might have been her neck.

Foreman Strohnev shuddered as he quickly covered the bag back up and looked up to find the inquisitor standing over him looking grim. The older man grimly reached up to his shoulder and growled as he plucked something from his neck, a soft high squeal much like a piglet. It was insanely unpleasant as he felt his hands come to his ears, holding them tight as he looked in the inquisitors hand.

Squirming in his gloved hand was the oddest bug he'd maybe seen in his life. Bulbous red eyes, black body, orange legs with crystalline orange wings to match. It buzzed and flitted a bit in his hands as it struggled to right itself in his palm, the flecks of the old man's blood still shining on it's pincer mouth as it continued to wail.

It didn't last long as Candell closed his hand around it and squeezed hard enough to shake with as much violence as it took to snuff out the insects life.

Strohnev gaped at his hand and looked up into the inquisitor's face as he finally spoke with a dry cough and hoarse growl.

"Get back to work."

@daily-writing-challenge

[merelliahallewell]

A Step Back - Autumnhearth

Perched between the Shrouded Foothills and the Autumnvale, the Drustvari realm of Autumnhearth is full of sorrow and emptiness.

A hundred fifty years ago, the people there prospered and lived in peace. They proudly supported House Waycrest and guarded against the encroachment of elemental and trogg nuisances from the mountains and depths. Autumnhearth was a jewel of Drustvar until a series of misfortunes befell the ruling family and their realm, culminating in their mysterious deaths and the vanishing of an entire township.

The passage of time has obscured the details of these cataclysms, but the memory of the terror wrought upon Autumnhearth has never left the hearts of its inhabitants. What few brave souls still dwell within the region are as hardy as Drustvari come, scratching out a living on lands they are too stubborn to abandon to the monsters that still haunt the woods and vales.

Great potential lies in the once-prosperous mines and fields here despite the dark shroud that lies over them. Many caretakers have been appointed to oversee the territory by the Waycrests over the years in the hopes that Autumnhearth could be returned to its former glory. While some made valiant efforts, others refused to even dwell there for fear of the curses that surely lie upon it.

The Fourth War and horrific sorcery of the Heartsbane Coven left much of Drustvar ravaged, yet the heroes forged during the war offer a beacon of hope.

As reward for her service to the Order of Embers and Kul Tiras, Inquisitor Merellia Hallewell was granted stewardship over Autumnhearth. This reward, however, came with a mission: to cleanse the long-cursed land, and establish safety and security for the denizens long bereft of it.

[eldridgecandell]

🕯️ Use a Ouija board

House Ashvane may have been near sent to ruins thanks to the machinations and work of their former lady Priscilla, but there's a curious thing about memory. It's only as long as the coin stays quiet.

Despite the set back of the initial months after the disgrace of their matron, the years had eventually regained the little power they were allowed to keep over the docks and yards. With the death of Priscilla, the younger members of the house rose to meet the challenges of regaining the honor they had kept for so long. The other houses had been less than keen to give it but they could not deny the power they still held over the trade that kept Boralus alive.

The party alone this fine Autumn eve was clear enough as members of Waycrest, Stormsong, and Proudmoore found rubbing elbows among the island kingdoms elite. To be clear you would not find Lady Proudmore or Waycrest themselves and most definitely not Stormsong himself. All had been plagued with dangers, traitors, and dark tides since the Fourth War but that did not mean minor nobles or family members would not jump at the chance to deal and shake hands to benefit each other's status.

It's just business.

"Hatch, you ol sea dog, you are not one I would have expected to see here tonight," came the gruff notes of a man in a fine seal skin suit as he extended a hand to another gentlemen in deep green.

Jerimiah Hatch, Captain of Daelin's Gaze, took the extended hand with an air of what appeared to be indifference but his eyes spoke warmer than his cold voice. "Master Finley."

"Pff, Master. Cut that carp, Phil does fine," Finley laughed as he shook with his massive paw of a hand, his other as was usual cradled a half full goblet of fine Stormsong mead. "How ya been there?"

Hatch would shake easily, accepting the strong grip of the Drustvar native before releasing it to stand at his usual ready with his hands behind his back. The captain unlike many of his fellow partygoers did not imbibe, choosing to his keep his focus much like his liver intact. "I have been very well, Phil. And yourself? I heard that your nephew had recently come into quite a cache of silver in the mines near Corlain."

"Kurt, oh aye the boy's doin wonders for the business. Wonders! Wish my own sons would be as much a blessing to our enterprise," Finley chuckled again loosely as he lifted his goblet to take a deepr drink. His thick walrus mustache twitched a bit before reaching up to wipe the crystal embers of the honey wine from the hair before speaking again. "How is my boy doin?"

"Geoff is doing quite well on the ship, he does our Lady's armada justice and your own house proud in his duties," Hatch informed the giant of a man, the conversation reaching the awkward lull when people go through the usual first greeting motions. Fortunately, rescue was only a loud gong away.

"My lords and ladies," a deep baritone rose above the final ringing of the gong as all eyes turned to the front of the parlor and what appeared to be this evenings host. A short man with a grey fringe of hair stood at the front, his suit black as an orc to match his rotund belly while the trimmings of red did little to hide his place among the 'upper decks.'

"Ashvane," Hatch practically spit the name as he adjust his stance, his voice low in his disdain.

Finley was hardly one to put much in the 'traitor' house, but he was not one to be an ungrateful guest. Giving an eye over to his companion with a soft shrug and whisper to follow. "Easy tha, Hatch. It's been years now, ol Kehvin was hardly involved with her too much."

A snort was all Captain Hatch would reply as he tried his damnedest to not break his own hand as the held them so tight behind his back.

"Thank you all once again for joining us this evening," Kehvin Ashvane continued, no longer a lord or master in anyone's eyes but doing his best to keep civil and accept his role as just Mister Ashvane. It was hard at first for the once wealthy and proud to accept their new place in the hierarchy of the isle. Luckily putting wealth before pride seemed to be suiting them at this point in time.

"We are so grateful that this olive branch has been accepted by our brethren of the island," Ashvane continued as he did his best to let his brown eyes lock onto each guest and give them his attention. Years of practice still paid off as he spoke more. "Our past has always been troubled waters, but it is our hope as much as yours I'm sure to sail into bright and calmer tides. Though we are far than more aware of how well wishes can be but time is still needed for all hurts. And we continue to be grateful for your forgiveness and trust in our patience of someday being fully accepted back into the court of Kul Tiras and that of our lady admiral."

Ashvane would raise his glass on high in a toast. "If you would all be so kind as to raise your glasses. To Lady Proudmoore, to Kul Tiras, and to the future."

Glasses were raised and voices repeated the toast in turn. Finley added his own cheer of 'here here' to the chorus of well wishes and oiled acceptance of Ashvane hospitality.

Hatch was silent.

"Now as for tonight's entertainment, we have brought an exciting spectacle all the way from our kinsman in Drustvar," Kehvin spoke again as he slipped back among the crowd who parted for him gingerly. Some with interested looks, many with distrust, and others just enjoying the free refreshments.

A curtain was drawn aside to a drawing room off to the side of the parlor, the red curtains pulled by bronze ropes by the housemen of the chateau. Already the crowd was beginning to file forward with interest at something from their 'spooky' cousins to the west.

The drawing was warm and inviting with dark stained floors to match the wood walls draped with curtains that for old visitors would remember of paintings of the previous matron of Ashvane. Kehvin was wise to dispose of them quickly if not for the basic decoration of his house. But the walls were not really of so much interest but of the large round table in the center of the room and it's sole occupant.

White, bone legs of driftwood supported the massive circle with emphasis of allowing the natural dried wood to be evident in it's creation. Odder than the bone white wood was the top of the table. Black, dull slate gave nothing of decadence of the house of Ashvane but it was the matching colored writing upon it's surface that made it all the more intriguing. Chalk lines had been drawn and crisscrossed about with letters mixing from old Alteri to common and what appeared to be elvish or troll. All built in a circle that if stared at in the right way almost felt like their were moving a stomach twisting nausea. Chairs to match the table sat open and cautiously inviting, a count of seven though one was already filled.

"Allow me to introduce, Louise Wincott," Kehvin continued now as he turned to the side offering his hand toward the sole occupant who now rose. Finley gasped softly beside Hatch, who in turn hadn't foggiest who the woman was at the table.

Louise Wincott was tall and willowy, her dark hair streaked with white much like the chalk on the table did not match the lack of lines on her face. Her hands were held in front of her in a docile manner of a young woman in waiting, but the line of her mouth did nothing to bring joy or comfort. Her eyes, much as the streaks of white in her hair matched the chalk, matched the dark black of the slate of the table. Her thin lips would part than as she spoke softly and directly to the small crowd. "Calm tides and pleasant nights to you all, please come in and have a seat. Welcome to my table."

Hatch frowned as the gasp of Finley finally registered in his brain as he turned to the once bawdry man. The red nosed face of a man deep into his cups was now pale as a ghost as he stared. "Finley, are you alright?"

A quick shake of his head as he downed his cup, already turning around toward the exit. "I'll have no part of this."

"What do you mean? You were just going on about the future and bygones," Hatch still confused as he began to follow the larger man, the main crowd already starting to edge into the drawing room. The captain grabbed the merchant lord by the shoulder to stop him as he spoke again in more of his captain voice than that of a friend. "What's going on? Who is she?"

Finley stopped and turned back to Hatch, though his eyes strayed beyond the sea captain toward the dark entertainment. "A Nightspeaker."

"A what?"

Finley leaned in close, his breath reeking of wine and fear. "A witch damn it. He brought a bloody witch here!"

[joseg90]

Waycrest Manor! One of my favorite dungeons in Battle for Azeroth and in overall World of Warcraft this is the perfect definition of what a haunted house looks like! Witches ghosts , undead creatures and much much more! 🕹⌨🖱🎧🖲🕹🎧🖲🖱⌨🖱🖲💽🎧🖲📀🎧💽🖱 ___________________________________________________ Mi canal de Twitch: joseg90 My Merch Store 🔮: josegonline.live/merch 🖲🖱🕹⌨🖱⌨🕹🕹🕹🕹⌨⌨🖲🎧🖲⌨🖱⌨🖲 ___________________________________________________ ⬇️⬇️HASHTAGS ⬇️⬇️ ___________________________________________________ #gaming #videogames #gamers #gamerstyle #gamerguy #pcgaming #pcgamer  #screenshot #entertainment #worldofwarcraft #warcraft #blizzard #mmorpg #wow #español #latino #wrathoflichking #wrathoflichkingclassic #battleforazeroth https://www.instagram.com/p/CpS4_CWudJ6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[honeyleesblog]

wow zone tier list

Kul'Tiras This mainland is exceptionally dull, with witches rehearsing antiquated Druidic wizardry all over. In this manner, you will in all probability experience animals looking like energized trees a meandering the area and startling the occupants. Storm Tune Valley It is here that the port is found where every one of the boats pass to be honored by the Clerics of the Ocean. This custom reinforces the boats that makes the Collusion look for the kinship of the clerics. This especially strange region has areas of strength for a topic, with its structures implicit the state of boats and a post where the Clerics of the Ocean reside, implore and filter themselves. Players will experience a revile inside the local area and will confront it in a five-man prison situated in the fortification.

wow zone tier list

Drustvar Initially, quite some time ago, Drustvar was occupied by a gathering of hearty creatures called Drust. Nonetheless, most were crushed by people who banished these creatures in a city frozen in time, where a likeness is in the middle, safeguarded areas of strength for by. The people group perseveres as spirits who are attempting to get back to the universe of the living to get back at the individuals who took their territory. Furthermore, the region is swarmed with witches . They intertwine spirits into wooden figures who behave like their flunkies and slit their own jugulars to become super strong. Players should break into Woman Waycrest's house, a prison for five, to free the charmed zone. Tiragarde Sound A region loaded with privateers and outlaws with the capital Bolarus, a most extreme level prison that players should take. The segment of the human-ruled city is driven by Katherine Proudmoore, Jaina's mom, who will help players in their experiences around there. The people from Estreito Tiragarde are otherwise called great trackers of ocean beasts . Zandalate Zandalar is a land loaded with crude creatures and remains, where you can track down Savages and dinosaurs. The region is additionally under the security of the old divine beings adored by the Zandalari, the Loa's. Nazmir This region was made seeming to be a lost world canvassed in swamps . It incorporates where the Titans did tests and that you can investigate. Demise Loa, Bwonsamdi, assumes a significant part in Nazmir, offering missions to players in the Necropolis. Players will actually want to visit an underground five-man prison stacked with Ridiculous Savages. Zuldazar Here, you will track down the capital of the mainland Zandalar and the main safe spot in the district , managed by Lord Rastakhan and Princess Talanji. You will actually want to investigate two prisons: Atal'Dazar, an old burial ground of Zandalari divine beings, and Descanso dos Reis, an old burial chamber of Savage rulers. Vol'dun Vol'dun is a desert typically possessed by hoodlums banished from the Zandalari people group. Here, you can make unions with Vulpera, a race of humanoid foxes, or with Sethrak, a types of human snake. Players will actually want to investigate the Sanctuary of Sethraliss prison. Peruse extraordinary substance about HTML coding in our blog area. You will track down extraordinary tips on the most proficient method to carry out easy to understand highlights in your site.

[kathrana]

Waycrest Manor.

[romans-art]

WIP drawin’ one of my wife’s OCs - Lady Grey of House Waycrest from Toil and Strife

[azerothexpanded]

Heartsbane Witches - History

While witchcraft has existed on the fringes of Kul Tiran society for a long time, the witches were disparate small groups, or single individuals. They wielded little power on the grand stage. A number were corrupted by Drust patrons who offered them power and knowledge in exchange for occasional servitude, but they were so few and far between that they could not truly weaken the nation enough for the Drust to return and rule over Kul Tiras again.

Gorak Tul recognized this, and eventually, the opportunity to change it came in the form of Meredith Waycrest. Her husband, Arthur, had become terribly sick- and no priest or doctor could seem to cure him, no matter the method used. She was stricken with grief over his impending death that she unintentionally made herself vulnerable to Gorak Tul. Just as he had so many times before, Gorak Tul appeared in her dreams, and he offered her a deal. She would never be parted from Arthur, and he would even be given lordship over Kul Tiras... all  in exchange for simple servitude, and help bringing him into this world. Meredith accepted in an instant... and thus was born the Heartsbane Coven that would devastate much of Drustvar.

It was not uncommon for Meredith to ask some of the noblewomen of Corlain over to her home- and so nobody batted an eye when they would come to Waycrest manor- some of the few people allowed inside. 

The people of Corlain believed they were helping her look after her husband- but in reality, Meredith was instructing her friends in the ways of wielding Gorak Tul’s gift of dark power. They would be the first to give themselves over to the magic after Lady Waycrest herself, forming the Heartsbane Coven. They were careful to keep their powers a secret, though- for the activities of the nobility would always attract curious eyes. 

Gorak Tul was not idle, either- and while Meredith was gathering new recruits in Corlain, the three most powerful witches under his command were instructed to travel by secret means to Waycrest Manor, where they would help train a new generation of witches. They would later be known as the Heartsbane Triad.

When the more experienced witches arrived in Corlain, they were guided into Waycrest Manor- and Gorak Tul promised Meredith their allegiance. It was here the Heartsbane Coven truly began their work- they needed powerful spellcasters to work the spells to bring forth Gorak Tul- and this was on top of the task of raising armies strong enough to take Kul Tiras.

They recruited women of all sorts from Corlain. In the manor and in the dark places of Corlain, the Coven began to flourish, teaching the women of Corlain how to tap into Tul’s magic, while the experienced witches devised complex rituals meant to raise strange and twisted armies. Wicker beasts, abominations of flesh, undead Drust... nothing would go unused.

Meredith went out on the steps of the manor, and made an announcement that her husband was on the mend- but that she would handle Drustvar’s business until he was better. This seemed to placate the anxious townsfolk, who had heard nothing of their lord for weeks and feared greatly for him. She had given herself command over the Waycrest Guard- and with this power, she began to work her spells over them- enslaving the entire guard population of Corlain to her will in a matter of days. 

More and more women joined the “sister circle,” which were thinly-veiled recruitment attempts that drew in more and more of Corlain’s women. They began wearing charms of wicker and preparing for the fall of the city and the conquest of the rest of Drustvar. Dissenters and people who saw too much began disappearing, and many townsfolk began to consider fleeing to other towns.

When the time was right, Meredith and many of her most devoted followers performed a powerful ritual- so powerful that it infused the very walls of the manor with Gorak Tul’s magic and opened up fissures in the ground outside. To complete the ritual, they slit their own throats- ascending to a horrific, more powerful form- they had become the Matrons of the Coven. The rest of the witches took to the streets and killed any who stood in their way- hunting them down with spells and often putting them under the same curse as the guards, binding them to the collective will of the Coven. 

With Corlain under their control, the witches spread rapidly over the western half of the region in the following weeks. Some towns fell quietly- with the witches infiltrating it and spreading their influence just as they had in Corlain. Others found themselves besieged by horrific monsters that the Coven had summoned- armies of twisted wicker creatures and twisted abominations of flesh knit together overwhelmed the local militia- when they weren’t enslaved by the Heartsbane curse already. 

Not all of the denizens of the towns were killed- in fact, the witches allowed a good number to escape, traveling in disguise among them. It was through these methods that they managed to infiltrate settlements even as far-flung as Boralus and Brennadam in preparation for when the Coven would wash over the rest of the kingdom. 

Eastern Drustvar was being prepared to fall just as quickly- Fletcher’s Hollow was nearly overrun by a witch-led army, while their invokers used souls to create more powerful wicker creatures in Barrowknoll. Fallhaven, Carver’s Harbor, and even Glenbrook were infiltrated by witches. Only Arom’s Stand seemed to be safe from the madness. 

On the cusp of their victory in Drustvar, the Coven found its advance halted. The efforts of a reborn Order of Embers and their stalwart allies in the Waycrest Guard, Drustvar Clerics, and Thornspeakers stopped- and then began to reverse the tide of dark magic washing over the region. The arrival of elite Alliance forces aligned with the 7th Legion also helped turn the tide, and eventually, the Order stormed Waycrest Manor itself to cut off the head of the snake. Meredith, an undead Arthur, and much of the Coven’s leadership was slain in one fell swoop. At the same time, attacks against their bases in the Crimson Forest had halted the Coven’s attempts to bring Gorak Tul back into the world- and he was forced back before he could arrive in Waycrest Manor. 

With much of their leadership gone and their patron defeated, the Coven began to break down. The rest of Corlain was still held by the Coven- but a few weeks after Meredith was slain, a group of Order-aligned forces infiltrated the city. They destroyed the magical anchors keeping the curse in place, freeing most of the townsfolk and militia from the curse placed over them.

A number of Heartsbane witches clung to the rest of their territories in Drustvar- digging into regions such as the Crimson Forest and daring the Order to come in after them. These regions would remain Heartsbane-controlled for many months to come despite the best efforts of Drustvar’s defenders. Some witches were wise enough to see the Coven’s end in the near future, and quickly hid themselves among the rest of Kul Tiras. They broke with the Coven,  but still retain every ounce of the power they��d gained in its service. A few witches even tried to escape Kul Tiras altogether, stowing away aboard merchant ships bound for the mainland. With Gorak Tul’s death in Thros, they are all no longer bound to his will, free to use their dark powers.

[mercymaker]

artemyra was nine when lord lucian summoned her to the great hall of their manor. a witness to the deal that would forever change house waycrest. she would become powerful, he promised her, they both would...

[flagwars]

Video Game Flag Wars: Prelims, World of Warcraft (Part 3)

[embersoftheorder]

EMBERS OF THE ORDER

A World of Warcraft Roleplaying Blog

From the personal journal of Captain Rachel Dewitt, Order of Embers Operations Manager and Liaison to the Alliance: Stormwind Division (All notes and stories within these journals follow the calendar of initial joining of the Order of Embers until present date.)

27th day of the 8th month, Summer of Year 6 The world changed again.

Dalaran has fallen. Again.

Is it really surprising? I'm not sure. I would like to rely on old prejudices against the magi, that they keep to their towers and secrets like rats in a hold but that would be a lie. The Kirin Tor had truly been nothing but doing their best to be guardians of the world as much as we are to Drustvar. But we can't rely on old prejudices and old ways of thinking. Have to keep moving forward and we have to adjust.

I have to adjust.

As we had done before during the Shadowlands, House Waycrest and my superiors have authorized me to allow my team to go to the aid of Dalaran in hopes of creating a better relationship and positive atmosphere between our communities. I am still rolling my eyes at that statement from Albot. I know what he really wants. Clout. Power.

Gold.

I'm glad that Candell is such good friends with Reese, cause I don't know we could continue to afford to rent this place in the Pig and Whistle with the meager funds that Drustvar can spare to us. Rebuilding a country isn't easy or cheap but you'd think they could afford to give us a little something more to make us appear to be at least respectable. Hell Duun's been moonlighting as practically a guard around here to make her ends meet. Honestly I think she makes more clearing kobolds and other things down there than she does as my assistant. I feel bad for her, this was not what she was expecting when we came here four years ago. But granted I didn't expect to lose Candell on some weird 'death' campaign into another world. And Nubern. I can't forgive myself for that man. No one should. Least of all me, though I know Eld has been eating it up as well.

I shouldn't call the Shadowlands weird considering what we do here and what we have faced in the past, but the whole debacle is just strange. Thinking about it just makes my head hurt as much. Might be the rum as well.

We have dragons. I don't know a damn thing about dragons, except how to possibly kill them and that for once is the last helpful thing around here. Maybe we should set up a meeting some of their people. They could know some tricks or ideas or have some gold to help the Order out. I'll have to make a note for later.

The circle comes round again to the big news of this entry. Dalaran. Another tragedy in the world's history. I don't know if we're gonna make it better, but I do know that Candell is hardly going to be one to sit around while there's something going on to the west. He never does. His apprentice or rather partner now is just the same. I wasn't supposed to babysit heroes, just soldiers. I guess they die all the same as well.

I miss you Cristoph. Every day. Your heart is mine, and I hope you know mine is yours. It just hurts.

Candell says it's like a war within. He should know especially with his history. Tides all of us do.

I love you.

Witt

OOC:

This is blog for characters created within the realm of World of Warcraft involving generally the protagonist/hero concept that has a lot to do with the Order of Embers from the Battle for Azeroth. I had cultivated a lot of these characters for a long time on an alternate blog, but since returning to the game and with a new expansion arriving it felt right to build a new and better place to continue to work on this concept. I love all of them even if I get lost some times trying to keep them going creatively and in gameplay. So please if you'd like to interact, collaborate, offer words of support/critique, or just say 'hey'; don't hesitate too. Thanks for reading this and I hope I make something you come to enjoy here.

Below you will find links to the basic information of the cast of characters for this blog (which knowing my level of alt-aholism, will be ever growing cast).

Dramatis Personae

Eldridge Candell - Inquisitor of the Order of Embers Cheryl Duun - Inquisitor of the Order of Embers; Ratcatcher Rachel Dewitt - Operations Manager of the Order of Embers

Beldwin Storm - Gallant of Drustvar; The Green Son

More to come…

[warcraft-shenanigans]

Waycrest Manor, pt. x

[chemicalarospec]

guys... there’s a House Waycrest in World of Warcraft... I really hope they don’t know what they did with that one. 

[braddersbangerz]

this really gets you in the mood to write creepy shit

PS: the BFA dungeon ‘waycrest manor’ heavily inspired possession in my head, well the way it looked which I never ‘really’ explained because describing places is something I need to work on in writing